Cruel Magic (Royals of Villain Academy #1)(43)

“That would defeat the purpose of bonding with an animal with such well-honed natural instincts,” Malcolm said nonchalantly. “Wolves will be wolves.”

And boys would be boys? I eyed him warily as I grabbed my bags from where they’d fallen. Cold droplets of moisture ran down the back of my neck, but the chill inside me ran much deeper.

We were completely alone. No witnesses, no one to comment if a rule or two were broken.

I didn’t think Malcolm wanted me dead, but at this point that was about all I’d count on when it came to my well-being.

His gaze slid down my body, and a spark of panic lit inside me at the thought that he’d notice the dragon charm and force me to smash it too. But in my fall and recovery, it’d slipped under the collar of my shirt, out of sight—one small bit of good luck in an otherwise godawful situation.

“I’d rather have the wolf for company than you,” I said.

Malcolm gave me a grin that was plenty wolfish itself. “Eventually you’re going to have to face the facts, Glinda. Some of us are predators and some are prey, and it’s obvious which camp you fall into, no matter how big a front you try to put on. If you want to learn how to run with the wolves rather than getting chewed up, you’ve got to submit to the leader of the pack.”

“Well, you can just keep waiting on that day,” I said, hefting my bags over my shoulders. “Don’t get your hopes up.”

I walked past him, a prickle running down my spine as I left him behind. He could catch a whiff of how nervous I was, but I wasn’t going to let it show any other way. My ears stayed perked for any sound of attack.

Malcolm didn’t move to follow. “Careful when you’re out in the woods again,” he called after me. “Next time I might not be close enough to call him back. One of these days you could lose something you can’t live without.”

I didn’t give him the satisfaction of a response.

The football game had dispersed by the time I reached the campus. A cluster of junior students had staked out the edge of the field with their lunches, and their stares followed my muddy back as I passed them. Cressida and a couple other girls from Victory’s crowd noticed me crossing the green. She covered her mouth with a snicker.

“Love the new fashion statement,” she said. “I didn’t realize you could hit a bar even lower than feeb.”

I ignored them and trudged into Ashgrave Hall. Halfway up the stairs, I ran into none other than the Ashgrave scion himself, on his way down.

Declan stopped at the sight of me, his eyebrows rising. “Are you okay?” he asked, with just a touch of that gentle concern I’d heard in his voice that morning in my parents’ house.

The last of my patience disintegrated. I looked at him, letting all the frustration running through me burn in my gaze. “If I’m not, are you actually going to do anything about it?”

He opened his mouth and hesitated, his hand twitching at his side. That was all the answer I had to see.

“All right then,” I said, and marched on past him without a backward glance. An uncomfortable sensation sank deep into my gut—maybe not the lesson Malcolm had wanted me to learn, but one that was nearly as wrenching.

No matter what little kindnesses Imogen and Shelby extended to me, neither of them could offer any real protection. I was on my own.





Chapter Eighteen





Rory





For the first time, my schedule directed me to the basement level of Nightwood Tower. I hadn’t even realized there was a basement, but it turned out a little door stood around the side of the north stairs that opened to a second flight heading down. The air cooled as I descended, my footsteps sounding eerily loud in the tight space between the stone walls.

At the bottom of the stairs, I found a small room with wooden benches on either side and a large oak door at the opposite end. A girl I recognized from my Physicality class was sitting on one bench, so I guessed we weren’t supposed to stroll right in. I sat down across from her. She didn’t acknowledge me, but she didn’t take any jabs at me either, so I’d take that as a win.

It didn’t look as if this space, which had been marked on my schedule simply as Desensitization, was going to hold the usual eight or nine students that made up most of my seminars. More than four was going to be a tight fit.

Just as I thought that, our third classmate reached the bottom of the stairs with a flick of his dark copper hair away from his eyes. Jude looked at me, and his lips curled upward with his usual smirk. “Hey, Snow Cone. This should be interesting.” He propped himself against the wall rather than sit on either of the benches.

I fought the urge to squirm on my seat. I had no idea what “Desensitization” entailed or why it might be interesting. Unfortunately, I hadn’t had a chance to ask anyone who’d know since my updated schedule had arrived at the dorm this morning. Deborah hadn’t had a clue. Somehow I didn’t think I was going to get a helpful answer from the scion who’d enjoyed stringing up my embarrassing memories for everyone else’s amusement.

One more student joined us: a gangly young man who eyed both Jude and me with apparent anxiety. He’d just sat down on the bench next to the other girl when the door swung open.

Four junior students filed out. One girl was hugging herself, her face wan. Another hurried for the stairs with a clenched jaw and red-rimmed eyes. One of the boys let out a laugh that sounded forced as the other flinched at the squeak of the hinges.