Cruel Magic (Royals of Villain Academy #1)(53)

Banefield cocked his head at me. “Look at it this way: Who would you rather see as that boy’s teacher—you or Malcolm Nightwood? You don’t have to be vicious about it. Just shake him up a little for his own good.”

Okay, so my mentor knew me pretty well. Of course, at some point Malcolm probably would terrify this kid in his callous way no matter what I did right now. But… was it possible that the kid would cope with that better if he’d already seen he could survive a more restrained offensive from me? That did make a certain kind of sense.

I didn’t want anyone to be terrorized, period, but if they had to be, maybe it wasn’t such a horrible thing for me to insert myself into the process. I just had to find the right way.

“I’ll see what I can do,” I said with a nervous jitter in my stomach.

I walked over to the boy. His head jerked up as my shadow fell over him, and just like that, a jolt of sharp fearful energy raced past my ribs.

Wow, human fear was so much more potent than animal. That one instinctive emotional reaction topped a half hour walking through the woods.

This didn’t have to be hard. The kid was already scared without my saying anything. I didn’t have to threaten him or hurt him. Just remind him that people could.

And ignore the fact that he’d be assuming I was talking about myself as well.

“Do you really think this is a good place to take a break?” I asked in the coolest tone I could summon, folding my arms over my chest. “Look at how easily I came right up on you. You’ve got nothing at your back. A lot of people around here would take that as an invitation.”

The boy scrambled up. More of his fear flooded me with every shaky movement of his body. “Sorry. I’ll get out of your way,” he said, and hustled toward the nearest building.

I watched him go with shame tainting the exhilarating rush of power flowing through me. I’d hardly done anything. I’d made perfectly good points.

It wouldn’t always be that easy, though. And I could taste how that sense of power could start to override even a solid conscience.

Professor Banefield came up beside me. “There you go. That was satisfying, wasn’t it? Deal out a little tough love once or twice a day, and we can really get going with your magical work.”

“Yeah,” I said. It seemed wrong to feel this excited and this uncomfortable at the same time.

Banefield nodded to a couple of girls walking along one of the paths not far away. Gold pins glinted by the collars of their shirts. “You can always use a similar strategy with the Nary students. They may not need to be prepared for quite our level of competition once they leave here, but being toughened up a little can only benefit them in the long run.”

Assuming they didn’t leave here outright traumatized. Or dying. I remembered Shelby in the common room, swaying with her fever.

“Don’t you think the university is a little hard on the Naries?” I said. “At least the regular students know what they’re getting into. They shouldn’t be killing themselves just to stay here so we can torture them.”

Banefield’s eyebrows jumped up. “What makes you put it that way?”

I gestured toward Ashgrave Hall with a jerk of my hand. “The Nary student who’s in my dorm—she’s pushing herself to go to classes even though she’s sick. She won’t even go to the medical office to get checked out because apparently the teachers are so hard on the Naries they threaten to kick them out if they miss a class or two to look after themselves.”

“I’m sure under extreme circumstances, exceptions would be made,” Banefield said. “We keep high standards because of the benefits an education here offers them in the end.”

That was how Shelby had justified it too. It still didn’t sit right with me. “We’ve got to cut them a little slack. They’re not mages—they don’t have the same talents to help them cope. They can’t perform at the same level. It’s cruel to expect them to and then punish them for not managing.”

“I’m sure Ms. Grimsworth would be happy to entertain your thoughts on the matter if you want to take it up with her.” Banefield’s dry tone suggested that she’d entertain my thoughts for about five seconds before filing them away as nonsense.

I exhaled in a rush as we headed back toward Killbrook Hall. “She—the Nary student—said there’s a problem with one of the trees on campus too. It’s making some strange sound like it’s going to fall over soon.”

Banefield hummed to himself. “I can mention it to the maintenance staff, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s only some students playing pranks. If nothing else, we do teach every student here to be very cautious about taking anything they’ve believed for granted.”

He stopped by the door to the hall and turned to me. “I think this has been a productive session. No need for you to come back to my office. Everything appears to be coming along well for your second assessment.”

I paused with a skip of my pulse. “What?” I said. After the work I’d been doing in class, I’d started to put the idea of another assessment out of my mind. “All of my professors have seen me work magic by now. You’ve seen me work it. No one thinks I’m some kind of dud anymore, do they?”

The corners of Banefield’s pale eyes crinkled with amusement. “I’m sure they don’t. But the assessment process is a formality we can’t simply skip. While you have demonstrated emerging magical talents, the faculty still needs to confirm you possess at least one area of ability strong enough to warrant using our resources to continue teaching you. From what I’ve seen, you have nothing to worry about. I expect you’ll show at least two or even three like your fellow scions.”