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It was a sweet release, but I’m paying for the exertion now. The continual slide of my backpack over my shoulders makes me groan, and my thighs cry with every step I take.
And I still have to make it through the second half of the day with the prince. What torturous things will he have me do?
You can do this.
Students whisper and point as I pass. The entire student body must have heard about the Nocturus by now. Or maybe the videos of me being practically mauled to death last night has made the rounds.
Really, it’s a toss-up.
It’s even worse in the lecture hall of our Gaelic Studies class. I sit with Mack and Evelyn and a boy named Jace. Reina sits two rows back, not even bothering to whisper as she trickles poison in everyone’s ear.
“She’s sleeping with both of them,” Reina asserts to the large group of Unseelie shadows surrounding her. Our teacher, Professor Spellwart, left the class for a moment, and Reina’s taking the opportunity to spew lies. “That’s the only reason they would both fight over her. You should have seen her last night, trying to grab every male’s attention with a pheromone elixir. It’s pathetic.”
I glare back at them in time to see her sidekick, Lily, add, “I hear she got pregnant with Rhaegar’s baby and that’s why the prince destroyed him.”
Anger heats my face. But Mack shakes her head and I let it slide.
“They’ll forget about it soon,” she promises me.
I’m not sure that’s true, but the incident with the basilisk takes some of the focus off of me. Lunch is worse. The minute Mack and I take our usual table by the windows, the room goes quiet. Evelyn stops before she gets to our table, looking like she might, for once, realize I’m a social pariah and abandon ship. In class our seats are assigned, but here, she has a choice.
To her credit, she scoots beside Mack and weathers the storm of whispers and stares.
Fae ears, I hate being the center of attention.
By the time my Modern World class rolls around, I’m ready for anything. I manage to march down the Evermore corridor to my class with my shoulders back and head held high. Inside, I’m freaking out.
All I can think about is the power the prince wielded, the way it rocked the world and spun Rhaegar like a toy.
And then, when he protected me at the club . . . correction. That wasn’t protection. That was a dog guarding its favorite chew toy.
The class goes silent as I pass through the doorway. Professor Lochlan slides a quick glance over me. I cringe, ready for a lecture on tardiness followed by whispers.
Only none of those things happen.
Instead, the professor nods and the students—Evermore and human alike—look away.
On habit, I go to stand next to Rhaegar’s seat—
It’s empty. I let out a relieved breath, unaware until now how much I was not looking forward to seeing him. What if he hates me for giving him the book? Worse, what if he blames me for losing?
That’s when I feel it. The cold presence of the prince. He sits near the back, long arms slung behind his head, legs crossed at the knee. His midnight blue hair is tousled, the top of his tunic unbuttoned and a bit wrinkled.
As always, he wears a lazy, amused grin.
For the billionth time, that invisible string between us jerks taut. He has to feel it too, right?
Hard to tell when he hasn’t graced me with a single look. But I’m not buying his carefree, couldn’t give a flying frack attitude. Not anymore. Not after watching him play everyone like a fool, including me.
No. Everything he does is to distract. To hide. I know that now—although I have no idea yet what he’s hiding.
36
Clearing my throat, I flick my eyebrows up, impatient for a command. I’m used to Rhaegar being very clear about where I’m supposed to stand or what I need to hold. But the prince barely meets my eyes before gesturing with a jerk of his chin toward the closest chair.
The breath catches in my throat as I slide into the desk chair and set down my stuff. After that, it only gets weirder. I was expecting horribleness. Mistreatment. To have to stand by his side and fetch him meaningless stuff while everyone secretly laughs at me.
But none of that happens. Instead, I’m largely left . . . alone.
