Magic Trials (Half-Blood Academy #1)- Meg Xuemei X Page 0,45

Yelena also echoed that, but they had to move their lips to pretend, or they’d get punished, too.

“Good.” Paxton said with satisfaction. “The Half-Blood Academy has decided to turn a ruffian like Marigold into a model soldier at all costs. She’s our project now.”

What the fuck?

“The Academy won’t allow a delinquent to go on strike,” he emphasized, watching my outraged expression like a fat cat regarding a cornered mouse.

Only I was no fucking mouse. He wanted a war, and he’d get one.

“Axel will never go along with that,” I ground out, my eyes burning. “He’s on my side.”

“Is he?” Paxton said, a sadistic smile stretching his curvy lips. “Wasn’t he the one who plucked you from the ghetto, dragging you from a bawdy street fight to the Academy, despite the way you begged and screamed for him to let you go? Wasn’t he the one who was willing to see you die just to test if you could actually live through the ritual?”

I clamped my mouth shut, feeling like I’d been hit by a truck.

How naïve of me to even think that Axel and Zak might defend me just because they’d once shielded me from the burning fire.

They were all my enemies. They’d never been my allies.

Paxton had just reminded me of that.

A cruel light glinted in Paxton’s eyes at my devastated look. “Keep an eye on her,” he ordered to no one in particular. “If she refuses to behave, if she sneezes wrong, call me right away.”

Everyone nodded vehemently, especially the clique.

Paxton turned on his heel.

As soon as he showed his back, I flipped him the bird. I forced down my finger quickly, though, as I didn’t want to be caught.

I grinned at the class sweetly. “Aren’t you going to report it?”

The class gasped, but no one dared to call back the demigod. If they did, they’d have to repeat and mimic my vulgar gesture, and I didn’t think Paxton would take kindly to being flipped off, even in demonstration.

He might be rough with me, but I knew he wouldn’t kill me, not until he was utterly bored with me. And he wouldn’t be bored until he bent me, broke me, and turned me into one of his herd.

Paxton strode away, whistling the tune I had hummed in the bath chamber.

Thankfully, the bell rang the next minute, announcing the end of the class. After all that, at least I didn’t have to suffer through a lecture on the glory of the gods.

CHAPTER 11

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We had a ten minute break before our next class: Combat Techniques.

Nat and Yelena sat with me on a wooden bench near a pond half-concealed by ancient trees. I was so hungry I really wanted to ask them if they had anything to eat, like an energy bar, a piece of chocolate, or something, but I didn’t want to put them in a tough spot.

I couldn’t ask them to smuggle out a sandwich or even an apple for me either, when they went for lunch. Paxton’s people might be watching. And I knew the clique would keep an eye on me like a hawk to make sure I didn’t get lunch.

“What happened?” Yelena said. “You said you’d get ready and run to class.”

“Pigston is what happened,” I said.

“Pig...ston?” Nat asked, a half-smile twitching the corner of his mouth.

“Yes, Pigston is Paxton,” I said, “the one and the same.”

Yelena glanced around nervously. “Shush, don’t let anyone hear that,” she whispered. “Demigod Pig—Paxton—will skin us alive if he ever learns about that name. He might really kill you with a snap of his fingers if you rile him up too much. I heard that the demigods have all killed over smaller offenses. Our lives aren’t important to them, and they kill people without remorse.”

“That’s them,” I said bitterly. “As you all heard today, I’m now their target. You two might want to stay away from me, too, or you might become targets as well.” I gave them a rueful glance. “I cherish our friendship, but I don’t want you to sink with the ship.”

“No way,” Yelena said. “We’ll stick with you. We just hope you won’t sink.”

“We decided to take you under our wings that first day when you went up against Demetra, the One-eighth,” Nat said, flashing me a warm, white smile.

Yep, he was a good-looking guy and very intelligent. At my appreciative look, he fumbled in his backpack and pulled out a bottle of water.

“Here,” he said.

“No, no,” I said, shaking my head. “Enemy spies could be