smirks. His gaze flitted to the window, hesitated, then he moved to take his seat.
If he was part of the vanguard protecting Alex, Zoe’s reaction suggested the complete opposite. She continued to glower at him like he’d kicked her puppy, though Cole made no other attempt to look back at them.
“You know him?” Tala finally asked.
“Yes,” Zoe growled. “But he’s not supposed to be here.”
The lesson droned on. Tala kept sneaking glances out the window, but all the firebird did was preen its feathers and wriggle its butt, among other decidedly non-magical things. After attempts to wheedle competent answers from the rest of the class failed, Miss Lowry gave up and turned her attention back to Zoe. “Miss Carlisle, would you like to explain to the class Beatrice’s importance to Dante throughout the Divine Comedy?”
Zoe took a deep breath, schooled her features neutral. “To start, she was his symbol of both redemptive love and personal salvation. He—”
Cole snorted. It wasn’t a loud sound, but it was discernible enough to disrupt Zoe’s monologue. It was also the first reaction he’d made in response to her since sitting down.
Miss Lowry was quick to pounce. “Do you disagree with Zoe regarding Dante’s portrayal of Beatrice, Cole?”
“The man was a stalker,” he said flatly. “And an idiot.” The look he shot Zoe’s way seemed to carry with it the implication that this level of lunacy also applied to fans of Dante’s works.
“No, he wasn’t!” Zoe snapped, rising to the bait. She poked at the air with a pencil, as if she would gladly stab him with it, given the choice. “It isn’t a crime to write about someone you love. She was his redemption. That was the whole purpose of the Divine Comedy: to learn how to live a good life.”
“By indulging in disturbing fantasies about someone who didn’t know he existed? Guy did a good job.”
Zoe’s cheeks flamed. “He wrote about his shortcomings and personal experiences to give the work a level of realism. Dante never once forced his attentions on Beatrice. It was a kind of catharsis for him to write about her, and it gave the world one of the best works of literature in the process.”
“Chill those two out,” Tala heard someone behind her mutter. “It’s, like, a freaking book.”
From outside the glass, the firebird’s head swung back and forth between the combatants, like a spectator at a tennis match. Tala had an uneasy feeling this was not the first argument they had ever had, as if she’d somehow blundered into the middle of a play without knowing what the first act was about.
“What kind of person devotes his life to someone who can’t return his affections?” The boy’s voice held a mocking, acid undercurrent.
“It made him a better person for it,” Zoe shot back. “If it made him happy without offending anyone else, then—”
The bell chose that inopportune moment to ring, and the rest of the class immediately lost interest in the fight. “Read cantos three through fifty for Monday!” Miss Lowry managed to yell out through the suddenly noisy din. “The game is no excuse not to do your homework this weekend!”
The classroom emptied rapidly in two minutes, leaving only Tala, Zoe, and Cole, with the firebird pecking curiously at the glass outside. As soon as the last of the students departed, Zoe rounded on Cole, her blue eyes bright with anger. “What are you doing here?” she hissed.
“The Cheshire sent me.” The boy’s eyes flicked away from her to Tala. It was an assessing, searching glance, and not a particularly friendly one.
“That’s impossible. The Cheshire gave us pretty explicit instructions, and I’m very sure you weren’t part of it.”
One side of the boy’s crooked mouth curved up in a half grin. “I told him you’d make a mess of things, especially after Nova Scotia, and he agreed. I’m here to clean up after you.”
Zoe slapped him. Tala’s own head jerked back at the unexpected movement, as if she’d been the one on the receiving end. The force of the blow was strong enough to send the boy’s head whipping to one side.
“Let’s go,” Zoe snapped, grabbing her arm. Cole watched them leave, frowning, but did nothing else. Tala stole another glance at the window, but the firebird had already disappeared.
“I’m going to kill him,” Zoe fumed as she marched down the corridor. “He always does this to me. Always! Why can’t I have one day without his stupid snide?”
“How exactly do you know him?”
Zoe stopped. “He’s a