Royals of Villain Academy 3: Sinister Wizardry

by Eva Chase

  She was still going to be at least a little horrified, but I couldn’t think of any better way to mitigate the damage. Hopefully I’d be around when she came back to the dorm so I could offer moral support too.

  It was a good thing her cello pretty much always left the dorm when she did. Lord only knew what the other girls would have done to that if they could have gotten their hands on it.

  I wasn’t quite done, though. I’d made a promise to myself that I wasn’t just going to take anything Victory threw at me… and attacking Shelby was an attack on me, no doubt about it. My queasiness came back as I moved to my nemesis’s bedroom door.

  How much retaliation would it take before she decided she was better off leaving me and the people I cared about alone? How far was I going to have to go, lashing back at her?

  Always an equal effect. I wasn’t going to hit her with anything she hadn’t already hit me with. These were just… natural consequences.

  She’d sealed her room more securely than when I’d done the trick with the cat urine, but within fifteen minutes, I was inside. I opened the doors to her wardrobe, looking at the row of hanging silk and linen, and folded my arms over my chest.

  “All right,” I said to myself, shoving aside my revulsion at the ravaging ahead. “Let’s do this.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Declan

  The library in the Fortress of the Pentacle was open to all scions once we reached a certain age, but I was pretty sure I was the only one of the current generation who’d set foot in here. I hadn’t encountered even the other barons all that often in the dim room that smelled of stale ink and dust, although some spell kept any particles from accumulating.

  To tell the truth, I winced a little to think of how much time I’d spent in the dreary space. More than once, though, the historical precedent of some past ruling had given me the authority I needed to overturn one of my aunt Ambrosia’s schemes for retaining or regaining power, so that time had been worth it.

  The library contained the official documents on fearmancer law, records of every case handled by the blacksuits from inception to outcome, and the minutes from every meeting of the pentacle. Those minutes were somewhat edited—I’d find no proof of the treason the other barons had hinted at toward Rory during recent meetings—but there was still a chance I’d come across something useful.

  These “reapers” her mentor had mentioned had apparently been working alongside the barons. They might have been a more legitimate presence in the past, a group that was openly talked about. If there was any mention of them that would help me figure out who they were—and Rory figure out how to protect herself from them—I meant to find it. It was one of the few things I could do for her without jeopardizing my family.

  I leaned back against the shelves where I’d hunkered down on the floor and flipped another page in the thick volume open on my lap. The stuffy air always made me sleepy, but I kept my focus on the task at hand. It really was too bad we still insisted on keeping all our records physically instead of digitizing them. Imagine if I could simply do a search for “reapers” and have the results in seconds. But no, for this we were stuck in the dark ages, maybe specifically so that anyone searching for inside info on the barons would have to work to dig it up.

  I didn’t remember coming across the term “reapers” in my previous readings. I hadn’t found any mention of it so far today. With a sigh, I turned the page and kept skimming. At least I’d gotten good at scanning for the material I was looking for quickly.

  The door squeaked open. I looked up from the book, and my back stiffened against the shelves.

  Baron Nightwood stepped into the room with an air of subtle disdain, as if he couldn’t see why anyone would bother with the records in here. He came to a stop a couple of feet in front of me and peered down. I debated between standing up so I could look him straight in the eye and staying put as if I didn’t feel the need.

  Doing this research wouldn’t jeopardize my family, no… as long as none of the other barons realized exactly what I was searching for in here and on whose behalf.

  “Ashgrave,” Nightwood said smoothly, his voice just a touch deeper and more acerbic than Malcolm’s. “Hard at work as always, I see. What problem has you holed up in here for hours on end now?”

  I opted to stay sitting. Easier than trying to pull off a nonchalant leap to my feet. “I wanted to double-check some of the past rulings regarding young barons without regents,” I said, keeping my tone relaxed. “Considering we are going to have to start integrating the Bloodstone scion into the pentacle before too long.”

  Nightwood hummed with faint approval. “If you find anything interesting, do share it. Although I think we’re on our way to having her well in hand.”

  Were they? Not through any strategies they’d discussed while I was around. I dropped my gaze to the book as if I wasn’t all that invested in his answer. “I’m glad to hear that. I didn’t realize we had any current plans in the works.”

  The other baron’s hum was more on the dismissive side this time. “Not every action needs to be a group activity. You haven’t missed out on any official policy-making, I promise. This summer session should give us a final measure of her, I think. We’ll just have to see whether the outcome shakes her or steadies her, and there are ways we can handle either eventuality.”

  That sounded ominously vague. “If there are any other ways you’d like me to be involved at the university…”

  “No, I think at the moment we’re best off giving her plenty of free rein with which to hang herself.” The corner of his lips twitched upward.

  I could only return the smile tightly. “I suppose I’ll be waiting to see that outcome too, then.”

  “I wouldn’t waste too much time on the fine details,” Nightwood said. “You have your own studies to worry about if you’re going to take your full spot at the table.”

  As if I needed the reminder—which might have also been a veiled threat. “Oh, I’m staying on top of those,” I assured him.

