“Well, I wasn’t sure after you embarrassed him in public. He’s very influential, and getting on his bad side is kind of dumb.”
“But?”
“No buts. That was really stupid.”
“But you still think I have some sense because…”
“Because you hate O’Faolain. It shows you have good instincts.”
“Well, what other girl who had a teacher trick her into drooling over him wouldn’t hate him?”
Bridgette blinked. “I’ve known some. Desperate for any attention, usually—even the bad kind.”
“O-kay.” I said, totally not expecting a reasonable—yet disturbing—answer.
“Class,” Mr. O’Faolain said over the rising din of whispered conversations. “A word problem to solve.” He cleared his throat. “If it is impossible for a fae to be born without at least a speck of magic, then where would that put her magic’s lower limit?”
A couple snickers.
A hand shot up. “Zero.”
O’Faolain smiled and nodded. “And if a fae appears to have zero magic, but obviously that can’t be completely true, then what would we say about her?”
“That she is approaching zero at negative infinity,” a girl with long, dark-brown hair answered.
At that, the entire class burst out in laughter. I sank down into my seat, gritting my teeth. None of them were scared of a magicless heir. But didn’t they realize I was going to get all the power at the investiture anyway? Was I missing something here?
Students continued to snicker as O’Faolain turned to the board to begin our lesson. Forty more minutes. I could survive forty minutes.
When the bell rang, I fled to the hallway. But whispers buzzed around me, seeming to keep pace no matter how fast I walked. I didn’t know that they were talking about me, but no one would meet my eyes.
I ground my teeth, too busy fuming to pay attention to a girl I vaguely recognized from English until she hooked my foot just as I was bringing it forward. I fell. Meaning I did one of those slow motion, through the air, sprawl out on my stomach kind of numbers.
I contemplated the hall floor for a long moment, noticing for the first time that it was actually marble, not tile. Then I heard the unmistakable sound of a body slamming into a locker. And quiet. No one spoke a single word. I slowly twisted around, using my right arm for leverage even though my elbow still hurt from breaking my fall.
I expected Bridgette to be there, but I’d also expected her to be the one pinning the jerk from English class to the lockers, laws of physics aside. She wasn’t. Apparently, Edon had decided to be unexpected guardian number two and Bridgette stood back, watching the drama unfold, her brows an inch higher than usual.
Edon had the golden, curly-haired model pinned up against the lockers with his forearm. Goldilocks here might have looked like a damsel in distress—or at least like a mean girl in over her head—but only if you didn’t see the hatred in her eyes as she glared at me. If that wasn’t enough, the beast that her glamour hid—a thing with jagged teeth and reptilian eyes—ruined any possibility of her garnering sympathy from me. Edon leaned in and whispered something I couldn’t make out. From the way everyone in the hall leaned toward them, I wasn’t the only one having difficulty listening in.
“But she’s weak. She needs to be—” She cut off when Edon leaned in closer. A lock of dark hair stirred in front of his mouth, punctuating every word he whispered.
Goldilocks swallowed before nodding, and Edon abruptly let go of her, glaring after the model as she scurried away.
The frozen silence melted in an instant and everyone began moving around me as I climbed to my feet, no one so much as glancing at me. But the whispers returned full-force.
Edon turned toward me, the echoes of a scowl still lingering on his face. He reached for my hand but Bridgette stepped in, blocking him.
“No offense,” Bridgette said to Edon as he reached down toward me, “but while I’m glad you’re keeping your rebels in line, I don’t trust you.”
I grabbed her hand, and she pulled me up the rest of the way.
“I would be disappointed in you if you did,” Edon replied.
Bridgette snorted.
“Wait, so you’re one of them? A rebel?” I asked.
Edon smiled. “Allow me to properly introduce myself. Edon of the house MacCuill, resident rebel,” he said, hand outstretched.
I eyed it and looked over to Bridgette.
She shrugged. “It’s frowned upon to kill someone during a formal introduction.”
Well, he did just pin the girl who tripped me to the lockers. Feeling a bit weird, I placed my hand in his. I looked over to Bridgette for guidance.
“Your name,” Bridgette prompted.
“Huh? But he already knows it.”
Bridgette shook her head. “This is a formal introduction. First names don’t count.”
“Um, okay,” I said, very much aware that he was still holding my hand and that the amused little smirk he was doing an awful job at suppressing was making me blush. “Kella of the house James—”
“MacGreine,” Bridgette said.
“What?”
“Your house is MacGreine.”
“It is? Why am I just now—” She gave me a pointed look, I rolled my eyes. “Right.” I twisted back to Edon. “Kella of the House MacGreine. Resident heir,” I added for good measure.
“Well met,” Edon said.
I couldn’t take my eyes off of him as he lifted my hand to his lips, placing a featherlight kiss there that sent tingles racing up my arm.
Bridgette nudged me, making me realize I was staring at him like an idiot.
I flushed as I ducked my head, clearing my throat. “Uh, right. Well met.”
I was about to pull my hand away when I saw Mickey striding toward us, his eyes darkening when he noticed Edon. I almost snorted. Nice of him to show up after math and now decide to play the overprotective brother. I decided to keep my hand in Edon’s for a few more seconds to make a point: leave me alone with just Bridgette, and I’ll end up getting into situations like
