26. Thea
Thea
Don’t Cake Under Pressure
I’ve not even picked up my fork when two witches slide into the booth. One beside me, one across. Pinning me in. They’re from my old Illusions class, before I switched. Well, lucky me. She’s close enough to stab with a fork.
“Thea! We miss you in Illusions,” Amelia says too warmly. “Why did you leave us?”
“I wasn’t any good at them,” I reply. Wondering what they want. These two aren’t close with Anita, so I don’t think she sent them. They start telling me gossip that I attempt to tune out until they get to the point.
“Speaking of rumors, I heard you went on a date with Zair Brennan,” Cora blurts. “Spill!”
“You heard wrong.”
“Does that mean he’s single?”
“Last I heard, but he doesn’t date witches,” I remind them.
“You went out with him. It’s just a hop skip and a hump from dinner to the bedroom,” Amelia says with a smile.
Gross. I really hate witches. Seriously, why is hooking up with male witches and climbing the ladder the only thing they can think about? I stop answering their questions and eventually they leave.
And another set takes their place.
Then another.
I spend the rest of dinner picking at my food, half-listening to the low buzz of flies hoping to land on something rotten.
Apparently, one dinner with Zair Brennan was enough to turn me into campus gossip.
The week passes in a similar fashion. Random witches stop me between classes.
Strangers suddenly know my name. Everyone seems desperate to figure out whether Zair and I are together.
On the positive, I’ve settled into a weird kind of routine with Dylan and Benson hanging around.
They join me whenever they spot me at meals, between classes, even during walks.
It’s like they’ve decided I’m part of their group now.
Like the big brothers I never had. I don’t think it’s anything more.
After the whole Zair thing, I’m starting to wonder if I’ve just been oblivious.
Because Zair… he definitely likes me.
He said it. I like you. A lot. He said I wasn’t a distraction.
That it was real. That he wanted me to be his girlfriend.
Anita always chose guys, convinced me I wanted them, then took them away.
That was normal to me. That was the pattern.
I think that’s why I couldn’t see what was growing with Zair.
I keep trying to tell myself he didn’t mean it, that it was heat-of-the-moment or some sweet lie to save face, but…
he looked at me like he meant every word.
He hasn’t changed, but now everything he does feels different.
Carrying my bag. Always sitting beside me, close enough to touch.
Bringing me snacks at the nook like he knew I’d forgotten to eat.
I thought he was just being a good friend.
Am I genuinely that dumb? I can’t figure out what angle he’s playing…
and I’m scared he’s not playing one at all.
He doesn’t bring up the almost-kiss and neither do I.
Even though I can’t stop thinking about it.
Friday morning, my alarm blares as I’m showering and I listen to it ring as I finish my shower. When I finally get annoyed enough, I get out and grab it I have a message from Anita.
Sister:
It’s Mavis’ Birthday.
Club Slick, VIP.
I growl under my breath. Why did she send this to me? Is this the next in her attempts to manipulate me? What I remember of the parties that Anita dragged me to were drinks spilled in my lap and going home with questionable men. Good times.
After combat and breakfast, I head to a meeting with a teacher on the nightblind side of the school. Spending the time poring over the book on magical shackles I found last night. I’m settled into a quiet seat in the hallway, pages spread out in front of me, my attention drawn fully into the text.
Witch cuffs are distinct from other magical cuffs in that they remove all magic from the wearer.
This causes excruciating pain. For magical creatures that cannot survive without their magic, such as elves, goblins, and vampires, the consequences are lethal.
Other cuffs, such as those made by goblins, leave the wearer with only enough magic to stay alive, but not enough to use their gifts; no extra strength or speed.
So the bracelet that Anita gave me wasn’t a regular witch cuff. I still had access to some power. Were they goblin cuffs then? I can’t see the Ashgraves using a goblin for something like that. Gideon probably made it.
“Adora.”
I look up and see Ethan coming my way.
“Hi Ethan.” I try to keep my tone as boring as possible. Not raising my eyes from my book again. He sits down right next to me anyway and tries to touch my shoulder. I scoot away.
“Stop it.”
