Holding her breath, Embry snaked through the doorframe, hauling Rye through just before the glass door would’ve bounced off the broad width of his shoulders. Seriously, those things were a menace in addition to being distractingly attractive.
Do not think about shoulders. Do your job. Look around. No distractions.
They were in the lobby.
Silently elated, Embry squeezed Rye’s hand in celebration—and smugness—and darted up the stairs, confident Rye’s sound-absorbing spell would hide their footfalls. The cloaking spell began to wear off just as they hit the fifth-floor landing. Embry caught sight of their mingling shadows in the magical sconce light and knew if anyone poked their heads out of their rooms at a sound, they were sunk.
She pointed toward their shadows and then met Rye’s eyes in the low light. The barest nod told her he understood. As quietly as possible, Embry unlocked the door, opened it just far enough that the old hinges wouldn’t squeak, triumphantly regained her grasp of Rye’s hand, and slipped inside. Thankfully, he’d helped her move in, which meant he was cleared with the wards guarding her room. Rye closed the door and turned the lock for good measure.
Embry grinned at him. Realizing she was still holding his hand, she reluctantly dropped it. Tried to cover that reluctance by doing a little, effortless twirl that the “Old Embry,” aka the one from a week ago, would’ve done automatically. “Worked like a charm.”
“It did. Butwhywas the headmaster here after curfew? That’s strange, isn’t it?”
Itwasstrange, though it wasn’t that unusual. And after a literal murder on campus? Embry wouldn’t be surprised if the woman had found a cot and a cage for Merlin and was sleeping here. If she was sleeping at all, that was.
“Probably some part of the campus emergency protocol put into place after Oakley’s murder,” she suggested, shrugging into her whisper. “Anyway, it’s literally not our problem because she’s not in this building right now to catch us.”
“Good point.”
“Okay, so the corsage should be…” Not wanting to give away their position through the window, instead of lighting an illumination spell in her hand, Embry blinked until her eyes adjusted and cast out for the vanity she’d added to the standard school pieces. “Here!”
And there it was. The corsage Balthazar had given her on Friday night. In the dark of the room, the ring of white orchids seemed to glow like snow capping the tallest of mountains. A little white beacon through the gloom.
Hand extended, Embry rushed over to it.
“Wait!” Rye snatched her wrist, pulling it away. “We shouldn’t take it.”
“Isn’t it better if it’s in my possession? It proves the one Oakley’s wearing isn’t mine.”
“Or if they gain entry to search your belongings and they don’t find it, they’ll assume the one that was on Oakley’s is yours.”
Embry waved him off. “Rye, you know Daddy’s lawyers aren’t going to allow them to search this room. And even if they fail, which they won’t because he’s paying them an exorbitant amount, they will have to interview me about what they do or do not find in this room, during which time I can tell them I took the corsage with me off campus and produce it. Duh.”
“All of that could happen, Em, but we don’t know if Martinelli or some other admin clocked it while watching you pack.” He was so annoyingly thoughtful. “If they did, they could contradict your statement and—What’s that?”
Rye swiveled toward a scratching sound.
“It’s just the bats.” Embry rolled her eyes, mainly to undercut the sadness tingeing the next sentence of explanation. “Oakley could shift into a bat and started doing so to sneak in and out of the dorm past curfew. The Bitches loved it, but so did the actualbats, who thought this building, particularly the attic right above us, would be a good place to hang out. And because they’re endangered, they can’t—”
The sound came again. This time much louder. And not from the wall or the ceiling.
“The window—” Rye whispered just as it started to lift beyond the pulled curtain.
There wasn’t time to spell themselves invisible. So, Embry did the only thing she could think of in this circumstance: She snagged Rye’s wrist, then dove to the floor and under the bed.
It was a much safer option than the closet, which was across the room. That said, even head prefects were given a standard-issue twin bed. Room enough for one person to hide under, yes, but two? That was a challenge of physics.
They’d come to a rolling stop thanks to Rye’s shoulder being wedged into the box spring above. He was ostensibly on his side, while Embry was flat on her stomach, head facing the narrow space under the footboard, hopeful to get a glimpse of whomever was about to step into her room.
The window must have been completely open now. The curtains rustled noisily as they were pushed aside. Rye slowly, carefully, repositioned himself, so that his right arm draped over Embry’s back. His right leg tangled with hers as he got it to fit in the tight space.
Somehow, even though less of them was technically touching than in the drama closet, this felt… more intimate. Embry furiously tried to convince herself this was no more sexual than a summer solstice game of lawn Twister, but her body wasn’t listening to her brain or reading the danger in the situation.
Because Embry was acutely aware of the fact that their current, slightly tangled position was one that might naturally occur in the middle of the night when two people shared a bed. Rye’sarm wrapped over her upper back, the sides of his thigh, knee, and calf sprawled over the backs of her thighs and the backs of her knees. His breath was reassuring in her ear, the smell of rosemary assailed her, and his warmth—she wanted to burrow into it.
Swallowing, she berated herself.Focus, Woodcross. Focus.
Unfortunately, her inner condemnation sounded like Rye’s voice. Which made it worse.
