by Eva Chase
Like his hair, his office had a scruffy look to it, books stacked in front of other books on the shelves even though there were gaps here and there where they could have been tucked in, the desk’s finish worn down in patches. The pendulum on the dusty grandfather clock in the corner clicked as it swung. The room smelled fresh enough, though, with a grassy scent that carried through the half-open window from the field beyond.
I sat down on the slightly lumpy armchair. “I’m hoping you can cast a sort of charm for detecting illusions. A spell that would allow me to tell when something I’m seeing or hearing or whatever isn’t actually real.”
It wasn’t the kind of spell I’d have most wanted as a prize. If one of the professors could have given me an “out to destroy the Bloodstone scion” detector so I knew exactly who to trust and who not to from here onward, that would have been perfect. But since there was no chance of that, I’d stick with something that could have come in handy multiple times since I’d arrived here. Even if I’d have to keep using my wits to figure out who to trust, at least I’d have a tool to help me figure out what to.
If I was going to stay here and fix the toxic parts of the fearmancer community myself, I had a feeling I’d need a tool like that.
The professor rubbed his narrow chin. “I can imbue an object with a spell for that purpose, but I should warn you that it wouldn’t operate on a continual basis. You’d need to activate it to test a particular stimulus, and each test would drain some of its power, because the function requires that the magic leave the enchanted object to interact with the outside world.”
“How many uses would I get?”
“It depends on how big and subtly cast the things you’re testing are. Several at least, perhaps even dozens, depending. Is that adequate?”
I hadn’t thought of any other prize I could ask for that would be half as good. I could accept what he was proposing. Hopefully by the time I’d used up the spell’s magic, I’d be advanced enough in my studies to re-cast it myself.
“That’s fine.” I reached to undo the clasp on my necklace and slipped my glass dragon charm off the chain. My chest clenched as I handed it to Burnbuck. It was my last remaining token of my life with my real parents, and I hadn’t let it out of my sight since I’d arrived here. But it was also the only object I could be sure of having on me when I needed it. “This is what I’d like you to place the spell on.”
Burnbuck nodded. “I can have that ready for you by our class tomorrow morning. I’ll attempt to give it as much potency as possible. It’ll be an interesting challenge.” He gave me a smile as if he was pleased to tackle that challenge.
When I left the Illusion professor’s office, Declan was heading my way from farther down the hall. When he saw me, his gaze darted around us, instinctively checking for witnesses, but he gave me a little smile and didn’t object to my waiting for him so we could walk together.
“Who were you calling on?” I asked.
“Professor Sinleigh.” He paused. “I stepped down from my position as teacher’s aide.”
“Oh?” My heart skipped a beat. I hadn’t expected that—he hadn’t even hinted he was considering it. “Any particular reason?”
Declan’s smile turned a bit wry. “I told her I felt as though I needed my full focus on my other responsibilities for my last few months here. There certainly have ended up being… many more factors demanding my attention than I anticipated when I took the job.”
I might have laughed if another part of his comment hadn’t struck me. “You’re only here a few more months?”
He nodded. “I’ll have finished my full education by the end of January. Then I’ll take over the Ashgrave barony completely.”
How long was I going to have to stay at the university, considering all the catching up I needed to do? Were they going to make me continue classes even after my twenty-first year since I’d missed so many before? That was, assuming I made it through the next year without finding myself in cuffs either literal or metaphorical again. As relieved as I was to have the hearing over and my innocence established, I found it hard to believe the battle between me and the barons was anything close to finished.
Declan couldn’t answer those questions, though, and his decision mattered in other ways. I smiled back at him with a tingle of warmth. “I’m sorry your life has gotten so hectic, but glad you’ll have fewer... constraints on your time.” Not to mention on who he spent that time with and how.
We came down the staircase to the main floor of the building and veered out a side door onto the green. “I was thinking now that I’ve settled that and your most immediate problem is dealt with,” Declan said, “maybe we could have that talk about—”
He cut himself off at the sound of my name called across the green. Shelby was bounding toward us, grinning.
“Guess what!” she said. “One of the restaurants in town invited the music students to perform tonight. They’re even paying us!” Her ponytail bobbed with her excitement. Then her eyes widened. “I don’t know what to wear for something like that. They’re probably expecting everyone who’s from the university to dress all fancy.”
The conversation with Declan about what exactly we were doing with our relationship could wait until this minor friend crisis was over. I caught his eye, and he nodded with obvious amusement.
“Let’s take a look in your wardrobe, and I’ll help you pick,” I told Shelby. “And that’s awesome! I guess you were right about the program here being good for your career.”
“One more year and then I can start making applications to orchestras.”
She practically bounced up the stairs to our dorm room. As she pulled out her key card, my gaze caught for a moment on the door next to ours that led into Malcolm’s dorm.
I hadn’t seen the Nightwood scion since yesterday at the hearing. Maybe he’d needed a little space to figure out how he was going to proceed now that he’d put himself out there in opposition to his father’s interests.
