by Sophia Shade
I take a deep breath to keep my fire from riling up. He does believe he beat me. Ugh!
“I’m a prince, and a full Fae,” he continues, wedging his foot further into his mouth. “It would be hard for anyone to beat me. You’re still a great fighter!”
Oh my God. Why is he making this so hard? I just want to punch him and show just how good of a fighter I am, but then I’d really end up on the chopping block since I wouldn’t have the “but we were just sparring in class” excuse. Which apparently wasn’t ever going to be an excuse anyway.
I’m trying to come up with the nicest possible way to tell him to go jump in a lake of embers when Erick speaks up. I hadn’t even realized he had walked up behind me.
“Maybe she’s mad because she had to throw that fight yesterday,” Erick says.
“What are you talking about?” Caleb asks, rising to his feet.
Oh no. Here we go again. I jump to my feet, too.
“She had to let you win so she wouldn’t get expelled for kicking your little princeling ass.”
“Geeze, Erick,” I say, but Caleb jumps in.
“You mean that rule about not hurting Fae royalty?” he asks. “That’s dumb. It doesn’t apply to friendly sparring in class.”
“Yes, it does,” Erick says. “It’s not like there are separate rules for one class to the next. If she had defeated you and your folks found out, they could have her expelled.”
“That’s crazy,” Caleb says. “I wouldn’t have complained. It was just friendly sport.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Erick says. I’ve never seen him so riled up. His hands are moving all over the place while he talks. “If someone else told your parents, it would be enough. And you know plenty of people would love to see her expelled, like Ferria, or Coach Volcanis.”
Those words are like a slap in the face. Erick clearly knows things I was only able to guess before now. And he hadn’t told me.
“Look, whatever, man,” Caleb says, stepping back. “No one asked your opinion. I was talking to my girlfriend. So why don’t you back off?”
“Why don’t you make me?” Erick says.
Caleb opens his arms, exposing his chest. “Have at me,” he says. “Do it so I can have you expelled.”
Erick balls up his hands, tightening his fists as they start to glow. “Man, don’t tempt me.”
“Okay, that’s enough,” I yell, stepping between them. “Both of you need to chill out and back off!”
“Fine with me,” Caleb says as he turns and strides away.
“What the hell was that?” I ask, turning on Erick. “I don’t need you stepping up to defend me!”
“And I don’t need you to try to stop me from getting expelled for putting that little punk in his place,” he barks.
“I don’t give a shit about whether you get expelled,” I snap, but then he turns away.
“Whatever you say, Imogen,” he calls over his shoulder.
I sigh and cross my arms. What is he even talking about? I wasn’t trying to keep him from getting expelled. I was just trying to stop them from fighting.
Of course, now that I think about it, I really don’t want Erick expelled, especially for fighting with Caleb over me. Erick and I don’t see eye to eye, but he is an asset to this school and to the group. And possibly the only person who might know what really happened to Professor Crowsfly.
I look over at Ella, who has been silent this whole time. She just shakes her head.
“So complicated,” she says.
Tell me about it.
Chapter 13
A few days later, I skip my Fae History class so I can spend some time scoping out the missing door. I need to go when no one else will be around, and during classes seems like my best bet. At night, even with a curfew, anyone could walk up at any time. During the day isn’t much better, really, with faculty and staff about, but I have to try.
I pace back and forth down the hall a few times, building up my courage and making sure no one else is around. When I am sure the coast is clear, I approach the wall where the door was and run my hand over it.
Nothing.
Even though I can sense there is something there, my hands glide over a completely flat wall.
“Damn,” I mutter.
Maybe the door is gone, but the room or whatever was behind it is still there. Like the door was removed, then drywall and plaster put in its place.
No, that’s crazy. It was there one second and gone the next. There wasn’t enough time for the door to be closed.
Of course, this is Fae. Anything is possible.
Maybe someone froze me in time and replaced the door.
Maybe someone transported the door somewhere else.
Maybe someone put an enchantment on me so I just can’t see it.
Okay, maybe I am going crazy.
I sigh and step away from the wall. Leaning against the opposite wall, I think about what to do. But I don’t get very deep into my thoughts when Damon approaches.
“Imogen?” he says. “What are you doing here? Why aren’t you in class?”
Great. Of all the people to run in to, I don’t need him looking down his nose at me.
“Oh, I…uh…” I bite my lip. “I was coming to see you.”
He grunts, and his gaze shifts around. He seems nervous.
“Yeah, I wanted to thank you for showing me how to defend myself,” I say. “It really came in handy.”
“That so?” he asks as he heads down the hall toward his own office.
“Totally,” I say, trailing behind him to keep up the guise, even though my mind is still back behind me with the door—or rather, where the door should be. “I ended up paired with Lucas again, and he legit tried to kill me.”
“You don’t say?” Damon opens his door and steps inside.
I follow, uninvited. “Yeah, if it hadn’t been for Erick and the others, I think Volcanis would have let Lucas just choke the life right out of me.”
“Surely not,” he says. He rummages through some papers on his desk, but I sense he’s not actually searching for anything.
