“The best way to get over him is to force yourself to stop having feelings for him,” Grey said, glancing at Daphne Elizabeth.
Daphne Elizabeth rolled her eyes and tucked into her waffle. “Right. Because it’s just that easy.”
“Maybe it’s not easy, but it is that simple,” Grey said calmly, sipping his coffee.
“Seriously?” Daphne Elizabeth laughed. “You can’t just force yourself to stop having feelings for someone.”
“Au contraire,” Jaya put in. “I agree with Grey.” She tossed him a brilliant smile, which he decidedly did not return. To Daphne Elizabeth, Jaya continued. “The heart must be ruled by the head. It makes for more successful unions and outcomes.” This was why she’d taken her parents’ hints about Kiran Hegde, naturally.
Grey turned those bright blue, stormy eyes on her, appraising. Jaya found herself noticing the slight shadow of stubble on his square jaw. “Right. It’s not easy. But yes. It is a matter of willpower.”
Daphne Elizabeth shook her head. “The heart doesn’t work like that,” she countered. “It’s no one’s servant. And sometimes… sometimes the person you love, as bad an idea as he might be, is the only one in the world who really, truly sees you.”
“Sometimes the heart doesn’t have the luxury of doing whatever it wants,” Grey said, almost angrily. Jaya wondered what that was about. “Sometimes there are outside mandates on what the heart can or cannot do.”
Much as she despised Grey Emerson and all he stood for, Jaya understood that. She had known from when she was very young that there were acceptable suitors and unacceptable ones. Kiran fell into the former category, and Grey, for instance, fell into the latter.
Daphne Elizabeth sighed loudly and stuffed her mouth with a waffle. Once she was done chewing, she said, “Fine. Let’s just agree to disagree, then.”
Grey blinked and his shoulders relaxed. “Right,” he said. “Let’s.”
Leo, Rahul, and Daphne Elizabeth spent the rest of breakfast talking about which teachers Jaya would love and which ones she should watch out for. Grey just sat quietly and drank his coffee. Jaya found herself laughing along to his friends’ jokes and asking questions, warming to them. She realized with a prickle of guilt that at the end of all this, when they realized what she’d done to Grey, they’d probably hate her forever. But there was no way to avoid that.
Just as Rahul finished telling them about a numerical scale he’d devised over the summer to measure the likelihood of any teacher revoking privileges (St. Rosetta’s didn’t do detention, which was much too plebeian; rather, the teachers simply revoked off-campus and on-campus privileges), a woman in a gray chignon appeared at the head of the dining hall and rang a small, insistent silver bell.
“Time for class,” Daphne Elizabeth said, sighing. “I have English… with Alaric and Caterina. I’ll get to see them sitting together and writhing all over each other the rest of the semester. Yay, me.”
“I’m sorry,” Jaya said, infusing as much warmth into the sentence as she could. “Will I see you back here for lunch?”
“Yep,” Daphne Elizabeth responded as they all stood with their plates and mugs. She was putting on a brave face, but Jaya could see the bleakness in her eyes.
“And we are off to the magical land of computer science,” Leo said, motioning to himself and Rahul. “Au revoir.”
Rahul paused, staring down at his feet. One of his shoelaces was untied, but he didn’t seem to notice. “Wait a minute. Daphne Elizabeth?”
She looked back at him.
“You have Mr. Thomas for English, don’t you?”
“Yeah?”
Rahul pointed a finger upward and spoke quickly, like he was in the middle of a great breakthrough. “Mr. Thomas assigns seating for people who’re disruptive the first week of class. If you can make Alaric and Caterina talk to each other, especially loudly, you won’t have to worry about them sitting together the rest of the semester.”
Daphne Elizabeth frowned. “How do you know this?”
“I had him last year,” Rahul explained. “And with careful attention to dining hall gossip, I’ve noticed the pattern every year. Last year it was Daryl and Misha who were separated, the year before that it was Lilah and Anna, and the year before that it was George and Paithoon. I remember them talking about it.”
