Page 91 of Gemini Wicked

“Look at you then.” Ronin gives him an impressed-sounding murmur and an admiring look. He’s generous like that with Max. “That’s a ten-pence word, that is.”

My dragon looks happy at the praise, which he totally deserves, because he tries really hard, even when his grades don’t show it.

But I’m fixated on that shit he just said.

“So it’s a horn of plenty?” I press.

“Erm, sort of. Magical artifact.” Ronin wraps a possessive arm around my waist and nuzzles Max’s ear. “Vasili mentioned it once. Learnt about it in Senior Seminar.”

“Oh, great. Bet it’s a fertility object, right?” I snort. “Since Ceres is a fertility goddess. With a thing like that at large, maybe that’s why half the island’s pregnant.”

Meaning maybe it isn’t me and my queenly magic after all that’s sabotaging my classmates’ BC and knocking everyone up.

I honestly don’t know how to feel about that.

“Supposed to be locked in the Academy Vault, though, innit?” Ronin’s arm tightens around me. “Bet that’s where it’s been till now. Guess that watery shrine bit’s the challenge. Got to be underwater somewhere round the island, hasn’t it?”

“And Cleo’s a sea dragon.” I sigh. Now I get what that bitch Skyler meant about the Dean taking sides. “Groovy. Now even the Dean’s turned against me.”

“No, she hasn’t.” Neo pops up like a helpful genie at my side, with his uniform tidy and his purple curls mussed and his big eyes all earnest behind his specs. “I know she’s kinda distant, but she’s always been fair. There’s always more to these challenges than the obvious.” He hesitates. “Still, something’s up with the Dean, that’s for sure.”

My guys both welcome him with possessive scenting (Max) and a hard hug (Ronin) while I snuggle up for a bookworm kiss from his soft warm lips.

“Hmmm.” I sigh into his kiss. “What’s up with the Dean, baby?”

Neo surfaces from our cuddles and kisses and straightens his glasses.

“She just missed our Honors Alchemy class and sent Mistress Aggie to sub instead. Even though Aggie’s an awful alchemist.” Now my fated mate looks apologetic for throwing shade at our prof. “Aggie couldn’t really manage our final review sesh. So she gave us a bonus lesson on Witchcraft in the Kitchen instead. We made floating brownies.”

“Brownies?” Max (who’s always hungry and probably wants his elevenses by now) gives a rumble of interest and looks hopeful. Neo grins tolerantly at him and roots around for one in his backpack.

But I’m focused on the other thing Neo just said.

“The Dean’s still sick? That’s not good.” I frown.

Sure, she’s like a million years old and a total recluse, but she’s been a source of stability and a firm hand on the tiller here for a really long time. I’m pretty sure her being a no-show on the yacht last night is one of the reasons that whole shitshow went down.

“According to Aggie, the Dean’s got company.” Neo lowers his voice and glances around. Most of the students have scattered for class by now, but that Tiberius clique is lurking near the coffee station and watching us like lions stalking a watering hole.

“I, uh, think it’s Vasili’s dad,” Neo whispers. “Holed up with the Dean right now.”

My mouth falls open. “Shut. The fuck. Up. Nikolai Romanov is here?”

Ronin bites out a vicious curse.

Because he knows how the intel on this close encounter—even if Vasili’s dad doesn’t seek V out, maybe especially if he doesn’t—is gonna fuck with our snake’s head.

Silently I add the challenge of Vasili, already hating on Zephyr and now getting all emo and pissy over his estranged asshole dad, to our growing list of problems.

Caught in mid-brownie and cupping his treat in both hands so it doesn’t float away, Max’s slitted eyes turn narrow and crafty, the way only a dragon’s can. “Nikolai Romanov is the director of the AIB. And that man is always working. Why would he come to Icarus now?”

The AIB is like the witching world equivalent of the FBI.

So I get why Max is asking.

“We bloody well know the bastard’s not here for Vasili.” Ronin jams his hands in his trouser pockets and starts to pace. “Think it’s about this succession cockup?”

“What else?” I give the bulletin board a gloomy look. “Listen, we gotta focus on these finals. We gotta. They start tomorrow. Like, how are the mechanics even supposed to work? If there’s only one prize and forty-some students?”

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