Page 46 of Wicked Court

I’d have to defer to my notes.

I clench my jaw at doing that in front of her.

She seems to read it in my face.

Her full, glossy mouth twists ever so slightly. “Consult your ‘brothers’ about it, then give me your answer. I’m sure they’ll have their opinions on it, too.”

Elara doesn’t sneer and call me stupid at my vacant expression. I stare at her, befuddled not in my usual way, but in complete and utter shock that she wouldn’t take the window to shame me and storm away.

It immediately makes me suspicious. Nobody with a brain takes the less effective option in an argument without considering the benefit. No one is actually kind deep inside.

“Oh, and tell Cav I met Tempest. That should give him something to chew on before he barks at the rest of his dogs to drag me back to your lair.”

With that, she saunters off, her hips swaying just enough for me to admire her ass.

Fucking Wraithwood girl.

Chapter 17

Elara

I’m still shaking when I return to my dorm and drop my bag on my bed.

It isn’t easy being under Axe Devereaux’s exhaustive scope. Those smokey gray eyes and ash blonde hair warn of a fire, yet his soft voice assures safety.

He’s the only one who’s approached me like a human being, and yet my instinct warns me to be the most wary of him.

Would they really tie me up in a basement?

Axe said it like he was asking me for my notes on the lecture. So offhand and expected.

That can’t be an actual threat, though. They may be members of a secret society, but that doesn’t give them free reign over campus to … kidnap people, does it?

But what do I really know about them?

I pace my room, my thoughts swirling as images of the week’s events replay themselves in my mind—Tempest and the Vultures, Kaspian and Cav’s dark warnings, Axe’s sudden appearance, and then Wilder’s glib attitude.

“Aargh!”

I scream into a pillow, frustrated at the vile web wrapping me tighter with each passing second.

The Cimmerian Court shrouds itself in secrecy, and I only know about them through hushed whispers and urban legends.

All I know for certain is that they took a vague, then intense interest in me, but it’s good to know my suspicions about the Vultures possibly being enemies of the Court were correct. Axe’s pause, then long stare, told me all I needed to know, especially after noting Tempest’s inability to say “the Court” without disgust twisting his lips.

I pick up my phone and text Darcy.

Hey, do you know anything about the Cimmerian Court kidnapping people?

Sorry, but the time for subtlety is over. If anyone can allay or heighten my fears, it’s her.

I lay back on my bed, staring at the ceiling. The fan turns above me, casting shadows on the wall from the setting sun outside. It does nothing to cool me down or ease my growing paranoia.

No, I’m just shaken up by this entire ordeal, that’s all.

I’ve been through worse.

After an hour of self-care in the shower, then in front of the mirror like the Elara from last week used to do, Darcy still hasn’t texted back. But I saunter down to the dining hall for dinner, wearing my make-up like a piece of armor, more confident and cleaner than I’ve felt all day.

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