I’ve been sleeping on watching the bird and the bear, but I won’t from now on.
The brutalityof the arms class increased tenfold today as the Major watched from the sidelines with a grimace. Jasper obviously received the message about the speech early enough to adjust his curriculum, something I’m grateful for. If he hadn’t upped his game past the point of some of the weaker students, the Major would have reported his ‘largesse’ to my father, who would have run straight to the king.
Jasper doesn’t need his father meddling anymore than he already is by sending that asshole.
By the end, I’ve broken a slight sheen of sweat—unusual for this class because of the lackluster competition—and Jasper is practically grinding his teeth to dust as he waits for me to get cleaned up. He has a TA-free period and lunch, but I have Human History, so we won’t have a lot of time to strategize as I head to my session. However, I will not go there smelling like a fucking barnyard animal, and he has to wait until I’m ready whether he likes it or not.
“Since when are you this prissy, Scrum?” he growls impatiently as he stands in the doorway of the locker room.
My eyes narrow, and I arch a brow at his perfectly coiffed and outfitted form. “Pot. Kettle.”
Jasper laughs and shakes his head. “I’malwaysnitpicky about my appearance; it’s part of being the prince. You, however, have become much more interested in staying well-groomed. I’m curious why.”
He’s exaggerating—I was neither smelly nor dirty before, nor am I X-level fussy now.
“I think you’re worried about our fathers and their pets invading Discordia. That’s why you’re picking at me like a scab.” I frown and then point a fingerat him. “Don’tgo back to transferring that negativity to the little demon. It’s counterproductive and will only hurt the caliphate's unity.”
His lips curve up, and he tilts his head. “Interesting thatyou’renow standing in front of the shrimp, too. Who will be next, I wonder?”
Sighing, I roll my eyes to the ceiling and pull the clean shirt on. Once it’s buttoned, I turn back to the idiot I call a friend. “You’re woefully behind with emotional intelligence, Jasper. It’s your biggest weakness, and there’s a good reason for it. But continuing to drown yourself when people throw you a life raft is stupid and unhealthy. Ask Zav to tutor you or something, but stop making everything harder than it needs to be.”
“Says the man who barely looked up from inhaling his food at breakfast.” The dragon blows a shadow ring of smoke at me with a smirk. “Pot and kettle, yes, old friend?”
He’s got me, but I doubt he knowswhyhe has me on the ropes.
“I was hungry and focused on day one of the days I hate the most—ones with Jasper classes.” Sniffing as I finish tying my shoes, I grab my bag and slam my locker shut. “My job is to keep track of the little demon on those days when he has too many unobserved classes. Focusing is how I get into the mindset that allows me to succeed.”
“Oh?” Jasper pushes off the doorframe as I approach, his expression amused. “Is that why you wouldn’t look at the kid? Methinks you are lying or fooling yourself, Slash.”
I suck in a breath, then blow out quickly. Of course, the only thing he’d notice is when I’m not following my own advice. He definitely missed how close Oriel and Salem seemed to Kit last night, and he’s not noticing the soft looks coming from the pride and lust heirs. “Jas, I don’t need to have this conversation with you, either. Fuck off.”
His eyes flash with his demon, and I realize my mistake almost immediately as we walk through the arena hall to the exit. “You’ve already had this talk, hmm? With who?”
“Don’t be dense, asshole.” I stride ahead of him, determined to ignore this line of inquiry unless he forces me. Jasper is my prince, but he does not need details of my personal conversations or experiences with others. He especially doesn’t need to know about them with the little demon. It would be ungallant and a betrayal of Kit’s very clear boundaries.
“Slash, I couldorderyou to tell me, you know,” he says as he catches up. ThePrince looks smug, and I glare at him hard enough to wither his balls. “Okay, okay, fine. I won’t.”
“I would make you regret it.”
Jasper snorts, shaking his head. “We haven’t scrapped for a long time, friend. I’d probably enjoy the challenge, but I don’t think I’d enjoy the mutiny that would follow. Even if you didn’t lead it, I feel certain that the others would be angry with me. I don’t quite get why, but perhaps that’s something else Zavvie will need to explain while he’s calming my ire later today.”
The heir to Envy is going to have a big knot to untangle—literally—when Jasper gets home this evening.
Battlefield
Kit/Kat
Slash was not kidding about his dad’s lackey causing problems. Human history is typically an enlightening class for me because I hear whatreallywent on, versus what I was taught for the first half of my life. Alabaster isn’t great, but I usually make notes about things I need to research to be caught up to everyone else’s level. He’s a jerk when I don’t know shit; that won’t ever change. However, that’s where this class helps me pinpoint the most important gaps in my knowledge. The demi-hybrid is often most snide about things, places, and people that every demon should know by now, and he clarifies that I’m deficient for not knowing.
He’s a dickwad, but his dickishness helps me focus on the right shit, at least.
Today wasn’t like that at all. The Major wasn’t in our class, but one ofhisminions was. A tall, broad demon of indeterminate gender who never spoke—other than grunts and scoffs—but watched everyone in the room like they wanted to stab them. Alabaster was rightly nervous in their presence, and it made everything I use this class to accomplish go out the window. The lecture rambled, our professor was too shaken to snipe, and he ended up letting us read ahead for a nebulous ‘project’ that I’m certain doesn’t exist. I think he couldn’t stand the mercenary-looking observer glaring at him any longer.
Of course, this atmosphere not only fucked up my actual learning but made me sit there on the edge of panic for the remaining hour after Dank dropped me off. Poor Dottie did her best, but I had to stay laser-focused onthe front of the room. Our watcher was threatening enough without pissing them off by texting or indulging in self-care methods. My notes are fractured—disorganized and messy—because of the pressure and my racing mind. All I want to do now is…
Oh, thank fucking Mammon.
Oriel is here to pick me up, and I feel the tension leave my body as he approaches. His brows are furrowed as he studies me with the avian head tilt, and when he’s close enough, he mutters, “Rough class, little shadow?”
