Chapter Seventeen Zara

"I feel like I'm gonna hurl," I mutter.

I know, I know. That's the kinda TMI my guys probably don't need right now.

But it's how I fucking feel. I'm standing in the doorway of the deconsecrated church that's our student commons, with Ronin and Max looming protectively at my shoulder, all of us staring at a wall of turned backs. A bunch of my classmates huddle intently around the old-fashioned bulletin board in a spill of colorful sunlight under an arch of stained-glass window.

Fuck.

"If you are queasy," Max says hopefully, "could that mean you are pregnant?"

Ronin snorts with laughter and gives Max a friendly nudge. "Bollocks, that's like a comic obsession with you, love. Whenever Zara's got a pea in the pod, pretty sure she'll not tell us in the commons."

Max says with heat, "It is easy for you to joke—"

"Cheese on toast, will the two of you knock it off. I'm not pregnant." I divide an exasperated look between them.

Ronin's still snickering, topaz eyes alight with mischief. But, shit, Max looks crushed. The big guy's been all hangdog, head droopy and shoulders slumped, ever since Lucius came down on him in class like a dropped anvil.

School is hard for my dragon.

This mating rut is hard on him.

And me being all cagey and skittish about popping out little Zaras ( which, like, the world probably doesn't need more of right now, just one of me seems like enough to handle) is the hardest.

For Max's sake, I make a real effort to soften my tone. "I'm queasy because I'm nervous about our finals, okay?"

Apparently for good reason.

Ronin's wicked smirk vanishes. Max growls low and deep in his chest.

When my guys finally fall silent, I hone in on the echoey specifics of my classmates' speculative murmurs, bouncing off the stone walls and marble floors, from halfway across the commons.

" Mon Dieu , I thought it was lost for good! That artifact has not been seen since, when, the last Witching World War…?"

"Guess that rules me out from a shot at the Dean's List, mates. Counting on those finals to boost my marks, wasn't I? With a challenge like that, be lucky if I don't fail outright and have the whole year be a do-over. Me mum won't be happy."

The unhappy mumbles of Mallory's Villa Hadrian housemates (who are the Icarus equivalent of Hufflepuffs and mostly harmless) are drowned out by a spiteful rill of laughter from one of those Villa Tiberius bitches in the Aquarius clique.

They're the opposite of harmless.

"Well, well, witches. Someone 's been polishing the Dean's apple. Looks like Deanie's playing favorites in the succession scrimmage after all."

Those ominous words finally unlock my frozen muscles and unstick my saddle shoes, which feel glued to the cathedral floor (a form of common magic I wouldn't put past those Tiberius witches, except no one's noticed me standing here yet).

I tilt my chin and swank into the church like I'm Vasili and I own the place because one, appearances matter, and two, I've already confirmed Cleo's a no-show. My ex-BFF likes to sleep in and probably won't show her celebrity face till noon, after she's caffeinated. If she's feeling splurgy, she'll allow herself the caloric indulgence of an organic a?aí yogurt smoothie (the exact thing I used to blender for her the morning after a wild night of clubbing or a big heist) and then not eat again all day. That way, she doesn't risk her famous figure or her ability to walk the runway next Paris Fashion Week.

I wonder how that whole supermodel It Girl thing she's rocking in New York and Milan and Paris is even gonna work if she's also queening it here in the witching world?

Not that I'll give her that chance.

My guys fall in behind me and we saunter through the commons, past clusters of arranged couches and a row of study carrells where the confessionals used to be. Our footfalls echo off the soaring walls.

Disturbed by our passage, an explosion of pale feathers erupts from a vacant carrell with a violence that jams my heart against my sternum. My pulse hammers in my throat as a dove flutters wildly past, so close a wing brushes my hair.

The bird streaks into the shadows of the church's vaulted ceiling and settles safely on a high beam.

Max growls after the poor dove with his dragon eyes flaming. Ronin rests a steadying hand against my lower back.

"Easy, loves," my Brit murmurs. "You're both torqued so tight you're making me twitchy."

Super aware of all those Tiberius eyes watching me for any sign of weakness, I give a hard nod and pick up the pace.

