Page 113 of Hidden

Yet, he was Damen’s mentor. So maybe?

“Please don’t tell him?” My order was almost a question, and I glanced at Mr. Weaver, apologetic. “That is, if he doesn’t know already.”

“How can others know, but not him?” He glared at me. From his annoyed reaction, my words seemed to count as an order. If Mr. Weaver hadn’t already been dead, I’d be worried he might have a heart attack. “Besides your quintet, he’s thefirst personwho should know!”

But, why?

“I’m guessing that’s why you and Bryce are married.” Ms. Protean touched her chin. “It’s a diversion. Is it meant to throw people off the scent?”

“They’re married?” Mr. Weaver’s mouth dropped open, he sounded scandalized.

My nervousness grew as my stomach clenched. “But how did you—”

“I have eyes”—Ms. Protean rolled said eyes—“and a nose. Mr. Montrone isn’t very subtle. And there was Mr. Abernathy—the both of them—stalking you in the library? You yourself mentioned being friends with Mr. Ducharme, and I’ve smelled Mr. Kohler on your clothing. Besides, I’m sure it’s been explained higher ranking officials would be drawn to you. You seem to have met all three of yours: Bryce, Brayden, and Mr. Renouf.”

At my blank look, she pursed her lips. “Xavier.”

“It took a while after school started for them to notice me,” I pointed out. “I’ve been in Bryce’s class from the beginning. Xavier is in my French class.” My thoughts were scrambling to find purchase and I wrung my hands in my lap. “Why do you call everyone else ‘Mister,’ and Bryce and Brayden by their names?”

“That’s understandable. Unlike within a quintet, sometimes it takes an officer to make the connection. A bond between the officers and their Xing is based on submission and respect. As for your question, I take liberties with the Dubois family because I am your mother’s godmother.”

She had known my mother?

“Also, it’s a sign of respect to address the Xing, in particular, formally. Most people will.” She gazed at me, her golden eyes twinkling in mischief. “Should I call you Mrs. Dubois or would you still prefer Miss Brosnan?”

“Don’t act nonchalant about this!” Mr. Weaver sputtered. “Bailey was the Xing, and he is dead. Besides,I’venever felt any connection to her. And Gregory has been around her, too! How comewedidn’t notice?”

I blinked at Ms. Protean, trying to understand. This new information was coming at me so fast. “Why would Mr. Weaver and Dr. Stephens know?”

“Officers know,” she explained, caution lacing her voice. When I didn’t respond, she frowned. “You really don’t know? Officers exist ineverygeneration, while, depending on when they die, the Xing is reborn every two or three generations. Every generation is approximately thirty years. My parents’ generation had the last Xing quintet. Officers in the off-generations are called proxies. Right now, you have two sets of proxies. We keep things running in between cycles, so when you’re reborn you have magical guardians to look after you while your new officers are trained.”

At my confused look, she sighed, waving between herself and Mr. Weaver. “Caleb and I are in the same quintet. We’re the third level—Tongjun proxies.”

I eyed Mr. Weaver, who was still glaring around the room.Hewas one of my magical guardians? What a nightmare.

“Youwere supposed to teach me?” It kind of served him right—remarking on my lack of education. This was his failure. Besides, what in the world did he specialize in? Evil curses, like Xavier?

I could see it.

“Don’t look so disgusted.” Mr. Weaver crossed his arms. “I feel quite the same about you.”

“Gregory is in the Er Bashou of my generation,” Ms. Protean said. “He’d have been your magical guardian. And Caleb…” Her attention drifted toward the ghost. “Caleb’s first reaction to a connection is aggression. He doesn’t open up easily, he’s an empath. But if he wasn’t intrigued, he wouldn’t talk to you. Once he warms up to someone, he’s fine. Think of him as a disgusting, greasy teddy bear. It’s a vile creature, and you hate it. But at the same time, it’s kind of adorable and you can’t stay away.”

“That is a lie!” Mr. Weaver protested, waving his hand in my direction. “She can’t behim. She doesn’t even know how to cook! I can’t respect a person like that.”

He had been rather horrible to me all this time. But according to Ms. Protean, that meant we were on the same wavelength and he actually liked me. Somehow. Yet knowing this didn’t make him any more endearing.

“If this is true, do you really think Dr. Stephens doesn’t know?” I asked. “I’ve been around him multiple times. He set me up with Damen in the first place.”

Ms. Protean frowned, exchanging a glance with Mr. Weaver. And this time, the ghost dropped his angry expression for one of contemplation.

“It’s difficult to say,” Mr. Weaver said finally, stroking his scratchy-looking chin.

“If he’s not involved in your plan, it’s safe to assume that he doesn’t know,” Ms. Protean mused, pressing her project flat on the desk. She was frowning down at it, wariness in her voice. “And if he hasn’t realized it right away, it means he’s brushed you off and is ignoring any feelings he might have. He’s terrible at self-reflection. It’ll take ages for him to put the pieces together.”

Wow. Dr. Stephens didn’t sound very responsible.

“Don’t worry about Gregory.” Ms. Protean glanced back up, confidence returning to her voice. “He’s brilliant, but odd.”