Chapter 15 Luxos #2
“You’re not worth my time,” he says, tossing her wrist out of his grip. “Go, then. Make a fool of yourself in front of the class. Remind them how you don’t belong.”
A snarl stretches across her face. If she could, she’d will her teeth to grow into fangs. She’d tear a chunk of sinewy flesh from his throat, feeling his shredded tendons slide between her teeth.
“Do you two ever stop arguing?” Florence asks, seated at the desk behind them. Claudia’s cheeks burn red. Fuming, she remains in her seat.
The room goes silent as Professor Olivier catches her breath. She clears her throat, straightens her crushed velvet robes, and turns to the blackboard behind her, writing with white chalk as if nothing happened.
The blackboard reads: Should gods be able to act with impunity?
Professor Olivier pulls a handkerchief from her desk and dabs the sweat from her forehead. Straightening her robes, she asks, “Well? Who will it be?”
Claudia is so confused. What is the professor looking for? Someone to volunteer? Why isn’t anyone raising their hand?
“Not again,” Cassius mutters under his breath, begrudgingly standing.
His head drops back as he groans, sauntering up to the front.
He stands next to the board and flits his glare to everyone in the class.
He’s looking for something, waiting for something.
Seconds pass and the class becomes restless, turning back and forth, staring at one another with expectant eyes.
“Come now, who else can read the board?” Professor Olivier asks.
Whispers and murmurs sound like the beginning of rainfall.
One by one, the other students turn toward Claudia.
All eyes are now on her. No matter where she looks, she can’t escape their gazes.
Panic thrums in her chest when she meets Cassius’s eyes.
Realization of some sort washes over his expression. “It’s you,” he mouths.
Professor Olivier finally looks at Claudia and says, “Oh, how could I forget! Miss Jolicoeur, you’ve never experienced this before. I should’ve explained and I do apologize. Please stand.”
Her knees shake when she rises. “Yes?”
“Can you read this board?” Olivier asks.
She clears her throat. “Should gods be able to act with impunity?”
Professor Olivier nods solemnly, motioning Claudia forward. “See, to everyone else in the room, including me, this message is completely illegible. Only those chosen by Malevimus can read it.”
When Claudia reaches the front of the class, the professor takes her by the shoulders and positions her next to Cassius. He winces at her closeness. “Congratulations to both of you, Mr. MacLeod and Miss Jolicoeur. Malevimus has selected you both to debate.”
All the other students are wearing smirks and whispering to one another. They know that Claudia will lose, and they can’t wait to watch.
Cassius sighs loudly while he walks back to his seat. “At least this one will be easy to win.”
Claudia catches up to him quickly. “What makes you so sure?”
“Oh, please.” He continues to his desk and falls gracefully into his seat. “Be serious.”
She places her palms on the corners of his desk and leans down. “I’m deadly serious.”
He laughs. “Deadly, sure, but serious?” He pushes himself up to her level. “You are not.” Leaning close enough to bite, he says, “You are nothing.”
The way he says it sounds exactly like her father.
Once, right after her father began his search for Claudia’s marital match, he’d looked at his daughter and said, “You’re a perfect little pawn, Claudia.
Do you know what that means? You’re not worth a damn thing to keep, but you are the easiest thing to trade. ”
She is not nothing.
She is a scholar. She is a witch. And for Cassius, she’s a worthy rival.
Spite takes hold of her body and controls her next movements. Without thinking, she slaps him across the face. “I hate you.”
The entire class gasps, then goes perfectly silent. The only sound in the room is the sharp, almost wet echo of the slap, and Claudia’s slow, angry breaths.
It feels amazing. He’s been antagonizing her from the moment she arrived, and his comment was the last straw—that slap was well-earned. She wants to do it again. Harder.
Cassius is faster this time, catching her wrist the moment she raises her hand. His gaze flits between her hand and her eyes. His smirk, so slowly, stretches across his face, twists into his swollen stain of her handprint on his cheek.
“Miss Jolicoeur!” Professor Olivier yells. Claudia turns her head over her shoulder, eyes wide with rage. Even the professor looks a bit afraid. “Violence like that is completely unacceptable. Apologize to Mr. MacLeod.”
Cassius looks at her, pouting, mocking. “Are you sorry?”
“Not at all.”
