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She shakes her head and lifts a corner of her mouth in a half-smirk. “If you sabotage me and win, then you’ll know your victory wasn’t truly earned. If you sabotage me and still lose, then you’ll probably hate yourself for the rest of your life. So no, I’m not worried.”
“You know me so well, huh?”
“Is that a yes or a no?”
“Have I ever said no to you, my revered nemesis?”
“I’m not your nemesis.”
“Bring your essay over. My adored adversary.”
“Just say Theodora.”
“Yes, my sublime Theodora.”
AlthoughIneverreallyexpected her to, Theodora does claim her prize in the end.
There’s a Young Kings party in the study hall—a small one, with champagne and pizza and games, where we’ve only invited an elite group of guests.
Theodora comes late, dragged in by Camille and Rose, who hold her arms tightly in theirs. She’s wearing a short dress in blue satin and strappy white heels. Her hair is tied in a high ponytail, and she’s got a faraway look in her eyes. If I had to guess, she would rather be in the library than at this party, and I can’t blame her—so would I.
As I watch her from afar, a huge body throws itself against the side of mine, almost toppling us both into a nearby table. The study hall, a cavernous chamber underneath a vaulted ceiling, is dark, lit dimly by a few lamps and the green glow of the emergency signs.
In those hazy lights, Iakov’s face appears. He curls one arm around my shoulders, and I wince as his thick biceps squeeze my neck. Iakov’s eyes are glazed over, which tells me he’s already inebriated. I wouldn’t put it past him to choke me in a drunken underestimation of his own strength.
“Thorny thing, your Zaro,” Iakov slurs in my ear.
“Yeah?” I laugh. “Are you rethinking your idea of teaching her how to fight?”
“No.” He shakes his head. “I wanna teach her, but she doesn’t wanna learn.”
“Blackwoods aren’t big fans of physical violence.”
Iakov rasps out a dark cackle. “No, but big fans of verbal abuse.”
“Not verbal abuse. More… fighting with the sharpness of one’s wit.”
“Like you do with your Theodora?” Iakov asks with an enthusiastic nod.
I’d been searching her face in the dark room, but Iakov’s words bring my attention straight back to him.
“We don’t fight. We debate, like fighting but without violence.”
“You don’t debate, you argue, like fucking but without touching.”
“You’re drunk, Kav.” I grab the bottle out of his hand. “What’re you drinking that’s got you spouting such obscure shit?” I peer at the label and give Iakov an appreciative nod. “Cognac? Very classy of you.”
He shrugs. “It’s Sev’s. I ran out of vodka.”
“Of course you did.”
Ienduptakingmore than one sip of Sev’s expensive cognac while Iakov updates me on Zahara, and soon, the ground starts wavering under my feet.
Unlike Evan, who just had to run out of the room to throw up, I know my limits, so I pass Iakov his bottle back with a wince. Iakov doesn’t know his limit, but only because he probably doesn’t have one at all.
We’re both startled when a slim body barges past Iakov to stand in front of me. I’m surprised to find Theodora glaring up at me. Her hair is impeccable in its ponytail, but her cheeks are flushed, and her eyes have the same glaze as Iakov’s.
My heartbeat stutters in surprise. She’s drunk.
