by Eva Chase
Malcolm frowned. He appeared to give the question genuine thought. “Nothing anywhere near murderous,” he said. “For fuck’s sake. Are you sure it wasn’t some other kind of feud that had nothing to do with her? Who knows what this Banefield guy got up to. Everyone says he cracked up a little after his wife died.”
I hadn’t heard anyone say that, so I’d be willing to bet “everyone” in this case was Malcolm’s parents. Interesting. A broken mage was easier to use than a strong one. But Malcolm wasn’t showing any sign of knowing about this specific plan. Time to let it drop.
“I was just speculating,” I said with a wave of my hand. “You’re right—it could be something totally unrelated. It could even have been a natural illness after all. Still hard for her, though.” I paused and couldn’t help adding, “Maybe it’s not the best time to keep going at her the way you have been, while she’s recovering from that? She had to watch him die—I think we could cut her a break.”
Malcolm’s mouth shifted into a grimace. “She’s the one who made the rules here. She’s the one who threw our generosity in our faces. I’ve just been re-establishing the status quo.”
“It has been going on for quite a while.”
“I tried to give her a way out, and she wouldn’t take it.” He took a swig from his beer and glowered at the trees. “If she wants to survive in this society, she’s got to learn that decisions have consequences.”
I was pretty sure Rory had already figured that out. It wasn’t a lack of learning—it was that she was just as stubborn as Malcolm was and just as dedicated to her own principles.
But after his refusal, a brooding expression came over the Nightwood scion’s face, as if maybe he was thinking through what I’d said in a little more depth after all. I decided to leave it there for now.
Malcolm wasn’t any real threat to Rory, not compared to the barons and whoever else they might have roped into their scheming.
We chatted some more and one of the staff brought us lunch out on the deck, and then we whiled away a good part of the afternoon playing a magically-modified version of basketball Malcolm had invented some ten years ago. It wasn’t quite the same with just the two of us, but my brother and one of his friends ended up joining in. There was a relief in just goofing around without thinking about all the pressures looming over me.
After Malcolm and my brother’s friend left, Noah sat down on the front steps next to me with a satisfied sigh. He’d stopped getting taller a few years ago, topping out at just an inch shorter than me, but every time he came home from the fearmancer college in Paris, he seemed to have aged at least a year. He was only seventeen still, but it was getting harder to see him as a kid.
He still needed his big brother’s protection, though. I was the only thing standing between him and our aunt’s ambitions for the barony. Get rid of me and then him, and the authority would be all Aunt Ambrosia’s.
“That was fun,” he said, swiping his sweat-damp hair away from his eyes. “We should do that more often.”
“Yeah.” Guilt pinched my gut. “I guess I haven’t been able to hang out as much as we used to lately, huh?”
He elbowed me teasingly. “I know you’ve got all your important baron stuff to take care of. Just don’t get too self-important.”
I had to laugh. “It’s a period of transition,” I said. “Things should settle down once I’m finished with school and can focus just on the barony.” At least I damn well hoped they would.
“Like I said, it’s okay. I’m not some little kid who’s going to expect you to drop everything the second I’m back home.”
“You’re liking the school over there still?” I asked.
“Oh, yeah. It’s great. The fearmancers over there seem a little more… relaxed than people here. And I get to be an exotic foreign student.” He waggled his eyebrows.
“Be sure to use those powers for good and not evil,” I teased.
He gave me a mock salute and then turned his gaze toward the driveway. “I was actually going to ask you… I know the plan was that I’d start attending Blood U once you graduated, but I think I’d like to go all the way through in Paris, if that’s okay. I realize I don’t know how expensive it is or whatever…”
“Hey, we can afford it. The money’s no issue.” I studied him with an affectionate twinge. I’d hoped sending him to school overseas would help broaden his horizons even if Dad and I weren’t there as much for guidance. It’d worked—and he was hungry for more. “You get your education wherever you’re happiest, Noah. That’s what matters the most to me.”
