Chapter 31 How Drunk Are You?
How Drunk Are You?
We stayed for at least five hours, possibly closer to six. I didn’t know exactly, as I hadn’t brought a watch, and I didn’t want to ask Bones.
By the end, everyone was drunk for real. I fought to keep from getting too far gone, myself, partly by nursing drinks and even faking sips when everyone seemed to have something in their hand.
I never left Bones’s side.
The one time we got up to walk around, when he stopped to talk to a number of others he knew among the royals, he never left me alone, and never stopped touching me.
At any given moment, he gripped my wrist, fingers, waist, back, arm, shoulder, even my thigh and bum, but he never took his hands off me entirely, and never severed that touch point.
I noticed he drank pretty heavily, especially after we’d stopped kissing, but after a while I noticed him slowing down, as well. He seemed to know roughly how long he wanted to stay, and I heard him trying to coax the others into talking more about politics the drunker they got.
He didn’t have a lot of luck.
Not that I didn’t hear things.
They theorized and gossiped about the leadership of Dark Cathedral, and who called the shots for different aspects of the movement.
In listening to them talk, it soon became clear that no one in this crowd knew exactly how many or who comprised the inner circle, although they all seemed to know at least a few mages who were close to the top.
They talked about the Priest as if they knew him personally, even as they speculated about who he was. Possibly more than any other topic, they talked about when the “real” war would begin, and how long it might take to be won.
It wasn’t until we’d returned to our original chair, and closer to the warmth of the bonfire, that suddenly, out of nowhere, Norrick Voltaire turned to Bones and told us something I’d actually come there to learn.
“Hey, did you hear?” he asked, his voice low, conspiratorial. “Greythorne’s in the shitter. Like, for real this time.”
I tensed. I couldn’t help it.
Bones leaned forward and wrapped a hand around my belly, rubbing it as he pulled me so that my back pressed firmly against his chest. I crossed my legs in the short skirt between his, and rested my hands on his thighs.
“There’s no proof of that,” Bones said flatly.
Voltaire looked at him, and scoffed.
“I know he’s your mate, but you’ve got to admit, Greythorne’s always been a bit fucking off, Bones.” When Bones didn’t answer, he shrugged. “Anyways, my father says there’s proof now. They full-blown caught him at conspiring, and brought an Oracle in to confirm it.”
Bones rolled his eyes, but didn’t comment.
“Wait, didn’t they already have proof?” the auburn-haired mage asked, looking between Bones and Voltaire. “I heard he sent a letter to a relative or something?”
“He did,” Voltaire confirmed. “His half-brother. He spilled all kinds of shit in that, too, stuff he should’ve kept his mouth shut about, including things he shouldn’t have known about at all.
Luckily, that wanker brother of his was loyal.
He contacted Lord Greythorne at once, and turned him in.
That’s when Alec got yanked out of school…
but then his father didn’t report him for weeks, so now his father’s in the shitter, too. ”
I glanced at Bones, but his face didn’t visibly react. His fingers massaged my thigh as he adjusted himself under me so that I sat directly in his lap. I wrapped my arms and hands around his where he held me.
“How did you hear about it?” Bones asked Voltaire.
“I just told you. My father.”
“You saw your father recently?”
“No, he told my aunt,” Voltaire clarified.
When Bones quirked an eyebrow at him, Voltaire shrugged.
“It’s not like he announced it publicly,” Norrick said, a touch defensive.
“He told my aunt. She’s loyal. Anyway, they want us to keep an eye on the other students here, especially anyone who’s fraternizing with the hybrid, or one of the teachers they’ve got their eyes on.
They’re looking real hard at Forsooth, of course, not like that’s new. ”
When Bones didn’t answer, Voltaire shrugged. “I’m surprised your father didn’t say anything to you.”
My heart was hammering in my chest.
While it wasn’t exactly shocking that Headmistress Voltaire, Norrick’s aunt, would be working for Dark Cathedral outright, it still managed to disturb me.
Malcroix Bones Academy wasn’t the safe place I’d somehow pretended it was.
It was literally being run by someone who wanted me and probably everyone I cared about dead.
Bones’s arm tightened around my waist.
His other hand rubbed the small of my back, kneading the muscles with his fingers. His mouth brushed against my neck, making me shiver.
“Why would my father need to say anything to me?” Bones asked Voltaire lazily, raising his eyes to the other mage. “He knows none of those teachers would tell me anything. Forsooth barely tolerates me in his classes. I’m not exactly chumming around with the hybrid, either.”
Maskey let out a gruff laugh.
“You see her every fucking day, Bones,” he scoffed.
Bones looked at him flatly. “She’s not exactly talkative while I’m throwing her to the mat, or watching her butcher the ancient forms, however amusing it might be.
Or did you expect me to murder her before the war’s even begun, Scarpen?
Spend the first half of the conflict rotting in the Pyramid, after G.O.R.E. or the B.M.E. show up to arrest me?”
Voltaire glanced at Scar, as if to warn him silent, then looked back at Bones. “You pick up on anything with Greythorne over the summer?”
Bones shook his head. “I barely saw him,” he said, his voice still bored. “My father had me pretty busy with other things.”
I kept my expression still, stroking Bones’s fingers where he held me.
“You did see him, though?” Panzen pressed.
Bones shrugged. “A few times, sure. I mirrored to London the odd night off, and occasionally ran into him. We got drunk. Trolled for pussy. It’s not like he was ranting to me about his support for the entrenched government, or telling me about his new best friend, Gideon Forsooth, leader of the anti-Dark Cathedral faction. ”
The auburn-haired mage grunted a laugh.