“He didn’t try to stop him,” I say, sitting in a chair in front of his desk.
“Why didn’t you?” he asks.
I shrug. “Well, I knew I could count on my friends. I didn’t need to fight back. I was remembering your first lesson.”
“Hmm?” he asks. He’s turned away from me now and taps his chin with his finger while he looks over his book shelves.
“The first lesson you taught me,” I say. “Remember? When you brought me through the Shadow Veil?”
“What?” he asks.
“‘In a fight, always wait for the right moment to strike’,” I say. “That’s what you told me.”
“Did I?” He turns back and starts opening and closing random drawers on his desk.
Sighing, I roll my eyes. I can never get through to this guy, even with his own words.
“Five minutes, Mr. Clawfire.” Turning, I see Minister Tempest standing at the door giving Damon a pointed look. I can’t help but gulp. She’s so intimidating even when she isn’t trying to be.
“Be right there,” he says, not making eye contact with her. She nods and walks away.
That’s why he’s so nervous. Fidgety. He’s worried about his interview, just like the other professors have been. But why? If they aren’t guilty of anything, why are they so worried about their interviews?
“So what are you worried about?” I ask him.
“What do you mean?” he asks. He finally sighs and slumps down into his chair.
“You are totally freaking out about your interview,” I say.
“I’m not ‘freaking out’,” he says. “I’m just looking for something.”
“What?” I ask, leaning forward and pointedly running my gaze across his desk.
“Never you mind,” he says. “What is going on with you and what’s his name? Erick?”
“Me and Erick?” Has he listened to a
nything I’ve just said? “What are you talking about?”
“You’ve been seen together quite a bit, and you said he helped you with your problem in class the other day,” he says.
“I’ve hardly been seen at all with Erick this year,” I say. “He’s not tutoring me anymore. I’ve been dating Caleb.”
“Caleb Darkflame?” Damon asks, raising an eyebrow. “An Unseelie prince? Are you sure?”
“I think I would know,” I say, crossing my arms.
He gives me a placating smile. “I’m sure you do.”
Why do people keep assuming I’m with Erick? It is so maddening! No wonder Caleb is starting to get jealous. I’ve been with Caleb since last year—we almost…yeah—but people still keep shipping me with Erick. What are they seeing I’m not? What am I doing to give people that impression?
“Speaking of the ministers,” I say, desperate to change the topic. “Did you know Professor Crowsfly?”
“Of course,” he says. “For many years.”
“Who do you think killed her?” I ask, probably too brazenly.
“You don’t need to be concerning yourself with that,” he says, his gaze darkening.
“I think everyone here should be concerned with it,” I say, not backing down. “Last year, Myra killed people, then herself. This year, someone killed a teacher. Everyone should be scared. Everyone should be worried. Everyone should be taking part in finding out what happened.”
“Is that what you’re doing?” he asks, folding his hands together and learning forward on his desk. “Finding out what happened? Investigating this yourself?”
I shrug. No point in lying. “I think we both know the Fae have very little experience in investigating such matters.”
“But you’re an expert?” he asks. He leans back, then starts picking through stacks of files on his desk. This time, though, he seems to be keeping one eye on me.
“I found out Myra was the killer last year,” I say. “No one else, including you, would listen to me. I think dismissing me now would be a mistake.”
He pauses, returning his full attention to me. I’m not sure what he’s doing, if anything. He isn’t showing a magical signature, so I don’t think he is trying to use magic on me, but it’s as if he’s looking for something, or waiting for something. I sit tight. Something else I learned from crime shows is that if I stay quiet long enough, eventually the other person will speak.
“And what do your instincts tell you now?” he asks, almost as though he’s daring me to speak up.
“I think you are hiding something,” I say. “Why else would you be so nervous?”
He chuckles. “If only you knew the half of it,” he says.
“So you are hiding something?” I say.
“More than you can imagine.”
We continue to sit, locked in a stare. Did he really just admit he’s hiding something? Should I ask him more questions? Wait for him to talk? Is he trying to tell me more? Has he already said more than I think? Is he waiting for me to put the pieces together?
Ugh, now I’m getting nervous. It’s like he’s silently pushing me, challenging me. I’m missing something. There’s more going on here than I can see or understand.
“Are you hiding something in relation to Frieda Crowsfly’s death?” I ask. “Is that why you are so nervous?”
“You think I’m a murderer?” he asks.
I swallow, but my throat is dry as paper. I hadn’t considered that, but I trust my gut. “No,” I say. “But it doesn’t help you’ve answered a question with a question.”
“I suppose not.”
“And it doesn’t say much,” I continue. “I can’t think any professor here is a killer. That’s why I think the ministers are wasting their time interviewing you, Coach Thorne, and the other teachers.”
“So who should they be interviewing?” he asks.
Erick, I want to say. He’s my only real lead. He was with Professor Crowsfly before her death. He’s the only person with a real connection to her murder that I can think of. But I don’t say it. I don’t want Damon, or the ministers, looking too closely at Erick. If he was to be investigated, it could ruin his life, even if he is found innocent. The accusation alone might be something he could never escape. So I zip my lips on that thought, for now, and look somewhere else.