To camouflage my nerves and project the proper attitude, I sway my ass with Gemini sass.

That shit works, because the wall of students parts before me like the Red Sea before Moses (mostly). Except for that trio of Tiberius bitches, who eye me and my guys with mocking grins they wouldn't have dared a day ago, before I got my supposed comeuppance on live TV.

I especially don't like the sleazy speculation in the way their stares slide over Max and Ronin. I mean, sure, Ronin was Mr. One and Done till I came along and he's pretty much shagged everyone at this Academy. The whole school (all genders) knows what he's got under the hood.

But Max's unique peen got a closeup below the fold in his debut press appearance. So thanks for that, Witching Inquisitor .

"Oh, look," one of the witches says brightly, eyeing Max's junk in a way that makes me want to punch her in the face. "It's Captain Hook."

"Did you see his scars ? His whole back is gross." The queen bee (as in bitch) flashes her pearly whites in a grin that's pure poison. "No wonder he won't take his shirt off at the beach."

Max is self-conscious as fuck about those scars. Plus he's an abuse survivor and he doesn't deserve this shit .

I suck in my breath to roast the bitch.

"You lot had best sod off, unless you fancy a row." Ronin shoves up beside me and flashes the mean girls his own ugly grin. "Max is a bloke you'll not like when he's pissed. And Zara's still the baddest bitch on this rock, isn't she?"

"Thanks, Adam. But I can take out my own trash. Right, Scarlet?" I lock onto the HBIC of the bunch, she's clan Scorpio and some kinda distant cousin of Vasili's, though she's way beneath the Goblin King's notice.

"It's Skyler , you mingey cunt." The brunette Barbie tosses her moussed-up mane and gives me a sulky pout. "This time, even Deanie's turned against you. Looks like you'll finally get what's coming to you."

That's a level of aggression I don't usually get around here, I mean, not since I survived Purgatory my first quarter and claimed my power.

Looks like I might actually have to assert myself to defend my terrain.

Dean or no Dean.

"That is a vile insult to my queen and sovereign. She is not mingey. Her cunt is very bare. And she is glorious." Bristling with violence (and clearly taking that whole hairy pussy slur super literally), Max does the asserting for me and pushes up beside me.

That shit takes courage when I know he's still shriveling up inside from shame over the whole world seeing his poor scarred back.

Easy there, big guy. Let me handle this, okay? I send the silent reassurance through our mating bond to hold him in check. He's all rutty and protective, so it's hard for him.

His dragon grumbles at me, but at least he listens.

Because, clearly, I gotta nip this bitchy Aquarius attitude in the bud myself.

"That'll be you giving it to me, will you, Scarlet?" I snap my glittery fingers at the other girl in a crackle of violet sparks.

I won't summon actual lightning in the building, but my little lightning's a problem these Tiberius bitches have learned to respect. Fear flickers in this one's surly stare.

"You're a slutty little nobody. A trashy casino whore—just like your trashy mother!" Skyler flounces out of my way and cedes the bulletin board with a huff. "Read it and weep, Gemini. "

Under normal circumstances, to pay back that insult to my mom and especially because she made Max feel bad, I'd do a whole lot more to assert my dominance.

But I'm not actually a bully (unlike half the guys in my harem).

Anyway, I've finally got access to the bulletin board. Which was the whole point of coming over here in the first place.

"Thanks for nothing, witch." I swagger up to the curling parchment tacked to the corkboard. The official-looking paper is blazoned with the handsome cobalt-and-gold Academy crest and the Dean's scrolling script.

"Icarus Academy Final Examination: Dean's Challenge," Ronin reads aloud for Max's benefit, since our dragon's guarding my back and scowling possessively at the bystanders. "Retrieve the Horn of Ceres from its watery shrine."

"Horn of Sarees?" I repeat phonetically to get the pronunciation down. "What the fuck's that?"

"The Horn of Ceres is a mythical treasure." Max looms suddenly over my shoulder, his Slavic face sharp and slitted pupils blown wide with interest. Any sort of treasure fascinates the guy, it's a dragon thing. "Ceres was the Roman goddess of agriculture, childbirth, and fertility. The Horn is the symbol of her power, yes?"