“But I just wanted to tell you how beautiful you look. Sitting here reading.” I close my book.
“Then admire from afar and leave me alone.” I put my book in my bag.
“That’s not nice. We used to be a cute couple. I helped you, you helped me. It worked for everyone.”
“It didn’t work for me.” I zip my bag with more force than I mean to and start to walk away. He grabs my arm, his grip bruising.
Before I can react, someone stands behind me. I glance up, relieved to see Bernard there, his usual easygoing expression is gone, replaced by something darker. He looks every inch the werehyena that he is.
“Hey, man. Back off,” Bernard says.
Ethan snorts, trying to play it cool. “What’s this? Your new bodyguard?”
Bernard’s smile is terrifying. “You know, I’ve been told I’d make a great one.”
Ethan’s fingers twitch, his grip lightening as his gaze darts between us. For a second, I think he might double down. But he doesn’t. He mutters something bitter and lets go.
Bernard glances down at me. “You okay?”
I nod, my heart still racing but grateful. “Thanks. I didn’t need him getting all handsy.”
“Couldn’t have you going crazy on him on this side of the school,” he says, that familiar warmth returning to his smile.
I exhale slowly, trying to shake off the last of the tension. “I thought he’d leave me alone after last time.”
Bernard’s gaze lingers on Ethan’s retreating form for a second longer than necessary, not aggressive, just… assessing. “Some people only hear what they want. But you don’t have to handle him alone.”
He says it so simply, like it’s a fact.
“Thanks,” I say again, quieter this time.
He nods and steps back, already giving me space. “Alright. I’ll see you in class.”
And just like that, he walks away. No lingering looks, no dramatic exit. Just someone who saw something wrong and did the right thing. Why was I ever scared of these guys?
The more I learn about the world, the more I hate Adora. I know it’s not her fault I was weak. But I can’t help it. I wish I’d been this version of me since the beginning. After my meeting, I trek over to Otherfell for lunch, Potions and History.
After classes, Zair peels off and heads to soccer practice, and I go to the small Formularium. They used a potion in the ritual, so maybe I can find the answer in here.
Three hours later, I have nothing.
I’m about to give up and head to the nook when a specific entry catches my eye.
Fertility Potion, Twins.
I stare at it for a few moments. Why does that seem important?
Twins.
Only twins I know are Mavrik and Mavis.
Oh!
I leave the Formularium in a rush and call Zair. He doesn’t answer. I jog to the nightblind side of the school and then towards the soccer pitch when my phone rings.
“What’s up?” Zair asks.
“I need your help with something,” I explain.
“Okay, I just finished soccer—”
“I know. I’m on my way. I need you to take me to the store.”
“I haven’t showered yet.”
“Doesn’t matter. Please.”
He pauses. “Ok. Coming.”
He shows up a few minutes later, sweat glistening. I swallow hard. I should’ve let him shower. Too late now.
“What’s so important?” he asks and leads me across the parking lot to his car.
“It’s Mavrik’s birthday.” He opens the door to his car for me and I slide inside.
Realization dawns on his face. “Cake?”
“I knew you were the perfect man for the job.” His smile is dangerous.
“There’s a bakery about ten minutes from campus—”
“Depraved Desserts,” I finish for him.
“Yes! Have you been?” he asks excitedly as he puts the car in gear.
“No, just heard of it.” From Lazlo, multiple times.
Could Zair be Lazlo?
No. Liking cake doesn’t mean he’s Lazlo.
“Do you have any siblings?” I ask.
“That was random.”
Lazlo had two sisters who he loved to talk about, for different reasons.
I ignore the tightness in my chest.
“Was not random. I only knew it was Mavrik’s birthday because Anita invited me to Mavis’s party. So, I was thinking about siblings and realized you never mentioned any.”
He nods like he understands but doesn’t elaborate. I’m tempted to pry into why he’s so tight-lipped about his family when he usually is happy to talk. But it’s not like I’m willing to talk about mine.
He parks in front of the bakery and we head inside. I trust him to find one. I grab a cannoli for the road, that he steals half of as we drive back to campus.
“I’ll go find him. You get some people to sing him happy birthday.”
