Cruel Magic (Royals of Villain Academy #1)(64)

She hadn’t looked like she was heading to the library, and her voice was weirdly bright. Or maybe I was doing a better job of hiding my inner turmoil than it felt like.

“No,” I said. “That, um, that’s okay.”

“Come find me if you change your mind,” she said, raising her cup of tea, and breezed past me out the door.

The girls who were sitting in a cluster in the lounge area leaned closer to each other with emphatic murmurs that might or might not have been about me. I glanced toward Shelby’s door, but a hoarse coughing filtered through it at the same moment. My stomach twisted even harder at the thought of turning to her. She’d looked pretty out of it when I’d seen her this morning. She needed my help more than I should need hers.

I couldn’t tell her even a tenth of the things that were bothering me anyway.

I hustled into my own bedroom. My magical security system was still in place, at least. I ducked inside, recast the spell with a few muttered words, and collapsed onto the bed.

The tears I’d been fighting started to leak out despite my best efforts. I squeezed my eyes shut as if that would keep them in.

A faint rustling sounded from the wardrobe. A moment later, Deborah burrowed between my arms and my chest. Her whiskers tickled my palm.

What happened, sweetheart?

“Nothing important,” I whispered. Was it stupid even to feel this hurt when I hadn’t expected last night to mean all that much anyway? How had I gotten my head turned around so badly?

I stroked my thumb over Deborah’s fur. “I hate it here. I hate all these people. I don’t—”

I didn’t know what I was doing. I didn’t know if I could keep doing it, keep going, until I figured out some kind of plan to turn the tables on everyone here. But where could I go that would be any better?

They’re awful, Deborah agreed without hesitation. You’ve learned some tricks. We could make a run for it now. If we plan it right, we could probably get to California before they catch up.

And then what? The joymancers would throw me in whatever jail they had, and the fearmancers would slaughter them like they had my parents to drag me back out.

Until I brought down this center of fearmancer society and as much of the rest as I could, there was nowhere I could run that would do me or anyone else any good.

“No,” I said softly, petting Deborah again. “It’s okay. I’ll be okay.” But for the first time since I’d decided to destroy Villain Academy, I couldn’t shake the cold wash of fear that had come over me.





Chapter Twenty-Six





Rory





There was something deeply unnerving about meeting a figure in the flesh whom you’d only before seen in a sort-of dream before. As I headed out of Ashgrave Hall, a man fell into step beside me. I glanced up at him, and my pulse hiccupped. I stopped in my tracks.

I’d seen that golden-brown hair flecked with gray and those familiar features grown tighter with age in my brief venture into Malcolm’s mind. His father, because that had to be who this man was, looked even more like the Nightwood scion now that he stood before me in reality.

The apple didn’t fall far from the tree. My stance tensed.

The man gave me a smile that was about as warm as his son’s usually was—so, not particularly. “Miss Bloodstone. I take it you know who I am.”

“Mr. Nightwood,” I said automatically.

“Baron Nightwood,” he corrected in a firm tone that suggested I’d better remember that title next time. “I was hoping we might speak for a bit.”

A chat with one of the four current rulers of the fearmancer world. With the most powerful current ruler, if the dynamics between the scions were anything to go by. I swallowed against the sudden dryness of my mouth. Why was Malcolm’s dad coming to me here and now?

What were the chances he was any less of an asshole than his son? I’d have to assume pretty much nil. He’d had at least a couple more decades to perfect his cruelty.

I’d never thought I’d wish to have Malcolm Nightwood in front of me, but I’d have been overjoyed if he’d swept in to replace Baron Nightwood in this moment.

“What did you want to talk about?” I said, relieved just to hear my voice stay steady. Was he going to remove me from the university before I even had the chance to complete my assessment? Malcolm had said the barons were the only ones who could reverse a dismissal, so no doubt they could also impose one.

Baron Nightwood ushered me away from the entrance to stand near a windowless portion of the building. I’d have taken more comfort from the fact that we were in view of the green if I hadn’t seen how enthusiastically a Nightwood could make use of an audience for amplified torture.

“I apologize for not introducing myself and welcoming you home sooner,” he said. “I thought it best to give you time to settle in before making more impositions on your attention than you must already be facing.”

I blinked at him. Baron Nightwood was… apologizing… to me? Was this part of some weird reverse psychology voodoo?

“Um,” I said, “that’s totally okay. I’ve kind of had my hands full.”

The corners of his mouth twitched so slightly I couldn’t tell whether he’d mastered a smile or a frown. Maybe he was amused thinking of all the ways his son had contributed to my preoccupation.