Page 35 of By the Orchid and the Owl
A coded message, that’s what this was, I was sure—about the pills, maybe? Did I have to take it more than once? Suddenly, I hated myself for telling him to stay out of my head. He’d be able to drop private thoughts into my mind right now if I hadn’t.
I cleared my throat, well aware of Rodhi and Emelle clinging on to each word.
“I thought that was a one-time thing?”
Coen studied me carefully. “Some people like it weekly.”
Rodhi actually gasped in delight at that. I glared at him, but Coen just pushed himself away from the wall and started down the stairwell. “I’m having another party this Friday,” he threw over his shoulder. “I expect to see you there.”
Rodhi whipped toward me once Coen had disappeared from view.
“What. Was. That?”
“Nothing,” I said a little too quickly.
Rodhi scoffed. “He saved you from Mr. Greaseball, told you about hisroom, and said he likes it weekly. You, my darling, are straight up lying right now.”
“He saidsomepeople like it weekly,” I muttered, avoiding even Emelle’s gaze. From the crooked twist of her mouth, I knew she was thinking about that secret I’d told her in Ms. Pincette’s classroom and putting the pieces together.
I bent low to the ground before either of them could say anything else and found a single stray fire ant wandering along a line between cobblestone. “Thank you,” I told it, hoping it would relay the message to the rest of its colony—wherever they were, now that the Summoner had blown them away.
Then I started down the stairs, toward the courtyard, without another word.
I had a lot to ponder tonight. How had Coen known I was in trouble? Why hadn’t he told me to begin with that I’d need a suppressant pill once a week?
And what was I supposed to do about the damned flutter in my throat at the thought of his gaze on mine?
We found Gileon in the dining hall, sitting alone and sniffling into his plate.
Emelle—timid, shy Emelle—was the one who marched over to him and nodded at our table, where Rodhi and I had just collapsed on either side of Wren to tell her about the day’s events. I smiled at the sight of her raised chin, and smiled even wider at the sight of Gileon heaving himself up to follow her to our table.
He sat down. “Hi.”
“Hi,” we echoed.
“How are you doing?” I asked.
Gileon massaged the back of his neck. “I’m okay. I think there’s a ghost in the courtyard, though. It was attacking me after Ms. Pincette’s class, and I’m scared it’s gonna follow me around forever.”
“Oh, don’t worry about that,” Rodhi said. “Rayna got rid of that ghost.”
Gileon turned massive, moon-round eyes on me. “You did?”
“Um… sort of. But not without help.” I laid a hand on top of his. “The point is, nobody’s ever going to haunt you again, okay?”
I hadn’t meant to sound so assertive, because really, how could I prevent someone else from picking on him? But I felt sure that Fergus and the others wouldn’t anytime soon, at least, not with the threat of Coen and his Manipulating torture lurking around every corner. None of them had shown up for dinner tonight and I felt smug pleasure at the thought that they were probably getting all their ant burns treated right now.
Gileon leaned his head against the back of his chair. “That is such a relief to hear. I thought I was doomed.”
Wren, who’d paused with her fork halfway to her mouth, gave me a look.
A look that clearly said,you better protect him with everything you’ve got.
I nodded. We all nodded. Now that we’d seen what kind of damage the power of others could do, it seemed there was nothing elsetodo besides defend those who couldn’t defend themselves. Even if it put a target on our backs.
Because as much as I felt, deep down, that Fergus wouldn’t bother messing with Gileon in the near future, I had no doubt he—and Jenia, too—would find ways to mess with Rodhi, Emelle, and me… for interfering, for the fire ants, and for Coen.
Ways that didn’t require physical touch. Ways that would hurt even worse.
