Bodies
Felix
The campus is an icebox at this hour—the sky a smeared gradient between black and gunmetal.
If there’s an official start time to the day at l’Academie, we’re about two hours ahead of it.
Most of the lights in the dorms are still off, not that you’d know from the way the cold ricochets across the stones of the quad and then off your skull.
The air is so sharp it gives your breath a visible presence, and even I’m feeling it in my bones—which means my princess has to be freezing.
Yet she doesn’t shiver or complain, just walks beside me with her bag pressed tight to her chest like it’s a riot shield.
No one can accuse Dolly Drew of being a whiner; that’s for godsdamn sure.
We’re not speaking at first, and that’s fine.
I enjoy these walks in the dark, especially because it’s just the two of us and the campus is so empty you could pretend the world belongs to you for a minute.
I time my steps so I’m slightly ahead of her stride, enough to cut the wind, with my hand at the small of her back.
I’m scanning the quad for any odd morning threats, but also for any movement that could mean trouble.
One thing the first two schools taught us is that not all threats are on the clock, nor are they from where you’d expect.
We’re halfway to the Shird when Dolly finally says, “Did you hear anything from the crew or Farley last night? I felt a little guilty leaving you all alone, but I definitely had a very good reunion with my friend.”
I turn and shake my head. “Raina checked in once, with nothing new on that front. Fitz worked on his ‘special projects’, but he located nothing on Sterling. Farley has been silent.” I know this is not what she’s actually asking, but sometimes you have to let her circle the runway for a few extra miles before she can land.
Her eyes are fixed on the frosted grass, as if she’s expecting to see a crime scene outline.
She swallows, and there’s a little white puff in the air that marks the beat.
“She always said her family was okay with it, and I thought that was true. I think she did, too.” My mate trails off with a heavy sigh.
We cut left to avoid a cluster of glassy-eyed freshmen, probably just now staggering home from wherever the fuck they were.
I flash them a dark stare and they part around us like sheep, which is always a thrill.
My hand never leaves Dolly’s back, and I feel her shoulder blades through the hoodie, stiff as steel.
She doesn’t stop, though; she just talks more softly, as if she’s afraid someone will hear.
“They’re punishing her. She didn’t say how, and she won’t, you know. Zhenga’s in trouble too, but her family is more about the silent treatment and cutting you off than making you disappear—at least, for now.”
I know them better than that, but I let her believe it anyway.
We will have to deal with the Leonidas heir and family before it becomes an issue that is much more serious than being left out.
However, that’s something I can keep off Dolly’s plate, and she can worry about one less issue.
Between the rest of her mates and myself, we have enough experience dealing with that kind of bullshit to cover many lifetimes.
Zhenga should have simply come to us for help rather than let the problem get out of hand.
Dolly glances at me, and there’s this weird mix of determination and embarrassment, like she hates herself for being the one to bring bad news.
“Can you tell the others not to tease them? Especially not Cori—she’s scared it’ll go public, and she doesn’t want Z’s people to escalate shit.
Her parents are being assholes, but I think she believes they’ll come around, eventually.
I feel Zhenga is more concerned with the Leonidas pride. ”
She should be, and I plan to work on it.
But I keep my tone smooth, even gentle. “They won’t say a word that could make it worse, I promise. Nobody needs to know, Princess, and we’ll do what we can. Trust me?” I let the last word out as a soft exhale, because even if we’re alone, it always makes her chin come up a little.
She huffs out a breath that isn’t quite relief, but maybe the closest she can manage. “Thank you, Felix. "
We keep walking, our pace never changing, accompanied by the sound of our shoes and the occasional shriek from a crow, the only noise on the quad.
I track every movement out of the corner of my eye.
Once a shadow passes over the path, some gigantic bird or maybe a bored griffin stretching his wings on the way to a morning shift.
Nothing worth worrying about, I’m sure.
My free hand keeps curling into a fist and then uncurling.
I don’t let it show on my face, but the pulse in my jaw is a dead giveaway if you know what to look for.
I do not like that Cori is being hurt for something this stupid, or that my mate has to carry that knowledge like a concealed weapon.
