“Eavesdropping on my private conversation again?” I fired at him. As if on cue, as though my body sensed his proximity, my tattoo began to prickle again. I ground my teeth, trying to ignore the sensation.
Gwen’s eyes darted between us, taken aback by my open hostility, her expression curious. No doubt she would pester me with a slurry of questions later tonight.
She shot me a significant look before murmuring, “I’ll see you later, Arden.” She strode off toward the West Wing, leaving Casimir and I alone in the corridor.
“Interesting lesson today,” Casimir said breezily, sidling up beside me.
A dull flush crept up my neck. I averted my gaze, not wanting to betray signs that I was still recovering from that extremely uncomfortable discussion.
“You seemed to have a good enough time at my expense.”
He frowned. “At your expense?” he repeated. “I thought we were just having a lively discussion about fate and Greek mythology.”
When I turned to leave, he grabbed my wrist. On instinct, I twisted away, and to my surprise, he let go.
“Are you still pissed about the other night?” he asked.
I snorted at the vagueness of his question. There were so many reasons I might be pissed, but one loomed above all the rest: his name, the proof of our bargain was still etched into my skin.
“That depends,” I snapped. “Are you finally going to give me some real answers?”
“That depends,” he mimicked. “Are you prepared to show me proof of your alleged abilities?”
Just then, a blaze of silvery-blonde hair flashed in my periphery, and I whipped around with a strangled yelp. My shoulders slumped in relief. It was not Devereux, just a girl with jaw-length hair of the same cornsilk texture and color. But my exclamation of surprise did not escape Casimir’s notice.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“My bloody tattoo hurts,” I lied. “Which I still haven’t forgiven you for, by the way,” I added. Not that he’d bothered to apologize.
Casimir snorted. “You think that’s bad? Try living with a bloodbargain brand.”
“Oh, I don’t know. Hard to imagine anything worse than having the name Casimir written on your thigh.” As if I’d summoned it, the mark began to itch uncomfortably. I fought the urge to scratch at it through my jeans.
“You’re a terrible liar, Farrow,” he replied disapprovingly. “Is it really bothering you?”
“Yes it’s bloody bothering me! It’s itchy, and it prickles whenever—” I caught myself. I’d been about to say, whenever you’re near. “Whenever I think about it,” I amended.
He sighed at my histrionics. “The pain should wear off in a few days. In the meantime, try not to think about it.”
Right.I gritted my teeth. “Fine. Look, forget the tattoo for now, we need to talk about what we’re going to do.”
Casimir lifted a brow. “We?”
“Yes,we! What are we going to do about Devereaux!?”
A few heads turned curiously in our direction.
“Listen,” he said in a low voice, “we can’t have this conversation here. I know a place where we can talk later. There are other things we need to discuss. Meet me on the West Terrace at sunset.”
8
“If you’re luring me into the forest to murder me and dispose of my body,” I said to the back of Casimir’s head, “then I’m extremely disappointed in your lack of originality.” We’d been walking for fifteen minutes, and I was struggling to keep up with his brisk pace.
The arrogant prick just assumed I’d show up. That I’d be hungry enough for more details that he’d find me at sunset, waiting for him on the West Terrace. And like a fool, I’d done exactly as he’d predicted. In my defense, I had little desire to endure Gwen’s interrogation about whatever might or might not be going on between Casimir and me, and felt it was best to delay the trip back to the dorms by any means.
“Not going to the forest,” he called from up ahead. “Can’t you walk any faster? We don’t have all night.”
I muttered a string of profanities under my breath, but loudly enough that he might overhear. A raven croaked dully in the dense canopy above as we reached the tree line. Casimir must be leading us deep into the Lacunae Forest, in spite of what he’d said. I was beginning to worry whether this wasn’t a terrible ideauntil, passing a grove of wild evergreen, we came upon a small chapel I’d never laid eyes on before.