"A fucking horn ? Like, a cow horn?" For me, this factoid does not compute.

Maybe it's because that F word Max just dropped goes off in my head like a hand grenade.

Fertility.

"It is, how do you say, a… cornucopia?" Max produces the word triumphantly, because his labored English has been getting so much better.

"Look at you then." Ronin gives him an impressed-sounding murmur and an admiring look. He's generous like that with Max. "That's a ten-pence word, that is."

My dragon looks happy at the praise, which he totally deserves, because he tries really hard, even when his grades don't show it.

But I'm fixated on that shit he just said.

"So it's a horn of plenty?" I press.

"Erm, sort of. Magical artifact." Ronin wraps a possessive arm around my waist and nuzzles Max's ear. "Vasili mentioned it once. Learnt about it in Senior Seminar."

"Oh, great. Bet it's a fertility object, right?" I snort. "Since Ceres is a fertility goddess. With a thing like that at large, maybe that's why half the island's pregnant."

Meaning maybe it isn't me and my queenly magic after all that's sabotaging my classmates' BC and knocking everyone up.

I honestly don't know how to feel about that.

"Supposed to be locked in the Academy Vault, though, innit?" Ronin's arm tightens around me. "Bet that's where it's been till now. Guess that watery shrine bit's the challenge. Got to be underwater somewhere round the island, hasn't it?"

"And Cleo's a sea dragon." I sigh. Now I get what that bitch Skyler meant about the Dean taking sides. "Groovy. Now even the Dean's turned against me."

"No, she hasn't." Neo pops up like a helpful genie at my side, with his uniform tidy and his purple curls mussed and his big eyes all earnest behind his specs. "I know she's kinda distant, but she's always been fair. There's always more to these challenges than the obvious." He hesitates. "Still, something's up with the Dean, that's for sure."

My guys both welcome him with possessive scenting (Max) and a hard hug (Ronin) while I snuggle up for a bookworm kiss from his soft warm lips.

"Hmmm." I sigh into his kiss. "What's up with the Dean, baby?"

Neo surfaces from our cuddles and kisses and straightens his glasses.

"She just missed our Honors Alchemy class and sent Mistress Aggie to sub instead. Even though Aggie's an awful alchemist." Now my fated mate looks apologetic for throwing shade at our prof. "Aggie couldn't really manage our final review sesh. So she gave us a bonus lesson on Witchcraft in the Kitchen instead. We made floating brownies."

"Brownies?" Max (who's always hungry and probably wants his elevenses by now) gives a rumble of interest and looks hopeful. Neo grins tolerantly at him and roots around for one in his backpack.

But I'm focused on the other thing Neo just said.

"The Dean's still sick? That's not good." I frown.

Sure, she's like a million years old and a total recluse, but she's been a source of stability and a firm hand on the tiller here for a really long time. I'm pretty sure her being a no-show on the yacht last night is one of the reasons that whole shitshow went down.

"According to Aggie, the Dean's got company." Neo lowers his voice and glances around. Most of the students have scattered for class by now, but that Tiberius clique is lurking near the coffee station and watching us like lions stalking a watering hole.

"I, uh, think it's Vasili's dad," Neo whispers. "Holed up with the Dean right now."

My mouth falls open. "Shut. The fuck. Up. Nikolai Romanov is here ?"

Ronin bites out a vicious curse.

Because he knows how the intel on this close encounter—even if Vasili's dad doesn't seek V out, maybe especially if he doesn't—is gonna fuck with our snake's head.

Silently I add the challenge of Vasili, already hating on Zephyr and now getting all emo and pissy over his estranged asshole dad, to our growing list of problems.

Caught in mid-brownie and cupping his treat in both hands so it doesn't float away, Max's slitted eyes turn narrow and crafty, the way only a dragon's can. "Nikolai Romanov is the director of the AIB. And that man is always working. Why would he come to Icarus now?"

The AIB is like the witching world equivalent of the FBI.

So I get why Max is asking.

