“This morning, we will have a surprise visitor from the Games committee! Isn’t thatexciting?” she coos as she walks around the lectern to turn on the projector. “Now, I know you aren’t in your teams, but the administration is eager to get the ball rolling, so to speak. Your teammates or future teammates will see and hear the same information in the other classrooms during this period as well.”
Somehow, I doubt that highly, but I will not say it out loud.
The enforcer next to me has his phone out immediately, his large fingers flying over the screen as he texts the group to notify them of what we’re hearing. I ignore the buzzing in my pocket as he does so, knowing that whatever they’re saying will have to wait. I’m actuallyinthis class, unlike him, so I can’t look distracted. Lillabet hates me as it is, and I wouldn’t put it past her for a second to report that I wasn’t paying attention to important Games-related bullshit.
A hum starts as soon as the very tall, very broad man walks onto the dais to meet the Cubi. He’s clearly been around a damn long time because the ambiance of power radiating from him stretches back far enough to brush against me. It’s ice cold and threatening, making me shrink back in my chair. Dottie climbs up to wrap herself around my neck, tucking her head behind my ear to comfort me as I shiver. My eyes dart over to Slash, whose jaw is gritted tightly enough to bite through steel if he chose.
“This is Major Diabolus of House Scrum. He is the right hand of the King’s general, and a war hero in his own right. His heritage springs from the line of Gluttony paired with Wrath many eons ago, and today, he is here to discuss the structure of the Games.” Lillabet practically swoons as she leans over the furniture, obviously trying to show off her assets to the enormous demon glaring at the classroom intently.
Slash seems to get angrier as she drones on, and I realize he must have some very bad history with this dude. The demon is his father’s second, like he is to Jasper, and as his father is to the king. That means whatever nastiness thegeneral does flows out to the public via this fucker. I don’t know if that applies to his heir or other children, but since the shark shifter is rigid enough to become stone, I’ll bet it does.
“Listen up, cretins,” the huge demon booms in an impossibly low bass tone. I shiver again at the onslaught of power, and before he continues, I feel my caliphate brother slip his hand over mine. “You areallspoiled, selfish, poorly trained little shits who thinkfartoo much of your power and ability because of your names. Names that you werebornwith rather than earned as the old ways dictated. Therefore, I will treat you with the disrespect that you deserve until you prove otherwise. Is that clear?”
No one responds—they’re probably just as worried as I am that his question is rhetorical. When the room stays silent for a few more moments, the soldier pounds his fist on the lectern, shaking the ground beneath him with the force. “Is that clear?!”
“Yes, sir!” is the loud, echoing reply as everyone catches on that he wants the class to vocalize.
I don’t join in; I only mouth it because, fuck if I’m letting some rando I’ve never met say he doesn’t have to respect me. There was enough disrespect on the surface to last me a lifetime, so I’m not giving up my power simply because he yelled like a tyrant. Slash’s fingers lace with mine, keeping me balanced as I look the Major over carefully. Lillabet didn’t tell us what he is—only who he belongs to and what his history is. I have a feeling that it’s important, especially since my sulky shark friend is staying silent.
“Excellent. During the next few weeks, the official Games committee will visit your classes to apprise the royals of your progress towards readiness. The King wishes the start date to be set, and until we are certain that no one will embarrass His Majesty by flailing around like a commoner, that cannot happen. We were leaving it to the staff at Discordia, but they obviously cannot be trusted.”
I feel Slash suck in a sharp breath and I wonder who the hell is on this damn committee that is making the least fearful demon I know worry. Leaning in, I whisper in a very low tone, “You’re scaring me a little bit.”
He doesn’t respond. Instead; he lets go of my hand to trace letters in my palm very slowly. It takes a moment, but I get the gist. “T-H-E-R-E A-R-E B-A-D T-H-I-N-G-S A-F-O-O-T.”
Awfully poetic for him, but I guess he’s having a hard time.
“Now,” the big soldier at the front continues as he moves to the left side of the platform. “I realize that you all have not been prepared as well as others in this school. Some families have grown complacent since Hell has not had a war in millennia. That will change, and quickly. Those who have bonded caliphates will be pulled into separate training programs from those whom we need to pair up to form the appropriate-sized team. We do not care if you have already chosen teammates; our vizier is far more skilled at matching demons by their strengths and weaknesses than you could ever be.”
I blink, looking at Slash again. They let people pick groups and start training only to rip them apart now? What the fuck changed since last week? Dottie rubs her cheek against my skin, and I close my eyes for just a moment so I can absorb the calm she’s attempting to provide me. When I feel less edgy, I let out a breath slowly as I chant my mantras in my head. I hate to say it, but Jasper’s insistence on inducting me is paying off right now for certain.
Damn that asshole for being right.
The finger on my hand starts again, and I focus on it as Slash spells for me. “T-H-A-T I-S V-E-R-Y D-A-N-G-E-R-O-U-S.”
“No shit, Sharklock,” I mutter, and he gives me the first grin I’ve seen on his face all day. “Why?”
Slash frowns, clearly wanting to respond but having trouble with our archaic form of communication. I assume he’s not speaking because it will bring the Major’s attention to us, and he wants to keep that from happening. But I’m not sure why I can get away with it while he can’t. The finger moves again, and I wait. “V-I-Z-I-R O-W-N-E-D B-Y C-R-O-W-N.”
Now I get it. The royal family patronizing this douchebag means he or she can say anything they want, and based on reputation, it will be followed. But that gives them the power to set up political or business rivals for their own benefit—allowing them to kill major wealthy heirs before they can take their spots in the world. It’s dangerous because they will wield it like a weapon, and very few people will be safe.
“Does this hurt us?”
My question is interrupted by the Major stalking to the right side of the stage and looking around the room with sharp eyes. They land on me, then Slash, and I get the worst chill yet. I don’t think it matters if Slash is spelling or not now; it’s obvious this guy has some idea of who I am. “Those of you in caliphates, no matter how foolishly chosen, will be tested and assessed bythe committee’s preferred adjudicators. The most elite members of the royal guard and guilds will check your abilities to measure you for the Games. My proctors will arrive by the weekend, and within the week, we will know if you are worthy.”
Fuck, fuck, fuck! Is he kidding me?
That makes Slash’s finger on my palm shake a little, and I don’t have to ask why. While the others are well-trained and ready to fight long-time caliphates of lower levels, I’m nowhere near the point of vying with that kind of group. I have no idea what my magic is entirely, nor how to reliably use it. This motherfucker just announced my goddamn death sentence, and we can’t do a fucking thing about it.
“Can’t help feeling like this bullshit is on purpose,” I mumble.
Slash nods, his finger moving to spell, “S-M-E-L-L-S L-I-K-E K-I-N-G.”
Of course it does. Jasper gave his father the bird at the Halloween party, and now we’re going to be caught up in his vengeance plot. I blow out a long breath quietly, trying to keep my body and mind from locking up completely. I definitelycannotlet this fucker see me have issues; that will make it to the wrong people within nano-seconds, and it will hurt the guys. I have to keep my shit together long enough to get out of this damn classroom on my own two feet, and once I do, I can head straight for Dank’s office.
The kindly old demon will write me a note, and he might have more information to help me navigate…. everything that seems to happen to me at once. He gave me the pamphlet on scary demon penises, so I assume he has more shit stored in there about animals, and mates and… magic?
Fucking hell, I hope so or I’m really screwed.