Professor Olivier storms down the aisle and separates them. She looks at Claudia sternly. “I have no choice but to deduct points from your grade and allow Mr. MacLeod the choice of pro or against.” Looking sympathetically at Cassius, she says, “Please, choose your side.”
Cassius smirks and stares directly at Claudia. “Pro.”
The clock tower rings, signifying the end of class. Professor Olivier stops Claudia and Cassius from packing their things and says, “Both of you stay. We need to have a talk.”
They stand before their desk. Cassius glares at Claudia.
She turns away, crossing her arms and squeezing her fist. The sting from the slap keeps her hand buzzing.
She loves it. This is her favorite kind of pain—well-earned, attended with pleasure.
She’d slap him again right now if Olivier wasn’t looming over them with pure fury in her eyes.
When the room clears, their professor closes the door and stands before them with her hands on her hips. “I know you two do not get along, but this must stop.”
“She was the one who slapped me,” Cassius says, his stance rigid and defensive.
“I know. But let’s not pretend you are innocent in this, Mr. MacLeod. I’ve seen you two fight in every single lecture, and Professor Lamour says it’s just as bad in his class.”
Bastard.
“Now that Malevimus has paired you two for debate, I am going to use this opportunity to force you both to work out whatever tensions keep you from behaving in class. It is imperative that you cooperate during the preparation process. If I detect any instance of sabotage or hindering each other’s progress, I will fail you both. Am I clear?”
Like children, they both nod solemnly with their heads hung low.
“Good.” Her stern stare lingers for a moment longer, and then she relaxes a bit.
“You know, it’s quite interesting how even when people argue passionately, they often have more in common than they realize.
I actually think you two are more alike than you’re willing to admit.
Rather than making each other worse, you could make each other better if you simply tried to be kind instead of cruel. ”
Cassius mumbles something in a sarcastic tone, but Olivier quiets him with a quick raise of her brow.
“I’m serious, both of you. I don’t want to see this anymore, even after your debate ends. The fighting in my class is over. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Professor,” Cassius says.
Claudia nods. “It won’t happen again.”
“Good.” She waves them off. “Now go and get to work.”
“You have to beat Cassius,” Alistair says, stretching across Claudia’s bed on his stomach.
Bishop, wary, inches up to him and sniffs his outstretched fingers.
The snake is not great with new people, or men, and Alistair is both.
He has to work extra hard to earn Bishop’s trust. Every day since Claudia introduced Alistair to her beloved pet, he’s visited her room with different offerings for Bishop—crickets, frogs, even a dead bird once.
The snake has warmed up to Alistair enough that he’ll occasionally allow a head pat.
Today, Alistair has brought him a roach. He dangles it by a crooked leg and says, “Cassius has never lost before. It would be good for him.”
Claudia stands before her vanity table and nervously fidgets with her trinkets.
Her eyes go wide when she realizes that Odette’s diary entries are poking out from beneath her spattering of accessories.
She’s keeping them a secret so long as her hunt for the killer continues.
Anyone could be the killer—though not Alistair, of course.
He’s too good. But Cassius? Marcherie? Even Lamour raises suspicions from time to time.
She doesn’t want anyone to know she’s collecting diary entries that very well may lead her to unmasking a monster.
She swiftly shoves the papers into a drawer and asks, “How many times has he been selected?”
“Three, including this one.”
“And he always wins?”
“Oh, he doesn’t just win. He annihilates. His last opponent—James Birdsong—hasn’t uttered a single word since their debate. His shame was so deep it inspired a vow of silence.”
Claudia groans. “So how am I supposed to beat him? I’m a semester behind everyone else, and I’ve never done a debate in my life.” She crosses the room and slumps onto her bed. Glaring up at the ceiling, she says, “Why would Malevimus put him against me? It’s cruel.”
“Malevimus likes him, I suppose.”
“Everyone likes him. Even you,” Claudia bites out. “I don’t get it. He’s insufferable.”
“He’s tough to crack, but gooey inside. And he’s famous.” Alistair’s voice sounds far away as he focuses on enticing the snake with the bug in his hand.
“What do you mean?”
He’s hardly paying attention to her. Bishop springs forward and snatches the roach into his jaws with a crunch.
Alistair turns over his palm and offers Bishop a place to settle.
For the first time, the snake slithers into his hand, then twists around his arm to hold on tight.
Elated, Alistair says, “Claudia, look!” He brings Bishop close and gives him a gentle forehead kiss. “He loves me!”