“Get him to the nightblind cafeteria. They all love me,” he says like it’s a skill.
My first stop for Mavrik is the library. When I get inside the Strix librarian finds me. “Miss Lockwood, I got your books in.”
“Wonderful,” I tell him genuinely as I follow him to his desk.
“Next time you need something, leave a number, I got these in yesterday but was unable to find you to let you know.”
“Oh no problem. Thank you Mr.—”
“Jordan,” he supplies.
“Thank you Mr. Jordan.” I take the books and start walking towards my nook, the smell of new books is nearly intoxicating as I notice movement out of the corner of my eye.
“Mavrik!” I call before remembering I’m in a library. He looks up startled but it is quickly replaced with amusement.
“Hey Firefly,” he whispers as I set the stack of books down on his table. “Where did you get the books?” He stands and examines them.
“We’re in a library.” The look he gives me leaves nothing for interpretation. “I had the librarian order them for me, for a — er — project I’m working on.”
“And he got them for you?”
“Yup! I’m gonna go drop them off in my nook, but then I’m coming back and dragging you to dinner.”
He grumbles the whole way to nightblind side of the school and then again when I make him get in line.
“This food is awful for you,” he complains.
“So what? You’re too healthy.”
“I don’t think that’s possible.” But I can see the smile on his face. He orders a salad and I order some chicken pot pie. I also buy Mavrik’s pathetic salad and we head to my usual corner seat.
“Where’s Zair?”
“Don’t know,” I lie and then pivot. “We never talked about your other classes. What are you studying?”
“Kinesiology.”
“Oh, that makes sense.” I offer him a warm smile and we fall into conversation about sports medicine.
“Can I ask you a favor?” I ask as the idea dawns on me.
His face falls and I immediately want to take it back. He nods.
“Would you want to practice sparring with me after Misfits some days? Just when you have time. Your insight could be—”
“Yes,” he answers before the words are out of my mouth. “I’d love that.”
My phone buzzes, Zair asking if we’re ready. I tell him we are and then flip it over.
“Are you free after Misfits Monday?” he asks excitedly. When I tell him I can, he begins talking about progressive overload. The clapping starts as they come streaming in the door, more than forty. Seriously, Zair.
I look to Mavrik and gesture with my head. He turns and looks as they break into happy birthday.
Mavrik’s mouth falls open as he looks back to me, his cheeks bright red.
“How did you know?”
“I got my ways,” I say cryptically as the cake arrives and the song stops. “Make a wish.”
“I wish—”
“You’re not supposed to say it aloud,” I cut him off. He pinches his lips together then looks at the candles. He must know how a cake works. Right?
He blows out the candles and the people Zair rounded up start clapping.
Guess it is my fault for asking the star of the soccer team to recruit people for an impromptu round of happy birthday.
They all start trying to talk to him but he’s solely focused on the cake.
He sets it on the table and passes a spoon to each of us.
“Do you have any idea how many calories are in this?” Mavrik looks horrified at the chocolate chocolate cake.
“You either eat it or wear it,” I threaten playfully. He quirks his lips and takes a bite.
Three thousand calories later we’re all groaning and holding our stomachs.
A single spoonful remains.
“It’s yours.” I nudge a groaning Mavrik.
“Why do we have to eat the whole thing?” he asks with a grimace.
“Tradition,” I reply.
“What tradition?” Zair asks. He just wanted an excuse to eat half a cake.
“Since Mavrik never got his own birthday cake. Now he has to finish it.”
“That’s how you knew,” he says and then scoops up the last bite.
“Next year bring more friends,” I supply helpfully.
“Or buy a smaller cake!” Mavrik protests.
“Where’s the fun in that.” Zair smiles then slowly bends down and grabs something from his backpack, a bag from the student store.
Mavrik’s jaw is slack as he opens the bag and pulls out a school brand athletic set. By the look on Mavrik’s face you’d think it was custom made for him.
When I present my own poorly wrapped gift he tightens his hand on the shirt before accepting it with shaky hands. A graphing calculator.
“Thank you both so much. Truly.”
“Happy birthday Mavrik.”