Give the Dark My Love(36)

Nothing.

“What’s the meaning of this?” Tomus asked loudly as he looked inside his own folder.

“Silence!” Master Ostrum barked. Tomus—for once—bit his tongue and shriveled into his desk, although his cheeks were flushed and his eyes bright with anger.

Once the folders had all been distributed, Master Ostrum turned to the class. “For many of you,” he said, “this is the last time we will interact.”

I straightened in my desk.

“I have asked for reassignments for the students I will no longer be advising. Your new masters are listed in your folders.”

Tomus glowered. “My parents didn’t donate a hall of laboratories to Yūgen for me to be advised by Professor Pushnil!” he said, his voice loud.

Master Ostrum leveled a cool look at Tomus. “That,” he said with a shrug, “isn’t my problem.” And with that, he left the lecture hall.

The class erupted into chaos. Tomus stood and shoved his desk away, kicking at it when it fell over. Then he noticed Nedra, sitting on the edge of her chair, stuffing her folder into her bag.

“You’re still with Ostrum, aren’t you?” Tomus’s voice was low and cold, but it drew every eye to him.

Nedra stood and swung her bag onto her shoulder. She very distinctly tried not to meet his gaze. Nedra only made it a few steps before Tomus maneuvered around his desk and stood in front of her. “He didn’t drop you, did he?” he asked, leaning in close to her face.

Everyone was still. Watching.

Nedra shook her head no.

Tomus made a noise deep in the back of his throat, more snarl than laugh. “Of course not!” he said, sweeping his arm toward the rest of the class. “When Ostrum said ‘many of us’ were being dropped, what he really meant was everyone but you, right? Anyone else not being reassigned?”

I looked behind me—every other person in the lecture hall glared at Nedra. I was tempted to lift up the cover of my folder and see if I’d somehow missed a reassignment slip there, but I knew I hadn’t missed it. Master Ostrum had not only kept Nedra—he’d kept me as well.

“What I want to know,” Tomus snarled, pushing his fingertips into Nedra’s shoulders, “is just what you do with Ostrum to make him want to keep you and no one else.”

At those last three words—no one else—Nedra’s eyes flicked to me.

She knows I’m still with Master Ostrum, too, I thought. But how? How would she know who else Master Ostrum kept unless . . . ?

Unless she knew he was cutting the other students, and she asked him to keep me.

Tomus was an ass but a clever one. He watched me with narrowed eyes, and I was certain he’d guessed what Nedra’s glance meant.

Nedra ducked her head and tried to move away from Tomus, but he stepped in front of her.

“Please move,” she said, her eyes on the open door at the other end of the lecture hall.

“Please move,” Tomus mocked.

“Look, I don’t know why Master Ostrum reassigned everyone,” Nedra said, throwing up her hands. “Maybe he kept me because I actually give a damn about the work we’re doing.”

Tomus’s eyes were on me when he said, “Maybe.”

But he didn’t move out of Nedra’s way.

She hefted her bag. I could see the determination turning her bones to steel. She shouldered past Tomus, making a point to knock into his shoulder. His face purpled with rage, and he spun around to stop her again, but I lunged forward, grabbing his shoulder and holding him back.

“You too, Astor?” Tomus said in a low, angry voice. He shook his shoulder free from my grasp and stepped away from me.

As Nedra escaped through the door, the rest of the class dissipated. Without an object for their anger, there was little point staying in the lecture hall.

I stepped away from Tomus, but I hesitated before turning my back on him in order to pick up my bag. When I straightened, we were alone in the lecture hall. He hadn’t moved from his spot where Nedra shoved him.

“It’s not right,” Tomus said, a grim set to his jaw. “She comes in a year behind us, is bumped to the best class, and then steals the professor from us. From the rest of us, I mean.”

“It’s not her fault,” I said. “Nedra doesn’t make Master Ostrum’s decisions for him.”

He watched me for a moment, not speaking, but so intent that I felt too awkward to leave.

“My father hates your father,” he said finally.

“I’m . . . sorry?” I said, confused by the change in conversation.

“He always said Linden Astor was useful because of his connections and power, but that he would use anyone and anything to get ahead. You’re not like him.” He paused. “But you’re still going to get ahead.”

“That’s not what this is about.”

“That’s what everything is about.”

I started for the door.

“Are you coming to my party tonight?” Tomus said, holding me back.

“I don’t know,” I said warily. I’d been planning on it, but after this morning . . .

“Come.” Tomus sounded sincere. “Bring your little girlfriend.”

“She’s not my—”

Tomus tensed, as if my denial was a personal insult.