  He examined a couple of the volumes on the shelf nearest him, possibly waiting to see if I’d reveal anything else in the awkwardness of the silence. When I turned all my attention back to my book, he sauntered out of the room.

  He was probably using the Fortress for some sort of business meeting, which was one of the perks of the barony. Even if you weren’t acting in your capacity as ruler, meeting a prospective client or partner here cast a long shadow of authority over the proceedings.

  I expected that’d be the last I heard from him today, but just as I’d reached the end of my current book and gotten up to pick out another, footsteps came rasping back over the stone floor beyond the door.

  “Ashgrave,” the baron said as he pushed the door open, “can you think of any particular reason the elder Evergrists might be paying a call here?”

  My head jerked around. “Who?” I said, and then hoped feigned ignorance hadn’t been a bad gambit.

  Nightwood cocked his head. “Our Bloodstone scion’s grandparents on the non-Bloodstone side. They’ve pulled up in the lot a couple of spots over from your car, but they haven’t gotten out. Very peculiar.”

  It was. Very peculiar, and also highly annoying.

  Nightwood obviously didn’t want anything to do with them, which I supposed worked in my favor. I offered him a puzzled shrug and shoved the book I was holding back into its spot. “I was just finishing up here. I can go out and see what’s going on.”

  “Please do. And let’s not have them in the building, all right? They’re liable to walk off with the table and half the decorations if they have the chance.”

  He stepped back for me to leave ahead of him rather than setting off himself. I thought his gaze followed me with a little more scrutiny than normal as I passed him. He hadn’t spoken to the Evergrists, but them being here at all was odd enough that it had to be raising questions in his head. What the hell were they thinking?

  Who was I kidding? This
would be exactly what they were thinking—that showing up at the Fortress would make me uncomfortable and put me in a potentially difficult position. It was a power play, pure and simple. The only real question was what they wanted at this exact moment.

  Well, that and how they’d known I’d be here right now. I wasn’t able to make the trip very often between classes I was taking and classes I was TA-ing for. Had they paid off someone on staff to let them know if I left the university? Did they have someone watching the likely places they thought I might go?

  A chill crept up my back. Whatever the case, my denials and Rory’s clearly hadn’t shaken their certainty that they were holding something over me. And I didn’t think they’d hesitate to call my bluff if I pushed back much harder.

  Rory’s grandparents had indeed parked their silver-blue Cadillac two spots away from my Honda. I strode over with as casual an air as I could summon.

  The Evergrists didn’t bother to get out. Stella, in the passenger seat, simply rolled down the window.

  “Mr. Ashgrave,” she said in a saccharine voice. “What a lovely surprise.”

  I managed not to snort at that remark. “What are you doing here? We didn’t arrange any meeting.” And there was no other reason for anyone besides the barons to visit the Fortress, as any fearmancer knew.

  Rory’s grandmother brushed her fingers over her pale curls. “That’s true. Perhaps we should arrange one. We’ve been getting the impression that you’ve forgotten about our request. It really wasn’t a very large one, was it?”

  The business venture they’d wanted approved. I forced a smile. “It’s got nothing to do with my memory, Mrs. Evergrist. The pentacle has a backlog of proposals to consider. The one you were interested in hasn’t even come up yet. I can’t support a venture that isn’t on the table, can I?”

  “Maybe you can see about having it bumped up, then,” Rory’s grandfather said, leaning over in the driver’s seat.

  “We really have been quite patient,” his wife added. “And it would be such a shame if a comment happened to slip out that put your conduct into question. If we get impatient, it may be harder for us to stay circumspect.”

  And there was a direct threat. I guessed it’d only been a matter of time. I crossed my arms over my chest and stared down at her with the baronic glower I’d had years and ample reason to perfect.

  “If you have some complaint about my behavior, you’re welcome to put it to whoever you’d like. Attempting to skew the proceedings of the pentacle could be considered treason. I’m sure you didn’t intend to cross that line.”

  “It seems as though we’d both be best off if no complaints are made on either side.” Mrs. Evergrist tipped her head coyly. “We’ve waited a long time for our granddaughter to be returned to us, Mr. Ashgrave. Naturally we have a stake in what happens to her. We nearly are Bloodstones ourselves by marriage. That should entitle us to a certain amount of respect.”

  I was tempted to recite a line of my father’s about respect being earned rather than bought, but I didn’t expect that would go over well. I just wanted them gone. As they no doubt well knew, the longer we stayed here talking, the more suspicious the interaction would look to anyone taking note. Like Baron Nightwood, for example.

  “I’ve told you I’ll see what I can do about your business endeavors,” I said. “The reminder wasn’t necessary. I’d imagine that proposal isn’t too far back in the queue.”

  As intended, they took that as acknowledgment that I’d move it forward, not that I had any plans of doing so. “I’m so glad we’re on the same page,” Rory’s grandmother simpered. She rolled her window back up and gave me a little wave as her husband pulled out of the spot.

  My stomach clenched as I watched them drive away. If I didn’t follow through, how far would they go next time? In one escalation, they’d already jumped from calling my house to showing up at my workplace. If it’d been the day of a full meeting—if Aunt Ambrosia had been here, if she’d talked to them—fuck.

