by Eva Chase
“I’d expect better from you after that assessment,” Viceport said in a cool tone, and walked on.
Rory didn’t reply, but her jaw tightened, and the knot of my stomach tightened even more at the sight.
It didn’t matter in the long run. I wasn’t outright hurting her. Just adding a little uncertainty until she gave up on standing apart from us. When she was ready to add her strength to ours, we’d shore up hers in return.
If she’d met Malcolm in some secluded clearing away from the jostling of school politics, she probably would have liked him too. She’d never gotten to see the guy who, at seven, had waved my brother and me over to climb trees with him and the others while our mother joined her first meeting of the pentacle as baron. Who’d smiled at us even as Jude and Declan watched uncertainly. He’d come ready to accept us even if we’d only just been named scions, no matter what whispers were going around about what our parents had done to make that happen.
Rory hadn’t been here for my first couple months at the university when I’d been shell-shocked with grief and guilt—for all the times when senior students who’d known the former Stormhurst scion or juniors just looking to stir shit up had tried to provoke me into a fight, and Malcolm had diffused the situation with a few cutting words and his unshakeable confidence. For all the times since then when I had lost my temper, and he’d come ‘round to find me right afterward and ramble on as if nothing odd had happened until I felt grounded again.
He’d always believed I was worthy of his friendship even when I wasn’t so sure of it myself. The least I could do in return was believe that he knew what the hell he was doing. He pretty much always did.
I focused on those memories as I snuffed out yet another of Rory’s conjured flames. I couldn’t let anything distract me from the loyalty I owed.
By the time class wrapped up, my stomach might as well have transformed into a rock. I ducked out of the room before Rory had even left her desk and strode across campus. I wasn’t really thinking about where I was going, but my feet knew where to take me when I was in a twisted-up mood like this. The cool breeze washing over the lake brought the scents of moss and spring flowers.
I was just passing the building that carried my family’s name when a voice hollered out. “Connar!”
Declan was just coming out of the building, his hair damp from the pool. I stopped as he walked over to me. He swept a few stray strands away from his forehead and peered at me with his intent eyes. Even if I hadn’t known insight was his specialty, he’d have given me the impression he could see right inside my skull. Not that he was in the habit of testing our mental walls. He knew what loyalty meant too.
“We haven’t had much chance to talk in a while,” he said, which sounded strange to me.
“We were all hanging out in the lounge a couple days ago,” I pointed out.
“I mean just you and me.” He took a breath, and the wariness he’d never totally lost around me flitted through his expression. I’d seen it way too many times on too many faces to need any of my insight skill to recognize it. “What happened with you and Rory?”
Shit. My pulse stuttered with instinctive panic, but I knew how to keep my expression impassive. Just pretend you don’t know about it, pretend it didn’t happen. That approach had gotten me through plenty of clashes in the past.
I hadn’t had to use it with one of the other scions before, though.
“What do you mean?” I said. “What did she say?”
Declan kept studying me. “Not much. Just enough for me to know the two of you got friendly without the rest of us noticing—and that the way you tore into her the other day really shook her up.”
I ignored the first part of his statement. “Isn’t that what we’re supposed to be doing—shaking her up?”
“Sure,” he said. “Her attitudes. Her faith in the joymancers. Whatever’s getting in the way of her being able to do what she needs to do as a leader here. But she’s still a scion. She is one of us. She deserves better than cruelty for cruelty’s sake. And she’s never going to warm up to us if we’ve been encouraging her to see us as allies and then yanking the chair out from under her when she’s willing to.”
“I didn’t set out to yank any chairs out,” I said, which was true enough. The whole situation was an epic fuck-up, one I hadn’t intended or anticipated, and that was on me. Declan didn’t need to know all the details.
Maybe my expression turned even sterner or some flint came into my gaze, because the Ashgrave scion eased off. “Fine. Just keep in mind that if you break her more than we can build her back up, we lose as much as she does. We need her on our side.”
He stalked off, leaving me twice as tense as before.
I tried to put all of it—the conversation, the sabotage in class, the expectations I’d failed and the ones I wasn’t sure I could meet—behind me as I pushed into the forest. Finding my way to the clifftop was as easy as breathing. I’d found the little rocky clearing overlooking the lake years ago when I’d stomped off into the woods, purposely veering into the thicker underbrush to give me a distraction from whatever I’d been steaming about. The moment I’d stepped out into that quiet space, nothing but trees and water around me on all sides, the emotions inside me had stilled.
It always worked. Somehow, looking out over the lake made me feel as far away from the rest of my life as if I’d taken a jet across the ocean. Maybe the rest of my life was still there when I returned to the rest of campus, but it didn’t weigh on me quite as heavily right after.
At least, that was how it’d always been before. Now, when I emerged from the trees to the glittering expanse of the lake and the frame of trees all around it, a fresh wave of emotion rolled over me.
I could remember exactly how Rory had sat on the log that stretched across one end of the clearing, the way she’d held herself with all the confidence she could exude, determined not to be scared of me. The awe on her face when we’d looked out over the reflected stars. The heat of her mouth. The smell of her hair—
I closed my eyes and shook my head. No. I wasn’t going there. I didn’t want to go back to any of that. Anything I’d shared with Rory was in the past, far away, like the rest of the weight I carried.
