Walking into Olivier’s class minutes before the debate begins, Claudia sees Cassius standing across the classroom talking to other students. Olivier sets up the debate stage while Claudia lingers close to Olivier’s desk. There are two cherry-toned wooden podiums, and behind each, a row of four plush chairs. There is a stained glass window with a red swan interrupting the center of the wall behind them. Some students are in their seats while others meander around the room. Claudia can hear a group chattering behind her, making bets on who will win—of course, all odds favor Cassius.
When Cassius looks up, he sees her and immediately walks toward her. Her stomach churns. She’s so nervous she feels she might be sick.
“How did you sleep?” His voice is rich and thoroughly warmed up, but his eyes are exhausted. Dark shadows hang beneath them, and his skin is pale.
“Very well, thank you.”
He lets out a sigh of relief, followed by a yawn. “Good.”
“What about you?”
“I didn’t.”
“Why not?”
“I stayed on my balcony.”
“Why would you—” She stops herself. Her eyes soften. “Cassius, you didn’t have to do that. Youshouldn’thave.”
His jaw tenses. “I couldn’t help myself.”
“But look at you now. You can hardly keep your eyes open.”
“I wouldn’t have been able to sleep whether I was on my balcony or in my bed.”
She looks deep into his striking blue eyes, almost made purple by the red light streaming through the stained glass window. “The essence of dreams worked well,” she says. “You don’t need to worry about me anymore.”
“I am worried anyway.”
“Why? We’re rivals, remember? We promised that wouldn’t change. We’re supposed to hate each other.”
“Oh, please, Claudia.” His gaze trails over her body, hanging on her lips before coming back up to her eyes. “Be honest with yourself.”
Brows pinched, lips parted, she says, “I am being honest.”
He leans down to her ear like he’s telling her a secret. “Did you hate me when you were on your knees for me? Did you hate me as you begged for more?”
She sucks in a cold breath. Heat blooms in her cheeks.
He laughs through his nose. “That’s what I thought. Youdon’t hate me. You hate how much you want me.” His eyes dip to her mouth. “Because no one else can hurt you like I can, and my praise means more to you than anyone else’s.”
Mouth open in disbelief, she scoffs and says, “You hate how much you want me, too. My submission is what you crave because it’s a challenge to earn, and it will be even harder to keep. No one else will ever make you feel as powerful as I do.”
“You’re right,” he says, and his bluntness startles her. “That is why I worry. Because for this to work, your pleasure and your pain are my responsibility, and if I can’t keep you safe, I don’t deserve to keep you at all.”
She stiffens. Time itself stumbles. Beneath her, the floor slants, as if his words have tilted the universe. He doesn’t move a muscle, nor does he blink. His eyes, filled with that same dominant darkness that she saw the other night, remain locked on hers.
“Stop trying to throw me off before the debate,” she says. She meant to sound stern, but her voice came out breathy and desperate.
He hides a laugh in his throat. “I see you, Jolicoeur. We’re exactly alike,” he whispers low and deep. “You can’t just fuck, can you? You need the game. You need me to—” He stops himself when Professor Olivier approaches from across the room.
“All right, you two. Let’s head to the chapel.”
Claudia barely hears her over the blood rushing in her ears. Her legs don’t move. She watches, frozen, as Cassius and Olivier take off without her. When she slips back into her body, back from whatever heady, lustful place she floated off to, she rushes to catch up before they walk out of the room.
Hanging back in the doorway, she looks at the debate stage over her shoulder. “Aren’t we debating back there?”
“Yes, but not without speaking to Malevimus under my guidance,” Olivier calls from the corridor, motioning her forward. Claudia picks up the skirt of her robes and rushes to catch up to them. Together, they walk toward the chapel.
