"You know that's cheating. Punishment Points must be endured and not magically healed. Now...here." Lysander snapped his fingers again.
I tightened my grip on Willoughby. "Today, he's playing at being my friend, remember?"
Lysander's eyes glittered dangerously.
Suddenly, the angelic Professor of Dueling, Ezekiel, swooped through the open window with a swoosh that blew my hair back from my face. The sun shone off his violet wings and his bronzed muscles. Truly, had I imagined an angel...he would’ve looked nothing like Ezekiel. But had I imagined a man who I wanted to lick all over and suck his wings, then that would be Ezekiel.
By the way that Bask was biting his lip and attempting to hold back breathy moans, I wondered if he felt the same. But then again, that could be because of Sleipnir's hand, which had slipped down the back of Bask’s trousers.
Ezekiel landed with an intimidating thud. He folded his wings and his arms at the same time. Even in only the ash harem pants of an Addict Angel, he was nothing but warrior. Luckily, he was also kinder than the other Professors, as long as you didn't forget that he was just as ruthless. He'd never have been the sole survivor of his year of Rebels otherwise. There was no escape from the academy, I'd learned. There was only death or the offer of a professorship.
I'd yet to decide which was worse.
"I'm glad to see that you're already partnered up and ready to go. Yesterday was..." His gaze settled on Willoughby, whose expression became shuttered. "...difficult for us all. Let's start today with a clean slate. The others will want you fighting between yourselves, but I don't. I'm glad to see that you listened to me."
Lysander raised his hand. "One appears to be lacking a partner."
“It’s not all he’s lacking,” Sleipnir muttered.
Lysander affected not to notice.
Ezekiel cocked his head. "Then ask yourself why that is."
"I was late," Lysander gritted out.
Ezekiel tutted. "Then you don't get to train today." He pointed with his wing to the corner, which Willoughby had been standing in earlier. "No moving and think about why you're missing out."
Sleipnir chuckled.
"B-but this is an outrage," Lysander spluttered. "It's essential that I train. My uncle will know if I don't."
"Disobedience as well." Ezekiel swept towards Lysander, guiding him firmly into the corner. My stomach squirmed. Was Ezekiel helping us Immortals to save Fox? Helping me? Yet why didn't it feel fair because Lysander couldn't help being late, and despite everything, I hated to see him in trouble for that. Wait, I couldn't be under a Fae Lover spell because I should be enjoying this torment. Only, I wasn't. "I'll have to write to Prince Titus now."
"Don't," I called at the same time as Bask.
Ezekiel turned, raising his brow at both of us. Then he smiled. "You're lucky that you have some brave defenders, Crown.” Lysander only snorted. Impolite. “Keep your nose pressed into the corner in total silence through the lesson, and I won't have to inform your uncle."
Lysander nodded; his wings quivered with anxiety.
Then Ezekiel marched into the center of the gym. His wings outstretched in a display of dominance. "Today is Torment Thursday. Sometimes, we all have to face our nightmares." Not if I could help it. "And when we do, it's unfortunate but we can't always rely on those around us. We could be alone with our weapon lost. So, I'll teach you to defend yourself hand-to-hand. But this is about the defensive. I've seen more than enough how you can attack."
Sleipnir lounged against the wall. "You want one to attack and the other to defend. Then how will you know who wins this lesson because hey, that's our nightmare right now."
Ezekiel sighed. "You have more nightmares than that." I jolted with fear. Black cats, what a motivational teacher he was. He swooped to Willoughby and me, wrapping us in the feathery softness of his wings that smelled tangy but sweet like citrus creams. Would he notice if I just nibbled a single feather? I sucked one into my mouth, before I caught his amused expression, and hastily spat it out. Then he ran his hand down Willoughby's neck. "Crow, you're defending against Crush's attack."
Willoughby shook his head. "I won't attack—"
"You're a worthy partner for me," I insisted. "I need an equal to my power." His breath hitched on the partner. "Don't fear the cold."
Willoughby's lips twitched like he was desperate to smile but couldn't quite remember how. “I’ve always admired strong women.”
“Ah, such a charmer.”
"But what do you fear?" Ezekiel demanded. Magic sparked across his wings: he was casting a spell. "What's your nightmare?"
"Don't do this..." I hissed.
Would it be dark elves, the traitors who'd attacked him and his father, clowns juggling snakes...?
I trusted Willoughby to control himself when he fought me but could he when he was under an enchantment?
I saw Lysander glance worriedly over his shoulder from his corner. I shook my head at him. There was no point him getting in even more trouble. This was Torment Thursday, after all, it was filled with our nightmares.
"Myself," Willoughby whispered.
I drew in my breath, and my pulse was loud in my ears. I wished to draw Willoughby into an embrace, rather than being forced apart from him by Ezekiel. Willoughby's expression was blank like he no longer knew where he was.
He'd think that he was fighting himself because he feared and hated himself that much.
I'd told him that we'd be the storm. We truly were now twin Ice Princes.
When Ezekiel swept to Sleipnir and Bask, Sleipnir stood protectively in front of Bask.
"Lay those nightmares on me." Sleipnir boldly met Ezekiel's gaze.
Ezekiel shrugged apologetically. "Crave isn't a god or a warrior. I have a feeling that your nightmares would lead to the dismemberment of one of my students, and I don't have time for the paperwork."
Sleipnir paled, almost as much as Bask.
"I call for the non-dismemberment option," I said.
Bask slunk around Sleipnir, patting his shoulder. "Don't underestimate an incubus. You should tremble before me."
Ezekiel smiled indulgently. "We'll see." Then he wrapped his wings around Bask, who settled his hand on the angel's chest like he didn't blame him for putting him under a spell. Then I realized: this wasn't Ezekiel's fault. He was a prisoner here at the academy too and always had been. He was trying to save each of us in his own way. Had he also saved Lysander from suffering this spell by putting him in the corner? Did he know how terrible his fear would've been? "What's your nightmare?"
"The Duchess," Bask breathed.
My witchy behind was entirely unsurprised. It was also, however, furious.
I clenched my hands into fists and concentrated on remembering that my role was merely to defend.
My magic snapped within me, desperate to attack, attack, attack…
Pink tendrils streamed through the window and into the sky. They burrowed into the earth. Nature screamed along with me to unleash my Wickedly Charmed magic and protect my Rebels.
Because this time, they were still alive.
Ezekiel’s smile was grim, as his wings beat down like the shot of a starting pistol. “Nightmares begin!”
Chapter Eleven
MAGENTA