I let it build, the slow burn behind my sternum, and file it with all the other shit I’m going to address as soon as I can get to Fitz and the others.
She notices, because of course she does. “It’s not your job to fix everything, you know,” she mutters, a half-smile at the edge of her mouth. “If the parents think we’re stirring up trouble, they’ll clamp down twice as hard.”
I let the corner of my mouth lift and say, “I know how to play this, Princess. I can keep a low profile.” I guide her gently around an iced-up puddle and lower my voice, “But I am not letting anyone get away with hurting our friends. There are ways to balance the scales without tipping them over.”
She looks at me with a face so earnest it hurts. “You mean it?”
I want to say something snarky, but I don’t.
Instead, I pull her gently to a stop before the steps of the Shird, and for a minute, it’s just us.
“You did the right thing by telling me. I won’t let it blow up on my watch.
” I reach for the bag, take it off her shoulder without asking, and keep my hand on it until she lets go.
Then I shift it to my own and, with my other hand, open the heavy glass door for her.
Dolly steps into the vestibule, and sighs as the warmth hits us. For a second, there’s a softness I rarely get from her in public as she slips her coat off. “Go murder a barre, Princess,” I murmur, handing the bag back when she’s done. “I’ve got the rest.”
Nodding once, she winks at me before disappearing down the hall to the elevator.
For a moment, I stand there, the warmth of her gone and the cold suddenly sharp as a blade again.
But then the mask drops, and I let the smile vanish.
Flexing my hand once as the pulse behind my jaw goes from subtle to full-on migraine, I pivot and head straight for the annex.
We have work to do.
There’s a reckoning coming for those families, and I’ll be the one collecting.
Every muscle in my body is lit up, every nerve tuned to the mission as I head home. I work the angles as I walk, assembling the situation like a data array, every variable a fresh point of irritation.
What’s on the list? Cori, who's being subtly pimped out by her family, and struggling. Next, Zhenga, the one lever we have inside the pred student body, also in the vise. There’s enough at stake that I have to ensure her idiot brother leaves her alone.
Neither family had done anything egregious enough to warrant our attention—not really—but it's funny how quickly you can go from ‘maybe we can rehabilitate’ to ‘these assholes are on the list and will never be off’.
Family is not something you throw away because it didn’t fit your worldview—my father taught me that lesson the hard way.
I hit the annex side entrance, wave my arm, and slam through into the corridor, feeling the lock click and reengage behind me.
It’s early enough that I smell nothing but the afterimage of Chess’s breakfast and the faint odor of dish soap.
There’s a background hum from the main server closet, a little louder than it should be, which means Fitz has something running at full heat.
I slow just enough to clock it, then round the corner to the main room we use as our home base.
Inside, the lighting is set to ‘low and angry’.
Fitz is hunched over a screen with four windows open, all running independent tasks.
He doesn’t look up until I say, low and clipped, “Fitz. Library. Now. If Aubrey and Rennie are back there, they’re in too.
” The words land like a thrown knife, and my twin’s reaction is perfect; one flick of his finger and the windows all minimize, as if he’s been waiting for the cue to drop the side gigs.
“I’m ready,” he says, standing so quickly the chair barely creaks. He’s wearing cut-off joggers, one of Dolly’s crop tops with no shoes, and a topknot—it’s the picture of wackiness that defines him. “Whatever it is, I’m game, bro.”
Chuckling, I jerk my head at the double doors to the library, and we head through them to find the dragon.
Aubrey’s sitting at his desk, arms folded as he glares at the Smackbook screen like it offended his ancestors. “What are you two doing in here?” He narrows his eyes at Fitz and sighs heavily. “Especially dressed in home attire. You know shoes are required in my library, Fitzgerald.”
Renard is probably still out in the garden or doing his admin rounds, so we will have to loop him in later.
The gargoyle works in here if he’s not in class or out there to keep our cranky fire-spitter from destroying things when the arduous schedule and students drive him crazy.
I don’t see him atop any shelves, so my assumption is reasonable.