Page 31 of Group Studies

Beryl didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

“And did you have sexual relations tonight?”

“Yes,” Beryl answered.

His hand found mine under the table, and my stomach slightly unknotted, though my guilt doubled.

Officer Keres pushed a piece of paper on a clipboard forward. “List every time you and Aphrodite have had sexual relations.”

Beryl smirked. “Well, I’ll need a lot more paper. How about you ask what you’re really looking for.”

Officer Keres tapped the clipboard.

Beryl shook his head but picked it up. “Do you need locations on these as well?”

My blush doubled.

Officer Keres frowned. “No locations needed.”

Beryl began writing. The room filled with the sound of scratching graphite on paper. I reached for my tea. Cold earl gray with a touch of milk and sugar slid down my throat.

“Has Aphrodite ever forced her magic into you?” Officer Keres suddenly asked, leaning forward.

Beryl stopped writing and looked up. “You can’t force the willing. Dot’s figuring all of this out. She’s been here for 28 days after 18 years of conditioning. The fact that you cuffed her because of two mistakes is wrong.”

Officer Keres raised an eyebrow. “And you would know from your years of experience?”

Beryl bared his teeth. “Seventeen years of experience.”

He began writing again.

Officer Keres looked at Director Flemmings, who nodded. I bit my lips together. Beryl had come here when he was five. He’d spent his entire life trapped at this Institute, playing whatever games the administration threw at the students. No wonder he stopped attending classes.

“Aphrodite’s claiming sex excites her magic, and she’s leaking it,” Officer Keres said casually.

Beryl didn’t look up from his writing. “Are you asking me a question?”

“Have you noticed Aphrodite’s clasps acting strangely?” Officer Keres asked.

Beryl set down the clipboard and looked at the officer with dead eyes. “Like when they glow red and bubble your flesh until bloody rainbows slide down your hands and shower the world in joy?”

“Beryl’s also been in clasps,” Director Flemmings said quietly. “When he first got here.”

“You put a child in these?” I asked in disbelief, clenching my fists.

“I didn’t,” Director Flemmings said tightly. “It was the administration before mine.”

I turned from them and studied the side of Beryl’s face. He’d said he’d seen too much, that we needed to go our separate ways so he couldn’t drag me down. But all I saw was a five-year-old kid experiencing the same pain I had. To arrive here in clasps after whatever traumatic event gave him his magic. It must have been horrible.

Disgust and sorrow hit me hard, doubling my anger at the MA. How could they do this to people?

“Don’t cry for me, Dot,” Beryl said. “It was a long time ago.”

He turned and wiped my face with his thumbs. I missed his touch so badly. I leaned into the warmth of his palm.

“Stand up, son,” Officer Keres demanded.

Beryl let go of me and followed Officer Keres into the middle of the room. The officer inspected him, patting down every joint and private space. Beryl calmly let it happen. The officer slide a hand between Beryl’s butt cheeks and either side of Beryl’s junk. Last, he took out a small flashlight and inspected the inside of Beryl’s mouth.

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