Page 62 of Vexatious Queen

“Sir, that’s not really fair,” I said, putting my hands on my hips.

His brow furrowed. “I don’t need to hear about what you think is fair. Life is not fair, and your shortcomings are not my problem. Tell me this…do you really want to do this?” I stood there dumfounded by his rudeness. “Nothing? I guess not.”

With that said, he walked toward the door.

“Excuse me,” I said, absolutely fuming at the audacity.

Mr. Sharpe turned and looked at me.

“That was wildly disrespectful and inappropriate. You know, Mr. Sharpe, I used to think condescension was a sign of experience. Turns out it’s just a lack of perspective.”

His eyes narrowed as I took a step toward him. It had been a while since I’d confronted someone whose ego was larger than their sense. But he had picked the wrong damn day.

“I’m not at full speed because I nearly died. And Blake has not been here because someone he loves deeply was taken from him in a senseless tragedy. We are coping. You may call that a limitation—I call it being strong and proof that we are still here and still fighting. So, before you decide what we can or can’t do, maybe consider that some of us are rebuilding from devastating blows while others are just using their title as a weapon for their pompous behavior.”

His jaw dropped, and damn, it felt good to put him in his place. I’d bitten my tongue the first time he disrespected Ella’s memory and Blake’s grief, but I sure as hell wasn’t letting it slide again. I took a breath, then allowed the smallest smile to cut across my face.

“Now, if you’ll excuse us, we need to go. We have work to do—shockingly, even with our shortcomings, we still get things done.”

I hooked my arm through Blake’s and hitched my backpack higher on my shoulder.

“Maybe it would be best if you found yourself a TA that you consider exceptional. Good luck, I wouldn’t want to slow you down.”

We stepped forward, and he smiled wide, confusing me. Sharpe put his hands together in a slow clap, and I wasn’t sure if it was meant to be condescending or not.

“Alright…now that is the fire I’ve waited to see. It’s good to know that you still have it, Ms. Davies.”

Blake and I shared a WTF look.

“Don’t look so confused. You’re right, you’ve experienced something deeply traumatic and are recovering. I haven’t seen this side of you since you got back. Your passion, sharp wit, and ability to think on your feet are traits I value most.”

“So…this was a test?”

He shrugged.

“In a way. Think of it as more of a push. Like a mother bird urging the hatchlings out of the nest so they learn to fly.”

Blake snorted and then laughed.

“That’s actually a great visual. But I’m not sure plummeting to a potential death is a great outcome if we fail.”

Mr. Sharpe smiled.

“Metaphor, it’s just a metaphor. My point is, you are more than ready for whatever I throw at you. And that’s important because I won’t make it easy. Mr. O’Brien, I still expect you to speak to Mr. Romanovich. Ms. Davies, your work resumes next Thursday.”

He made his way out of the classroom and left me and Blake staring after him.

“That was really badass,” Blake said.

“What? That he just goaded me into insulting him.”

Blake smiled.

“No…that you did. It was really hot.”

I blushed at the compliment.

“We should finish our conversation.”