"We bloody well know the bastard's not here for Vasili." Ronin jams his hands in his trouser pockets and starts to pace. "Think it's about this succession cockup?"

"What else?" I give the bulletin board a gloomy look. "Listen, we gotta focus on these finals. We gotta. They start tomorrow. Like, how are the mechanics even supposed to work? If there's only one prize and forty-some students?"

Neo nudges his glasses up his nose and gives me a serious look. "It's a group assignment. We work in teams. Final exams are designed to synthesize everything we've learned over the semester and probe the power and limits of our witchcraft. We're supposed to build teams that capitalize on each other's strengths and compensate for each other's weaknesses. "

"We do the test as a team?" On the one hand, that makes me feel way better, because obvi my warlocks and my court and me, we're the bomb. We're the BFD on campus.

On the other hand, this Academy can be lethal.

If the Dean really is throwing her weight behind Cleo, my guys and Dez and RT could be in actual danger.

Just for teaming with me.

"Bugger me." Alerted by my telepathic leakage, Ronin swings toward me and levels a warning finger at my chest. "Don't even think about trying to ghost us and pop off alone on the sly after that artifact. We're a proper team, love."

"Well, except for Lucius." Neo's picking up my thoughts too, because fated mate. Now he too is starting to look and feel worried. "He has to proctor the test, so he'll have to be neutral. And Vasili's a graduating senior, so he's not allowed to intervene. He'll do qualifying exams this summer instead."

Welp, there go my two strongest warlock allies.

Plus Max has performance anxiety and gets all up in his head over any kind of academic test.

Except I'm not gonna say that out loud.

And I'm definitely not gonna bring up the wild card.

Zephyr.

He's not even a student here. Him getting involved at all would be against the rules. I'm pretty sure accepting outside help of any kind would be considered cheating. We'd all get disqualified and fail the test.

Now I just need to explain that to Zephyr.

I level a look at all three of them—Ronin, Max, and Neo. "Guess it's the four of us then. Plus Dez and Racetrack. We'll kick ass and take prisoners. And Lucius will make sure no one cheats. Right?"

Maybe it won't matter that much if the Goblin King sits this one out. Maybe it'll give him the space he needs to work through all the shit his dad's drive-by visit is sure to dredge up.

While I'm trying to convince myself on this front, and trying to convince myself that Zephyr will wait patiently like a model citizen on the sidelines while we're all testing and not cause problems (like trying to kidnap me again), Neo frowns at the bulletin board. He's reading the fine print—the exam instructions .

"This is more than a race," our bookworm says softly. "It's a mortal combat."

"What's that then, love?" Ronin saunters over to hover at his shoulder and slides an arm around our bookworm's waist.

Neo snuggles into him with a pensive sigh. "What I mean is, to ace the test, we need to be more than the first team to find the Horn of Ceres. We also need to be the team that fights off the other competitors—who can get kinda violent—and the team that returns the artifact safely back to the Academy Vault where it belongs."

Except maybe that Horn doesn't belong in the Vault at all anymore. I mean, it's a fertility object, right? And the witching world needs witches.

But I figure I'll keep that sedition shit to myself for now.

At least till I kick Cleo's ass.

Besides, I can't just go around collecting magical artifacts. I'm already toting the witching world crown around in my backpack because I'm afraid to leave it behind at the domus with my thievish ex-bestie at large.

I slice a hard look across the commons at the Tiberius clique. They're all #TeamAquarius, natch, I bet they'll all compete with Cleo. They're badass witches in their own right. Plus they're the biggest residential college at Icarus, like three times our size, because Lucius is really finicky about who he lets into our domus .

Which gives Cleo all kinds of advantages.

Max follows my gaze and the direction of my thoughts and scowls at our rival house. "They will be the favorites, will they not?"

"Yeah, pretty much." To project a degree of confidence I'm definitely not feeling, I force a stiff shrug and summon up my queen voice. "Guess the witching world betting pool at the Double Gem in Vegas is gonna go wild over this one. We're definitely the underdogs."

"Same as always," Ronin mutters dourly. "Bollocks."