Cruel Magic (Royals of Villain Academy #1)(48)

“Okay.” That sounded like it was going to take a lot of energy. Maybe it was time for another walk in the woods.

Imogen straightened up. “Let me know if you run into any problems, and I’ll try to troubleshoot. I’ve got to get writing this essay for Modern Politics.” She grimaced and headed off to her room, leaving me glad that I’d at least gotten a break in that area. Ms. Grimsworth had decided I was exempt from the general education courses until I got my magical abilities reasonably up to speed.

“I’ll be back when I’m all charged up,” I whispered to Deborah.

Outside, the clear sky had gone almost completely black, a half-moon gleaming amid the stars. I left behind the glow of the sconces around the university building doors and wandered toward the lake. Alone at night, I’d rather not meet Malcolm and his wolf in the wider woods on the other side of campus.

A few kids—juniors, from the sound of their voices—had gotten a rowboat out of the boathouse and were laughing and rocking it as they drifted across the water. Watching them, the realization crept over me that I could give them a good scare in a matter of seconds simply by flipping the boat over and dunking them. Just like that, I’d bet I’d have enough energy to fuel all the protections I wanted to put down in my room with more left over.

That was the strategy most of the other fearmancers would have taken. My stomach twisted, and I turned toward the strip of forest instead.

As unnerving as it could be walking around in the woods at night, there were also a lot more animals roaming around than there were by daylight. Wafts of fear fluttered into my chest with each step I made through the brush where I’d veered off the path so I’d make more noise to disturb them. Still, after everything I’d been through in the last week, Malcolm’s voice echoed up from the back of my mind.

Some of us are predators and some are prey, and it’s obvious which camp you fall into.

How was I ever really going to stand up for myself against him and the others if I only gathered power in dribs and drabs, meandering around like this or startling Banefield’s cat now and then?

How was I ever going to gather as much power as they did without becoming just as much an asshole as the people I wanted to take down?

I passed the spot where the ground sloped up toward the cliff and paused. The memory rose up of the weird sense of peace that had come over me looking over the lake. Maybe if I left everything else behind, the right answers would come to me.

The underbrush was so thick that it took a little while to find the best route up the slope. No wonder Connar had found he could count on a certain amount of privacy up there. I guessed I hadn’t made the quietest approach, because when I reached the edge of the little rocky clearing, I found him standing on the other side of the log, watching the forest for my arrival.

I halted, feeling abruptly awkward. “Oh. Hi. I didn’t realize you were here. I just—it was nice up here last time, and I thought—”

He waved his hand to dismiss my fumbling explanation. “It’s fine. There’s room for two.”

He moved farther along the log to leave plenty of room where I’d sat before and hunkered back down himself. I hesitated. When he glanced back toward the lake, my lips moved instinctively, forming the word for one bit of magic I was coming to trust in the faintest whisper. “Inside.”

My attention focused in on Connar’s head. The stretch of my awareness bumped up against a barrier—but it didn’t feel as daunting as the one Jude had blocked me with. I narrowed my eyes with a tremor of the energy I’d just collected in my walk through the forest.

I didn’t exactly push through, but I had the sense of the wall thinning to something more like a membrane. Impressions seeped into my head of calm and curiosity and something that tasted like… gratitude?

Was he glad I was here? I found that hard to believe, but I definitely didn’t feel any hostile intentions in him. That reassured me enough to clamber over the log and sit down a few feet away from him.

A crisp but not unpleasantly cool breeze drifted off the lake. The rustling of the leaves behind us nearly covered the distant laughter of the juniors in their boat.

Connar glanced over at me, and his gaze settled on my new necklace for a second before lifting to meet my eyes. “You like dragons, huh?”

I touched the glass charm instinctively, my thumb catching on the rough edge where the tail had fractured. Strength and courage. “What’s not to like?”

That slow, breathtaking grin he’d offered me the night of the party crossed his face. “I completely agree. Take a look.”

With zero self-consciousness, he started unbuttoning his collared shirt. Heat rushed over my face. “Er,” I began, but he stopped halfway and tugged one side down to reveal only his left shoulder.

I hadn’t seen his whole back the other day when he’d been playing football. The moonlight caught on a dark shape etched on his skin. I leaned closer, and the shape came into focus as a dragon, wings unfurled across Connar’s shoulder blade, not one but four narrow horned heads peering at me from their sinewy necks.

At least, I assumed it had to be a tattoo. The tiny green and bronze scales rippling across the dragon’s body looked so vividly solid I couldn’t stop myself from extending my hand to brush my fingers across them. For all they appeared to be real, all I touched was warm smooth skin.