by Eva Chase
“I’m just fine,” I said as evenly as I could manage. “Thank you so much for your concern, though.”
I spun back around and strode toward the main doors. Malcolm’s chuckle rolled after me. “We’ll see you around, Glinda!”
He turned that friendly comment into a threat so easily. A shiver ran through me as I headed along the path toward the teachers’ offices in Killbrook Hall. Whether someone had magically induced my little episode this morning or not, clearly my first priority needed to be working on my mental shields. If I could be sure of protecting myself from outside influence, I’d be safe from any more unnerving episodes—or I’d know that whatever was wrong was coming from inside me.
Chapter Two
Rory
“Congratulations again on yesterday’s exemplary assessment,” Professor Banefield said with a grin as he ushered me into his office. “I knew your talent would shine through once you had a little more time.”
His warm confidence put me a little more at ease. “You’ve got my new schedule for me?”
“I do. Lots more learning to be done, but you’re clearly up to the challenge. Why don’t you look it over before I say my piece.”
He handed me a paper showing two weeks’ worth of class times, mostly the same across both weeks. A lot more of them than had been on my initial “easing the Bloodstone scion into her magical education” schedule for the last month.
When I’d had a few minutes to read it over, Banefield leaned forward, rubbing the side of his round head. His light red hair stuck up in tufts as if he’d slept on it funny, but I’d seen him often enough to know that was just how it always looked.
“You’ll see that you only have one official session with me each week now that you’re getting settled in,” he said. “You can drop in during my office hours any time you feel you need additional guidance, of course. I’ll always be available to you, but my primary role now will be to help you continue to adjust to school life in general rather than magical lessons. From here on, you can see you’ll have two seminars a week in each specialty to help catch you up.”
“And now a Desensitization session every week… but at a different time?” I glanced at him quizzically.
Banefield’s upbeat expression faltered for a second. “Professor Razeden and I felt—and Ms. Grimsworth agreed—that in light of your circumstances, it would be ideal for you to get frequent one-on-one instruction in that area until your control has improved.”
A flush rushed to my cheeks. Yeah, my control had been pretty crappy the first two sessions I’d done. The whole point of Desensitization was to master your reactions when faced with your greatest fears—the weaknesses other fearmancers could get the most mileage out of targeting. Both times, I’d needed Professor Razeden to end the illusion for me because I hadn’t been able to stand up to it even with his advice.
At least private sessions meant I wouldn’t have any scions watching my weaknesses laid out on display.
“We’re avoiding placing you in any of the general interest courses with the Naries for similar reasons,” Banefield went on, avoiding lingering on my failure. “Not that your use of magic has lacked control, but you haven’t been practicing it enough for us to be certain there won’t be problems. Better not to risk exposure. I expect you’ll move into those in the fall term with the new school year.”
“That makes sense,” I said. I wasn’t in any hurry to add even more to my workload. But the mention of the Nary students reminded me of my conversation with Shelby.
“If you have any other questions…”
I folded the schedule. “I do, but not about this. I was talking with the Nary student in my dorm this morning—she’s still worried about that tree I told you about before. Do you know if anyone in maintenance has checked it out—and if they haven’t, can we get them to?”
In general, I found Professor Banefield to be one of the most pleasant people at the university. Something shifted in his demeanor whenever the nonmagical people living alongside us came up, though. His jaw tensed beneath his scruffy beard, and his mild eyes took on a harder sheen.
“As we discussed earlier, Rory, I think it’s best not to get caught up in the concerns of the Naries. This is an… unusual environment for them, but they accept it because of the benefits we offer in return. We don’t want to encourage them to question the unusual occurrences that may come up around them.”
They accepted this environment partly because they had no idea we were using them to generate fear and test our magical stealth.
I made a face. “That doesn’t mean she’s wrong about this. How long would it take for someone to check it out? A falling tree is going to hurt a mage just as much as any Nary who ends up in its path.”
“I’m sure the maintenance staff is already monitoring the grounds as per their job.”
His voice had gone firm. This was around the point I’d given up last time. Today, resistance prickled through me. Maybe the day I could take down the university felt way too far in the future, but I could make sure at least one person was treated properly.
“If one of the magical students had reported it, someone would make sure to look into it, wouldn’t they?”
“That’s different,” Banefield said. “We trust that you would be able to tell the difference between a real problem and a prank.”
“Yeah,” I said, “and this sounds like a real problem to me. Shelby is a musician—she obviously has a good ear. And she’s experienced this before. It makes sense that she might pick up on a sign that most of us would miss, magic or not. I get that fearmancers generally don’t want to lower themselves to listening to Naries or whatever, but don’t you think there’s a certain point where that crosses the line from sticking to your own to being stubbornly stupid?”
A little more irritation than I’d meant to reveal leaked into my tone. Banefield stiffened in his chair. For the first time in the month I’d known him, he looked angry. I braced myself with a hiccup of my pulse, but whatever way I’d provoked him, he mastered his reaction. The first thing he let out was a sigh, and his shoulders came back down.
