Page 76 of The Cursed Fae

“Thank you, sir. That would be great.”

“All I ask in return is that you follow school rules and request approval for any spell work you do as practice outside the classroom. Any teacher or administrator can sign off. I will tell Mrs. Canterwald about our arrangement. She’ll oversee your preparation.” He leveled a stern look at me. “And please, leave matters of protection to the Gemini Council.”

“Of course, sir. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize there was protocol,” I apologized again.

He waved it off. “Now you do. Enjoy your weekend, Winter. I’ll see you at the Fall Carnival tomorrow.”

“Thank you,” I repeated, taking the hint and scurrying from his office.

In the hallway, I collected my thoughts. Why had Laz stolen the ingredients? His father made it seem like the administration signed off on anything.

I had plenty of time to stew in my irritation, since I didn’t see Laz again until lunch. If I wasn’t at a table full of gossipy girls when he walked into the dining hall, I would’ve let him know exactly how pleased I was about his father’s lecture this morning.

Instead, I put on a smile and pretended everything was fine, though I pushed back on his attempt to sit with us.

“You’ve barely seen your friends.” I nudged him a little too hard to be playful. “We’ll catch up later.”

“Okay. Okay.” He laughed and gave the other girls a wave before brushing a kiss on my cheek. “See you soon.”

“Has he brought up the gala yet?” Fern asked when Laz was out of earshot.

“Isn’t that like a month away?” I kept my eyes on my plate, pushing croutons to the side and lining them up.

Belle flipped her hair over her shoulder, her gaze sparkling with interest. “I bet he’s just waiting until next week,” she said knowingly.

“Is there something special about next week?” Was there an etiquette book for fae formals that I hadn’t read?

Belle and Fern exchanged looks like I was painfully out of touch. Morgan rolled her eyes, though I didn’t know if the gesture was for them or me.

“The Omega Society does a proposal fundraiser,” Astrid explained.

“Oh, I think I saw a flyer about that. What is it, exactly?”

“People buy ideas from us,” Morgan said. “Sort of like event planners.”

I’d heard of promposals. I also went to a high school where they had a weird tradition of asking dates to homecoming by spray painting a specific tunnel with invitations. Creativity played a big part in these things. Lena had stressed for a week over where to put her invitation, what color paint to use, and how she would make sure the guy saw her message. Selling pre-made packages was sort of genius, but a little skeevy.

“Do you sell the same idea to everyone?”

Astrid snatched a fry off my plate and dipped it in ranch. “Only to those who can’t afford an original one that’s custom. Don’t worry, Laz is pretty imaginative. He’ll come up with something good on his own.”

“Gaia forbid someone asks me to a formal with a form letter,” I replied dryly.

“Even if he does, the money is for charity,” Morgan said.

The longer the day dragged on with my irritation, the more I wondered if I wanted Laz to ask me at all. By the time I finally got to confront him on our way to room S203, I was pissed.

“When were you going to tell me we stole these ingredients without asking?” I demanded.

“Technically, all stealing is without asking,” he pointed out. “Like, by definition.”

I glowered. “Your father and I had a lovely chat about it this morning.”

Genuine surprise swept over his features. “Really? What’d he say?”

I recounted the conversation. “Don’t worry, I didn’t tell him you’ve been helping me with all this,” I added. “Though, I guess, now you have to, since he’s going through Mrs. Canterwald.”

“I’m so sorry, Winter,” he cringed. “I am honestly surprised anyone noticed the missing supplies. I took so little of each ingredient.”

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