Daphne Elizabeth shook her head. “Wow, I always underestimate how useful a perfect memory can be. Thanks, buddy. But I’m not sure how to get them to talk noisily enough so Mr. Thomas hears them.”
“Get them to argue,” Rahul said almost immediately. “Caterina is powerfully strident when she’s angry about something. And one thing Caterina and Alaric tend to argue about is social events. Just this morning, I passed them on the stairwell arguing about the color of Alaric’s cummerbund for the winter formal. Caterina wanted him to wear a deep green, to match her dress, but he didn’t seem to want to talk about it at all. So if you—”
“Bring up the winter formal at all, they’re probably going to throw down!” Daphne Elizabeth said. “You know, I think I can handle that.” She grinned suddenly, her perfectly straight white teeth on display. “Thanks, Rahul. You’re like an expert on Caterina, and um, I appreciate it.”
He nodded, turned rapidly on his heel, and left. Laughing quietly, Leo followed.
Jaya looked at Grey, her eyebrows raised, as they both began to amble toward the exit too. “Wow. That was really impressive.”
The corner of Grey’s mouth lifted a little. He may have been attempting to smile. “Rahul doesn’t speak much, but when he does, it’s like he’s channeling Sherlock Holmes. Or Einstein.”
Jaya studied his expression. “You have really great friends,” she said. “And you know what they say—you can tell a lot about a person by the friends they keep.”
Abruptly, his expression shuttered again. “Those aren’t my friends,” he said, turning away. “Come on, we’re going to be late.” And he loped off, leaving her two steps behind.
Jaya
“Correct archery technique is something you can only learn with practice,” Ms. Bayer said from the front of the class. “And from listening in lecture. Therefore, I expect you to give me your undivided attention whenever you’re in class. I don’t care if you’re sick, if you’re missing home, or if you went against your better instincts and ate the deviled eggs from the dining hall. If you thought this was going to be an easy elective, I am sorry you were misinformed.”
An ex–Olympic gold medalist, Ms. Bayer was an intimidating woman. Though she was slender and on the shorter side, you could tell she had shoulder and arm muscles that could snap your neck in half if you just looked at her wrong. According to her, her genetic makeup was “fifty percent Nigerian, fifty percent Iranian, and one hundred percent all-American badass. Yes, I’m aware that adds up to two hundred percent and no, that’s not a mistake. I don’t make mistakes. Do not test me.” Jaya didn’t think anyone had any intention to.
Grey was sitting beside her at the double desk, scribbling in his notebook. Jaya cleared her throat as Ms. Bayer turned to the whiteboard to write something. “That was quite intense,” she said, laughing quietly.
Grey looked up from his notebook. “Yes. But she really knows what she’s talking about.” He went back to scribbling again.
Hmm. With his cryptic nature, he might be a tougher nut to crack than she’d originally given him credit for. Jaya playfully leaned in. “So, what are you doing? Writing in your diary?”
Grey pulled the book closer to his body. “Nothing.”
Jaya sat back up in her seat, watching him from the corner of her eye thoughtfully. What secrets was Lord Northcliffe guarding so closely?
Grey
There was no way it was a coincidence that Jaya Rao was in every one of his classes. And yet, when she asked to sit beside him in every class, instead of immediately saying no and distancing himself, he’d said yes every single time. Why? Because he was an idiot. There was something about her wavy bl
ack hair, her full mouth that tipped so easily into a smile. The way she possessed a self-assured grace as she moved through the world, relaxed in the knowledge that she owned all she saw and that which she didn’t own yet, she would eventually.
The girl was trouble; he could sense it. Being alone and having to watch out for himself all these years had attuned Grey’s senses. He knew when someone was blowing smoke up his ass. And Jaya Rao definitely was. But about what? Either she was an incredible actress or she had no idea what the rose pendant represented. So what, exactly, was she doing here? And why was she so interested in him?
Grey had made a list in his notebook about all the things he knew about Jaya Rao and the things he suspected about Jaya Rao in an attempt to arrive at a logical conclusion.
Things he knew:
She and her sister had come here senior and sophomore year respectively, which probably meant they were running from something.