A twinge ran through my chest. I wasn’t totally sure what I’d say to him, but we definitely needed to talk. At the very least, so I could thank him. Taking that stand couldn’t have been easy. And I’d been suspicious of him even after he’d started his testimony…
This once, I might owe him an apology. If I was coming to know anything about Malcolm Nightwood, it was that he kept his word, and he’d said he’d prove himself to me. I couldn’t really have asked for a clearer show of loyalty.
Shelby tugged me into our room, away from those conflicted thoughts. As we examined her clothing options, I let myself become absorbed in her giddy chatter. After the weeks of worrying and uncertainty, there was something blissfully normal about hanging out with a friend who had no part in the conspiracies around me and talking about something as mundane as appropriate work attire.
In the end, we settled on a pearl-pink blouse and dark wash jeans, since Shelby didn’t have any dress pants or skirts. “I’m sure they care a lot more about how the music sounds than what you’re wearing,” I reassured her. “Anyway, who’ll be able to see your pants past the cello?”
“Good point,” she said with a laugh.
My good mood lingered as I crossed the common room—and vanished when I opened my bedroom door to find Lillian Ravenguard standing by my desk. My pulse hiccupped, and my fingers tensed around the doorknob. I hadn’t even noticed that the magical defenses on my room had been breached. But then, this was a top blacksuit I was dealing with.
“I’m sorry for the sudden visit,” Lillian said, obviously noting my surprise. “It’s a rather urgent matter… and one too discrete to discuss by traceable methods or in public.” She stepped away from the desk and raised her hand. “I’ll make sure we won’t be overheard here.”
As she cast the silencing spell, I sank down on the edge of my bed. Deborah darted across the bedspread a moment later, tucking herself behind me. I moved to gesture to her to hide herself somewhere farther away, since we couldn’t be sure
how sensitive Lillian might be to my familiar’s unusual state.
Before I could, Deborah’s voice traveled into my head, faintly as if at a whisper. Whatever she had to tell me, it was important enough for her to risk discovery.
Watch out, she murmured. I got a whiff of that woman as she was waiting for you. I’d swear she’s the one who murdered your friend.
My stomach lurched. I’d known Lillian was almost certainly involved in the plot to frame me, but the possibility that she’d killed Imogen herself had never occurred to me.
Deborah scurried away. Lillian turned, finished with her casting, and my mouth went dry.
The woman aiming that concerned look at me hated me so much that she was willing to kill to cut me down.
“What’s going on?” I said, scrambling to think of an excuse to get out of this room, somewhere we wouldn’t be alone. Somewhere I’d have a chance of getting help if she launched another attack of some sort.
Lillian leaned against my wardrobe, partly blocking my way to the door. Not that I could have made a run for it without revealing a whole lot more about what I knew than I wanted to just yet. She lowered her head with a ragged sigh. Then she looked at me again.
“I don’t know how to tell you this,” she said. “If it’s true, I’m ashamed that I missed it for so long. Rory… We’ve found evidence that your mother is still alive.”
* * *
Will Rory’s relationship with her guys survive their parents’ growing disapproval—and is her own mother really still out there? Find out in Corrupt Alchemy, the fifth book in the Royals of Villain Academy series. Get Corrupt Alchemy now!
If you’re a fan of reverse harem paranormal romance, why not check out one of Eva’s complete series, The Witch’s Consorts? You can grab the prequel story FREE here!
Next in the Royals of Villain Academy series
Corrupt Alchemy (Royals of Villain Academy #5)
In the face of unexpected revelations about her birth family, Rory finds herself even more torn between the morals she grew up with and the community she's destined to rule. With all four of her fellow scions now offering their support—and affections—will she be able to prevent the looming bloodshed?
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Wicked Wonderland excerpt
Did you know I have a reverse harem paranormal romance series that puts a sexy modern spin on Alice in Wonderland? Here’s a sneak peek inside the first book, Wicked Wonderland.
WICKED WONDERLAND
1
I should have known something was wrong the second I tripped over Brian’s jeans coming in the door. He could be a bit of a slob, sure, but he didn’t usually leave his pants… and shirt… in a heap in the apartment foyer.
I caught my balance, which was a pretty impressive feat considering I was clutching a heavy bag in each hand, and my first naïve thought was that he’d had some kind of accident, gotten sick on himself, and peeled off the mess as soon as he’d gotten in the door—
Then my gaze snagged on the silky midnight-blue dress that was also crumpled on the floor, a few feet into our living room. Brian definitely hadn’t been wearing that.
It wasn’t one of my dresses either.
My mind glazed over with an uncomfortable prickling that seeped down into my chest. I walked through the apartment on autopilot, rounding the corner to where I could see through the open bedroom door just in time to get a stunning view of my boyfriend’s naked ass as he plowed into an equally naked woman on our bed. She gasped, he groaned, and my fingers went slack around the handles of the bags I’d been holding.
One jar of pickled eggs and four bottles of kombucha hit the floor with a thud and the crackling of shattered glass. Brian flinched and jerked away from—out of—oh, God, I might hurl—the other woman.
