Goddess, she loved a nicely shaped forearm.
She gave Rye one hard look, grabbed that exceptional arm, and hauled him off the brick, into the grass, and to the semiprivacy of a massive tree. Just because they couldn’t be heard didn’t mean they couldn’t beseenbickering. Embry had never considered using one of those finicky, super-draining invisibility spells until this very moment. Ugh.
Discarding Rye, she proceeded to put a good three feet between them. Much better.
“I’m the daughter of Lazarus Woodcross; of course I understand that the criteria governing the Woodcross coven are differentthan those I use for my Raven’s Head clique,” Embry informed him coolly. “My invitation to Balthazar is totally appropriate. All sorcerers are witches, but not all witches are sorcerers.”
Everyone knew witches and sorcerers were from the same line before Merlin. The comparison was basically squares to rectangles, not apples to oranges. And besides, she’d never actually seen Balthazar do any spells to know if his magic was truly different than hers—or Rye’s—for that matter. She’d never seen him hold a charged crystal, sacrifice an animal, or let blood. And he certainly hadn’t mentioned the rumored dark well of magic.
“You don’t believe that guff, do you?” Of course, Rye would useguffnon-ironically. “They’re just antisocial witches. Sorcerers are the magical equivalent of guys addingesquireto the end of their email signatures because they think it makes them sound important. It’s not real.”
It almost sounded as if he agreed with her—for all either of them knew, being a modern sorcerer was all about, well,branding. But they weren’t in agreement.
“For something that’s not real, you’ve clearly taken notice of dudes who’ve addedesquireto their sign-offs. Is that why you’re pre-pre-law?” The extraprewas a little pointed, but it was accurate. “For that sweet, sweetesquiretag? But you earned it?”
Rye’s head dropped back with yet another dramatic sigh. Embry squeezed his elbow, showing affection in the face of his frustration. “You love me—but you judge me far too much.All the time.”
She dropped his elbow and watched as, pinching the bridge of his nose, Rye inhaled deeply. “While I’d like to blame your vanity for this whole conversation, the truth is I think about you because I care about you.” Embry’s heart gave a stubborn kick. “And the sorcerer doesn’t.”
“You don’t even know him—”
“I know him as much as you do.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Right.”
Rye flung out a hand. “I was there when you met.”
Limited proximity did not make Rye an expert, even though he liked to believe his special way of drawing the truth from her made him one on her. He wasn’t.
“Yes, but you’re not at our lunch table. Or studying in my room—”
Rye covered his eyes with a hand, pained. “Please do not list out all the places you see that sorcerer when I can’t be there to—”
“Rescue me?Is that what you were going to say? Like I need it? Balthazar ismy friend, Rye.” Embry prodded him. “You have heard of friends, right? It’s a thing that people have. Maybe not you in your sonnet-filled gap year, but for other people, high school people, having friends is normal. We don’t have to volunteer to force other people to interact with us.”
The second the last sentence was out of her mouth, Embry regretted it.
Rye’s expression rearranged, hurt flickering in the set of his jaw. She’d cut to draw blood, and she’d succeeded. The knot in his throat bobbed. Embry’s shame flared.
Finally, he said, “It sounds like you want to be more than just a friend to him.”
Embry couldn’t refute this. So she deflected.
“Sounds like you’re again paying far too much attention to me.”
Rye’s eyes seemed to grow three shades darker, from sea glass to the forest floor. “As I clearly stated, I care about you, Em. Of course I pay attention.”
Her heart kicked again. “I didn’t ask you to.”
“Fine. But I just want you to be careful with him. He’s a stranger—”
“He’s not a stranger; he’s my homecoming date.”
Embry felt a bit smug saying it—even as it was evident thatRye hadn’t missed that part of their conversation, either. His lips twisted as if he’d just swallowed a lemon slice.
“I thought you insisted you were going in a group after you tore out Alistair’s heart and stomped all over it, publicly, in front of your entire group of mutual friends.”
Ouch.
