“I rather thought that I’d punch a fae in the nose.” Magenta’s eyes were ice-cold.
“By Odin’s cock, make it two punches,” Sleipnir snarled, as his hair darkened to an ominous red.
Ezekiel stretched out his wings; his flaming gaze never left Lysander’s. “You were told not to draw blood. Do I need to write to Prince Titus and inform him that you no longer obey orders?”
Lysander flinched.
I stared at the blood, which had dripped from my nose onto my shirt. I didn’t know why I hadn’t expected Lysander to break Ezekiel’s rule. Except, Lysander was usually a suck up. He didn’t like to be in trouble, and by the look on Ezekiel’s face, there wasn’t enough sucking up in the world that Lysander could do to get out of it.
“Not the face,” I moaned. “Does it please you to pretend to be sorry and then disfigure me?”
Hurt an incubus but never damage their face. Punishments must never mar the visible beauty.
Lysander only chuckled, before reaching down to hold out his hand to help me up. Perhaps, he hoped that it’d get him out of punishment.
Rage surged through me. He thought that I was nothing but a weak incubus with the wee sword who could be knocked about by the regal fae, did he?
Never underestimate the power of a member of the Night Lineage when he’d been made to bleed.
Vibrating with adrenaline and fury, I snatched up my own sword and jabbed its blunt tip across Lysander’s cheek. I would’ve taken the time to carve a B, but the moment that the iron tip touched Lysander’s skin, it seared him. Lysander howled. I watched in horror, as he staggered, clutching his cheek.
I’d wanted to hurt him, just like he’d hurt my throbbing nose, but now I only wanted to take it back. I wasn’t a warrior. I hated making anyone, (even as big a bastard as Lysander), look at me with eyes that gleamed with tears, which he was struggling as hard as I ever did to not let fall.
“I-I d-didn’t know that it’d…” I chucked the sword as far from me as I could. It clattered against the wall. “I’m s-sorry…”
“You hate me.” Lysander’s agonized gaze darted between all of us Immortals, even Magenta. “But it’s not my fault who I am. And you’re not sorry yet but you will be.”
“I said enough.” Ezekiel grabbed my arm, yanking me to my feet next to Lysander. Should I tell him that he’d officially lost control of this lesson? “The only way for you to survive is to put the past behind you but you can’t do that if you’re too busy fighting each other. Except, the Crows like to keep you distracted because they delight in your rivalries.” When he wrapped his wings around himself, I wished that I was safely snuggled in their tangy warmth again. “If you learn anything today, it should be that that there are enough enemies outside the academy. Don’t make them inside as well.”
His look at Lysander and me was so painfully hopeful that we both plastered on fake smiles.
The moment that the prince discovered me alone, I was officially dead.
Lysander rubbed at his tender cheek. “I understand that I’m pushing my luck, but who won the lesson?”
Ezekiel huffed. “After that display…? None of you. It was a draw. I should punish you all.”
I stilled, glancing at Magenta. Sleipnir’s arms were slipped protectively around Magenta’s waist, and I wished that I could be in their arms, instead of on the other side of the gym with a sullen fae.
Ezekiel rubbed his wing across my nose and to my shock, the pain vanished. “Now stop looking like a kicked puppy.” He glanced at Lysander, before repeating the trick across his cheek as well. I was so relieved when the burn vanished that I even grinned at the prince. Weird, I felt dirty. Maybe I had a fae kink. “Both of you stop looking like kicked puppies. As you drew, I get to choose the outcome of the Punish and Reward Game.”
My grin faded. The only consolation to my sexy self was that Lysander looked about as stricken as me.
When Ezekiel burst into laughter, I startled. “You’d think I was about to send you to the firing squad.”
“Aren’t you?” Sleipnir queried.
“I’m rewarding you by canceling today’s session in the Memory Theater. No other professor can order it, even if they wish to punish you.” Ezekiel’s expression darkened, as he scrutinized Magenta. “The original spell was cast by your mother, and even Damelza can’t break it. We all have our secrets that we wish to keep buried.” Beg me to let you burn yourself… When I swayed, struggling to breathe, it was Lysander who steadied me. Just for a moment, as our gazes met, it was if he understood. Then he shoved me away from him like he feared that he’d catch fleas. “Tonight at least, you’ll remain in the present. Both Immortals and Princes shall share an evening in the Rebel Café and live for once.”
“Living it up with the Princes… Hey, are you certain that this isn’t a punishment?” Sleipnir demanded.
Lysander marched to the door; his shoulders were tight. “If you wish to discuss punishment, then set your godly imagination to what I have awaiting you. Because Professor Bacchus is not renowned for her mercy, and I shall win the next lesson.”
“Bring it on, Oberon.” Sleipnir stalked after him.
“I’m a prince,” Lysander replied stiffly, “and not—”
“King of the fairies, yeah, yeah.” Sleipnir winked at me over his shoulder.
I tried to smile, but the crawling sensation was back under my skin, and I struggled not to scratch. Once I started, I’d draw my own blood and that was forbidden. I tucked my treacherous hands underneath my armpits, and stared at Magenta, who drifted as close to me as she dared, skimming her hand through the air over my nose, as if to check that it truly was fixed.
I fought not to lean into her touch (because electro shocking your lover was not sexy unless negotiated beforehand).
“We shall get through this together,” she murmured. “You’re mine, and even though they think to keep us apart, there’s nothing they can do that shall ever separate us again.”
My guts squirmed with guilt because she was wrong. Even if the Principal had told her about the Duchess’ visit, she didn’t know about the Duchess. Ma had thought that she could keep me from her and look where those intentions had got me: bonded to a psychopath who loved to burn rebellious incubi.
I forced those thoughts away because I already had to face another psychopath in my Spells, Hexes, and Potions class. This morning, Fox had sounded like a cute robin when he’d repeated SHP, which meant that I’d innocently pretended I couldn’t hear him, just so that he’d had to say it again a couple of times. Adorable. Bacchus was Sleipnir’s most feared teacher, however, and I might not be able to protect my own pettable arse, but I’d sworn that I’d protect Fox’s pretty one.
Yet Lysander had shown just how far he’d go to win the Rebel Cup. What was he planning? I had a feeling that Ezekiel hadn’t taught the lesson that he’d been intending.
After today, Lysander would be even more dangerous.
Chapter Fourteen
SLEIPNIR
My connection to my brothers was the one thing that the witches hadn’t been able to strip away from me. They were my heart. But they were also dicks because sometimes, when I needed to feel most in control of myself, they surged to the surface to defend me.