She was being overly flirty, strangely dismissive of the generations-long Emerson/Rao feud.
She was wearing the ruby pendant that he was pretty sure was the ruby pendant.
She was somehow in all his classes.
She really sucked at archery.
Things he suspected:
Jaya Rao was a sadistic mastermind, and she’d come here to torture him with the ruby pendant, eager to make him watch as each ruby fell.
Sure, it seemed far-fetched. But it fit why she was being so friendly. As for what she was running from? That he didn’t know. Unless… unless she was running to something. Specifically, him, to show him the pendant. But was that too bizarre, even for him?
They were walking across the impeccably manicured green to their last class of the day, Russian Literature. The sun hung lower in the sky, a bright, blazing ball that hurt his eyes.
They passed Alaric Konig walking with his henchmen, Lachlan and Martin, as usual, and all three glared at Grey. He glared back, unflinching, unblinking, until they broke eye contact.
“You haven’t told me yet why you’re here,” Grey said, once he was past their group.
Jaya adjusted her tie and frowned at him as if she were confused about something, but the laugh she produced was completely at ease. She was used to being a media darling back home, he supposed. “You know why,” she answered, batting at him with a small hand. “My parents wanted us to get the best education—”
“Yeah, I know that’s the party line. But there are a million other schools they could’ve sent you to. And if a boarding school was what they were after, the UK does those way better than the US.” He paused, listening to their shoes rustle in the grass. He was saying a lot, maybe more than he should, certainly more than he usually did. But he wanted answers. “St. Rosetta’s has… a reputation. The administration has done a good job covering it up, but it’s still out there. If you transfer in in the middle of the year or in the middle of your high school career, say… you’re usually running from something.”
She turned to look at him, her face defiant. “Is that why you’re here? Are you hiding something?”
Grey looked away. “I didn’t say that was true of all the students here.”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“You didn’t answer mine.”
They’d stopped walking and were now glaring at each other. Every trace of humor and flirtation was gone from her demeanor, and Grey knew he’d hit a nerve.
“Jaya!”
They both jumped at the female voice. A short, younger student was running toward them, waving, her smile huge and carefree. Even though the way they carried themselves was completely different, Grey saw the resemblance in the younger girl’s features as she got closer.
“Isha,” Jaya said. Grey saw the look she was darting him; she was clearly uncomfortable. “Shouldn’t you be going to class?”
“Sophomores have study hall this period,” Isha explained. “Mrs. Price told us we could go to the library today since it’s the first day and all. That’s where I’m headed.” She looked at Grey and beamed. “Hi,” she said, sticking out her hand. “I’m Jaya’s sister, Isha.”
He took her hand. “Grey Emerson.”
The girl’s—Isha’s—smile slipped for a second. Grey watched with increasing perplexity as she rallied an unconvincing facsimile of it back onto her face. “In-indeed. Nice to meet you.”
Grey dropped her hand. Something told him there was more behind her reaction to him than just the Emerson/Rao feud. But years of self-imposed isolation made it easy for him to keep his true feelings off his face, which remained a blandly neutral mask.
“You should go to class,” Jaya said quietly.
“Okay,” Isha said, glancing at Grey. That strange fake smile was completely gone now. Another benefit of watching people but hardly ever interacting with them: Grey could read their energies pretty easily. Isha was a ball of barely suppressed confusion and anxiety, whereas Jaya seemed… protective. And maybe a little defensive. “Bye.” Isha walked off quickly, missing the previous bounce in her step.
Grey turned to Jaya. The late-afternoon sun glimmered in her black hair like gold dust. “What’s going on?” he asked her as she gave him that confused look again before breaking eye contact, like her attention was gripped by a group of students in the distance. But if he had to guess, he’d say she couldn’t meet his eye. If she were anyone else, he wouldn’t care. He’d chalk it up to humans being humans. But Jaya was a Rao, which meant she was potentially… dangerous.
After a moment, meeting his eye again, Jaya said, “How do you feel about ditching class on the first day?”
