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Of course, Paris was in love. I always thought he was an idiot. Now… not sure what to think. And it doesn’t matter because I’m not a love-sick fool like him…right?
Fuckingabesh k’emel kwant. Yeah, I do meango get fucked by a two-dicked unicorn. And yes, I’m talking to myself, because, fuck this. Can’t afford such emotions. Never thought I could feel this way. The timing is abysmal.
Then again, when would be a good time? In my case, probably never.
I’m so lost in thought that when I find Emrys in Ancient Greek class with me, I start. Of course a demon would be in such a class, as lots of old demonblood spells were expressed in Homer’s goddamnlanguage, but I’d forgotten I share this class with demonboy.
I take a good look at him for the first time since I dragged him to his room the previous night. He’d looked like hell warmed over then, and doesn’t look much better now. Makes me wonder what would have happened if we hadn’t interrupted that kiss.
Surely the witch wouldn’t have sucked him dead, right? If she hopes to become aVasilissa, she will need at least four living conduits of the elements. Emrys is the strongest of the demons in town, the hottest fire elemental.
Unless she is insane. Have we considered the possibility? Magic sometimes drives its users crazy, especially elemental magic that is so unpredictable if you tap into it too deeply, if you’re not strong enough or unprepared. Is Ophelia really an earth witch? Does it mean she’s not a Queen? But her power—
“Remember you can’t do spells in class!” the teacher warns as he writes on the blackboard, the chalk screeching, forming the Greek letters. “Not even to use today’s vocabulary.”
There are a few moans and snickers.
“But we’re bored!” someone says.
“I heard that.” The teacher turns back around, his gray hair standing up in a nest around the bald top of his head, his beard trembling. He looks like an ancient Greek. Probably an authentic period example.
“Man is the measure of all things,” he intones in Greek, “at least, according to Protagoras. Discuss.”
So much to discuss. Like, what about women? And what about magical creatures? Had Protagoras ever met one—woman or creature?
“Mr. Ramsden.” The teacher stops in front of Emrys, a dark scowl on his face. “Are you asleep in my class? Unbelievable.”
I’m on my feet before I know what I’m doing. This isn’t like Emrys. He’s a nuisance but falling asleep like this seems ominous.
“He’s been sick,” I say as I go around to his desk and wrestle him from behind it. “I was with him last night. I should take him back to bed.”
“Oh.” The teacher’s bushy brows knit. “I see. Well, then.”
“Rys, get up.” I lift his arm and drape it over my shoulders. “Come on, man, on your feet. Rys! What the hell did you take?”
Damn, he’s heavy. His dark lashes flutter and his arm curls around my neck. At least, he’s not completely out of it. He even makes an effort to get his feet under him.
Good. Not sure I’d be up to carrying him to the dormitories. The wound in my back still hasn’t scabbed and the last few days have fucked me over, leaving me kind of shaky.
“Stay with me, Rys. Stay awake.” I drag him down the hallways toward the cluster of buildings that include the dormitories. “Walk. Come on.”
Wouldn’t it be nicenotto have to haul each other around in various states of unconsciousness for a while?
I know he takes pills to sleep, and also drugs during parties. Demons are notorious for not giving a shit about what enters their bodies, hellbent on self-destruction and well, general destruction.
Emrys hasn’t been any different. In his years at the Academy, he has tried just about every pill and drug that has passed through here. I only… never cared before. Sure, I cringed from time to time when he was carried away by his demon gang, passed out and drooling, or when he drunk-danced at parties, groping all the girls and boys around him. An asshole, I’ve always thought.
But I’ve been no better. A slut for oblivion, no matter how brief, for an escape, no matter how dangerous. So I can’t judge.
Not anymore.
He stops before we reach the dormitories, digging in his heels, making me curse. “Not going to bed,” he slurs.
“The hell you aren’t.”
“Fuck you, Sin, I’ve had enough of lying around in bed unable to fucking sleep!”
I push him against a wall—I think it’s a shed for the storage of gardening tools—and get in his face. “Then you answer my fucking questions. Did you take pills?”