“She was Unseelie,” I say. “I would probably start there.”
Damon laughs, tossing his head back. “The Unseelie are the villains again?” he says. “Weren’t you wrong about that last time?”
“Maybe,” I say, jutting out my chin. “But it did lead me to the right answer. You have to admit it would be a better path to take than interviewing the professors.”
He leans forward on his desk once more. “I think you are the one hiding something,” he says. “I think you had another name on your lips. Someone you are protecting.”
This time, my lips go dry. I try to moisten them, but my tongue is parched. How does he know? He…always seems to know something. I’m beginning to think Damon Clawfire is more than he appears.
Minister Tempest pops her head back into the room. “It’s time, Mr. Clawfire.”
“On my way,” he says, not taking his eyes from mine.
Finally, he stands, and I do as well. He moves toward the door. I think he’s going to leave without another word, but at the last minute, he turns back.
“Stop worrying about me,” he says. “It’s you that you need to worry about.”
Chapter 14
“I can’t believe Brangelina broke up,” Ella says. She’s flipping through one of the magazines I brought with me from the human realm while she sits at my desk.
“I know, right?” I fan my nails to dry them. It’s the day before the Moon Festival, so we are doing some last-minute prepping.
“It must be so hard to be human and try to find love,” she says. “I mean, when your life is so short, there must be such a rush to find someone.”
I nod. “Especially if you want to have kids. Human women are told we pretty much have a window of twenty years to have kids. If you don’t have kids by forty, your eggs are basically toast.”
Ella scrunches her nose and gasps. “That is terrible,” she says. “I can’t imagine being married by forty, much less having kids.”
“I think Dannika thinks I’m crazy for taking my relationship with Caleb so seriously,” I say, glancing at her empty bed. She’s at a club meeting, helping with Moon Festival preparations.
“From a Fae standpoint, I’d say she is right,” Ella says. She takes one of my hands in hers and flutters her fingers over it, causing a light mist of sparkles to fall on my nails. I quickly apply another coat of clear polish to set them. “It’s not your fault, though, having been raised with a human outlook.”
“I feel like I need to shed that somehow,” I say. “Like, how do I stop looking at the world through human-colored glasses?”
“I suppose it just takes time.” She picks through the nail polish colors on my desk. “The longer you are here, the less human you’ll be.”
“Is that the goal?” I ask. “To be less human? I’m not sure I want that, either. I mean, half of me is human. And I think a lot of the problems here in Aos Sí are caused by having such a limited worldview.”
“You mean with the investigation of the murder of Professor Crowsfly?” Ella asks, turning a polish bottle upside down to read the color, but the sticker has been peeled off.
“Pixi Stix,” I say, telling her the color. She sets it down. “And yes, that’s one example. You should have seen how nervous Mr. Clawfire was yesterday in his office before his interview. But there’s no way he had anything to do with her death. The ministers make everyone nervous, but they’re wasting everyone’s time.”
I’m surprised to see Ella pick a daring red nail polish. She stands to come sit on the bed and begins filing her nails.
“How do you know Mr. Clawfire is innocent?” she asks.
I move to the chair she vaca
ted so I don’t shake the bed while she works. “I asked him, point blank, and he denied it.”
“The killer is probably a good liar,” she says mischievously. “It’s how he has evaded detection so long already.”
“You are probably right about that,” I say. “But he wasn’t lying. I could see it in his eyes. But he was hiding something.”
“What do you think it was?” she asks. She levels her gaze at me as she blows the nail dust from filing away from her hand. “Any ideas?”
“I don’t know.” I shrug. “I’ll find out eventually. I’ll add it to my list of weird things to figure out about this place.”
“Has Caleb figured out anything about Professor Crowsfly from the Unseelie side of things?” she asks as she sweeps the polish over her nails.
“I…we haven’t talked much lately,” I admit a little shamefully. “After the incident with the tree, me having to throw that fight, and the incident at the club before that. I don’t know. Just seems like everything has been going wrong lately.”
Ella nods, but her gaze stays directed at her nails. “Is he still taking you to the dance?”
“I have no idea.” I eye my dress, hanging on a hook on the back of the door next to Dannika’s. “I’ll just have to go and see if he dances with me or not.”
“I’m sure you’ll have no problem finding dance partners with that dress,” she says, following my gaze.
“I wish I had a camera,” I say. “I would love to get a picture of me in it to give to my mom.”
“There will be portrait artists there,” Ella says. “They work fast. You can just get a painting done to take back for her.”
“Really?” I ask. “That would be so cool!”
“Caleb won’t be able to resist you in that dress,” she says confidently. “And if he does, I’m sure Erick will be more than happy to take his place.”
I scoff. “God, why does everyone think there’s something between Erick and me?”
“I’m not sure,” Ella says. She applies some rhinestones to her nails, concentrating. “There is just something about you two. Like…an attraction. Two magnets. You are just drawn together, and everyone around you can sense it.”