Grey hesitated. “Why can’t you just tell me here?”
A small smile played at the corner of Jaya’s lips. “Are you afraid I might attempt to assassinate you, Lord Northcliffe?”
Something about the way she said it didn’t sound entirely like a joke. Grey crossed his arms and waited. Jaya shook her head. “It’s… a bit of a story,” she said, looking off into the distance. Turning back to him, she said, “Please. I’d feel better in private.”
On the one hand, he trusted Jaya Rao about as far as he could throw her (which actually might be pretty far, considering their size differential). On the other, he really wanted to know what this Rao heiress had to say. “Fine. Follow me.”
Jaya
What was he playing at? Why was he asking her why she was here? The first and most obvious reason: he was a sadistic, evil jerk, and he wanted to see her writhe in pain. But… that didn’t really fit with what she was seeing on his face. His expression was curious but guarded—not eager, not gloating. Which was throwing her a bit.
Obviously she wasn’t going to tell him she knew about his involvement. Whatever his angle was, she’d unearth it eventually.
A couple of silent miles away from the school now, they walked up a forested path together. Through spaces between the aspens and birches and blue spruces they went, Jaya inhaling the scent of pine and thin mountain air. She glanced at Grey more often than she would’ve liked, but it was impossible—frustratingly so—to gauge what he was thinking. His face, as always, remained as impassive as stone.
“This is beautiful,” she panted, looking around them at the secluded, hidden trail winding ever upward. “I’m surprised there isn’t anyone else here.”
“Not many people know about this path,” Grey said shortly. He was surprisingly nimble as he clambered over small stones and fallen logs in their path, his big feet steady, as if he’d had years of experience. Occasionally he’d stop and wait as Jaya labored to catch up with him, but he never offered her a chivalrous hand. She didn’t know whether to feel relieved or irritated.
“How did you find it?” she persisted. He was a man of so few words, he might as well be an empty book. She needed something to grab on to if she was to make headway with her plan.
“I like to wander,” he said simply, offering no further explanation.
Which was just as well, because the path then took on a much stee
per incline, and Jaya realized they were climbing up a small mountain. Her lungs, not yet acclimated to the altitude, could only expend enough air to keep her alive and upright.
Once they were finished climbing, Jaya took in the view around her, genuinely appreciative. Grey had brought them to a vantage point halfway up the mountaintop. Although she was wheezing from the climb, even the black spots dancing in front of her eyes couldn’t mar the majesty of the panorama. The town of St. Rosetta lay under them like a peacefully sleeping child.
“Incredible,” Jaya whispered, holding on to her tie as the wind tugged insistently at it.
“Mount Sama. It’s been my favorite place since I was about twelve,” Grey said, staring straight ahead at the horizon. “There’s a quietness here you can’t get anywhere else.”
Jaya studied his profile—the dark hair that, though it had been combed neatly at the beginning of the day, was now hanging in his eyes; the strong jaw dotted with black stubble; the straight royal nose. Grey Emerson was, she reluctantly conceded, quite handsome and rather intelligent. But he was strangely antisocial, too. Why did someone who’d so heartlessly thrown Isha to the wolves also need quiet meditativeness on a mountain? Why did he isolate himself from people so much? She’d expected Grey Emerson to be overtly cocky, arrogant, vicious. She had to play archaeologist, to delicately chip away at the dust and debris and stony exterior until she got to the truth underneath.
He turned to her. “So,” Grey said, his remote blue eyes giving nothing away. His square, straight jaw was hard.
“So.” Jaya took a deep breath of the cool air. “Something happened, back home.” She let a shadow of the vulnerability she really felt show, the morsel of truth. But no more than that; if he realized she knew about his involvement, he’d never let her get close to him. “With Isha. Isha’s our maverick, I suppose.” She smiled a little, but her eyes remained watchful. Would he smirk? Give away that he knew exactly what she was talking about? But he just continued to watch her, expressionless. “She’s always been one to dance to her own songs. Isha thinks our traditions are silly.”
Of Curses and Kisses Page 8
