Page 141 of Kingmakers, Year Three

“Sorry,” Cat laughs, “Can’t do it.”

“Ain’t happening. Thanks for visiting though…”

“Oh, I’m not here to visit you. I’m here to see my wife,” he says, striding across the room to wrap his arms around Sasha while she’s trying to scrub an instrument tray at the metal sink.

“He’s lying,” Sasha calls back to us. “He’s been asking about you every single day, Dean, even after he visits you.”

She leans back against Snow’s broad chest, humming cheerfully to herself as she works.

“Well . . . he’s the best in my class.” Snow shrugs.

“I never thought you’d admit that,” I say. “You know, you’re not a bad coach, either. I wish you’d be here next year.”

I say it lightly, but my stomach clenches up all the same. Losing Snow feels like losing a lot more than a coach.

“We’ve got to get back to the kids,” Snow says. “Even if they’re not kids anymore, we still like to see them.”

He lets go of Sasha to turn back toward me.

“I’ve got a good gym in New York, Dean. You could come train with me. Zane is there—you’ll never find a better sparring partner.”

“If he hits like you, I doubt anyone wants to be his sparring partner,” I say.

Zane Rybakov’s hammer fist aside, it’s a tempting offer. Unfortunately, I owe Danyl Kuznetsov two years’ service.

“I’ll think about it,” I tell Snow.

“I’d better go,” Cat tells me, gathering up her bookbag. “I’ve already missed an alarming amount of classes.”

She squeezes my shoulder and kisses me on the cheek.

“You can give me a proper kiss,” I growl. “They don’t care.”

Cat blushes but kisses me right.

“Young love.” Sasha smiles. “It keeps the world running.”

“You’re still young,” Snow tells her, “and beautiful as ever.”

He kisses her even harder.

I leavethe infirmary the last week of school.

I tell Cat to meet me in the Bell Tower one last time.

But first, I have an errand to run.

This particular errand is something I should have done a month ago and saved myself a lot of trouble. Better late than never.

I find Lola Fischer swanning down the hallway on the ground floor of the Keep, accompanied by her perpetual shadow Dixie Davis.

I’d have no problem taking on the both of them, but I’m saved the trouble when Lola ducks into the nearest bathroom.

“I’ll meet you in class!” she calls over her shoulder to Dixie.

I wait for Dixie to amble off an appropriate distance down the hallway, then I follow Lola into the ladies’ room.

Lola, of course, is no fucking lady.

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