They were so close that their lips were almost touching. I bit my own lip. They were either going to kiss or...
Wait, why was I hoping that the kissing option was even possible?
I tightened my pinkie around Midnight's, sneaking a glance at his expression. He was watching Lysander and Magenta with as much rapt shock and delight as me.
"Well," Baccus said, "the winding paths of fate are unexpected." She guided Pocus by his collar onto the floor, before striding to stand behind the two Prefects. Pocus huddled by the leg of the throne. "I delight in the frenzy. Do you know what I can do with this?"
Why did witches always gift me these opportunities? Bad mouth, don't you dare say it...
"Stick it where the sun don't shine?" Bad, bad mouth, no sugary treats for you.
"Conduct a light orchestra?" Bask fluttered his eyelashes.
Sleipnir cocked his head. "Role play the good witch in the Wizard of Oz? Hey, does glitter explode out of the end of your wand when you're excited?"
Bacchus’ eyes swirled with amber; her ancient magic spelled the air with the aroma of mulled wine. Bad mouth look what you've done: you've driven her to drink. "It whips men and women into a frenzy. I've been inciting true fervor for thousands of years. You've seriously no idea about true love or hate. In frenzy, there's nothing but the freedom of wild emotion. Once, I belonged to a cult where we could give in to every urge. There'll never be anything so liberating. I could tear you limb from limb or screw you until you scream."
“Could I go with the tearing limb from limb option?” I asked.
Was this appropriate from a professor?
Yet I had a sense that Bacchus was no longer herself. It was like the power of her own thyrsus had possessed her. I stared at the thyrsus with more respect than before.
Sleipnir slipped out of his seat, approaching her with his hand raised like she was a stallion that hadn't been broken yet. "Yeah, we're all scared of your frenzy and screw wand now. So, why don't you sit your ass back down on the comfy elf throne?"
"The son of Loki would dare speak to me? You sit down. Loki's the one who destroyed the frenzy," Bacchus snarled. Reluctantly, Sleipnir stalked back to his stool. "He made the music and the dancing stop. We shall break him, just as he broke everything of ours." Sleipnir stilled; his breathing was too rapid. "Justice comes to everyone, even to gods." Her gaze swept across Lysander and Magenta. "As well as Princes and Immortals."
When Bacchus raised the thyrsus, I attempted a watery smile at Bask who looked ready to vault the lab table to protect me. I didn't want anyone to suffer for me. I also didn't want to be hit by some crazy Frenzy Hex but if I could take it instead of the other Immortals, then I'd beg for it.
After all, I was the whipping boy.
"Visual aids are honestly way more effective than words. You choose: which whipping boy will demonstrate The Frenzy?" Bacchus swung her thyrsus like a pendulum between Midnight and me.
Me, me, me...
Lysander and Magenta shook their heads at the same time, but I noticed that they both took a step away from each other. To me, that was one point to Bacchus.
Then to my shock, Midnight said, "As I have Fallen, it's all right, my prince. Pick me."
"Hold your tongue," Lysander sneered, but I didn't miss how his voice shook more with fear than anger. "Do you presume to tell me what to do? One should've known that this new ill-disciplined whipping boy would corrupt you. You've earned a punishment after class."
Fae. Kink. Officially. Dead.
Midnight's wings trembled, until his chair rattled, but he still begged, "Please, choose me."
Lysander stared hard at the floor, clasping his hands behind his back like he was on parade. Had he been trained in the military? "Cast The Frenzy on the Immortal."
When Bacchus stalked towards me with amber magic swirling from the end like a promise of loss of control over even my own mind, I couldn't help the undignified squeak. I wrenched my ankles against the restraints. Sweat slipped down the back of my neck.
At least it was me and not Midnight.
Magenta stepped in front of me, blocking Bacchus like she was simply claiming the first dance with me. "I regret to inform you that no one is harming my lovers. Do test your little fervor on me, instead. I'd love to see the explosive possibilities when combined with my Wickedly Charmed magic, and your explanations to the Principal."
Bacchus shook her head.
Magenta’s eyes narrowed at Lysander. "It appears that I wasn't clear enough with you about the not hurting rule."
Lysander's wings beat angrily. "But if you don't choose, then you're forcing me to shoulder this responsibility alone. Why does everyone always expect that of me?" Wait, were we still talking about throwing hexes or The Frenzy? "If I must become the villain to save my...save Curse...then I shall." He hung his head. "Haven't I played that role long enough?"
When Magenta's gaze met mine, it was anguished. I understood because if both Lysander and her didn't play along, then the stakes were Midnight's wings and my life. Yet she was still waiting for my permission like Midnight had given his.
Weirdly, I'd expected her to know that she already had it. I trusted her in a way that I never had any other woman and definitely not any witch.
I'd resurrected her, but she'd brought me to life.
I bit my lip. "Come on, I'm ready to win this today with my spectacular demonstration of fervor. I spent my teenage weekends running around naked in the woods in a frenzy. My bare ass was a terror to the local non-magicals."
Bask snickered, which was better than the pale anguish for me that'd been on his face a moment before.
Lysander's tongue darted out to wet his dry lips. "Exciting as it would be to witness Confess' bare ass in a frenzy, I request permission to discipline him by my own method. I'm well-trained with a—"
"Whip…?" The thyrsus transformed into a thin riding whip; it was the type that would slash across the thick hide of a horse.
And my hide was pale and soft.
There'd been stables attached to the House of Jewels. My sister, Hartley, had been given her own pony at the age of three. I'd been desperate to ride as well but as son to a witch family, I'd been forbidden. They hadn't wanted me to injure myself and so reduce my value.
Before I'd been locked away, Hartley had sneaked me out one night to sit on her pony, leading me into the paddock behind the stables. We'd laughed together at the adventure, and I'd thought that my sister would never allow me to be traded to a wife who treated me like mum did dad.
I’d been innocent enough to believe that she wouldn’t become like the other witches.
It'd been worth the month’s grounding to the house for me, when we'd been discovered, and the lecture on Husband Management for Hartley. I'd never ridden again. But I recognized the whip. Ironic, as a shifter, that I'd now been transformed into the horse.
Irony sucked.
Yet still, Lysander hesitated.
Perhaps, he was deciding whether to stripe my thigh, shoulder, or balls... Decisions, decisions.
I let go of Midnight's pinkie. Instead, I clenched my hands, digging my nails into my palms. It always helped to focus on a small amount of pain that you'd created, rather than the large amount of pain that someone else was about to visit on your balls.
I pushed my nails harder into my palms.
"Amusing that you believe I shall allow you to whip him anymore than hex him." Magenta's gaze was steadying.
I'd never had anyone who refused to allow my whipping before. Dad, Glow, or even Aquilo would beg for mercy on my behalf. Yet that was different to someone who stated that it wasn't allowed.