who now pressed him from above. Somehow, through a quirk of balance and leverage she had managed to stay on top. He was astonished at her subtle strength.
“Don’t-move-I’ll-kill-you.”
Her lips ran all the words together. He could feel her breath and the icy edge of a small knife touch him on the throat. It was the same kind of knife he had used on his hand, the same kind every student of holomorphy was allowed to carry with them. Meant only for pricking fingers, it was still capable of opening his throat.
Beside him, the fallen bust of Tanara Mae lay facedown in the darkness, nose shattered in pale shards that spun slowly, dissected by moonlight.
“I thought you were simple,” she gasped in disgust. “What were you looking for?” She wiped a droplet of blood from her cheek, making a dark line, like a trail of mascara below her eye.
“I think you’re bleeding,” Caliph said. One of his hands rested on the slender muscles of her waist.
“Actually, that’s you bleeding on me.” They were entangled, warmth passing through their clothes, a comfortable but awkward closeness.
“Well . . . you have a cut.” His finger brushed her cheek.
“Don’t tell me you’re getting romantic.” She tried to push herself off but her leg was pinned.
“Broke Tanara’s face too.”
Caliph began to laugh, too loud. It echoed off the coffered ceiling.
“It’s your fault! If anyone gets expelled for this it will be you.” She let up slightly on the blade. “I can’t afford another session with the chancellor.”
“You must be the one they’re gossiping about—”
“Let me up! This is your fault!” She struggled furiously against his weight.
“Miss Iilool . . . what were you doing alone in the library after bells with a boy?” He impersonated the slow deep voice remarkably considering the pressure on his throat. Sena’s smile at the mimicry was brief and unpleasant.
“What were you looking for?” she asked.
“If I tell you, it will sort of defeat the purpose—”
“You were doing something in the library yesterday.” She scowled thoughtfully and kept the blade on him. “Pranking someone, were you? Stealing a book before finals?”
Caliph looked into her face with an expression of profound malice. For an instant she drew back.
“You think I’d tell?” She extricated her leg and pulled herself up. Caliph picked up a piece of Tanara’s nose. He flipped it, then used it to point at her.
“If you cross me—”
“I won’t!” She sounded deeply insulted, almost hurt by the insinuation. “I promise.”
“You don’t strike me as particularly trustworthy.”
She snorted. “Probably the same as you.”
“What can you possibly know about me?”
“Everyone knows Caliph Howl, carnally or otherwise.”
“Of course. So stupid. I’m one of the Naked Eight.” There was an element of shame, a hint of vulnerability in his voice that he recognized and quickly hardened. “You were in the courtyard with everyone else that day—”
“That’s who it is then. You’re sabotaging Roric Feldman’s senior exam. For that wretched joke he played on you when you were a freshman.”
When he didn’t answer she went on. “You must’ve been planning this . . . for a long time.”
“I don’t care if you think . . .”
“Relax. Why should I care?” She stood up and took a step backward. “I don’t just know you from the pillory, you know?”
She leaned back against the railing, her posture seemed to communicate a series of wordless invitations.
“Oh? Where else have I been locked under your view?” He glanced up furtively. The memory of her body pressed against him made it difficult to think. She had been warm and light, yet surprisingly strong. His voice leveled, turned cautious. He wasn’t about to take her bait. Though he had pretended not to know her, everyone knew Sena Iilool.
“You were ranked second best swordsman last year,” she was saying.
Caliph couldn’t tell if she was being serious.
“You’re not even supposed to know that legerdemain. That’s way beyond sixth year holo . . .”
“Thanks,” Caliph interrupted, “for the documentary. But I’m not your fool.”
“I didn’t say you were . . . yet.”
“Go piss up a rope.”
“I’d get wet. And besides, holomorphy is my first discipline. I think we should study together.”
Caliph snorted.
“You think I need you? Just because every boy here follows you around like a trained sledge newt . . . I’m well ahead in my studies. I don’t need a . . .” He didn’t know what to classify her as and classifying her as a distraction would betray the what? Infatuation? Lust? . . . that was rapidly thickening inside