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“Okay,” I say with a shrug. “How hard can that be?”
“Oh, you’ll see.” There’s the ghost of a smile on Vance’s face. “This morning she tried to stab me.”
“I like a challenge.”
* * *
Dusk has fallenby the time we are back on campus.
There is a gaggle of freshmen waiting for us—Vance had them sent here to help the girls with their plethora of shopping bags. A great move, since I’m not in the mood to make that many trips between their dorm and the parking lot. Only one of the bags is mine.
Alize is reluctant to part ways with her friends.
She keeps fiddling with the same strand of her hair—a pink tendril close to her temple—her eyes bouncing nervously between them and me. The three of them are standing together, a few paces from the Lambo beneath one of the many streetlights in the parking lot.
It hasn’t flickered on yet, but it will in a minute or two.
I walk up to them. Alize tenses, her hands shifting to her sides. Nya gives me a curious look, while Tara does little to hide her open derision. I thought we made some headway hanging out today? Apparently not.
“Look, Al, your jailer is here,” Tara says, folding her arms. “You’re just as horrible as that douchebag Alexander, keeping her locked up in that room.”
Tara is emotional.
A lot of what she says is never rooted in fact. I’m sure she knows that Alize would have itmuchworse if she wasn’t Alexander’s Courtesan and allowed to move in with him. Hell House got its name for a reason. Plus, it’s not like she’s even safe on campus—everyone is still adjusting to the fact that she flouted the Peace Treaty.
Do I approve of all his methods? No, but it isn’t my business. There are quite a few stupid things Alexander has done in the past few weeks, but keeping her confined to his room isn’t one of them. It takes me too long to realize that I haven’t said anything.
I’ve only been thinking and staring.
“Are you ready to leave?” I ask Alize.
She frowns, her hands forming fists. “Do I have a choice?”
I bare my teeth in what I hope is a smile. “No, you don’t.”
I step aside, putting me next to Nya. She’s been quiet too, but there’s a world behind her eyes. I recognize the look in them—she’s thinking more than she’s talking because it feels more comfortable. How she ended up liking Vance—someone who talksway more than he thinks—is something even I don’t understand.
Alize hugs them both, then whispers something to Tara. The girl’s expression hardens, but she doesn’t say more. A few moments later, she falls into step beside me and we begin our walk to Kingmaker House.
* * *
The tensionbetween us is thick.
Her steps are cagey, and every five—or maybe six—seconds she glances back at Nya and Tara. Back at the shopping center, her anxiety was fun to dissect. Now it’s just odd.
Is she always this anxious?
Will she be like this for the rest of the evening?
It’s hardly my business, but sustained anxiety isn’t good for anyone. Her limbic system must look like fireworks.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” I say. Her hazel eyes snap to mine, full of distrust. “You can relax.”
She squares her shoulders. “I am relaxed,” she lies. She straightens her back and starts to plant her feet a second longer with each stride. This must be how she masks her anxiety. “I know you’re not going to hurt me. Alexander would kill you.”
A smile twists my lips. “He would try to, yes.”
“But you’re still my enemy. Just like he is.”