No matter how much I told myself that, though, the impressions of her still lingered. I sat down with my back to a pine and couldn’t help thinking that I’d been sitting exactly two trees over when she’d first ventured into this space. When my hand came to rest on the earth, it was with the sensation of how I’d laid her body down on the ground just over there, under mine.
The natural magic of this place had to come back, didn’t it? If I just gave it enough time?
Today, I waited it out for half an hour before I was sure I couldn’t shake the memories completely. My heart sank as I stood up.
The clifftop wasn’t just mine anymore. Rory had come and made it hers too. How could I leave every uncomfortable thing behind when she was tied up in so much of that uneasiness, and she lingered up here in ways I couldn’t erase?
I didn’t want to erase her. I wanted to sit with her, talk with her, kiss her all over again. What the fuck was wrong with me?
Gritting my teeth, I marched back in the forest without any real sense of destination. If I walked far enough, maybe the crunch of my footsteps would drown out everything inside my head for at least a sliver of time.
Chapter Thirteen
Rory
Jude showed up in the garage carrying a cloth bag filled out in a vaguely rectangular shape. He tossed it in the back seat when he got in—on the passenger side, because last lesson I’d graduated to maneuvering, very very slowly, out of the parking spot myself.
“What’s that?” I asked, settling myself behind the wheel. Faint mingled smells reached my nose: bready and sugar sweet and a tart scent that made me think of fresh strawberries.
Jude stretched his legs out as far as the space allowed and flashed me a grin. “Since we are going more than half a mi
le today, I brought a reward for if you make it to the intended destination. I picked out a picnic spot a little ways outside town.”
We’d only driven into town and then back last time. My pulse sped up at the thought of taking the car farther, but I’d managed not to run into anything so far, with no further magical interventions from Jude needed.
“We’re going to have a picnic?” I said with skepticism I couldn’t disguise.
Jude raised an eyebrow. “They’re not really a fearmancer sort of thing, I admit. I was under the impression they were a Nary thing, so maybe you’d appreciate it considering you spent most of your life mingling with them. If I’m wrong and picnics aren’t anybody’s thing, I can always find something else to do with a tasty lunch.”
“No, no, picnics are good.” And from the smell continuing to seep through the car, that one was very good. “Just unexpected.”
He made an extravagant flourish with his hand. “I aim to be inexplicable.”
“Well, you definitely do a good job of that,” I muttered as I started the engine, and he laughed.
I managed to make it out of the garage and down the road into town with only a few momentary panic attacks. After I pulled off the left-hand turn at the main intersection that would lead us out into the country, my hands started to loosen where they’d been clenching the wheel. Driving really was a pretty simple process once you got used to the basics, at least out here where there wasn’t much in the way of traffic or any such thing as rush hour. I didn’t think I’d want to brave city streets quite yet.
As we left the last of the houses behind and cruised on along the country highway Jude directed me to, he rolled down his window. The wind ruffled through his floppy copper hair and tossed my brown waves back from my face.
A sly smile curled his lips. He motioned to the farmland around us. “It’s awfully flat out here. No blind turns, no pedestrians. I think you can push that engine a little faster.”
I glanced at the speedometer. “I’m at the speed limit.”
He made a dismissive sound. “Everyone drives at least ten over. On a stretch like this, more like twenty. Common rules of the road.” His smile curled a little higher. “Show me you’ve really got control over this hunk of steel, Ice Queen. I wouldn’t want to think you’re scared of a little asphalt.”
My heart thumped even faster, but I knew what he’d said was true. My parents used to complain about how fast they had to go to stay with the rest of traffic rather than getting in the way, which could be even more dangerous than speeding. And that was in the city. Better to get used to it out here.
No problem. Just ease a little more weight onto my foot on the gas pedal. There we go.
The engine growled louder. A few pebbles rattled against the undercarriage, and I restrained a wince. The wind warbled past us.
“Not so bad,” Jude said. “I think you can handle at least a bit more than this. Don’t you?”
I adjusted my grip on the wheel. It felt the same as it always did. The tires sped across the pavement, and the road ahead was clear. But still I hesitated.
Jude’s voice came out in a coaxing tone. “Come on, Rory. You’ve got this.”
I did. What exactly was I scared of? I could see for myself there were no obstacles ahead.
I pushed on the gas harder, and the car raced down the road. A jolt of exhilaration ran through me. I’d been so tense and careful while I was driving up until now, I couldn’t say I’d really enjoyed it. Right now, like this, it felt like flying.
I was in control. This vehicle and the power of its engine responded to my command without needing any magic at all.
Jude didn’t prod me for more. He tipped his head back with the wind coursing in from the window and closed his eyes as if losing himself in the sensation.
Only for a few seconds. Then he straightened up again and pointed to a crossroad up ahead. “Just past that road, we’re going to want to make a right. Do with that information what you will.”
I slowed as we passed the intersection, the thrill of flying along the road deflating. But the reduced speed did mean I was able to spot and pull onto the dirt track a hundred feet farther without any screeching of tires.
