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Was she deliberately avoiding looking at him, he wondered. Hard to say. She spent most of her time reading no matter who was around her. Still, he took a seat as far away from her as possible, hoping that if he kept his head low he might be able to avoid seeing, hearing, or speaking to her for the duration of the class. This could work, he told himself, letting a flicker of hope come to life in his chest. Morgan would of course want nothing to do with him, that went without saying. They didn’t have any other classes together aside from this one. So if he could just keep out of her way in this class… he sighed, digging his astronomy notebook out of his bag. Of course, avoiding her wasn’t going to stop him from wallowing in the misery of what he’d done every time he caught so much as a glimpse of her. But that was beside the point. He couldn’t blame the class for reminding him of Morgan, anyway. Everything reminded him of her these days.
“Welcome back to the top of the tower,” Rowton announced, his lopsided grin infectious as he raised his voice above the general hubbub of the class. “Hope your leg muscles didn’t get too lazy over the break. This term we’ll be jumping right in with an assignment.”
There was a chorus of good-natured groans, which Rowton weathered cheerfully before continuing. “Yes, yes, we all love learning. Now. This is a term-long project, due at the end of our final week of classes—but let me be clear, this is not something you can finish off at the last minute. You’ll be tracking the changes in the stars as the weeks go by, and you’ll be tracing the impact on your own lives in astrological terms. This involves small, manageable amounts of work—but you’ll need to do it every week. And I’ll know if you fudge it,” he added, giving them all a warning look. “Trust me. I am very wise.”
Archer was jotting down notes about the assignment. It didn’t sound that bad—a bit of stargazing once a week. He didn’t much care for the idea of tracing the impact of the stars on his own life, but he was sure he could make something up. Any assignment beat the hell out of trying to make up for a whole term’s worth of slacking off in two short weeks, that was for sure.
“Final note—we’ll be working on this one in pairs. You’ll be working with this partner all term, so it’s important that you make a thoughtful choice. For this reason, I’ve made the decisions for you. You’re welcome.”
Ignoring the groans of protest, the professor began cheerfully reading out his list of pairings. Archer glanced at his friends in the class, hoping he’d be paired with someone who’d do most of the work, or at the very least, someone who would actually do their own share instead of slacking off. He knew he couldn’t afford to blow off this assignment. Or any assignment, if he wanted to stay on the good side of his teachers. He was on thin enough ice as it was.
But with all of that in mind, he felt his heart freeze solid in his chest when professor Rowton announced who he’d be paired with. He was on his feet immediately before he’d even finished saying Archer’s name, halfway through a protest that he could hear echoed behind him in a voice that had haunted him for the last two weeks solid.
“Morgan and Archer, sit down,” professor Rowton snapped, his voice suddenly surprisingly steely. Archer felt himself obey at once, then snuck a terrified glance out of the corner of his eye at Morgan, who was still on her feet. “Morgan?”
“With respect, Professor, I strenuously object to this pairing,” she said coolly, not looking at Archer. “I’d prefer to work on my own. I understand the workload will be increased, but—”
“Request denied, Morgan.” The pleasant smile on Rowton’s face didn’t change, but Archer could have sworn he felt the temperature in the room go up a few degrees. Slowly, Morgan sat back down in her seat… and Archer fought the urge to bury his face in his hands. Just when he was thinking he’d be able to stay out of her way, here came a professor to sign his death warrant. Did he have any idea how much of a mess he was causing? It didn’t seem like it, from the cheery way he continued with the class.
Archer could hardly wait for it to be over. As soon as Rowton dismissed them, he shot over to Morgan’s desk and hovered beside it, speaking in a low voice as their classmates dispersed. She was putting her books carefully in her bag, and she didn’t look up at the sound of his voice. “I’ll talk to him,” he said emphatically. “I’ll tell him what happened, I’ll explain that we can’t work together.”
“And what will you explain, exactly?” Morgan asked, those green eyes almost knocking him over when she finally looked up to meet his gaze. He’d thought he’d seen her angry before, but this was something else entirely. He opened his mouth, but his voice refused to respond to his instructions. Feeling stupid, he closed it again, not missing the flash of disgust in her eyes. “That’s what I thought. Don’t bother, Archer. I’ve got no choice but to work with you, so I will. It might be an interesting challenge.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he demanded, stung by her tone.
“Isn’t it obvious? You’re disorganized, unpunctual and arrogant, with an entitled attitude to other people’s time and no work ethic to speak of. You are, hands down, the worst option for a partner in this room. So if I can get a good grade on this assignment with you as a partner… well, that speaks volumes about me, doesn’t it?”
Brutal. What could he say to that? He wanted to get angry, but he was still too wracked with guilt and shame over what had happened the last term. Besides, it wasn’t as though what she’d said wasn’t completely in keeping with the way he’d conducted himself as a student all year. “Fine,” he said faintly. He didn’t miss the titter of amusement that had gone up among the handful of students who were still in the room and had overheard what she’d said, and he was fiercely grateful they hadn’t had this conversation in front of the whole class. “Well—good. Great.”