Maybe there was a bit of envy in that twinge too. I hadn’t let myself stray very far from my territory here out of fear of what moves Aunt Ambrosia or the older barons might make if I were an ocean away for any significant length of time, but I couldn’t deny that part of me itched to see more of the world. To experience more of the people and cultures in it, outside this often suffocating cycle of struggles for domination.
That sacrifice was made worth it by the relieved smile Noah shot me. I stayed here and shouldered the responsibilities of our family name so he could have some kind of freedom.
His smile turned a little sly. “So, what’s new with the pentacle of barons? Any unexpected new power plays or big events in the works?”
Noah had always been curious about the work of the barony—more than I really preferred. He wouldn’t have been half as enthusiastic if he’d had any idea what it really involved or how much danger came with it.
“You know I can’t talk about anything that’s not already public knowledge,” I said.
“Hey, I can keep a secret! I’ve got to be ready as next in line, right?” He gave me another teasing jab of his elbow with no idea how sharply that remark hit me right through the chest. God forbid it ever came to that.
Before I had to answer, Dad appeared at the door, his brow furrowed.
“Declan,” he said. “Someone’s called for you on the home line. They wouldn’t tell me what it’s about.”
That was odd. I conducted all my business, both barony- and school-related, through my own phone. I headed in, with a sudden leap of my heart that it might somehow be Rory.
My heart shouldn’t be leaping about anything to do with Rory, even if she was the fiercest and yet the most compassionate girl I’d ever met. Even if the one intimate afternoon we’d indulged in had become my favorite memory.
I couldn’t be with her without dumping the responsibilities of the barony on Noah’s shoulders. If anyone found out she and I had slept together while I was working as an aide and she was a student, my position would come into question regardless. So that moment had to stay just a fond memory, and it was hands and heart off from here on.
Especially because the two of us weren’t the only people who remembered what had happened between us.
“Mr. Ashgrave,” a voice cooed over the line when I picked up the phone. “It’s Stella Evergrist. We met recently at my granddaughter’s country home.”
Every inch of my body tensed. By the most awful luck, Rory’s paternal grandparents had caught us leaving her country property together. They hadn’t seen anything that incriminating, but I had been holding Rory’s hand, and we had come all the way out there just the two of us… It’d been obvious they assumed something more than friendly was going on.
“Yes,” I said evenly. “I remember. What can I help you with, Mrs. Evergrist?”
“Oh, mostly I just wondered if Persephone is there. The two of you did seem quite close, and we haven’t heard from her as soon as we were hoping.”
It wasn’t difficult to figure out why. They’d tried to glom onto Rory from the first second they’d seen her, without any apparent sense of the fact that to her they were strangers—and horribly pushy ones at that. I’d heard the other barons make occasional disparaging remarks about the family that had most recently mingled with the Bloodstones. The Evergrists were known for being grasping and power-hungry with little self-moderation. Not a pleasant combi
nation.
“I’m afraid Rory and I aren’t actually in frequent contact,” I said. “Our trip to her property was a one-time occasion, something she needed help with out there. I haven’t seen her since school let out.”
Mrs. Evergrist let out a soft guffaw that told me she hadn’t bought into my lie in the slightest. Well, it’d been worth a try. “Now, now,” she said. “I understand why you’re so cautious. Got yourself set up as a teacher’s aide, they tell me. Can’t have it getting out if you’ve taken a student too far under your wing, hmmm?”
I kept my voice as emotionless as possible. “I can’t say I know what you’re talking about, Mrs. Evergrist.”
“No, of course not. Well, when you do talk to Rory again, remind her that we’re dearly looking forward to reconnecting. Oh, and there was one other thing.”
I braced myself. “Yes?”
The wheedling note came back into her voice. “My husband and I have an interest in a business venture that’s been put before the pentacle. It should come up for consideration soon… I hope, in recognition for our discretion, you’ll help nudge it along?”