The track led through a sparse stand of trees and petered out at the edge of a sunny field dotted with wildflowers. It was about as perfect a picnic spot as I could have dreamed up. I glanced at Jude as I put the car into park. “Are you sure you’re new at this whole picnicking thing?”
Jude beamed at me and snatched the bag out of the back. “I’ll take your amazement as a compliment.”
It turned out the bag wasn’t actually a bag but a sheet of cloth folded and tied around a wicker basket. Jude unfurled the sheet over the grass as our picnic blanket and started laying out the basket’s contents. He peered up at me when he realized I was still standing there in the grass, staring.
“I can’t take credit for the trappings,” he admitted. “I just told the family chef I wanted the fixings and food for a picnic, and she sent all this along with the week’s meals.”
Somehow, that made me feel a little better. “Good,” I said, sitting down on one corner of the cloth. “Otherwise I’d have to worry that you’d been possessed or something.”
“By a picnic-loving spirit? You should be so lucky.”
“You’ll have to give my compliments to your chef.” The food looked as amazing as it had smelled. There were turkey sandwiches on rolls I could tell were home baked, deviled eggs sprinkled with paprika, a fruit salad of assorted berries, lemon tarts, and bottles of fizzy lemonade. When I lifted one to my mouth, the liquid prickled over my tongue with the perfect blend of sour and sweet.
I didn’t know what to say after that, so it was a good thing I had plenty to stuff my mouth with to avoid talking altogether.
When we’d polished off most of the main dishes, Jude sprawled out on his back with his elbows propping him up, squinting against the sun and looking so pleased with himself I couldn’t hold my tongue.
“How did you find this spot, anyway? Or did you send your chef to do that too?”
“I am capable of doing some work for myself. I spent a few hours driving around checking the likely sites. The ones not too far away from campus, obviously. I did want to be reasonably sure you’d make it.” He smirked at me.
It was hard for him to imagine Jude Killbrook going to that much trouble to set up a picnic—for my benefit, no less. “So where’s the catch?” I said. “There’s got to be more to this, right?”
“Because I can’t enjoy a pleasant afternoon with good company unless I have ulterior motives? I’m wounded.” He sighed dramatically and plucked a few berries out of the salad bowl. With a flick of his wrist, he tossed a raspberry in a perfect arc up into the air and down into his mouth. A blueberry careened after it.
“You’re going to end up choking like that,” I had to point out.
“Concern for my well-being! I’m making a little progress.”
I resisted the urge to stick out my tongue at him. “I didn’t say I’d care if you choked. I just thought you might like to know.”
“So chilly, Ice Queen.” He mock-shivered and tossed up another raspberry.
I leaned forward and snatched it out of the air in mid-arc, then popped it into my mouth instead. Jude pushed himself upright with a sound of protest. “Just saving you from yourself,” I said at his glower, but I couldn’t help smirking right back at him.
“In that case,” he said archly, “I find I’m suddenly deeply worried that you might choke on that tart.” He scooted over to snatch at the last of the lemon tarts that I’d been saving for when my stomach felt a little less full.
“Hey!” I grabbed it first and yanked it out of his reach. “You already had two. Where’s your hospitality?”
“Says the woman who just literally stole the food from my mouth.” He feinted left and shot out his hand to the right, and I jerked the tart away just in time.
His fingers closed arou
nd my wrist. Heat spread over my skin from that point of contact, and my body snapped into awareness of how close we’d gotten to each other, his arm across my abdomen, his knee against my thigh.
His head bowed just a foot away from mine, the sunlight catching in his dark green eyes. His stunning face filled my entire field of view. A momentary dizziness washed over me despite myself.
This was Jude Killbrook. No matter how charming he’d been the last few weeks, I’d seen how cruel he could be. He’d been that cruel to me.
In my distraction, he slipped the tart from my grasp and set it back on its plate. “I’m not sure this is what I want after all,” he said, low and soft. He let go of my wrist, but he didn’t pull back, his gaze searching mine. “I’d like to kiss you, but I’m a little concerned you might punch me.”
My pulse hiccupped. I willed my voice to stay steady. “Is there any particular reason why I shouldn’t punch you?”
“You could give kissing me a try first. I’ve gotten excellent reviews from multiple sources.”
I made a face and gave him a shove to propel him backward, careful not to let my hand linger on his lean chest. “How romantic. Consider working on your sales pitch.”
He shifted at my push, but his gaze stayed on my face. “Is the idea really so horrifying?”
“I don’t know about horrifying, but…” I let out an exasperated sound. “I appreciate your help with the driving, okay? And the picnic. And I’ll admit I’ve actually had fun. But you can’t expect me to just forget the whole first month I was here. You’ve never even apologized for the crap you put me through. You can’t just pretend it never happened and expect me to play along.”
Jude blinked at me as if startled. As if he had thought he could pretend the taunting and the pain away.
“What if I don’t know how to be sorry about that?” he said after a moment. “When I think about the way we came down on you, I remember how you rose to the challenge. Every tactic we tried, you pushed back harder. You were fucking brilliant. Do you think I’d be here otherwise?”