  I couldn’t see any way this stand-off was going to end well.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Rory

  After a string of clear, sunny summer days, it was a little depressing stepping out of Ashgrave Hall into cool, humid air under a sky choked with gray clouds. As I went around the building to the field, I rubbed my arms, wishing I’d picked a warmer shirt than a tank top.

  Connar was already waiting by the far corner where we had a good vantage of the clubhouse. He shot me a warm smile as I joined him, and I resisted the urge to sidle right up to his well-muscled body and soak up even more warmth that way. I wasn’t here for snuggling.

  Across the field, the workers who’d been assigned to the clubhouse were just finishing the new frame with the intermittent whir of their electric screwdrivers. Would they have been putting their magic to use constructing the thing too if they hadn’t had Naries watching so eagerly? Benjamin and a couple of his friends were supervising, pitching in by passing along tools or steadying beams where they could.

  “Ready?” Connar asked. “I doubt you’re going to need much help from me. You’re usually a quick study.”

  “But you promised help, so you’d better deliver it,” I said with a teasing waggle of my finger. “Can we check the wards from all the way over here? I don’t want the Naries wondering why I’m lurking around the clubhouse.”

  “It’s not a problem at all. Just requires some additional concentration. You remember where we buried them?”

  I nodded. We’d planted one shaped stone at each corner of the foundation and a fifth in the center for good measure. They were buried under not just dirt but a thick slab of concrete now. The spells on them must be working, because work on the clubhouse had resumed without any further hitches, but Connar had recommended testing them every few days to make sure the magic was still holding strong.

  He touched the back of my elbow as if to form a point of connection. “The easiest way to get at them is to let your magic move through the earth to them rather than trying to leap straight to the wards. I’ll guide you to the first one, and if that goes well, you can probably do the others on your own.”

  “Okay.” I trained my eyes on the grassy ground a few feet from one corner of the structure. “Feel,” I murmured, because all I was doing, really, was feeling them out.

  A spark of magic leapt up from my chest through my mind, and my senses sharpened to take in the dew dampness still clinging to the grass, the grainy dirt flecked with pebbles. Connar said something quietly beside me, and a tingle of energy that must have been his coursed over my skin and wound through my awareness. It urged me on through the soil.

  I pictured the stone we’d shaped for the ward, reaching for the curved hollow of it. An earthy but not exactly unpleasant flavor filled my mouth. The impression of darkness momentarily threw me, but Connar’s magic nudged my awareness to the side, and the ward’s magic flowed into me with a jolt.

  The spell he’d helped me plan still thrummed through the stone with a crackling power. The shaping we’d done had worked—the magic was holding steady rather than fading the way it would have in most circumstances. I pulled back into my body with a sigh of relief.

  “Still working perfectly,” Connar said. “You did a great job with those. Even Viceport wouldn’t find anything to criticize.”

  I let out a short laugh. “I don’t know about that. She’s very committed to her cause. Okay, let me see if I can find the next one on my own.”

  The ward at the other near corner wasn’t difficult at all to locate now that I knew what sensations I was looking for. The far corners took a little more effort, but I confirmed those wards were functioning properly with a clenching of my jaw as I concentrated. I got a bit lost trying to find the central ward, which didn’t have a clear physical marker on the building to guide me, but Connar eased alongside me after a few moments and together we hit on the right spot.

  That stone’s magic didn’t feel as vibrant as the others.
“It’s fading,” I said, half my awareness still trained under the ground. Damn it.

  “Four out of five good conducting pieces is a great result for your first attempt,” Connar said. “The other four might be more than enough on their own, but we can bolster the spell on the fifth. Consider it useful practice.”

  I grumbled something under my breath but focused even more tightly on the central ward. More magic fizzed at the base of my throat. I drew it into my words and refilled the stone’s well with the effects I wanted to generate.

  The tingle of Connar’s magical presence stayed with me until I pulled back from the clubhouse completely. I’d never really cast with someone else before, and there was something compelling about the act. I could almost feel Connar’s dragon form in that essence of him, powerful and fierce but not without a certain grace.

  “I don’t think anyone will be damaging that building any time soon,” he said with a grin. “If you want me to pitch in any other way, just let me know.”

  “Thank you,” I said. “You’ve done a lot already.”

  He shrugged, his gaze still holding mine. “I owe you a lot. And I’m looking forward to seeing you win.” He paused, and his expression turned stern. “If anyone hassles you again, whether it’s Malcolm or someone else, you can count on me then too.”

  I’d seen Connar’s protective side come out in full force before. The memory of those times threw me back to my last confrontation with Professor Banefield in his quarters, to the agony in his voice as he’d grappled with the magic controlling him to save me from himself. I swallowed hard.

  Connar thought all he had to protect me from was the jabs of the other students. If he took too big a stand, he’d be making himself a target too.

  I rested my hand on his arm, giving him a firm look. “I appreciate that, but I don’t want you rushing in at the first sign of trouble, okay? I can look after myself pretty well, and anyone who comes at me should have the chance to figure that out. No need to put yourself in the line of fire if I can handle it.”