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There are lines at the elevators, so we take the stairs to the fourth floor and walk past the library toward one of the building’s old towers. Here, the Philosophy and Fine Arts faculties share a set of narrow wooden doors. The towers are monuments in themselves, according to the Faculty for History and Archeological Studies, who wish they’d gotten this wing. There aren’t many modern amenities to speak of here, except for the luxurious bathrooms, and one can quickly feel transported to another time, when maidens furtively met with knights in dark medieval hallways to steal moments of passion.
I open the door into my small office stuffed with books, the scent of leather spines, old paper and ink imbued into the walls, mixing with the smell of old cigarettes. Professors used to smoke in here, back when smoking was good for you, and the narrow window has been probably stuck ever since then. The janitor always seems to have better things to do than to fix it. Thank God for the draft, because it’s the only ventilation I get.
“Damn, it’s cold in these old stone towers,” Justine says, plopping into the chair on the other side of my desk. She fidgets in her seat, rubbing her hands together. It’s true, the Gothic stone walls make the chill even more biting than it is outside. Despite the white fluff around Justine’s collar that’s supposed to keep her warm, the tip of her nose is quickly reddening.
I angle the small electric heater toward her before I turn it on.
“It’ll be better in a few minutes.”
She watches me as I take a seat at my desk, staring down at my Ultrabook as if it were an alien relic among my thick old books.
That’s all she does. Look at me. Expecting, waiting.
“If it’s an explanation you’re waiting for, I can’t give you one,” I say, my fingers swiping over my notes for the next class. Only when Justine grabs my hand over the screen do I realize that I’m moving too fast to even see a single line.
“Duke Romano Royales is an awful, evil man. I believe that whatever is going on between you two, he’s forcing it.” She squeezes my hand harder, wanting me to look her in the eye, but I can’t. Not yet. “Which is why you need help, Eva. You need allies. Allies like Sade.”
I scoff. “Sade.” Not even I miss the bitterness in my voice. “Sade left me in Micah’s hands. And, right now, Micah is as big of a problem as Romano.”
“What do you mean?”
I tell her in quick, broad strokes. With every word, her hand slackens off mine until her back hits the back of her chair.
“Well, fuck.”
“Yeah, fuck.”
She turns her head to the window, the crude winter light falling on her pretty features. While Annie has the beauty of a doll behind those large glasses and baggy clothes, Justine resembles one of Tolkien’s elves. She shakes her head, realizing just how bad things are.
“You have to talk to him. He has to listen. He has to understand that he can’t press you on this.”
“He won’t.”
“Then Sade will talk to him.”
“Sade is as convinced that I’m an opportunistic whore as his brother is. He just won’t show it because he doesn’t want to hurt you.”
“If anyone knows how much of a monster their asshole stepfather can be, it’s Sade and Micah. I can’t believe that stubborn devil is doing this to you. That he refuses to see it.”
“Oh, he sees it all right. He took those pictures. He watched me meet Romano. The bastard did a good job of making it look like we’re having an affair so there’s no way I can persuade anyone that’s not the case. Not without having to spill all the beans.”
Silence cuts between us.
There it is, the subject I can’t touch with a ten-foot pole.
And yet here I am, touching it.
“The only thing I can tell you, is that it isn’t Romano I’ll be meeting in a secret room one of these days.” The words slip out of my mouth as if they’ve been dying for release. “I’ve been seeing him at the Vanguard these past few weeks so that it won’t look suspicious when I finally make the delivery he wants me to make, to and from the people he wants me to make it. The other Kings aren’t supposed to get wind of this. Only he and I know about this operation, which is why he’s been meeting me himself instead of having someone else do it. It’s our secret.” I pause, clearing my throat. “And now it’s yours, too, and you can’t breathe a single word about it to Sade.”
I hold Justine’s gaze, perfectly aware of what I’m asking of her. She and Sade haven’t been a couple for long, yet they’re so fused together, so much under each other’s skin, that it will be hell for her to keep anything from him, especially something like this. Theirs is the type of relationship that few people get to have in a lifetime. That kind of intimacy is scary as hell. No one could see that deeply inside me and not want to run away screaming. The very reason I polished myself into an intellectual was to make myself more palatable to people, and it’s better if I am taken in small doses.
“I need you to trust me, Justine,” I whisper. “One last time.”
Her eyebrows dip. “What do you mean one last time?”
I take a deep breath and tell her.
“No,” she whispers when I finish, reaching for me over the table. But I lean back this time, not letting her touch me. It will only make things more difficult.
