Cruel Magic (Royals of Villain Academy #1)(63)

“Yes. I just—I’ve gotten the impression that you’re not totally happy with the work I’ve been doing,” I said. “I’m trying my best, but obviously it’ll take some time for me to get the hang of things after being out of the loop for so long. If there are any factors you think I should focus on more, or any other corrections I should make…” I trailed off at the pursing of her lips.

“If you’re ‘trying your best,’ I’m sure that’s all I can expect,” she said crisply. “You are a Bloodstone, after all.”

What was that supposed to mean? It wasn’t as if I’d gained any benefit from a family I’d never known.

“I only meant, if I’m missing something—” I started.

“Don’t worry yourself about it. You’ve got all the advantages you need.” She spun on her heel and strode out of the room, cutting off any further conversation.

Okay, then. That hadn’t been the most productive conversation of my university days. She definitely had a problem with me, but she also definitely didn’t want to talk about it, so I guessed I was shit out of luck if I wanted any advice from that corner.

I shouldered my purse and slipped out after her. April showers had rolled in again late last night, and the sky was still clotted with clouds. I tugged my jacket closer against the damp wind.

Two clusters of guys had gathered on the field near Ashgrave Hall. The farther bunch I didn’t recognize at a distance, but the one closer to me was made up of the four scions. Wonderful.

As I eyed them, a dark shape swooped down out of the sky. A hawk. And then another, diving from a different angle toward the same spot. Both groups of guys let out a cheer, urging them on.

The first hawk jerked up at the last second, its feet skimming the ground. It rose again with a chipmunk clutched in its talons. The scions let out another whoop. The other group muttered with frowns all around. The first hawk soared over to Declan, dropping the limp chipmunk at his feet and coming to land on his shoulder. The other bird perched on the wrist of the boy at the head of the opposing group.

“Best two out of three!” that guy hollered.

“If you want to get beaten that badly, how can we turn down the invitation?” Jude called back.

Just another one of their cruel little games.

My gaze lingered for a moment on Connar at the back of the pack, but he didn’t glance my way. All of them were so focused on the competition that they hadn’t noticed me heading toward them.

I wasn’t sure I’d have wanted them to. Remembering the way Declan had told me to stay away from him yesterday after he’d kissed me made me queasy. Veering to the left, I gave them and their playing field a wide berth.

I kept my eyes fixed on the stone side of Ashgrave Hall looming ahead of me, as if I hadn’t noticed them either. The guys were having a hushed discussion about the “bait.” Ugh. I picked up my pace even faster.

Then a harsh voice carried across the space between us. “Yeah, just keep running, Princess.”

My head snapped around with a lurch of my heart. That had sounded almost like—

Not almost like. Exactly like. Because it was. Connar had turned, his arms crossed tight over the expanse of his chest, his gaze burning into me so fiercely my pulse stuttered a second time. He was the one who’d made that snarky remark, calling me “Princess” like he had last night.

My mind refused to compute. If it’d been any of the other scions, I’d have given him the middle finger and walked on. But—Connar— This had to be a mistake. He’d never torn into me before, no matter where we’d been. He’d said—

The other guys had turned to watch. Malcolm clapped his hand to Connar’s shoulder. “You tell her, Conn,” he said with an amused grin.

“What are you staring at?” Connar said, so sharp the words stung my skin. “Do you need another reminder of who you’re messing with?”

A lump rose in my throat. “Connar—”

He cut me off before I could get out more than his name. “How about it, Princess? We’re still going to need to see you on your knees. You don’t mind getting down in the dirt, do you? You can start begging any time now.”

I backpedaled and swung around on abruptly shaky legs. The other guys’ laughter pealed after me. “Nice,” Jude said to Connar.

That wasn’t the guy I’d talked to last night. But it was. It was exactly who I should have known he was.

My earlier nausea surged up from my gut. I clenched my teeth and all but ran the last several feet to the building. Heat prickled behind my eyes.

No. I was not going to cry over that bastard. That fucking bastard who’d been so tender with me before and then—

Why had I let myself trust him? I did know what everyone in this place was like, the scions especially. How had I been so stupid to think the affection he’d shown me was genuine?

Just like the guy before him, he’d gotten what he wanted and kicked me to the curb. Only the fearmancer version of the kicking was a lot closer to literal—and much more painful.

A few of my dormmates were hanging out in the common room when I burst in. Imogen was carrying a cup of tea from the kitchen to her bedroom. Her steps faltered when she saw me, and a flicker of emotion I couldn’t decipher crossed her face.

“Hey,” she said. “I was about the head down to the library to grab a few books. You want to come with?”