Unless she’s being really fucking subtle about it. Who knows what techniques the rich pricks have come up with?
I twist to avoid a sudden heel kick and heave an uppercut that should toss her head backward but bounces off her retreating forearm instead. “Just that desperate to get back to number one, then? Sucking off all the staff isn’t cutting it anymore?”
The Elodie I think I remember would have hissed with rage or clutched her metaphorical pearls in horror at the suggestion. Today, she… grins?
With a snort, she flings forward a few quick punches and actually forces me to back up a step. “You must be off your game if you’re trying to hit that far below the belt.”
Okay, now Ireallycan’t figure out what this girl is on. Maybe she’s literally on something? Mixing magic with narcotics is a hobby at all levels of lucent society.
I should know, given that both of my families are involved in the business.
There is something a little off, I’m realizing. Elodie isn’t meeting my eyes, even when she’s snarking back at me. Her gaze stays fixed below my chin. Which I guess is fair, considering it’s my fists and feet coming at her, not my head, but the feelingstarts to creep over me that she’s purposefully avoiding eye contact.
Trying to work her out when she’s right in front of me is more distracting than glancing at her from a distance. I do get in a knee to her hip that makes her grunt, and then I catch her wrist with enough force to jerk it toward her back. But before I can pull off the same maneuver I used on Heath, her other fist is slamming toward my nose.
I react fast enough that she whacks my jaw rather than breaking my nose, which is good because I don’t need it more crooked than it’s been since the last bad blow I took here at thirteen. The jaw smack is still not a great experience, though. The impact sends a jolt of pain stabbing down through the wonky nerves in my neck.
My nerve damage acts up enough that I know I’m good at hiding it. Without so much as a wince, I absorb the pain and manage to get in another swing at Elodie even as she snaps my hold.
So it makes no sense at all that she draws back a couple of steps with a flicker of what I’d swear isworrytensing her expression. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to?—”
“I’mfine,” I snap, with a wide, fierce smile to show how much I mean it, and she shuts up. “You’ll have to hit me harder than that to make a dent, stronza.”
Before she can respond, Kwong’s voice rings through the training room. “Time to cool down!”
Elodie stalks away before his words have even faded from the air. I can’t help staring after her, my hands still clenched into fists.
Why the fuck was she apologizing to me? What was she going to say she didn’t mean to do?
There’s no way in hell she could know how much that punch actually hurt me. Unless I was so distracted I gave something away?
No. Not possible.
She’s just trying a new tactic to get under my skin, to solidify her spot at the top. That’s how all the assholes at this school operate.
It’s not going to work. And I can play a different game too.
We’ll see how long it takes her to regret grabbing my attention.
Six
Elodie
“Oh my god, this place makes the best mochas ever.” Mia cradles her coffee cup between her petite hands like it’s made of delicate crystal. “I wish I could just live here.”
Cadance looks around the interior of the café—fancy by my usual standards with granite countertops, stainless steel equipment polished to a shine, and chairs padded with genuine leather around the cherrywood tables—and wrinkles her nose with Poodle-esque disdain. “Where would you fit your shoe collection? Anyway, you’d smell like coffee all the time.”
Stella laughs as she tucks a stray strand of auburn hair back into her braid. “Maybe we should just relocate the shop onto our street so we can send the butler out for a cup whenever we want one.”
Does her family seriously have a butler? I don’t think Dad does. But then, my grandparents Devine probably do.
I push my mouth into a smile and echo her laugh. “I’d go for that. Seems like Mia could keep them in business all on her own.”
My cheeks are starting to ache from all the smiles I’ve been faking. A deeper ache has condensed in my chest, winding through my lungs.
I carried out plenty of covert missions in my old life… but I spent most of that time alone, out of sight. If I needed to con or cajole someone into getting access, it was a brief conversation. I haven’t had practice at this kind of extended play-acting.
It hasn’t even been a whole day yet, and I’m already finding the lies exhausting.