“Shit. Shit,” he said as he scrambled off the bed. The woman gave a little shriek when she saw me and groped for her slip.
Somewhere in that moment, I split down the middle. One part of me kept my mouth clamped shut so I didn’t actually puke from all the horror churning in my stomach. The other part zipped off far, far away to watch from a detached numb distance.
Brian had obviously been looking for something very different from me. The other woman’s dark brown hair was almost as far as you could get from my pale blond. Tall, curvy. Maybe that was the problem? He’d wanted a bigger handful of boobs?
My stomach lurched harder. The other woman darted past me toward the door. Brian stood there raking his hand through his hair, still swearing.
“I didn’t know you’d be home early,” he said finally.
A laugh sputtered out of me. Which side of me had that come from? Maybe both. Because my boyfriend—correction: ex-boyfriend—was apparently such an asshole he thought that was some kind of excuse. Because this was the perfect cap on an already awful day.
“I had a meeting with my supervisor right before lunch,” I said. “The call center laid me off.”
How many times had he brought women over while I’d been sitting in my little cubicle taking repetitive customer service calls on other days? He’d moved into the apartment three months ago. Had the cheating started right away? Had he been screwing around even before—
My horror collided with the numbness, and my brain derailed in a burst of sparks. I jabbed my hand toward the door.
“Get out. Now.”
“Lyssa, come on. We should at least talk about—”
“Now!” I snapped in a voice that didn’t sound like mine at all. It must have been convincing, because Brian hopped into his boxers and fumbled with a shirt faster than I’d have thought was humanly possible. Then he was hustling through the apartment, dodging the bags of shattered glass, stopping for just long enough to scoop his PSP off the table. For fuck’s sake.
He nearly fell on his face as he hauled on his jeans, which would have been satisfying, but sadly he managed to catch his balance. Before I had to turn on that sharp voice again, he’d ducked out the door. It closed behind him with a thump. His lady friend had already fled, taking her dress with her.
I dragged in a breath, and my chest hitched. A sour vinegar-y smell filled my nose. I looked down at the plastic shopping bags leaking kombucha and pickling juice onto the hardwood floor.
I didn’t even like that crap. It was Brian’s favorite drink, Brian’s favorite weird little snack. After getting the news about the lay-off, I’d just wanted to do something to make someone else happy, because accomplishing that would make me feel better too.
Why did I have such shitty luck with boyfriends? Maybe Brian had been a little rough around the edges, but I’d shown him I didn’t mind that. I’d thought he was in it for the long haul. How many signs had there been that I’d missed?
I rubbed my forehead and left the mess, flopping down on the linen couch instead. Deep breath in; deep breath out. Over and over, until my feet felt steadier where they were braced against the floor.
The apartment was in my name. Brian had kept forgetting to set up a meeting with the landlord to get on the lease. He’d have to come back and get the stuff that belonged to him, but I could put it in boxes near the door so I hardly had to see him. Or give him a time to come and be somewhere else so I didn’t have to see him at all.
A year and a half. A year and a half, and he— In my bed—
He’d have to leave behind his key. Then I’d be done with him. It was weird how it really would be that easy to untangle him from my life in every practical way. Our lives hadn’t gotten all that entangled in the first place, had they?
I’d thought it would take time. I’d thought—
It didn’t matter now. I was never wiping that image out of my head, and I wasn’t giving him a chance to repeat it. Melody might tease me about being a pushover, but I wasn’t that much of a doormat, thank you.
My hand went to my purse to grab my phone. I could call my best friend right now, and she’d put this whole rotten day in perspective. Melody was good at that. Though she might have
to stretch her skills beyond their usual limits today, given the catastrophe my life had turned into.
I was just reaching my thumb to tap her name when my ringtone warbled. For a second, I thought my best friend had psychically picked up on my distress and decided to pre-emptively call me. But it wasn’t her number on the screen. It was my mom’s.
Oh, no. Had Cameron gotten into even more trouble? It would figure if today’s nasty surprises weren’t over yet.
I answered, gripping the edge of the sofa cushion with my other hand, preparing for news of my older brother’s latest exploits. “Hi, Mom. What’s up?”
Mom’s hesitant voice traveled over the line. “Oh, well, not much with me, but— Is this a good time to talk, honey? I know you’re probably at work.”
I bit my tongue against another rough laugh. “That’s not a problem. What is it?” She wasn’t talking with the obvious quaver I associated with Cameron problems. It could be he was still keeping his nose clean after all.
“It’s all very unexpected,” Mom said. “You remember your grand-aunt—Aunt Alicia?”
“Of course.” Aunt Alicia had been my dad’s aunt. When he’d gotten sick and for a while after he’d passed on, she’d come by the house to check in on Mom, Cam, and me. She’d always brought the best picture books and let me sit on her knee while she brought the stories to life with her bright voice. My clearest memory of her was us tucked together in Dad’s old armchair, her hair, always pinned neatly back, shining blond and silver in the light from the living room window.
I hadn’t seen her since I was eight or nine, around fifteen years ago. She and Mom had gotten into a fight about something or other, and she’d stopped dropping in.