“In your Academy e-mail? Not possible.”
“Apparently it is,” I insist, trying not to get annoyed that he doesn’t believe me. Like I would make that up. “I couldn’t get them to print, either. So we asked Urian”—I nod at the door behind us—“for help.”
“What did the e-mails say?”
I explain the content, inching away as his expression grows darker with every word. He looks like he could explode at any second. By the time I finish, I’m pressed up against Urian’s door.
“Why didn’t you tell me about this?”
“We weren’t exactly in a sharing mood the past few days,” I say. “Besides, I don’t see why this is such a big deal.”
“I don’t think you should go.”
“Why not? Everyone seems so sure this is some master plot or something.” Like I’m important enough for someone to master-plot against me. “What if it’s just someone trying to help me out?”
Although the fire in his eyes is gone—replaced by an equally intense blank look—and he isn’t moving a muscle, his entire body is practically radiating tension. If Nola were here, she’d probably tell me that his aura is fire-engine red right now. It doesn’t take major deductive or psychic powers to realize he’s upset. And, if it wasn’t my dad we were talking about, I’d probably appreciate the concern.
“Then why all the games?” he replies. “Why not just mail you the record or leave it on your doorstep? No.” He shakes his head. “This reeks of mischief.”
“You’re being ridiculous. ‘Reeks of mischief.’ What are you, a character from Shakespeare? I’m going,” I say, daring him to argue. Which, of course, he does.
“No,” he grinds out, “you’re not.”
“You can’t stop me.” I turn to grab the door handle, but Griffin snags it first, holding it shut.
“Yes I can,” he says, sounding overly alpha male. “I will do whatever I have to do to protect you from harm.”
I want to spin around and chew him a new one. To say that it’s just his Hercules heroic gene that’s making him so protective. But I know that’s not true—not entirely anyway. Besides, I don’t like using that against him, like it’s a tool I can use to win an argument.
Instead, I say softly, “You won’t.” I lay my hand over his on the handle. “Because you would never forgive yourself if you kept me from finding out the truth about my dad.” His hand softens beneath mine, but doesn’t move. “And because you’re afraid I’d never forgive you, either.”
His hand drops away.
Before I turn the handle and slip back into Urian’s room, I say, “Thank you for trusting me.”
At eleven-thirty, I’m leaning against the courtyard wall, trying to stay in the shadows and keep an eye on the two entrances at the same time. All of the classrooms that overlook the courtyard are dark and only the faint glow of moonlight illuminates the smooth stone floor. The tiny pieces of the intricate mosaic at the center shine like those glow-in-the-dark jellyfish we learned about in freshman biology. I can’t make out the design at the moment, but I know from memory that it depicts Plato and Athena—the cofounders of the Academy—locked in a heated debate.
I can just imagine what they’re arguing about. The ideal political state. Ethics and education. Who looks better in a toga.
I stifle a snort at my own joke.
“Somehow I knew you wouldn’t wait until midnight.”
I spin around, face-to-face with the one person I never expected to see here.
“Damian?” I can’t stop blinking. Damian isn’t here. He’s in Thailand with Mom. Trekking through the Southeast Asian jungle. On their honeymoon. They’re not getting back for another two days. Oh no, maybe something happened. Maybe Mom—
“Your mother is fine,” he assures me with a knowing smile. “She is sleeping peacefully in our Nakhon Pathom hotel room.”
It still bugs me how he can read minds, but I’m more in shock over the fact that he’s here. In this courtyard. Right now.
“Then what are you doing here?” I ask. “How did you know I—”
“I sent the e-mails, Phoebe.” He places his hand on my shoulder. “I sent the note.”
That doesn’t make any sense. Why would Damian go through all this mystery and superspy subterfuge? He could have just picked up the phone—or, considering the rates to place a call from Thailand, sent a nonblocked e-mail. Besides, he is so not the type to play games.