“Only because you tend to be in my way.” Claudia gestures to his towering stack. “Are there other copies of these?” Surely, a library so vast must have hundreds of repeats.
“There’s only one of each book.” The candlelight grabs on to the devilish slant of his mouth. “Sorry, Star Girl. You are, as always, late.”
She crosses her arms over her chest. “Is there a reason you’ve taken every single book on my list? All of them, all at once?” Running her fingers along the spines of the stack, she yanks out the third one from the top. “You don’t even need this one. You had it last week.”
“You’re still spying on my readings, I see.”
“I keep my enemies close.”
“And their books closer?”
“Yes,” she bites out, holding up the book in her hand. “You can’t take all of these. Hard to call this anything other than sabotage.”
“Did you stop to consider that we are tasked with the same assignment, and might possibly require the same materials to complete it? Honestly, Jolicoeur, not everything is designed to spite you.”
As he leans back in his chair, she leans over him, keeping her hair behind her back so that it doesn’t tangle with the open flame between them. “I find that very hard to believe when it comes to you.”
He inclines his head, his breath threatening the life of the candle. “I’m sorry to inform you that I make most of my decisions without you in mind.”
“Ah,” she says, leaning back. “Mostof your decisions, but certainly not all.”
He closes a book and drops it on the table with a thud before standing abruptly, scraping the legs of his chair against the stone floor. Here, they are almost nose to nose, the heat of the candle stinging their bellies.
Cassius swallows. “I would consider sharing the books if you were to ask nicely, and if there was something in it for me,” he says, taunting.
“How about you share with me, and I won’t tell Olivier that you’re doing exactly what she ordered against. Besides, I have nothing to offer a privileged descendant of a god.”
He laughs, but his eyes narrow. “Who told you that? Bones?”
“Maybe.” She won’t confirm or deny—she doesn’t want to get her friend in trouble with Cassius. “Is it Malevimus? Is that why you always win debates?”
A strange smile blooms. Candlelight dances across his sharp white teeth. “Is that what you’ve heard?”
“Is it true?”
“It’s only a rumor.”
“You know what people say. Where there’s smoke, there’s fire.”
He smirks. “Is there a fire here, Jolicoeur?” His eyes trail along her arm, her collarbone, her chest. Something changes in his gaze when it lands on her mouth. Purely to gauge his reaction, Claudia bites her bottom lip.
Cassius clenches his jaw and a heavy breath escapes him. “It’s not Malevimus.”
Neither of them so much as blinks.
Did that work? Did one tiny bite convince him to share a little piece of his secret with her? Imagine what she could get him to confess if she went further, if she came to him in the middle of the night with a split robe and a well-rehearsed piece of rhetorical luxos. Judging by this response, she may actually get what she needs.
Maybe, just maybe, she has a chance at winning, and the valedictorian’s blessing is within her reach.
Eventually, Cassius looks down and clears his throat. He pats the stack of books at his side, and his hand is almost as big as the cover. “I want to win our debate fairly, so I will share.” With an almost imperceptible laugh, he says, “You’ve been trailing me long enough. It’s time I saved you the trouble.”
She nods, fighting a smile.
“I’ll take these four, you take the other four, and then we’ll swap. In return, you’ll promise not to slap me again.”
She stiffens. “I shouldn’t have—”
“Unless I ask, of course.” He winks. “Sound fair?”