“I have plenty of experience dealing with Naries,” he said. “The one thread that has carried through all those interactions is carelessness. They only care about their own individual discomforts and desires without a thought to any larger purpose. We cannot have our staff distracted from their regular jobs to track down a ‘weird-sounding’ tree on one likely misguided report.”
There were a whole lot of things I could have said about fearmancers and their selfishness, but I didn’t think most of those paths would take us anywhere productive. I did have to point out, “It’s not as if we’re all that careful with the Naries. At least when they screw up, in my experience, it’s usually a mistake rather than purposeful malice.”
“And yet mistakes can have such wider reaching consequences compared to malice thoughtfully planned.” Banefield gave me a tight smile. “I know you’re still adjusting to the expectations and practices of our community, Rory, but I can assure you one thing—we expect every student here to choose their actions with full consideration of the impact.”
Was that supposed to be reassuring? I shifted in my seat and opened my mouth again, but Banefield cut me off before I could say anything else.
“Your first new seminar will be starting shortly. I think this discussion has run its course.”
We’d see about that the next time I got his ear. I stood up, clutching the schedule. “There was one other thing. I’d like to get in some concentrated practice on shielding my mind. To, ah, reduce the ‘impact’ of any spells that get thrown at me.”
Banefield relaxed a little more with the change in subject. “The timing works out well then,” he said. “I believe it’s Insight you’re off to now. Professor Sinleigh should be able to give you even better advice for advanced tactics—she has a couple of decades’ experience on me. And it’s best if you’re working on your magical techniques with your se
minar professors rather than me so they can accurately judge your progress.”
I tugged open my schedule again. Yep, I was off to Insight. This seminar was a new addition to my schedule, so I could hope Jude and Victory wouldn’t be there, eager to pry open my head.
I set off through the building toward the green at a brisk pace. The sooner I got to Nightwood Tower and my classroom there, the more choice I’d have in seating. Professor Sinleigh liked to pair us up with our nearest neighbors.
Killbrook Hall held the junior residences as well as the staff quarters. I passed several younger students on my way out, and a mix of juniors and seniors heading to their own classes outside. Many of them glanced at me with a glimmer of recognition, their eyes widening a bit or their heads turning to watch after I passed. A cool shudder of sensation rippled up through my chest.
It was fear, I realized as another waft of it hit me. Not one of the kinds I’d felt before: the sharp quivers of animal nerves when I ventured into the forest, the jolts of panic the few times I’d been able to land a jab against one of my tormenters. This flowed through me with a sensation more subtle and yet more sweeping.
Apprehension. Beneath all the awed fawning I’d gotten yesterday, just seeing me made quite a lot of the student body awfully wary. And why not, after the way the established scions with their multiple strengths lorded it over this school?
That thought settled uncomfortably in my gut as I reached the tower and trudged up the stairs. I couldn’t say I minded getting this top-up of magical energy, now tingling behind my collarbone, but I didn’t exactly like the idea of becoming some frightening figure either.
It was a good thing I’d made it to class a bit early, because I was able to choose a spot between a few students who’d never been overtly nasty to me, just a couple minutes before Cressida walked in. Victory’s partner-in-crime lifted her chin haughtily at the sight of me and flicked her white-blond braid back over her shoulder as she took a seat at the opposite corner of the room—a reasonably safe distance.
Of course, sitting at the front didn’t give me much distance at all from the other person in the classroom I’d have wanted to avoid. When the professor came in, peering at us with her owlish eyes, Declan Ashgrave arrived right behind her. Insight was his main specialty—the league he’d chosen from his strengths—and in those seminars he was working as Professor Sinleigh’s aide.
His gaze settled on me for a second, and I tensed in my seat. He stopped by the far side of her desk.
Declan hadn’t been as much of an asshole as the other scions, but he hadn’t done anything to stop their torment either, even when I’d challenged him to his face. And then there was the whole library incident when he’d dragged me out of sight of Victory and her crew for my apparent safety, but ended up kissing me and then yelling at me about it.
The kiss had been pretty enjoyable, I had to admit. The yelling, not so much. Better to avoid any possibility of either happening again.
“All right, class,” Professor Sinleigh said, clapping her delicate hands. “Today we’ll be focusing on narrowing the scope of an insight spell through the use of questions. As some of you will be aware, asking a specific question with your spell can help you home in on more useful impressions, but they are also more hindered by mental defenses. Those of you who are relatively new to the concept, begin with more basic and unthreatening inquiries. Those of you who are more practiced may attempt to dig deeper if you’re confident enough. But first let’s run through a warm-up exercise…”
By the end of class, I knew that the girl sitting next to me had a fox for a familiar, favored mint tea, and loved the color green. I wasn’t sure whether I’d broken through barriers she had up or she just hadn’t tried that hard to stop me, but at this point, I’d take the success as a win.
