Page 149 of Kingmakers, Graduation

“Could you please yell at meafterI have some aspirin,” I croak.

Ilsa takes a slow bite of her toast, frowning at me while she chews.

She pushes away from the table and disappears into the kitchen, rummaging in the cupboards deliberately loud. She takes an ice tray out of the freezer and bangs it against the counter like she’s setting off depth charges.

“I’m sorrrrrryyyyy …”I moan, hands over my eyes.

Ilsa gives the ice one last decisive bang, then quiets down, bringing me a glass of tomato juice and a bottle of seltzer, with four aspirin on a plate.

“Thank you,” I say, humbly, scooping up the pills and swallowing them down with a fizzy rush of seltzer.

I take about five seconds to breathe, imagining the seltzer diffusing into my dehydrated veins. Then I push the tomato juice an inch toward Ilsa, saying hopefully, “Little hair of the dog?”

“You are so …”

“Irresistible?”

“Intolerable.”

“I’ve heard that.”

Ilsa splashes a shot of vodka into my tomato juice, probably because she knows I’ll die otherwise.

She watches while I gulp it down, yanking the bottle away when I reach for more.

“You’re worse than I thought.”

“I’m fine. I’m gonna be completely fine.”

“You’re a fuckin’ mess.”

I cast a quick glance across the table at the vodka bottle, wondering if I have any chance in a fight against Ilsa at this moment. Maybe if I really surprise her and get her in a headlock and choke her out …

“You’re on the rebound. I’m not gonna be your backboard,” Ilsa says.

My eyes snap from the bottle to her face, heat flushing across my collarbones.

“I’mnevergoing back to Adrik,” I tell her. “I’ll cut his heart out of his chest before I give him mine again.”

Ilsa gives an irritated snort.

“He still has it. Fucking look at you—I’ve never seen you like this.”

I bet I look like a literal lunatic. My hair has never been my friend in moments like this. It’s the worst tattletale of my mental state, probably frizzy and matted and feral. If I were dumb enough to look in a mirror, I’d see the blood-shot stare of a coked-up cult-leader.

But none of that matters right now.

I need to persuade Ilsa to do me a really big favor. So I need to sound sane and convincing.

“Ilsa … do you have a lot of guns and a flame-thrower?”

“Oh my god,” she groans, thrusting both hands into her hair like she’s gonna pull it out.

“Hear me out! Adrik has something that belongs to me. I need to get it back.”

“What do you think you’re going to do?”

“Not me … us. As partners. Equals. Two people that won’t fuck each other over or lie or get married to some asshole named Simon.”

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