Page 120 of Tempest

Long, dark brown hair curtains their judging faces, and Clover’s concerned one replaces them.

“Are you okay?” she asks. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t … I don’t know.”

“Ardyn? Do you need to go to the clinic?”

Morgan’s parental concern somehow makes it worse.

“No.” I stand too quickly, making myself dizzy.

“You sure? You don’t look okay. I’ll carry you if I have to.”

“I don’t want you to touch me.”

“Ardyn,” Clover hisses when I lean on her instead. “I love you, and I’m concerned for you, but you’re being rude.”

“I don’t care. Get me out of here.”

Clover mouths I’m sorry to Morgan as if I can’t see, then directs me out of the class. Nobody says a word until the door shuts behind us, then I hear Morgan say something that has the rest of the students easing up and laughing.

So affable, that guy.

So psychotic.

“I’m totally attempting to understand why you were such a dick to Professor Morgan when you practically fainted in his class, and all he wanted to do was help—”

“Stop, Clover, please.”

“No, not anymore. I’ve given you enough benefits of the doubt. What the hell is going on to disturb you so much? You were doing so well. Should I—do I need to call your parents? I want to help you.”

I bring us to a stop in the middle of the deserted hall. “Don’t bring my parents into this. Please.”

“Okay.” She rubs my back at my stuttering tone. “I won’t. But talk to me. All we want to do is help.”

I raise my head. “We?”

“Well—Professor Morgan back there. You shut him down as efficiently as you shut me out. I wish you would open up—”

“Stop talking about him.”

“Who? Morgan?”

“Yes.” I reach up to rub at my temples, staunching the growing headache. “I see the way you look at him, Clo. And how you’re defending him now. Aren’t you wondering why I dislike him so much?”

“I dunno. Are you actually going to explain it to me, or will I get your zipped shut mouth again?”

Shoot. She has me there. All I can come up with on the spot is, “I’ve heard the rumors about him, okay?”

“So have I, and guess what?” She leans in close. “I don’t care.”

“You haven’t heard the truth!”

“Yeah? What is it then, Ardyn?” Clover pushes her chest out and crosses her arms. “Give it all to me.”

“He-he worships dark things, plays with magic in all the wrong ways, performs creepy rituals—”

“I do all those things.” Clover points at her chest. “Me. Does that mean I’m creepy? That I devil-worship?”

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