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With a muttered curse, he pushed her off to the side, cleaned the floor, tossed her a warm washcloth, and set a tray of hearty food in front of her. After that, as far as he was concerned, the next step was simple: she needed to leave.

“You weren’t supposed to be here,” Wilder groaned as she rifled around in her handbag that had, quite obviously, been illicitly charmed to be much larger than it appeared. Those sort of enchantments were forbidden in the Holy Circle—something about it being dishonest.

She pulled out a soft lavender handkerchief and carefully wiped her face. And then, as though the thought simply couldn’t be contained, she muttered, “Spirits alive, it smells like cinnamon pixies had an orgy in here.”

“What?” he stammered, caught off guard. This was the most vulgar thing he’d ever heard spill from her prim mouth.

She scanned his room with practiced precision, her gaze never quite meeting his as she continued, “The smell is quite overwhelming.”

“Just—” Oleander ground out.

He glanced away, sucking in a breath. It was getting harder to think about anything other than how lovely she looked—even dishevelled. The soft white of her long jacket made her amethyst skin glow. Her shirt underneath was modest, but the neckline dipped just low enough for him to glimpse the most lovely collarbone he’d ever seen. Her bright lavender hair curled around her face as though she’d returned from some wild adventure. It made him want to offer to join her next time. It made him want to be in charge of her dishevelment for all future outings.

Instead, he sighed, forcing the thought away. “Wilder, you shouldn’t be here.”

She bit her lip and watched him with wide, innocent eyes, rising slowly. “Yes. Right. I’m sorry I barged in like this.”

“Why the fuck are you here at all? I’m in the middle of a purification—”

“Wait, really?” She peered around him excitedly. “I’ve read all about purification rituals. Can you show me how it’s done?” She had moved past him, already looking around his room for the source of the smoke.

“No!”

Her hands flew to her hips, brow furrowed. “No?”

Oleander groaned—he was supposed to be meditating right now to hone his focus, not arguing with demanding demonesses. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Did you come here to pester me with more project questions? Because you truly could not have come at a worse time.”

“I’m not here about our—” She halted, then scoffed. “I’m sorry. But why are you always so cavalier about our project? It’s our last chance to contribute to the magical research community! You just told me that you—”

“Your last chance,” Oleander corrected her, arching his brow to needle her further.

She bristled. “What?”

Oleander sighed, a mix of frustration and resignation. “I can keep studying and contributing for centuries if I want. It’s only the Holy Circle that insists on keeping demonesses from further study or work outside of the home.”

“Is that why you’ve been no help?” A breathless, incredulous laugh broke from her.

“I care about our project to the degree it deserves,” Oleander shot back. “But it doesn’t consume me the way it consumes you. I have a life outside of the Academy.”

She narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Frustration smouldered under his skin, electric and heady. He levelled her with a sharp look. “You obviously have no life. You just slink around slimy swamps, researching… or you’re holed up in dusty libraries.”

He laughed bitterly, cutting her off before she could respond. “You probably think reading is a good idea for an exciting evening.”

“Oh, come off it! I’ve seen you plenty of times draped over sofas with your nose stuck in a book.”

“Sure, yes, I like a good book. Who doesn’t?” Oleander shrugged. “But I don’t make it my whole personality.”

She moved towards him, a storm of indignation raging across her face. Every hair on Oleander’s body rose and his cheeks grew uncomfortably warm. He tried to keep his breathing steady as her voice grew deadly low. “How should I be reading, then?”

He cleared his throat and stepped away from her. “Maybe try balancing it out with some social interactions once in a while.” Before he could stop himself he added, “You don’t talk to anyone outside of pestering me about our research.”

“Yes, well, I don’t know why I’m even listening to you. You’ve always been a confident jerk. At least I’m not obsessed with shady bargains trying to get my father to notice me. From what I hear you’re quite obsessed with those.” She gave a mocking laugh. “So, are you a soul reaper yet? Your sister and brother were already soul reapers at your age… I could recommend some books to help you make truly horrid bargains, if you’d like.”

It felt suddenly like he was cracking apart, her words burrowed deep into him. He knew he was failing his father, he didn’t need it pointed out to him. His breathing grew unsteady but before he could say anything else, she shook her head.

“Look,” she said. “I didn’t mean that exactly. It’s just such a waste of talent. You could be so much… better.”