Cruel Magic (Royals of Villain Academy #1)(68)

All of that was true, but the larger reason that I’d never have said to anyone in this room was I’d wanted to keep Noah away from the politics at home and the potential threats that circulated alongside them. The kid was only seventeen. He’d been just an infant when our mother had died, but he was nearly as much a target for Aunt Ambrosia as I was. The longer I could ensure he stayed far from this vicious circle, the better.

Baron Stormhurst wouldn’t have understood my concern at all. She was only baron because she and her husband had destroyed her older brother’s family thirteen years ago. No one had any proof that the series of accidents and illnesses had been their fault, of course, because that would have been sloppy, but everyone knew.

Just like everyone knew what had happened between Connar and his brother right before they turned fifteen.

Edmund Killbrook, Jude’s father, rested his elbows on the tabletop where he’d already taken his seat. He was even more sharp angles than his son, his hair a sandy blond. Jude’s deep red came from his mother.

“I hope he doesn’t come back with the airs the European mages like to put on,” he said flatly.

Julian Nightwood, Malcolm’s father, strode to his seat with a click of his dress shoes against the floor. Looking at him was like looking thirty-two years into the future to the middle-aged man Malcolm would become.

Baron Killbrook’s gaze slid to the empty point of the pentacle where a chair sat waiting for the next Bloodstone baron. He turned to Nightwood as the other man sat down. “I thought you were going to bring the Bloodstone girl.”

Nightwood frowned. “The Bloodstone girl is in need of several good slaps before she sets foot in this room. The joymancers clearly addled her head. The sooner we can wring that influence out of her, the better.” He glanced at me. “You’ve had plenty of chances to observe her and intervene, Ashgrave. It appears she’s proved beyond the abilities of both you and our sons.”

“She lived with the joymancers for seventeen years,” I said, as impassively as I could. “She’s only been at the university for four weeks. Retraining instincts and inclinations takes time.”

Stormhurst let out a huff as she dropped into her chair. “We’ve given it enough time. We’ve been waiting seventeen years. To be on the verge, and then—” She sucked a breath through her teeth. “There has to be a way to speed the process along.”

“From what Malcolm’s said, he’s come up with an idea he expects to throw her off before her assessment,” Nightwood said. “If her magic fails to activate fully, it’s likely she’ll be dismissed, and then we’ll be in a much better position to direct her.”

“Are we going to leave it to the scions again, then?” Killbrook said.

Nightwood leaned back in his chair, his gaze going distant for a moment. “Malcolm has made some progress. He’s intimidated her enough that she was frightened just seeing me. I think we should be above meddling with the university procedures.” He raised his eyes. “But if his next gambit fails, we’ll want to turn to other tactics. I agree that we’ve waited long enough already.”

Other tactics. I didn’t know exactly what the rest of the pentacle had been waiting for or how Rory would fit in, but it must have been big. It was only the core laws of our society that couldn’t be overturned without the agreement of five rightful barons—which meant when you only had three or four, there wasn’t even any point in talking about it. The best I’d gathered was that the pentacle had been preparing to make some major move before the confrontation that had left them missing one and with only a regent for another.

Whatever their intention was, I didn’t think my mother had agreed with it. I had vague memories of her venting to my father about “the four of them” and how they meant to “destroy everything” in the weeks before she’d vanished from my life.

Sometimes I wondered if her death had really been entirely at the hands of the joymancers, or if someone else in the vicinity might have shoved her into the line of fire with the thought that a child would be easier to mold to the attitudes they wanted.

Stormhurst grimaced. “All right. I trust you’re prepared to carry out the necessary measures as needed, Ashgrave?” Her cold eyes met mine.

Whatever the other barons were after, they wanted it badly. I could taste the current of impatience that ran through the room. The vise around my gut tightened.

Challenges between students was one thing. All of us mages on campus stood on at least somewhat equal footing. If the barons started sabotaging Rory’s progress, that wasn’t just natural squabbling or familial in-fighting. That was plotting treason against the sole remaining member of one of the pentacle families. We were supposed to each govern our own.

My frustrations with Rory were far more my fault than hers. That moment in the library—so close to her with so many emotions stirred up, her scent everywhere and her hand brushing over me like a caress—I’d lost control for one reckless, blissful, stupid moment. So fucking stupid.

It wasn’t just my brother I was shielding as I staked a claim at this table but the other scions too. They deserved to be able to complete their time at Blood U unencumbered by the weight I’d had to shoulder so much earlier than most barons did. Rory deserved better than a double-edged welcome home. She’d barely had a chance to find her feet. Given a little more time, I had the feeling she’d become something magnificent, just perhaps not in the way these people wanted.