“That’s only a month and a half away!” Eddy bemoans. “I wanted to make you a card! And no one has told me when Pierce’s birthday is, but he’s giving big Aquarius energy.”
My head falls back against the sofa, and I grimace as I down a larger swig of beer. Not the astrology bullshit again.
On the screen, the players break out of their huddle, and I can’t help but notice Lambert isn’t bouncing with his usualenergy. Kyrith has seen it, too, and she hugs his jacket a little tighter around her shoulders as the whistle blows.
“What?” Pierce sounds confused. Idiot. He’s about to wish he never asked.
“You’re all independent and aloof,” Eddy explains. “That’s Aquarius energy.”
“Virgo, actually.” Pierce rolls his eyes. “And please, spare me. I don’t need any tacky handmade gifts.”
A book soars from the shelf and cuffs him across the back of his thick skull for the insult, but Eddy isn’t deterred. Of course not. She’s like a dog with a bone.
“Well, I still need to make them for everyone else. And Valentine’s Day is coming up?—”
Kyrith’s head snaps up. “I agreed to Easter. Not a watered-down Roman fertility festival.”
“Oh, come on, the Arcanaeum loves it!”
In answer, the building showers the entire room with confetti hearts, and I scowl.
Lambert fumbles the gamma on screen, and I wince as it comes within an inch of the floor. Leo really picked the absolute worst time to drop the brother bombshell. Now Lambert’s focus is shot in the middle of a game where the balls spray acid and explode.
Pierce huffs, brushing the stuff off his suit with a scowl. “If it means that much to you, I’ll take you.”
“You will?”
My brows draw down—game forgotten. “Like fuck you will.”
I don’t trust the prick with my twin.
“Oh, calm down,” he says in the same tone his ancestors probably used to address their peasant underlings. “I swear, on my honour, I won’t let her get hurt…unless she talks too much. Then it’s justified.”
“Hey!” Eddy protests.
“Fair,” I reply, just to tease her.
Pierce might be threatening her, but I know my sister. If the stuck-up wanker doesn’t return with his arms full of bags, two different psychic readings, and a manicure, I’ll give up drinking.
“I’m not taking you if you?—”
Eddy is cut off as the collective groan of hundreds of arcanists fills the room. My eyes flash back to the screen just in time for the camera to zoom in on the scoreboard.
UAA lost?
A second later, they zoom out, and I grimace, a stone sinking in my gut as I note a dozen white-clad medics huddled around a prone form on our side of the pitch, the other players standing with their arms linked as a privacy shield while they work.
No. Please no.
But the Universe isn’t fucking listening to my prayers, as usual. Because a replay pops up, clearly showing Lambert as he jumps for the gamma, only for it to teleport away just as his hand would’ve made contact, leaving nothing between him and the spray of acid that erupts from the beta at the same time.
Shit.
Kyrith’s gasp fills the disbelieving hush that's fallen over the room. Shock loosens her hold on Lambert’s jacket, leaving it to drop through her ghostly form and onto the runeform-covered island with a dull thud.
Thirty-Five
Kyrith