As the other students filed out of the room, I approached Professor Sinleigh. She was so petite I found I was looking down at her from about half a foot—and I was hardly an Amazon.
“Miss Bloodstone,” she said in her soft, precise voice. “It’s an honor to have you joining us in the League of Insight. What can I help you with?”
“I’d like to work on my mental shielding skills,” I said. “Professor Banefield, my mentor, said I should talk with you about that.”
Sinleigh nodded. “That’s a very valuable skill to develop. We will cover several techniques in class.”
“I was hoping to get caught up a little faster, since I’ve missed so much time here.”
“Yes, of course.” She tapped her lips. “I think what would work best is for you to begin with some additional tutoring from Mr. Ashgrave. It wouldn’t be a bad thing for the two of you to become better acquainted as scions at the same time. Once he’s sure you have all the core skills solid, I can arrange some time to coach you on the more advanced strategies.” She looked to Declan. “You should be able to fit that into your schedule, shouldn’t you?”
Er, that hadn’t been the scenario I’d been going for at all. I crossed my arms over my chest instinctively.
Declan trained his bright hazel eyes on me for a moment before turning to the professor. I couldn’t read his expression. “I can definitely find the time if that arrangement works for Miss Bloodstone.”
Okay, so we were sticking to professional courtesy now, were we? My body balked, but if I refused to work with him, Professor Sinleigh would think I was the problem.
I couldn’t start my time here as an official student running away scared from the guys I’d spent the last month standing up to.
“All right,” I said. “That sounds fine.”
Sinleigh considered me as if she’d picked up on my lack of enthusiasm, but she didn’t remark on it. “I’ll leave you two to work out the best timing. Let me know when you’re ready for your advanced coaching.”
She slung her bag over her shoulder and slipped out of the room.
I stayed where I was by the corner of the desk, and thankfully Declan didn’t come any closer. He looked at the floor and then at me, swiping back his smooth dark hair.
“This wasn’t my idea.”
“Obviously. I was here for the entire conversation.”
One corner of his lips quirked up slightly at my tone. “If you’re sure—”
I shrugged. “If you can manage not to be an asshole and just do your job, it’ll be fine. Unless you’re worried that someone will see the extra tutoring as favoritism.”
The hint of a smile disappeared at that little jab. “Sinleigh assigned me to do it. I don’t see how anyone can criticize me for that. I only have about ten minutes before I need to head out now, but we can arrange times during my office hours. There’s a joint aide office in the staff wing of Killbrook Hall.”
“Okay.” Despite my claim that all this was fine, my thoughts had scattered too much for me to think through the least awkward way of handling this. “I just got my new schedule. Let me—let me see when I seem to have the best openings, and then I’ll let you know.”
“Of course.” He paused and then backed up a step as if to give me more room to pass him without coming near him. The gesture set off a twinge in my chest. He just couldn’t help sort of protecting me in between all the times he didn’t, could he?
As I headed for the door, he sucked in a breath. “Is your familiar okay?”
I stopped on the threshold, my head snapping around. “What?”
“Your familiar. It seemed all right, after—they only had it in a cage in another room—but you can’t always tell when you don’t really know the animal.”
Something clicked in my head with his gaze on me and the guilt slanting his mouth. “You’re the one who brought her back to me.” In the commotion after my assessment announcement yesterday, someone had slipped Deborah into my hand so swiftly I hadn’t seen who it was. Declan had looked awfully uncomfortable during the charade Malcolm and Jude had orchestrated yesterday, when they’d made me think they were feeding my mouse to Jude’s ferret familiar.
“They didn’t have the right to hold on to her,” he said.
“But they had the right to take her in the first place? What if they’d decided to really let the ferret at her?”
“They wouldn’t have,” Declan said firmly. “You don’t have to worry about that. No one here would risk it. To purposefully kill someone’s familiar—even a scion wouldn’t get away with breaking that rule. Jude might think a lot of himself, but he knows he doesn’t have perfect control over his animal.”
“But no one knew I even had her.” If the four of them and the four girls who’d been spectators hadn’t told anyone, then hardly anyone knew even now.
“It wouldn’t have mattered. When someone’s familiar dies, especially if it’s traumatic—it affects you. If you reported it, the staff would be able to confirm, whether they knew you had a familiar beforehand or not.” Declan ducked his head. “I know it’s not a lot of comfort, after everything, but there are lines we don’t cross.”
We meaning fearmancers in general or my fellow scions in particular? I wasn’t sure it mattered. The twinge in my chest had expanded, filling the space inside my ribs with a faint ache.
“Maybe you should look into finding a few more of those,” I said, and left before the growing mix of gratitude and disappointment could wrench at me any harder.
Chapter Three
Jude
My mother tried. I knew she did, and I could summon some gratitude for that. The thing was, most of the time I couldn’t help thinking she was trying a hell of a lot more for Dad than for me when by any available metric it should have been the other way around.