Shit. There it was. I lowered my head, my jaw clenching at the blatant blackmail.
I couldn’t completely shut her down. If I could keep her thinking I was playing along until I finished the aide gig—it’d just be a few more months—the situation would be much less precarious. The consequences wouldn’t be as harsh if they made a claim after I no longer had authority over any students anyway.
“I’ll see what I can do,” I said.
As she babbled on about the details of the venture, Dad and Noah meandered down the hall past the sitting room where I was taking the call. Noah was gesturing wildly with the story he was telling, and Dad was chuckling, glowing with fatherly joy. My stomach knotted.
If I was under threat, then they were too, just as much. I had to play this right, or I could be screwing over my entire family.
Chapter Four
Rory
“The bitch of Bloodstone returns,” Victory Blighthaven said in an undertone the moment I walked into the dorm. She was standing by the dining table with her besties, Cressida and Sinclair. The queen bee of Villain Academy looked as pretty and polished as ever, her auburn hair falling in sculpted waves and her silk summer dress perfectly tailored to her hourglass figure, but her personality clearly hadn’t gotten any less ugly.
I’d spent most of the last few months ignoring Victory’s jabs. Her dislike seemed incredibly petty, based mainly on the fact that the administration had given me the corner bedroom with a view that she’d once claimed—and that she adored Malcolm Nightwood and I very openly did not. I’d had bigger things to worry about, like mages who’d outright kill to screw with me. But as I tugged the strap of my purse higher on my shoulder, I found I’d completely run out of fucks when it came to keeping the peace.
The rulers of the fearmancer world were out to destroy me. If Victory thought I was going to be scared of her, she could forget it.
“Takes one to know one,” I said breezily, and headed across the room without waiting for her reaction. From the corner of my eye, I saw her expression darken.
“You know,” she said with forced sweetness, “it’s just you, the three of us, and your good friend Imogen here for the summer. Keep that in mind before you start picking fights.”
Sinclair, who’d been especially pissed off at me ever since Jude had declared his affection for me, let out a sharp snicker. Cressida tossed the tail of her ever-present French braid over her shoulder.
Oh, wonderful. Imogen and I had been becoming good friends until Victory had manipulated her into betraying me. Since then, I’d held her at a wary distance. None of the other girls in our dorm had ever stood up for me against Victory and her crew, but they’d at least been a small moderating influence. I had to assume there were things Victory wouldn’t have openly said or done in front of them. Now I didn’t even have that buffer.
“Thanks for the heads up,” I said. As I reached my bedroom, my gaze slid down the line of doors to the one that had been Shelby’s. A lump of guilt rose in my throat.
She might have been the dorm’s one Nary student, but Shelby had been the only person at Blood U I could still call a real friend, even if I hadn’t been able to talk to her about the magical side of my existence. The Naries were brought into the university so the mage students got practice at being careful with their magical practice in regular society—and to give them easy targets for stirring up fear. But Shelby had loved it here despite the bullying she’d faced. She’d keep going to classes even when she was falling over with a fever. The opportunities she’d get with her musical career after finishing the program mattered that much to her.
And with one stupid trick, Jude had stolen the future she’d dreamed of away from her. If I hadn’t been distracted by Malcolm’s harassment, maybe I could have helped her, stopped her injury from happening…
So many things to look forward to being back on campus. I restrained a grimace and went into my room, shutting the door firmly behind me. Who knew how many new dangers might be lurking around me this term?
Deborah crept out from where she’d been hiding beneath my hair at the back of my neck. I let her run down my arm to hop onto the bedspread. So lovely to be back, she said in a tone dry as dust.
“No kidding,” I murmured.
Nothing in my room appeared to have changed during the last two weeks. The cleaning staff must have come through, their efforts leaving a faint lemony scent in the air. Between the double bed, the wardrobe, and the desk and chair set by the window, the space was pretty full. Beyond the window stretched the north end of campus, across the green and the wilder fields to the glinting water of the lake.
