Page 104 of Kingmakers, Year Four

The silence stretches between us, Hedeon’s angry stare drilling into me, with all the heat of his long-suppressed rage.

“If he’s your father . . .” I say, “Then what are you going to do?”

With calm surety, Hedeon replies, “I’m going to kill him.”

25

Nix

My head is spinning from my hookup with Ares. I’ve never been so turned on in my life. I felt like I was high, every sense amplified.

And at the same time, I felt more myself than ever.

The whole reason I wanted to come to Kingmakers was to feel free and unrestricted. To find experiences and new relationships.

I’m definitely getting exactly what I wanted, more than I even imagined . . .

My only concern is that things might be awkward with Sabrina now. I value her as a friend, and I hope I didn’t fuck that up by satisfying my curiosity about those sultry lips of hers.

I shouldn’t have worried—Sabrina is never awkward, and nothing phases her.

She comes bursting into our room, still dressed in her gown, hair and makeup a mess, apparently just stumbling home from whatever she’s been doing with Ilsa Markov.

“Somebody left you pastries!” she announces. “You have to share them with me because they smell phenomenal.”

She’s already pulling a freshverhunyout of the basket, taking such an enthusiastic bite that flakes of pastry and powdered sugar rain down on the tops of her breasts.

I’m reminded of the simultaneous softness and firmness of Sabrina’s body under my hands. My cheeks burn.

Sabrina catches me looking. She grins, licking the sugar off her lips.

“Don’t worry.” She winks. “You can look.”

“I don’t want you to think that I?—”

“Oh, relax,” she laughs. “I know you’re crazy about Ares. But a girl’s allowed to have a little fun.”

“You look like you had more than a little fun with Ilsa,” I say, grinning right back at her.

“She’s fucking sexy, isn’t she?” Sabrina sighs, taking another bite of pastry.

“Aggressive too,” I laugh, noting the love bites running down the side of Sabrina’s slim brown throat.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Sabrina passes me the basket so I can enjoy a bite of my own pastry.

I don’t need the card to guess that Ares left them. Only he could be that thoughtful.

Theverhunyare deliciously light and flaky, with a hint of spiced rum mixed into the dough. It’s the quintessential flavor of Christmas for me—bringing to mind the twelve-foot tree my father always cuts and hauls home for the holidays, decorated in his clumsy and over-the-top way with huge handfuls of tinsel and fresh holly.

I feel a pang of guilt, knowing it will be his first Christmas without me. He’ll have all his soldiers around him, and they’re sure to get roaring drunk and probably spend the afternoon ax-throwing or some other raucous activity that really shouldn’t be done intoxicated.

Still, I know my dad will be lonely. At the very least I need to call him today.

So even though I’d rather go find Ares and give him my own small gift, I tell Sabrina she’s welcome to eat the last pastry, and I dress and head over to the Keep to use the bank of phones on the ground floor.

It’s early enough that the phones aren’t yet packed with students calling home. I only see one Freshman Accountant tearily telling her mom that she misses her, and Tristan Turgenev crammed into a too-small booth, thanking his parents for the gifts they sent.

Wanting privacy, I walk all the way down to the last phone.

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