Page 120 of Academy of the Wicked, Year Two

“We can locate him if Gwenivere is bonded to him,” Zeke announces. “I’ll assist when the time comes, but I feel if she really seeks him, she’ll be able to feel the pull from her marking.”

“How do you know she has bond marks?” I figured I’d ask.

“It’s very visible,” Zeke counters, not seemingly offended by my commentary. If anything from the glint in his eyes, he looks amused. “It’s very noticeable. Like a hickey attempting to be hidden beneath thin cloth.”

“Don’t say it like that,” Gwenievere whines.

Gwenivere's expression shifts to determined resolve I've come to both admire and occasionally fear for the single-minded focus it represents.

"First things first," she states with characteristic directness. "The bonds with Zeke and Mortimer need to happen now before we proceed further."

Here we go.

The suggestion sends a territorial spike through me, though I force it back down. My Queen of Spades has never made decisions without careful consideration, even if I occasionally disagree with her conclusions.

Mortimer's scholarly features contort into a pronounced frown as the realization strikes him.

"You can't possibly be considering bonding with both of us," he objects, adjusting his glasses with a nervous precision I've rarely witnessed in his typically composed demeanor. "Zeke makes logical sense given your need to bring him forward, but I can move between realms due to my position among the Seven. There's no practical necessity."

Interesting. The dragon refuses. That's...unexpected.

I watch Mortimer carefully, assessing this uncharacteristic reluctance. Bond-reluctance isn't common among paranormals — most would kill for the opportunity to form such a connection with someone of Gwenivere's power and lineage.

The rejection suggests either remarkable self-control or knowledge of potential consequences we haven't yet considered.

Zeke steps forward, those unnervingly cat-like eyes scanning Mortimer with what appears to be genuine concern.

"That may be true about your movement between realms," he acknowledges, voice carrying that strange musical quality I'm beginning to find increasingly irritating, "but unlike anything I've observed in past cycles, the Seven and Headmaster have never personally involved themselves. Their presence changes everything."

Wait. What?

"What?" Gwenivere's voice cuts through the tension, articulating my thoughts exactly. "This is the first time they've interfered?"

So even the cat is surprised. That's...worrying.

Zeke nods slowly, uncertainty evident in his normally confident demeanor.

"Yes. In all the cycles I've witnessed, they've maintained distance, setting parameters but never directly intervening. I've been trying to determine what's different this time, but nothing immediately comes to mind."

A dark suspicion forms in my mind. In prison, authority figures only broke established patterns when something threatened the larger system. Their appearance suggests we've inadvertently triggered protocols beyond standard academy operations.

Cassius frowns, shadows coiling with what I recognize as strategic calculation rather than mere concern.

"Are you in trouble for associating with our group?" he asks Mortimer directly. "Could your position among the Seven be compromised?"

Smart question. The dragon's involvement might be the variable that changed everything.

Mortimer's expression turns contemplative, scholarly assessment clearly weighing various possibilities before responding.

"I've received no notification of rule violations," he says carefully, "but to exile me from the Seven would be rather..."

"Wicked if you ask me," I mutter, the comment emerging before I can properly censor it.

The quip draws grimaces of acknowledgment from everyone, the dark humor landing precisely because of its uncomfortable accuracy.

Cassius's shadows writhe with increased agitation.

"We've broken their expectations repeatedly," he observes, silver eyes narrowing in thought. "What if we're doing the same now and they want to end it?"

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