"You must work very hard, little bird," Blaze says, smiling at me. "And even then, it will take time to master."

"I will," I say, nodding again. "I'll work very hard!"

"Tonight, then," he says, bobbing his head. "Here, after your Chemistry class. We will begin."

I express my thanks eagerly as I get to my feet, holding out a hand to shake Blaze's, but to my surprise he holds out his arms and wraps me in a warm hug. I laugh and return the gesture. He steps away after a moment, heading towards another door in the room, as Faiza comes to my side.

"He's cool, isn't he?" she says, looking after him, fond.

"Did he teach you?" I ask, curious.

"He still does," she says with a sigh, turning to smile at me. "You never really finish learning - not quite. Plus, obviously, he can still kick my ass as easy as breathing."

I laugh, shaking my head, hardly able to believe it. "All right, come on," Faiza says, looping her arm in mind and tugging me towards the door to the corridor. "Time for part two." "Part two?" I ask, curious because...well, honestly, because I thought that was it.

"Yup," she says, giving me a devious grin. "Evenings are for Blaze - mornings on days that you have Chemistry? Those you spend with me."

My eyes go wide because...I mean, I assumed Faiza was going to be teaching me the martial arts alongside Blaze. What else could she actually be assigned to teach me?

As we walk swiftly through the halls at the base of the castle, Faiza peppers me with questions, asking about my hobbies as a kid and what sort of things I'm good at. I tell her about my years of ballet, and etiquette classes, and how much I'm looking forward to switching that all up by becoming an expert marksman.

"All of that is good," Faiza says, pulling a key out of her pocket when we reach a rough, dark wooden door. She deftly twists the key in the lock and pushes the door open, revealing a comfortable office with a bunch of boxes inside, as-yet unpacked. "But time to get down to the really important stuff."

"Important stuff?" I ask, stepping in and sitting in a chair that she waves me to as she presses the door shut behind her.

"Yup," Faiza says, tossing herself into the armchair across from me and lounging in it with one leg over an arm, studying me from head to toe with deliberate interest as I sit across from her. "The real question is...how good are you at seducing men?"

For what feels like the thousandth time that day, my mouth falls open.

And Faiza bursts out laughing.

My throat clicks as I try to find words, just staring at her, and Faiza - still laughing - smiles so gleefully at me that her eyes crinkle into little half-moons.

"Oh man, Ariel," she says, shaking her head at me. "You are too cute - this is going to be way too easy."

"Y-you know who I am!?" I gasp, staring at her.

"Of course I do!" she says, still laughing and shaking her head at me. "If Neumann hadn't told me who you were before I got here, I'd have figured it out in an instant. You hang around Rafe Sinclair, you look identical to your mother, and you make absolutely no effort to move like a boy. Honestly, Ariel, it's a miracle you were able to fool anyone, let alone a whole school."

I blush terribly, looking down into my lap, and she clicks her tongue.

"Aw, I'm sorry," she says, and I look up when I realize that her tone is genuine. "I mean, I didn't mean to make you feel bad. You have actually done amazing here - it's just been very easy on you that apparently all the Alphas in this school are idiots who can't put two and two together."

"Not all of them," I say, my shoulders straightening as I get defensive.

"Oh yeah?" she says, the corner of her mouth quirking. "And which ones of them are clever?"

"All of my boys, as you call them," I say, leaning towards her, my eyes narrowing a bit. "Are clever."

"And which ones are...yours, Ariel?" she asks, tilting her head, her face at once gleeful and daring.

I sit up straight, realizing what she's asking. Not knowing how much to say.

"You should trust me," Faiza says, giving a half shrug. "This all goes a lot easier if there aren't any secrets between us."

"Well, that's fairly biased logic," I say, leaning back in my chair, studying her. "All you do is produce a piece of paper with my favorite professor's signature on it, show me a fancy bit of hand-to-hand, and then suddenly I spill all my secrets?"

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