“Tomorrow night for our first observations, I think,” she said coolly, slinging her backpack over her back as she rose from her chair. “I know you’ve got your party planning to worry about at the end of the week, and the rest of the weekend will be rainy, so that’s our best bet. After dinner. I’ll meet you at the doorway to the Great Hall.”
It wasn’t a question—she was already walking away from him before he even had the chance to agree with her. Fair enough, he thought faintly, watching her go. He supposed he deserved a lot worse than that kind of coldness. But the amused looks her friends shot him over their shoulder rankled a little. He shot the professor a pleading look as the man moved past him, but Rowton only grinned sunnily back at him. Great. The first week of term and he already had at least a dozen inescapable torture sessions scheduled. What could be better?
The truth was that deep down, in a part of himself he was embarrassed to even acknowledge, he was looking forward to having an excuse to see her every week. Even if it was clear she planned to spend the entire time insulting him.
Chapter 19 - Morgan
It was strange how freeing it had felt to actually speak her mind to Archer. An eerie clarity had hit her, right then and there in that classroom, when she realized that Rowton had no intention of letting her get out of working with him. One way or the other, she was stuck with him. Dread began to pool in her gut at the thought of having to sit there being polite, being professional, making sure the assignment went well. Then the realization hit her, clear as a bell. Why did she have to be nice to him? She’d been ready to do the assignment by herself—she knew she didn’t need his help there. So what was to stop her from simply speaking her mind?
So she had. And it had feltamazing. She hadn’t stumbled or stuttered, her voice hadn’t wavered, her hands hadn’t shaken… she’d felt like she could conquer the world when she walked away from him, her whole body buzzing with triumph. She hadn’t missed the way people had laughed at what she’d said to him, either. That had felt good. Was this why he’d gotten so reliant on having his stupid friends trailing around after him, laughing at all his jokes? She understood the power of that, now.
It still sucked that she had to work with him, of course. She wrote a long, grumpy letter about it to Acantha when she got back from class, venting her frustrations with the professor. She’d always had Rowton pegged as one of those friendly, easygoing teachers who just wanted to make his students happy. But his refusal to change the partners made her wonder if he didn’t have a more complicated agenda than she’d given him credit for. Why pair her with Archer? Was it to give her a challenge, like he’d said? Or was it so she’d whip Archer into shape, force him to do a decent job of the assignment the way she had with the star chart assignment at the beginning of the semester?
It didn’t matter, she thought with a sigh. She was just going to have to get through it. A valuable opportunity to practice not being polite, she reminded herself firmly. She was working on that with professor Reine, being more honest with her feelings with others as well as with herself. What better way to be honest with her feelings than to tell Archer exactly what she thought of him? She certainly had no shortage of frustration to vent there.
And so it began. The first stargazing session, Archer barely said a word to her. She could see his fear of her in his aura, his almost palpable uneasiness, and she began to realize, as the evening wore on and he was nothing but obsequious and apologetic, that they couldn’t go on like this. This was why professor Reine had been so impatient with her in their early weeks, she realized with a roll of her eyes. There was just no working with someone who was frightened of you.
“Don’t be such a coward next time,” she told him when they finished for the night. “Treating me like I’m a scary monster is almost as bad as treating me like a prop to throw around.”
She wasn’t sure if he’d take the hint. But the following week when they met again to take more measurements of the stars, he was far less meek. Once or twice, he snapped back tart rejoinders to her little barbs… and when one such response startled a laugh out of her, she saw his eyes widen with realization. The next time she made a snide comment about his handwriting, he retorted that he was surprised she could even see it with how unsteadily she was holding the light. He was quick on his feet. Quicker than she’d given him credit for, if she was honest. But he was nowhere near as smart as her, and it was clear who had the upper hand. Clear to her, at least. He might need some more convincing.
She found herself looking forward to their next session more than she’d expected, her mind returning to it again and again as the week dragged by. Something had changed, she realized. Glimpsing him in the hallways was no longer an ordeal… it was an opportunity to get a shot in, to roll her eyes or make a cutting comment to the friend she was walking with, just loud enough for him to hear. Keli was absolutely thrilled with the situation, and the two of them spent entire lunch breaks compiling devastating new barbs to throw at him.
It was the fourth week of the assignment when the day they’d chosen for their regular stargazing session dawned unexpectedly cloudy, patchy rain occasionally drumming on the roof of the library throughout Morgan’s afternoon study session. She spent the day hoping the cloud would clear, some part of her strongly opposed to rescheduling their session. She told herself it was because she didn’t want to miss a week of observations, but she knew in her heart it had a lot to do with seeing Archer, too. It was just that she was enjoying teasing him, she told herself fiercely. That was all. It was revenge. She was being vengeful, like a Scorpio, it all checked out. She hovered in the entrance to the Great Hall after dinner, frowning up at the stubborn sky. Thick clouds continued to dominate the sky, darkening a night that was already fairly ill-lit with the moon much closer to new than full. The stars only shone through in patches. Their job was going to be difficult.
“What do you say? Call it for tonight, try again tomorrow?”
He’d moved up behind her without her noticing, probably trying to scare her. Nice try, she thought, shooting him a withering look. “You’re really going to bail because of a couple of little clouds? What’s the matter, worried your expensive shirt will get a couple of raindrops on it?”
