Before I could summon a reply, Casimir glanced at me, a conspiratorial smile curving his lips. “Why don’t we ask Farrow for her opinion,” he suggested.
Surprise and anger flashed across August’s face at Casimir’s familiar tone, at the implication that we were well acquainted. The blush that had momentarily abated now returned to my face in full under the weight of Casimir’s flirtatious gaze. My lips opened and closed, but no words came out. I had been right to dread this group assignment. If Skinner really had intended to torment me today, his plan was succeeding beyond measure. They were still waiting for me to say something.
“I’m not going to comment on personal accountability,” I said with a meaningful look toward Casimir. “But, on the matter of Orpheus, I don’t believe fate necessarily compromises free will. Despite whatever the gods were up to, the mortal characters in these stories still made choices that impacted the outcomes of their lives. These myths are meant to be read as lessons on humility and understanding human weakness.”
Monty looked positively dumbfounded, and August sullen.
Casimir was smirking as if he’d won a prize. He tilted his head toward me with interest. “Then, would you also agree Orpheus was wrong not to trust Hades?”
I frowned. What was Casimir’s game?
“No, not exactly. I certainly understand why Orpheus looked back—” I said, struggling for the right words to express my thoughts. “It was…just a very human impulse. One that Hades correctly anticipated, knowing he would get to keep Eurydice with him in the Underworld.”
Casimir nodded thoughtfully. “And yet, if Orpheus had just trusted Hades’ word, he wouldn’t have ruined everything,” he observed.
Was he taking August’s side, now?
“Perhaps accountability shouldn’t be limited to just Orpheus,” I said, and something flashed in Casimir’s gaze. I continued heatedly, “Perhaps Orpheus was right to suspect Hades of skullduggery. After all, he abducted Persephone—who was very much alive, by the way—and dragged her to the Underworld to make her his wife. His prisoner.”
Here, August tried to interject, but I cut him off, far too preoccupied with winning this argument with Casimir. “Give me one good reason Orpheus should’ve trusted Hades.”
“Because,” said Casimir, leaning forward, his eyes glittering with amusement, “when you don’t have any other options, you have to trust the devil you know.” He smiled at the look of indignation on my face, knowing I was finally wise to his game.
He thinks I don’t trust him. No, I corrected—heknowsI don’t trust him, and he’s trying to make a point.
August grumbled mutinously under his breath, irritated at being ignored, which I suspected only served to amuse Casimir.
I suppressed the urge to kick him under the desk.
“As for kidnapping Persephone, well—that whole situation was pretty shady, I’ll give you that,” Casimir conceded, leaning closer, his arm nearly brushing my elbow. “But unfortunately for you, my side of the argument has the benefit of hindsight. We know for a fact that Hades was trustworthy in this case. It was Orpheus who fucked everything up.”
I slammed my book shut. “Fine! You win. Did you get that, Monty?” I snapped.
A flustered Monty rustled around for a clean page in his notebook, his fountain pen dripping ink all over the pages.
“Or Maybe Orpheus looked back simply because he loved her,” blurted August.
“No one asked you!” I snapped.
An uncomfortable silence settled over the four of us.
When August turned to me, his dark eyes were troubled. “I didn’t mean to imply that your points weren’t valid, Arden.” He shot Casimir an icy look.
August’s apology cut right through me, needling under my skin. But why should I care if I hurt his feelings? He hadn’t spared a thought for mine, when he’d unceremoniously dumped me in the library. The tip of my pencil snapped between my fingers and Monty and August exchanged an uncomfortable glance. Casimir, on the other hand, watched me with a mildly curious expression. For once, he did not comment on my temper.
August cleared his throat. “So, um. Would anyone like to summarize our thoughts? We ought to turn in something,” he suggested.
Monty, who had likely never expressed a single coherent thought in his entire life, nodded enthusiastically.
Casimir clasped his hands behind his head and leaned back, arching a lazy brow at August’s suggestion. August met his eye, albeit reluctantly. Casimir’s expression was indifferent, but there was a glimmer of ice lurking just beneath the mask. “Sounds like you’ve volunteered yourself for that job, Sinclair. Best get on with it.”
August glared at Casimir with a dislike bordering on something vicious, and I could almost taste the enmity that crackled between them, despite August having no inkling of what he’d done to earn Casimir’s wrath.
Finally, August gave a derisive sneer. “Have it your way. Monty, hand me your notes.”
Monty handed them over at once, and August began scribbling. For his part, Monty looked utterly relieved to be freed from all responsibility where the assignment was concerned.
Five hellish minutes later, August handed in the assignment, and Skinner signaled the end of class. I seized my bag and books as quickly as I could manage without tripping and all but ran out of the room with Gwen following close behind. I tugged at Gwen’s arm, urging her to walk faster.