I tugged the window open to let in the warm breeze and sat on the edge of the bed. Deborah set her front paws on my leg.
What’s the plan now?
“I have to find out what this summer project is about and work around that,” I said. “There’s an assembly in about half an hour that’s supposed to explain it. Then I’ve got to figure out some way to uncover what Professor Banefield wanted to tell me.”
You be careful, Lorelei. I don’t trust a single person in this place. They’ve shown just how vicious they’re willing to be. I’ll keep watch around your dorm as well as I can—and you let me know if there are any other ways I can help.
“Thank you.” I stroked a finger over her fur.
I didn’t feel entirely safe even in my bedroom, knowing Victory and company were hanging around on the other side of the door. I flopped down on the bed to relax for a few minutes, but then restlessness had me back on my feet. A little meander around outside would give me some idea who’d come back for the summer session, anyway.
I cast my protective wards before I even opened the door, not wanting to give Victory any chance to observe my strategies. Magic tickled up from behind my collarbone, gathered there from my walk through the forest after the chauffeur had dropped me off in town and from the few students I’d encountered on my way to the dorm building who gave off jolts of fear just at the sight of the newest scion. I still didn’t exactly like the idea that my mere presence could inspire terror, but it did come in handy for building up my power.
Victory’s trio kept murmuring and giggling amongst themselves when I came out. They weren’t quite finished with me, though. I caught the extra shine on the floor ahead of me a split-second before my shoe came down on the conjured slickness. I stiffened my leg just in time that I only wobbled a little. Without a backward glance, I dodged the rest of the spot meant to toss me on my ass and strode out.
Nice try, sorry to disappoint.
The area of trimmed grass between the university’s three main buildings—Killbrook Hall, which held the junior residences and the staff quarters; Ashgrave Hall, home to the senior dorms and the library; and Nightwood Tower, with all the classrooms—was definitely emptier than usual. Normally during class hours, there m
ight have been dozens of students and teachers ambling across it and more in view farther afield.
But the junior fearmancers didn’t take part in the summer session at all, and I’d heard only about half of the seniors attended. A handful were already setting off toward the Stormhurst Building closer to the lake, where the assembly was being held, and a few small clusters stood around the fringes of the green catching up after their time away. I didn’t see anyone I knew all that well. No one I could be sure wasn’t a threat, but no one who definitely was either.
Too bad it couldn’t have stayed that way. I was just starting toward the Stormhurst Building at a leisurely pace when an all-too-familiar voice rang out.
“Couldn’t wait to leap back into the fray, huh, Glinda?”
Malcolm Nightwood had just come around Killbrook Hall, his posture confident, his tone cocky. As often before, I was struck by the unfairness that a guy who could be such an asshole was so stunning to look at. His golden-brown hair with its hint of curl framed his face perfectly, his features such a perfect mix of sly and sweet that I’d thought of him as a divine devil when I’d first seen him.
The conversations around the green quieted at his arrival. The scions ruled this school, and Malcolm had set himself up as king of the scions.
I tensed as he approached, focusing twice as much magic on my mental shields. Malcolm’s primary strength was Persuasion, and he’d gotten a lot of mileage out of inflicting that talent on me. I’d been getting better at shutting him out of my head, though.
How complicit in the barons’ plans was he? It’d seemed like he and his dad were pretty tight.
“I was under the impression participating in the summer project was a matter of honor,” I said with forced calm.
“Not much honor in it if you’ve got no hope of winning,” Malcolm replied.
“I wouldn’t count me out yet. I led my league to a win, didn’t I?”
He made a scoffing sound, but it had been my approach that had allowed the Insight league to come out on top in last term’s competition. Each student joined a league when they discovered or decided on their main area of magic, and the professors assigned credit throughout each full term based on spells cast in that area. The league with the most credit at the end of the term got to have the other three leagues cook and serve them an epic feast. Insight, not being a particularly flashy sort of magic, rarely won.