Page 19 of Ruined Wolfsbane

By the time we’re done with lunch, I’ve almost forgotten about my mom and Patrick. It’s nice being able to let it all go for a while.

After we put away our dishes, we walk out into the early afternoon sunshine. I tilt my face up to its warmth instinctively. A humid, gentle breeze blows, ruffling the hairs that escaped from my braid. Nothing calms me like feeling the sun on my face and breathing in the scent of nature.

I head toward Wyldhart Hall alone since Rory and Ronan are done with their classes for the day. Malachi Grimm’s Latin class is quickly becoming my favorite class.

Who would have thought?

WHU makes all students take four years of Latin. I’ve been dreading it since I had to sign up for classes in the summer. I’ve always struggled with speaking and understanding foreign languages. I barely passed my required two years of French in high school. While I didn’t plan to take any language in college, WHU changed that.

Latin’s a lot different than any other language I’ve learned. It’s a dead language. There’s little emphasis on being able to speak it or understand it verbally. Instead, this class focuses mostly on reading and writing Latin. It also covers Rome’s history, which is my favorite part.

When I walk into the classroom, I feel Malachi’s eyes on me. I resist the urge to look at him until I’m in my seat. I don’t want to cause a traffic jam again. Locking eyes with any of the Grimm brothers feels like a punch to the gut.

Why do I react so strongly to them?

Yet another mystery to solve.

My breath wooshes out of me when I meet his gaze. Malachi’s navy eyes hold mine until it’s time to start class. He looks away, releasing me from his snare.

“Can anyone tell me what this means?” Malachi’s growly voice instantly commands the attention of everyone in the room. Glancing at the board, I see he’s written Arma virumque cano in large chalk letters.

No one answers.

I look around in disbelief. No one else knows the answer. Everyone is avoiding eye contact with Malachi in hopes he won’t call on them. I hate answering questions in class. But if no one else is going to, I will. I raise my hand and wait for him to call on me. “Yes, Miss Wylder?”

“It means ‘I sing of weapons and a man.’” How does no one else know this? The Aeneid is a pretty well-known piece of literature. It’s Rome’s epic founding story. I would think at least some of my classmates would know what it is.

“Very good.” Malachi aims a grin my way. His praise makes my stomach flutter, feeling like a swarm of butterflies taking flight. “Can you tell the class what it’s from and what the significance is?”

I answer automatically, “It’s the first line of the Aeneid. Weapons refers to the Trojan War and the Iliad, and a man refers to Aeneas and the Odyssey.”

My mom read me the Aeneid when I was little. She said it was important to know where we come from. We’re not Italian, so I don’t know what she meant by that. I have her to thank for my fascination with Roman history. From the time I was in diapers, she’d read me a little bit of the Aeneid each night before bed. I can still recite some passages from memory.

“Exactly.” With one last pleased look at me, Malachi launches into an explanation of the Aeneid.

The class period flies by, ending before I know it. I’m slow to pack up my things, wanting to delay the inevitable. I wonder if I could get away with skipping it. I can still pass even with a zero for fifteen percent of my grade.

Malachi cuts my internal debate short. “Do you know where Xander’s office is, Briar?”

When I glance up at him, I notice the room is completely empty. I shake my head. “Nope. Where is it?”

I guess I can’t put it off any longer. I make my way down the stairs and stop in front of Malachi. I have to tilt my head back to make eye contact with him. What the hell did they feed the Grimm brothers growing up? They’re all huge.

“It’s across from my office. Come on, I’ll show you.” Malachi gestures for me to walk in front of him.

When I turn toward the door, he puts his palm on my lower back. I can feel the searing heat of his hand through my blazer and shirt. It’s… nice. I’m not used to people touching me, except in anger, anymore. He keeps his hand on the small of my back for the entirety of our short trek to the third floor. We reach his office, and he removes his hand. I miss his touch immediately.

Malachi points at the mostly closed door across from his. “That’s Xander’s office.”

“Thanks for showing me the way,” I mumble. I’d literally rather do almost anything else than be stuck in a room with Xander for the next hour.

Malachi chuckles at my sulky tone. He unlocks his office and goes inside, leaving me alone in the hallway.

Something about Xander makes me nervous. It’s not the kind of nervous I get around Patrick, though. I just feel pressure to impress him. I don’t know why I need his approval so badly, but I do. It makes me even more awkward than normal around him.

I hesitantly knock on his closed door. “Come in,” Xander calls from inside.

I push open his door and take in his office. It’s smaller than Malachi’s. There’s only enough room for an oak desk and two black upholstered chairs opposite it. Xander’s office also only has one window. He has multiple floor lamps lighting the space to keep it from being dark. Like Malachi’s office, Xander’s is crammed with books.

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