Cruel Magic (Royals of Villain Academy #1)(62)

It didn’t seem to matter to him that I’d prefer not to build my name beyond where it already was by bashing around people I didn’t even know and had nothing against. And unfortunately, my parents loved the idea. If it hadn’t been for Malcolm’s periodic interventions whenever the registration re-opened, I’d have already found myself in a deathmatch either in the ring or at home.

“Thanks,” I said, that one word not enough to cover the rush of relief and gratitude that swept through me.

“Hey,” Malcolm said with a grin. “I need you here, not off on a rampage for some stupid title.”

He’d never made me explain why I wasn’t interested. I’d just told him I wanted nothing to do with it, and that was all he’d needed to know.

Jude took his next shot with an extravagant flourish that bit him in the ass—he only nicked the ball he’d wanted to hit. He spun the pool cue in his hand as if he didn’t particularly care, which knowing Jude he might not.

“What’s the next step in our rampage against the Bloodstone?” he asked. “We’ve only got a week before she’s up for re-assessment.”

“I’ve got Victory gathering intel so we can make the next big hit really count,” Malcolm said. “She was incredibly happy to pitch in to the effort. I’ll hassle her if she doesn’t report back soon. In the meantime, just keep on keeping the good witch on her toes.”

“Not a problem.” Jude smirked. “I’ve been enjoying the view along the way.”

Malcolm smacked him in the leg with the end of his cue. “Don’t get any ideas,” he said in a tone that made my insides clench up.

“Who, me?”

“I know what you’re like, Mr. Hit and Split.”

“Oh, and you figure this girl’s too good for that?”

Malcolm gave him a narrow smile. “She is a scion. There’s a lot more to her than a pretty face and a nice ass. I’m looking forward to finding out what she can do with all that spirit once we smash the spite and show her what it’s like to be a real part of the pentacle. On the off-chance that my charms have no effect, you’re welcome to step in and see if she likes yours better. Until then, she’s off limits.”

Jude rolled his eyes, but with only casual annoyance. “I didn’t realize you had a crush.”

“Oh, please. As if you hadn’t noticed she’s the most interesting thing to walk through those doors since we started here.” Malcolm’s smile softened slightly around the edges, and my gut constricted into one huge lump.

I hadn’t realized he was thinking about Rory as anything other than an opponent. He’d been so intent on his campaign to knock her down that it’d never occurred to me he might want her by his side after he’d brought her to her knees.

While my best friend had been looking out for me tonight, I’d been betraying him without even knowing it.

There must have been signs; I just hadn’t picked up on them. I’d been too caught up in getting to play good cop—and thinking with my dick rather than my head. Fuck.

What the hell did I do now?





Chapter Twenty-Five





Rory





If I had to pick a favorite class at Villain Academy—because while I was stuck here, I might as well—it should have been my Seminar in Physiology. My instincts seemed to be strongest in that area, probably because I’d spent so much time bringing my imagination into reality in my former life, and it was my only class that didn’t force me to deal with any of the scions or Victory and her main gang.

Basically, everything was perfect except for the fact that I was starting to think that Professor Viceport hated me.

I couldn’t have pointed to one obvious piece of proof. It was just a whole bunch of little things. Whenever she called on me or answered a question I asked, her tone sounded several degrees chillier than with the other students. Her nose appeared to wrinkle in mild distaste when she examined anything I’d conjured or transformed. And even though I’d managed to work more magic in this class than any other, she hadn’t offered a single encouraging word.

I’d have thought she simply wasn’t the encouraging type, except right now she was gushing over a spoon the girl next to me had transformed out of a stick. It didn’t look like an especially amazing spoon to me. Maybe there was some special hurdle in spoon creation that I wasn’t aware of.

In any case, after three classes of that treatment, I figured it couldn’t hurt to bring up the subject. If I was screwing up in some way I hadn’t realized, I’d like to know before my impending assessment.

When Professor Viceport dismissed the class, I waited until the other students had filed out of the smaller gymnasium in the Stormhurst Building where we’d gathered today. The professor crouched down to gather the supplies she’d brought along. As I approached her, she peered at me over the top of her rectangular glasses. She was skinny in a way she managed to make look elegant rather than awkward, her ash-blond pixie cut wisping along her forehead. It didn’t soften the ice in her eyes.

She straightened up. “Can I help you, Miss Bloodstone?” she asked in a tone that said she really didn’t want to.

I clamped down on my nerves. I was a freaking scion. It was her job to teach me. I shouldn’t be anxious.