Page 37

For a moment, he looked like he was considering my statement, but then he brushed it aside. “It was a fluke of magic, a one time thing.”

“I was born during that fluke,” I pointed out. “And so was Jace.”

“Irrelevant.”

“Irrelevant?” I picked up the book and showed him his own family tree. “There has to be something to this.”

“Return to reading. Silently,” he added, his words frosty.

“Don’t you ever question things?” I demanded. “Don’t you ever try to figure out why things are the way they are?”

“That there is your problem,” he told me. “Questioning things.” He sneered. “Sticking your nose in things that aren’t your concern. Digging around in other people’s business.”

Someone was still sour that I’d tried to do him a gigantic favor by telling him about the Archangel Trials.

“It’s exactly that sort of wayward behavior, Leda Pandora, that landed you in this classroom to begin with. That is the reason Nyx insisted you take remedial angel studies.”

“On the other hand, it was because of my meddling and digging that I moved up the Legion’s ranks so fast and became an angel,” I retorted. “So there is merit in my methods.”

“There is no merit in your…madness.” He bit out the last word. “You are the child of two deities. You would have become an angel nonetheless, no matter how stupidly you acted. Because it’s in your magic. In your blood.” He shoved the book back at me. “But now that you’re here, now that you’re an angel, it’s your duty to learn how to behave in a manner befitting of your station. And it’s my heavy burden to ensure that you do.”

With that said, he reached behind his desk. For a moment, I thought he might be reaching for a weapon, but instead he pulled out a thick bundle of papers.

“What is that?” I asked.

“A test to see how well you’ve been paying attention today,” he said with savage delight.

Awesome.

“Sit down.”

I returned to my desk and sat down. Colonel Fireswift set the test booklet on the desktop. It was as thick as a dictionary.

“You may begin.”

Grumbling under my breath, I set out to answer the first question, a word problem. It was a complex, convoluted situation of angel dominance that I had to suss out. I quickly skimmed through the test. The next five pages were dedicated to several almost-identical questions. I had to determine the pecking order of angels in (slightly) varying scenarios. Oh, joy.

Some time later, a quick glance at the clock—the only wall ornament in the entire room—told me that I’d been working through the test for over an hour, and I’d hardly made any progress. It didn’t seem to end. The booklet was novel-length. I might very well be sitting here all night.

It seemed Colonel Fireswift had found a way to punish me that hurt more than being set on fire.