Chapter 4 #4
In light of Evren’s terrifying wrath, my own ability was rendered nothing more than a mere party trick.
How could my strange gift compare to inflicting invisible agony or stripping someone of their bodily autonomy?
And yet, his powers did not work on me. Why?
I didn’t have time to consider, or even celebrate this fact, because now Evren was eyeing August with a savage glint in his green eyes.
For all my bluffs, I could do nothing to help August as the little blood that remained drained from his cheeks as Evren’s fingers closed around his throat. What were they going to do to him? I felt the bile rise in my throat—
“Am I interrupting?” A voice spoke directly behind me.
I whirled around so quickly that I nearly cricked my neck.
Casimir.
Two thoughts warred for dominance: first, what the hell is he doing here? And second, thank the fucking gods that he is.
In his dark jeans and leather jacket, his obsidian hair curled into a crown upon his head, he cut the terrifyingly beautiful figure of an archangel. Whether he was an angel, demon, or self-absorbed sophomore, it did not matter. In this moment, he was my savior.
I caught a glimpse of the storm brewing just beneath his stony expression, but I doubted anyone else noticed.
No one watched Casimir the way I did. Casimir’s gaze fell to where Devereaux still gripped my hand at the center of the table, and his eyes narrowed.
I glanced to the others to see how Casimir’s sudden appearance had affected them.
Devereaux still wore a blandly polite smile that was beginning to crack along the edges.
Evren’s expression was feral, as though he’d like nothing better than to peel Casimir’s flesh from his bones.
For his part, August looked relieved that his torment was deferred, at least for the moment.
I couldn’t shake the sense that these people knew Casimir. But how? He was a recent transfer, after all. Was it possible his social life had blossomed this much in just the span of a few weeks?
Reading the murderous rage etched on Evren’s face, Devereaux laid a pacifying hand on his arm before turning to face Casimir. “Wrayburn,” he said, inclining his head in greeting. “I didn’t know you were visiting.” The lilt in his voice floated like a song upon his lips.
As before, Devereaux was polite and unassuming, and yet his performance of lazy disinterest was belied by the way his jaw muscles flexed under his skin. Casimir’s untimely appearance had clearly deprived them of their evening’s entertainment.
Casimir’s lips curled in an expression of droll amusement. “I’m enrolled as a student here, actually,” he replied.
Devereaux’s eyes narrowed, and Evren gave a soft hiss of disapproval.
Casimir continued as though he hadn’t noticed. “I didn’t realize Ouverham was such a popular destination for exiles.”
My brows knitted together in confusion. Exiles?
Devereaux’s hollow laugh did not reach his slate-gray eyes. “Won’t you have dinner with us?” he offered.
Casimir surveyed the remnants of the wine pooling across the table and dripping onto the floor, confusion flashing in his eyes for the briefest moment before the anger returned.
“I think I’ll pass on dinner,” he replied in a tight tone. “In any case, it seems as if I’ve already missed the show.” Ignoring Devereaux’s false sigh of disappointment, he turned to me. “Farrow,” he clipped. I winced at the barely concealed rage in his tone. “I think it’s time we took our leave.”
Devereaux stiffened. “Well, I do hope you will grace us with your presence again soon, Casimir,” he said, a malicious gleam in his silver eyes. “And you, too, Miss Arden. I am sure our paths will cross again, perhaps sooner than you think.”
I shuddered at the words that were at once a promise and a threat.
“Are you going to let go of her hand any time soon?” Casimir asked pointedly.
“Of course,” Devereaux replied smoothly, unclenching his iron grip on my hand.
I sighed in relief as I felt the invisible force relinquish its control over my muscles. Absently, I rubbed the spot on my wrist where his fingers had dug into the flesh.
I moved to stand, but then Casimir leaned over the table to meet Devereaux’s cold gaze. When he spoke, his voice was dripping with violence. “Glamour her again, and you’ll be lucky if all you lose is your pride,” he said.
Devereaux’s eyes narrowed at the threat, but Evren drawled, “It seems we’ve touched a nerve with this one, Dev.” His gaze dipped to me before darting back up to Casimir. “Going to chop off our limbs over a mortal girl, Cas? That’s low, even for you.”
There was a dangerous edge to Casimir’s smile as he turned to Evren. “Not all of your limbs, Ev. Just the one you care about most.” He winked.
Evren laughed openly while Devereaux observed their bickering with a detached wariness. “You’d be wise to watch your tongue, Darkseer.”
“And you’d be wise to remember why your family’s no longer in power,” Casimir retorted.
Devereaux hissed softly. “An injustice I plan to remedy soon enough, Wrayburn.”
Behind me, Casimir gave me a subtle nudge, a signal that we needed to leave. I was desperate to get away from them, but what about August?
Casimir seemed to read my thoughts, and shot me a warning glare. “Let’s go. Now, Farrow.”
I was exploding with questions, already planning to corner and interrogate Casimir as soon as we were alone, but one look at the shadows beneath his eyes and the tight line of his mouth told me that his temper was dangerously close to erupting.
August did not avert his gaze from the table as I clattered my tray onto the stack and stalked out of the dining hall, Casimir following close behind. But as we exited through the heavy oak doors, I could have sworn I felt a pair of dark eyes boring into the back of my skull.