“Jesus Christ.”
“You’re praying to the wrong god if you think he can save you.”
I turn and glare at him again, gritting out, “What do youwant,Roth?”
He merely stares at me, and not for the first time do I hope there’s no such thing as telepathy, because with my luck he’d be the one person to have it. “Your diagram is wrong. Here—he taps my paper, “and here. If you’re going to learn runes properly now, it should be correct.”
When I look at my paper and realize he’s correct, I have to close my eyes and control my breathing like Brandt taught me during last night’s practice. The good part about practicing with my power is that it’s now easier to reach for it. The bad part is that it’s now easier to reach for it when I’m sorely tempted to blow up another building just to escape.
I’m kidding, I would never blow up another building again. On purpose.
Maybe.
We’ll see.
The chances are low, but never zero.
Yeah, let’s go with that.
After another torturous hour of Roth taking great pleasure in correcting every single mistake I make, I’m desperate to get away. So of course he blocks me from leaving class until we’re the last ones left.
“Shall I inform Thane and Killian that you will no longer be studying with them?”
I stiffen and clench my jaw, which I’m sure he notices, just like he notices everything. “Tell them whatever you want, Roth, I don’t care.”
“Why.”
“I have my own shit to deal with.”
“Such as?”
“You’re not entitled to that information, Roth.”
“Tell me anyway.”
“No, I don’t think I will.” He looks at me again with those black eyes, like a kid wondering what button he has to press to make me talk. Without a word, he steps to the side and I do my best to walk calmly instead of what I want to do, which is run away from him like my ass is on fire—just like the first day I met him.
What an ironically shitty full circle moment.
Just like when I walk into Physical Training and Luther’s there for the first time in nearly three weeks. And unfortunately, so is Cyrus for “on the job training”. Luther tries to stay as far away from me as possible. Cyrus tries to stay as close to me as he can get away with. Throughout the class, where Carrick has one group conditioning and another switching between drilling and sparring, I eventually notice a pattern: Cyrus shows up when I least want him to with useless pointers that Luther, for all his faults, has already taught me in addition to everything Ramsey?—
Nope.
We’re not doing that today either. I’ve managed to ignore him this long, and I’m not going to ruin it.
As Cyrus looks for any excuse to correct my form and touch me, Luther slowly follows him like a hulking shadow, eventually chasing him away with a menacing glare that Killian called his?—
Nope.
I’m going to do the very mature thing and pretend like it didn’t happen until my brain blocks out the memories, just like most of my childhood.
I haven’t spoken to Luther since my epiphaneia, aside from one stilted question and answer at the Gala. And yet, our eyesmeet multiple times. I can see his lingering discomfort with every step. He can see my growing disgust towards his brother every time the idiot opens his mouth. It’s the world’s most awkward Mexican standoff, and when it finally ends, I don’t bother showering before meeting Brandt in his office.
That’s how it goes for the next two weeks: I hide from everyone, despite the increasingly concerned texts from Milo and the girls. I ignore everything, including my hunger by avoiding the Great Hall for all my meals. I build back every brick in the walls I let down for people who didn’t deserve them. And I practice magic whenever I can.
No one’s surprised when I ace every final written exam. Even Runic Studies, begrudgingly thanks to Roth. In Physical Training, I’m partnered up with Prosper—the same dickwad who sent me to the Medical Center thefirsttime—while Luther, Cyrus, and Carrick evaluate and judge each sparring match.
I break Prosper’s jaw.
