Page 36 of Divine Oaths

“They’re inside,” the receptionist said. She waved us toward two doors on the other side of the room. Again, Provost Henning pushed them open. But Alaster stopped me before we could enter.

When he spoke, it was in a soft whisper. But there was an edge to his voice, a note of fear that was raw, genuine. And it sparked fear in me too.

“What I mean by all of this, what I’m trying to tell you,” he said, “is you wouldn’t be the first student Kasem has harmed. But you could be the last. And if you try and protect him, you’re putting all of our lives at risk.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Some Cupid kills with arrows, some with traps

A HUGE OAK DESK SAT in the center of the president’s office. It was covered in books and files, with a small space for a monitor and keyboard. Here too were rows of bookshelves—stacked with leather-bound books whose spines had been lettered with gold leaf—and a walk-in wardrobe that was partially obscured from view. The air had an acrid scent to it, like each old tome, each page and ancient volume of the books, held memories of the past.

Behind the desk sat an older man with peppered brown hair and a thick beard. He was a spitting image of Alaster, but if Alaster had aged a few more decades, with his square jaw, piercing brown eyes, and wide build.

On the other side of the desk, across from the man, Kasem sat with his head in his hands. Angelica, the woman from the medical center, and Jojo were there too. But instead of sitting, they stood near the wall; Angelica with a pained expression on her face, her hands yanking and twisting mindlessly on her gold necklace; Jojo observing his younger brother with frustration.

“Close the door, Alaster,” President Saint James said. “Miss Adu, please sit. Charlotte, take a seat as well.”

Provost Henning gave the president a little bow at the mention of her name and took the seat farthest from Kasem. Two seats remained between them; one for me, and one for Alaster.

“You don’t have to sit next to him if you don’t want to,” Alaster said after he closed the door and I still hadn’t moved.

“I’m fine,” I said. Except I wasn’t. I wasn’t prepared for this moment, and his words, the accusation he’d carelessly made just moments before. Alaster could be lying. He’d do anything to get Kasem expelled from Westfield. But the fear in his voice had been palpable, real.

Tentatively, I glanced over to Kasem. With his head down and his hands cupping his face, he couldn’t see the rush of confliction churning through me. But then he shifted in his seat, turned his head ever so slightly so that our gazes met between the frames of his fingers. His brown eyes were searing. There wasn’t anger there, or fear—just acceptance.

I looked away, my heart drumming in my ears. But my gaze returned to his, and the longer he watched me, the more I felt like I was drowning in his stare.

I’d never swum in an open current, but I imagined this might be how it would feel: daunting, breathless, aching.

“Shall we begin?” the president said, cutting through the silence with his deep, somber voice.

Finally, finally, Kasem looked away. I did too, my cheeks warm, my heart thrumming against my ears. From the corner of my eye, I realized Jojo had been watching Kasem and me exchange glances. I couldn’t read what Jojo could be thinking. This new version of him was a stranger to me.

“You could have just spoken to me at the estate,” Kasem said. “This is wholly unnecessary.”

“I disagree with that entirely,” the president said. “I think it’s very necessary. Especially now that I have parents writing to me about why we’d accept a graduate student, a TA, nonetheless, who’s hooking up with students during orientation.”

I bristled in my seat, but Kasem didn’t seem moved.

“Honey’s a math major. I haven’t TA’d any of the classes she’s in, not even a finance elective.”

“That’s beside the point,” the president said. “You were supposed to be a symbol for our institution, Kasem. The embodiment of what hard work and applying oneself academically can achieve. And a reminder that Westfield University has made leaps and bounds from where it once was on the racial front—even if things have been shaky these last few years.”

“Especially now that they might finally let its Black heir inherit the university estate,” Kasem said under his breath.

“In Kasem’s defense,” Jojo said, drawing attention to himself for the first time since the confrontation began. “I was a witness too. Kasem apologizes for getting caught up in these circumstances. May he learn from this.”

“Thank you, brother. But I don’t remember asking for empty benedictions,” Kasem said, scowling at Jojo.

“Well, you clearly need something if this is how you’re conducting yourself at such a seminal point in the year,” Jojo said, his voice low, dangerous.

“You’re not affiliated with Westfield other than as a researcher. If you’re here as a witness, then be that. But don’t overstep where you’re not wanted.”

Jojo pursed his lips, moving to speak again. But the president raised his hand, and Jojo bowed, stepping back beneath the curtain of shadows at the president’s desk.

“You’d be wise to listen to your brother, Kasem. This is a seminal year for you,” the president continued. “I know you aren’t keen to graduate and teach, but there’s a spot for you on the board of trustees. It could be yours. Why rush to inherit the estate when so much greater could be before you?”

“I’m assuming Professor Saint James is here for this same reason,” Kasem said, nodding in Alaster’s direction.