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“He can believe what he wants, Dar. Don’t make it true. And the people who are happy about us bein’ together? They ain’t exactly powerless.”
He’s quiet and I twist my head back to look at his face. His eyes are closed but his face is no longer twisted with worry and doubt. His brow’s smooth. His plush lips are tipped up at the edges. That’s better.
I hold him until I get worried about the time, then pounce on top of him for a hard kiss before darting off to pull on my trackies. He rolls out of the bed, grinning, and chases me into the hallway to grab my coat and shoes.
We walk to the exam hand-in-hand. He’s coatless and barefoot in the snow, leaving his long, narrow footprints steaming behind us. A crow in what looks like military winter camo escorts us to the classroom. We have a practical exam first and then a written exam afterwards. Each part is ninety minutes. Three hours of exam.
In comparison to that Early History of Magic midterm, it’s a cake walk.
I’ve never been afraid of exams. Sure, I get stressed about them like everyone else, but once I’m in the exam, a meditative kind of calm falls over me. I developed an exam strategy years ago. I read through the whole exam first, mark the questions I know I’ll need to spend the most time on, do those first, then go back and whip through the easier stuff. I always give myself ten minutes at the end to review my answers. I need every minute—Madame Serpa writes a thorough exam—but I’m not rushed and as I read back over my written answers, I’m pleased with what I’ve done.
That my body’s on low simmer from Charlie leaving me hanging definitely doesn’t hurt my focus. I’m amped. I might have to ask my boys to edge me before each exam.
When Madame Serpa calls time, I stretch and crack my back, then look to Rachel and Darwin.
Rachel’s grinning. She’s no academic slouch. I think she might have enjoyed that exam. Darwin’s rubbing the bridge of his nose. I didn’t dare glance over during the exam, but from what I could see in my peripheral vision, he did both the practical work and the written exam confidently.
“Hot chokkie to celebrate?” I ask Rachel, before I remember that Lords has us on lockdown.
“At yours?”
Maybe she already knows. I nod.
I link arms with her and then Darwin. Before we go out into the hallway to find our white-camo-ed shadow, I look up at him and mouth, “I’m proud of you.”
His grin as we walk back to the flat could light up all of Faery.
Chapter59
Set The Wild Echoes Flying
Doctor Prince wasn’t lying.
The Early History of Magic final isn’tquiteas bad as my midterm.
It’s not far off, either.
The test-taking itself is substantially better. I don’t have a panel of professors staring at me. I dare scratch my arse while taking the test without worrying about Dean Gravka accusing me of cheating.
The edging strategy we adopted after the Necromancy exam don’t hurt, either. The hot fizz below my waist, the low burble of frustration, they keep me tight and focused. The boys take turns doing the edging. Since Lords is camped out at our dining table during the day and on the couch in the man cave at night, that means shower blowjobs for all of them. They’re happy because they’re getting their rocks off on the regular and I’m happy because I’m doing well on my exams.
I’d be less happy if the boys were depriving me completely. But after Darwin takes me to his father’s holdings in Inverness for our date to go tenpin bowling at the castle’s bowling alley—because what fae castle is complete without an indoor bowling alley?—I Earth-Walk us there whenever I get too frustrated for a quickie.
We’re scheduled to head straight to Thistlemist after the Early History of Magic exam, but I drag Lords and the boys to my hearth room for a few hours instead. I finish up several loads of stones to send to Elliot. Then, while the boys are distracted with snacks, I polish off and wrap the Yule gifts I’ve made.
“One last stop,” I tell Lords.
He grumbles but follows as we troop to the Victorian on the edge of town where Doctor Prince and Madame Serpa live. If things had gone differently, I’d be spending Yule here with Charlie.
Although I’m not looking forward to everything about Yule at Thistlemist—those dinners with the fam are a source of dread—I’m not sorry things have played out the way they have.
Madame Serpa answers the door. She invites us into the lounge, decorated in soothing blues and greens, with a huge Yule log burning in the fireplace. We exchange three-fold kisses and I hand her the journal I’ve kept through the semester of astrological observations. Although the view from our new house isn’t as good as the roof of Ouroboros Tower, I’ve still been able to see the stars well enough on clear nights.
“I correlated it to significant events like you asked,” I tell my professor. “There are some clear parallels.”
“Well done, Teddy. I’ll look forward to reading it,” she says.
“Is Doctor Prince available?” I ask. “I have something for her.”
