Wicked As You Wish (A Hundred Names for Magic #1) - Rin Chupeco Page 0,134
a day, and he hasn’t once tried to sabotage anything.
• Saved me from giant marsh frogs. (This sounds so weird on its own if not taken in any context.)
• Was injured too badly to be pretending anything else.
• Can cook. (This is not a good pro reason, but not being hungry is a good thing.)
Cons for Trusting Cole:
• The Nottinghams have a reputation and a history that prove they can’t be trusted.
• Cole has a reputation and a history that proves he’s a jerk.
• Dislikes me.
• Dislikes Tristan.
• Affiliation with wolves still highly suspect.
• Has a habit of showing up shortly before something undesirable is about to happen.
• The Dame of Tintagel made mention of a traitor; seems the most likely suspect. (Note: Prophecy is not necessarily concrete proof of anything.)
• Dante’s Divine Comedy is a totally valid piece of literature, and he is wrong about everything.
The cons far outweighed the pros, but Zoe was honest enough to admit she was biased to start. In any event, the list made it perfectly clear there was no evidence of Cole being guilty of anything other than the mentioned jerkhood.
“This is very excellent.” The words lingered in the air, a peace offering. “Did you cook a lot back home? In, uh…” The name of the Nottingham stronghold escaped her for the moment.
“In Nibheis? No. I learned in New York.”
It took a moment for that to sink in. “What?”
“Lived in New York with my mother and sister for almost half my life. Didn’t even know we had a title until I was almost nine.”
“Oh. In…Manhattan?”
His mouth lifted. “No. A tenement in Monticello. South Bronx.”
The Nottinghams were one of the richest families in Europe, so Zoe was having a hard time figuring out why Cole had lived in the poorest section of NYC, but he had already turned back to his meal, a clear signal that her short interrogation was once again over.
She remembered her first meeting with Cole at the Cerridwen School for Thaumaturgy in Iceland. Only fourteen, then, she’d stumbled into a fight between him and Tristan; it was something that happened often between the two, she was told later. Students weren’t allowed to brawl outside of practice and definitely without instructor supervision, but despite the crowd that had gathered to watch, no one made a move to intervene. Zoe, new to the place and wanting to impress her teachers, felt like she had to do something before anyone else got hurt.
She remembered how they looked; both boys streaked with dirt and grime, dueling in a secluded part of campus. It had been a fairly even match. Both were skilled combatants, and both used wooden swords. They at least had the common sense, Zoe had thought sourly then, to fight with weapons that wouldn’t get them expelled should they actually get caught.
That hadn’t stopped it from being a bloody brawl. Both swords had broken at some point and the two had continued with their fists.
Zoe wasn’t technically supposed to be using her segen either, and she was all the more pissed at them for making her. “Stop!” she burst out, and Ogmios struck at the open space between the two, the accompanying sound of thunder causing silence to fall across the courtyard. “Fighting isn’t allowed on campus!”
Tristan’s handsome face turned to hers, and even with the cuts and faint bruises marring the overall aesthetic, she remembered how her heart had fluttered when those green eyes looked back at her. “I’m sorry, milady,” he said, courteous even then. “But this is between me and Nottingham.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Zoe hissed, looking fearfully back at the main doors where she knew the sword captains liked to idle by. She had been an A student in New York, and was determined to be the rough equivalent of it at Cerridwen. “The masters-at-arms are already on their way!”
Her lie did the trick; their audience scattered. Tristan took a step back, torn between continuing the fight and not wanting to be found out, eventually capitulating to the latter.
“All right.” His hand closed over Zoe’s, much to her surprise. “I’m sorry. May I see you safely out?”
“S-sure,” Zoe stuttered, now a little flustered, almost forgetting he was the reason she needed to be accompanied safely back to wherever.
Cole made no reply. The boy’s face fared no better than Tristan’s, nicked with bruises and cuts, but his gray eyes were trained on her face. While she could understand his anger, she couldn’t understand that