Cruel Magic (Royals of Villain Academy #1)(54)



His confidence didn’t settle my nerves. “And if I get the same weird result as last time?” I’d been able to cast magic before the last assessment too, and that hadn’t helped me any.

“I highly doubt that,” Banefield said. “But if you did, then it’s nothing to be ashamed of. It wouldn’t be your fault if your talents were stunted by your upbringing. You would return to your family home and could engage the services of a private tutor to continue encouraging what skills you have along.”

Banished from the university named after my own family. Yeah, I was sure none of the fearmancers would see that as shameful at all. And how the hell could I work at exposing the place if I wasn’t allowed to stay here?

Banefield patted my shoulder. “Focus on your studies, and don’t worry about the rest,” he said as if it were that simple, and headed inside.

I dragged in a breath and might have steadied myself if a well-built figure with a head of gleaming golden-brown hair hadn’t sauntered around the edge of the building just then with a vicious grin.

“Well, well, well,” Malcolm said in his smooth voice. “For all your ‘goodness,’ your position here at Blood U is awfully precarious, isn’t it, Glinda?”

Of all the people who could have overheard that conversation, why had it been him? My shoulders tensed. “I plan on sticking around.”

“I guess we’ll have to see if you can handle the heat when push comes to shove.” His dark eyes glittered with cold amusement. “You know what happens if you screw up and they send you off? The only way you can get back in here and take a spot with the real mages is with permission from the barons. That’s my family, and Jude’s, and Connar’s, and Declan himself. So, you bow down now, or you do it later. Either works for me.”

“Keep dreaming,” I said, swiveling on my heel.

“I’ll see you in our seminar,” he called after me.

Oh, fuck, I had Persuasion with him in just a couple hours.





At the very least, my legs were getting stronger. I reached the seventh floor of Nightwood Tower without more than the slightest burn in my calves and only a little out of breath.

I’d shown up just before the start of class, preferring not to extend my time around Malcolm. All the seats were taken except one at the back, across the room from Imogen, but that was just fine. Malcolm had chosen one in the front row by the big window that overlooked the south field. It had been pushed fully open, letting a warm spring breeze saturate the room and ruffle the papers on Professor Crowford’s desk where he was reading over a chart of some sort.

I started for the empty seat, and Malcolm’s voice rang out. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Maybe if you give it a little thought, you’ll—” I started to retort, and he flicked his hand.

“You’re going to stop right there,” he said with the lilt of a persuasion spell, and to my frustration my feet jarred to a halt under me, so abruptly I had to catch the desk next to me to keep my balance. The girl sitting there glared up at me.

Professor Crowford glanced up, his heavy-lidded eyes shifting from me to Malcolm. He didn’t say anything, though. I guessed as far as he was concerned, this was just Malcolm putting his lessons to use.

“Is this really necessary?” I said, keeping my voice as steady as I could despite the hitch of my heart. “Haven’t you got anything better to do?”

“Oh, I think this is pretty important,” Malcolm said. “We all need to be aware of our limitations. You seem to figure you’ve gotten pretty strong, but the truth is, I’m more in control of what you do than you are. I could make you jump right out that window if I wanted to. Walk.”

The thrum of magical energy in his voice conveyed his full meaning. My feet turned under me. One lifted and then the other, carrying me toward his desk and the window beyond it. The window with a seven-story drop on the other side.

The breeze didn’t feel so warm anymore. I groped for control over my limbs, but my legs kept walking, one firm step at a time. The fear I’d absorbed this morning buzzed behind my sternum, but I didn’t know how to use it to stop him. Was I supposed to be able to understand that instinctively? How the hell was I going to pass any assessment if I couldn’t even summon enough power to keep myself alive?

No doubt that was exactly the point Malcolm intended to make.

I concentrated on the churning energy inside me and willed it into a steel shield around my mind like I had with Jude in the Insight seminar. My feet kept moving. Malcolm kept grinning. His spell had already wormed its way inside my mind. How could you dig something like that out?

I’d almost reached his desk. The window stood just a couple steps past that. My gaze darted to Imogen, rigid in her seat—she might not have had the power to stand up to Malcolm even if she’d dared too—and to Professor Crowford, who was watching the situation unfold with detached curiosity.

He wouldn’t let me climb right out the window and jump. Right? Would Malcolm even try to push things that far? I had to think he only wanted to make the point. He’d bring me to the brink and benevolently let me off the hook while I teetered on the edge of the deathly fall. The fearmancers hadn’t gone to all this work to rescue their stolen heir of Bloodstone just to see me break my neck less than three weeks later.

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