“It’s you who better watch yourself, Dmitry,” Vanya sneers, as Silas and Bodashka join him in crowding around me. “It’s your fault we placed last in the challenge. If you hadn’t been distracted by your little pet—”
“Say one more word and I’ll knock your teeth down your throat,” I snarl back, getting right in Vanya’s face, not giving a fuck that it’s three-on-one in the otherwise deserted hallway. I’ll fight all three of these assholes and every other friend they’ve ever met.
“Where do you get that arrogance, Dmitry?” Bodashka hisses. “When your father’s a gargoyle and your grandfather’s a fucking disgrace?”
I switch my attention to Bodashka, seizing the front of his shirt and pulling back my fist to execute my threat on his face instead.
Until I hear the sharp sound of someone clearing their throat.
Vanya and Silas step back, as if they weren’t just about to leap on me from all sides.
“Let go of him,” a low voice orders.
Snow’s hulking figure fills the hallway. Slowly, I release Bodashka.
“Get to class,” Snow commands the other three boys.
Sullenly, they obey—not without Silas making a derisive hissing noise as he passes me, and Vanya muttering, “We’ll finish this conversation later.”
Snow watches them out of sight, then says to me, “Aren’t you getting enough practice already, Dean?”
“Might as well hit Bodashka as the heavy bag,” I say. “They’re equally useless at fighting back.”
Snow shakes his head at me, but I think I see a hint of amusement in that frosty stare.
“You’re late again,” Snow says.
“I know,” I sigh. “I’ll miss Chemistry.”
“Why don’t you come with me, then,” Snow says.
“Where are you going?”
“Conditioning,” Snow grunts.
He’s already dressed in the gray sweat shorts and white t-shirt that form our standard gym uniform. Since that’s what he wears every day, I hadn’t thought anything of it.
“I’ll have to change,” I say. I don’t want to fuck up my trousers and sweater vest.
“Meet me outside the gates,” Snow nods.
I hustle back to the Octagon Tower to change, then run across campus to the heavy stone gates that allow exit from the castle grounds. I’m already starting to sweat by the time I meet up with Snow. He gives me no rest, immediately breaking into a steady jog across the field.
That’s fine with me. I’d put my stamina up against a racehorse. I can fight, fuck, or run for hours.
I fall into pace beside him, impressed as always that his fitness matches that of a man twenty years his junior.
“I met your wife,” I tell him.
“I know,” Snow says.
I picture Snow and Sasha convening in the apartments attached to the infirmary. Telling each other all the events of their day.
What would it be like to share all that had happened to you with another person, instead of keeping it locked inside yourself?
“She’s very beautiful,” I say.
Snow chuckles. “The most beautiful woman in the world. And yet, that’s only my tenth favorite thing about her.”
I don’t know how to respond to that. I’m not used to men speaking of their wives that way. It’s very sentimental, for someone as stern as Snow.
We’re crossing the field, heading south toward the river bottoms. I’ve run all over this island, usually alone. It’s pleasant to jog with someone else. I’ve trained with Snow enough times that there’s no awkwardness between us.
“Sasha told me you were very concerned about your friend,” Snow says.
I can’t tell from his measured tone if he’s implying anything.
“I thought Cat might be seriously injured,” I reply stiffly.
“It’s good to care about someone,” Snow says.
“It’s not like that.”
“You don’t care about her?” Snow says, turning his head to fix me with that cool stare.
It’s impossible to lie to him. He sees everything, from my smallest mistakes to the rebellious thoughts in my head.
“Maybe I do,” I admit. “A little bit.”
“That’s good,” Snow repeats. “Love is not weakness.”
“I don’t love her.”
“Love is not just for a wife,” Snow says.
I’m not sure what that means.
We jog on in companionable silence.
I shower in the Octagon Tower, heading back to my room with a towel wrapped around my waist. I pass Leo going in the opposite direction, likewise wearing a towel.
He grins. “Hot date tonight?”
I frown back at him. “Why do you say that?”
He shrugs amiably. “Post dinner shower—that’s usually the reason.”
I suppose that means he has a date with Anna himself, but I don’t think he’s trying to rub it in my face. Honestly, I don’t care. I