Voltaire’s eyes never left Bones’s face. “Why aren’t you more hacked off?” he asked, frowning. “Doesn’t it bother you he’s a bloody traitor to the cause? That he was probably reporting everything we said to––”
Bones scoffed, cutting him off.
When Voltaire’s expression darkened, Bones rested his chin on my shoulder.
“Alaric’s no resistance fighter,” he said derisively.
“He’s completely apolitical. His father probably volunteered him for the ground forces, so Alec panicked and wrote his brother to see if he could sit out the war in Greece, getting drunk and getting his cock sucked until the worst of the fighting finished.
I’ve known him since we were kids. He’s no spy.
Whatever they think they’ve got on him, they’re wrong. ”
Maskey and Voltaire exchanged looks.
Then Maskey leaned past Voltaire, giving Bones a cold stare.
“Everything you just said makes him a fucking traitor, mate.”
“Sure,” Bones said, still sounding bored.
“Fine. He’s a traitor. But only if we assume every fucking royal needs to fight.
But we don’t need everyone to fight. We’ll need royals to help us manage things after the war, too, and Alaric would be great for that.
If his father would just accept him for who he is, and stop trying to turn him into some kind of Warlock-level fighter––”
“Like you,” the black-haired mage with Elysia Warrington muttered.
Bones looked at him, his expression unmoving, then shrugged.
“Probably,” he said, still sounding indifferent.
“His father’s always been competitive with mine.
My point is, this whole thing is overblown.
Alaric’s no soldier, not for either side.
He’s certainly not a mastermind spy infiltrating our ranks.
This whole thing about some insider conspiracy led by Greythorne, of all fucking people, is just stupid. ”
There was a silence after he spoke.
Bones ran his fingers through my hair, caressing the back of my neck.
“You’re saying they should just let him spill all our secrets?” Pants retorted.
Bones aimed a stare at him. “What makes you think Alec intended to spill anything?” he retorted back. “He told his brother. Who you’ve just said yourself is loyal.”
He tugged gently at my hair, his other hand wrapping around my hip.
“His father should just let him go to Greece,” he said, still sounding annoyed.
“The whole point of recruiting heavily from the lower classes of mages, and bringing in Warlocks from the East, is so we don’t have to do all the heavy lifting ourselves.
Even I won’t be on the front lines where we’re likely to encounter the heaviest fighting.
Why would I be, when we could put a Warlock there?
Or a lower-born? Or do you think we should make this entire generation of royals into cannon-fodder, just to prove how loyal we are? ”
There was a silence after he spoke.
I fought to control my heart rate through it.
At the same time, I could feel the weight of Bones’s words. I could feel the influence they had, at least with everyone who wasn’t Pants, Voltaire, or Scar. I glanced up at Bones with a coy smile, and kissed the side of his face.
He gave me a heated look, right before he kissed my throat.
Don’t worry, he murmured in my mind. They’re more angry with his father for not controlling him than they are with him. For once, Alec pretending to be an idiot is working in his favor. No one sees him as a real threat. I’m just reinforcing that message.
I felt some deeper part of me fight to take in his words, to exhale.
You know that for sure? I asked.
I know enough. He hesitated. His thoughts grew a touch harder. Speaking of discussion points, are you ever going to tell me what’s really going on with you two? The truth, I mean.
I managed to keep the smile on my lips, my eyes on his.
Are we still talking about Alaric? I asked.
Yes, he thought at me. We’re talking about Alaric.
I nuzzled the side of his face. We already discussed that.
Yeah. And I’m asking you again.
Because you don’t believe that he could possibly be one of my closest friends?
I asked, leaning my head against his shoulder.
Or that I might be terrified out of my mind that Dark Cathedral could decide to murder him for being a traitor?
Or torture him to death, partly because of me?
I paused. Or is it just that you think I’m a liar in general?
Bones didn’t move.
That’s all it is? he asked.
All? I blinked. Honestly, why are you so convinced it’s more than that?
I glanced up to see his lips tighten, right before his gold eyes shifted away from my face. He didn’t loosen his hold on me, or stop massaging my back with his fingers.
You’d really tell me? he asked next. If it was more?
Are you asking me if I’m sleeping with Alaric? I asked, disbelieving. Again?
Yes.
I stared at the gold and green fire that rippled through his irises, scarcely believing it was real. Why in the gods would you care, especially now? I asked. You’re not honestly jealous. Why would you––
The fuck I’m not.
I fell silent. I kept the frown off my face with an effort, but he only stared back, his expression flat. I forced myself to look away, then to exhale.
I’m not sleeping with Alaric, I thought at him clearly. It’s never so much as come up between us. He generally wanted me to help him scope out mages whenever we went out in London, so he was hardly––
And Joran? he asked.
I bit my lip, unable to help it. Gods, not this again. How drunk are you?
Only while you were in California, then? he asked, ignoring my question. With Joran. It was just a summer thing?
You are absolutely unbelievable. I bit my lip again.
Leda, I heard you in the carriage––
“I hope you’re right about Alaric,” Voltaire said, causing us both to turn. He smirked at me, his eyes raptor-like as he looked between me and Bones. “I guess we’ll find out, soon enough. I hear your father’s doing the ritual on him in just a few days.”
Both of us stiffened, although probably for different reasons.
Ritual? I wondered loudly.
But that time, Bones’s mind remained silent.