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I take a deep breath and look in front of me, my eyes looking high enough not to cross Louis’s.

This is stupid, I know, but my heart has still not resumed a normal pace, and I need to stay focused. I can’t let him rattle me this much over nothing.

“I’ve reviewed all of your tests from Monday, and, as I expected, not everyone has the same proficiency in French. To help with homework, each of you will be paired with someone. You won’t be paired with someone with a similar level to yours. The idea is for those who showed more proficiency to help those who are starting from scratch. I expect everyone to play along. If anyone doesn’t, though, please come to see me so we can see what’s not working,” I tell them in English.

This would be too much for them to understand if I explained it in French.

That’s not necessarily how I would have usually done things, but the divide between those who knew a lot already and those who knew absolutely nothing was too evident in this case.

It made me scared that, if I divided my class in two groups of levels the way I do most years, I would end up separating the shifters from the humans and fuck the council’s goal up—and myself in the meantime.

David would probably love for me to do something that would make it look like I was singling out the shifters. I can already imagine his evil smile if he discovered I made two groups and separated the humans from the shifters.

I’m not going to let him shut my class down over something this stupid.

So I decided something different last night.

Following my announcement, the twenty-four students in my class shift in their chairs, looking around them, maybe hoping to be paired—or absolutely not—with someone specific.

I don’t want to make them wait, so I start listing the students I paired together. I don’t want to single out anyone, but they’re listed from the best results to the worst, or more exactly, the first one is the best and their partner the worst, until we reach the middle of the class.

I’m glad they’re an even number so I don’t have to tutor one of them. With the way I set this up, I would have to pair myself with the worst student, and that’s definitely not something I’d want.

“Eliza Serra and Louis Dumont,” I start listing, and I don’t miss the way the brunette I just called looks Louis up and down with a satisfied grin.

I wasn’t even surprised when I saw Louis didn’t make an effort to even answer half of the questions. He’s clearly here because the council didn’t give him a choice.

“Luc Bourbon and Daniel Quampo,” I call next.

This first name wasn’t really a surprise. Luc was the one who sent me the very long email asking plenty of questions to better understand French. I don’t know if he usually speaks French at home or taught himself, but he did come prepared.

“Jean Baptiste and Hélène Sapin—” I keep listing until I reach the end of my list on the screen of my holo-puter, still standing behind my desk.

I walk up to the center front of the room and rest my butt against the back of my desk.

Until I realize it positions me right in front of Louis, and now all I want is to start walking again so I’m not the sole focus of his gaze.

I force myself to stay put and act unbothered.

“For today we’re going to stay in this disposition,” I say as I wave a hand in the class’ direction. “But for next class, I’d like for you to sit next to your partner, so you can help each other, as we do exercises.”

I pause.

“For today, we’re going to do something a bit different. I know you switched your holo-puters on, but we won’t need those. I want you to think for a minute, and tell me what sentence you think is the most important to know in another language, and we’re going to learn each of your choices.”

Eliza is the first to raise her hand, and I motion for her to talk.

“Hello, my name is Eliza. What’s your name?” she says, proud of herself. I click on the screen of my holo, and the sentence appears on the digital board behind my desk.

“Where is the restroom?” someone at the back of the class says, and I nod before sending it to the board.

One by one, they all give me a somewhat acceptable answer—yes, even the one who asks “One beer, please”—until I reach Louis.

When I see the look in his eyes, I know I’m going to regret letting him say his sentence.

His signature smirk is set on his lips, and his eyes are shining with a mischievous glint that I absolutely don’t like.

“You look so pretty when you choke on my dick like a good girl,” he says like it’s a totally valid answer, and he didn’t just say the most unhinged sentence I could expect.