The Culling Trials (Shadowspell Academy #2)(28)

Shadows draped across his high cheekbones and outlined his narrow nose, giving him a severe look. His eyes delved into me, piercing green. “Please trust me,” he said softly. “And watch yourself. If there is one person in your family that can make it through this, that can end this, it’s you. But the misconceptions about your magic won’t fool him. He’ll do everything he can to stop you. I know it in my blood. Trust no one, not even Rufus.”

“Who’s Rufus?” I asked.

“The Sandman. He’s not what he seems. I can feel it. His position in the school is a cover. I haven’t put all the pieces together yet, but you’re in an incredible amount of danger from all sides, Belle. These aren’t just trials for you. This isn’t a game. This is life and death. Tank is proof.”

Fear coursed through me, questions battered me, and all I could think to say was “His name is Rufus? No wonder he goes by Sandman.”

Rory’s grin was never far away, and I saw it now, even in the shadows. “Please take this seriously. Just this one thing—take this one thing seriously.”

I started up the stairs, trying to get my questions in a row. My whole personality was a crowbar, and I would get my answers from Rory one way or another. He was talking about sides, but I didn’t even know the players. He was talking about making it through this, but he obviously didn’t mean the trials. And for the love of all that was holy, who was this he? What misconception could there be about my magic? Even saying my magic made my head spin.

“Don’t get caught.”

I glanced back to see what he was talking about now, and empty air greeted me.

My stomach flipped, and I stumbled to a stop.

It wasn’t the speed with which he’d disappeared, which was beyond impressive. It was the speed…while silent. Moving that quietly should have made some noise. A scuff of his heavy boots. A swish of fabric. Something.

The House of Shade had clearly boosted Rory’s natural attributes. He was broader, faster, stronger, and had unreal stealth. The boy had been sculpted into a man who excelled at his craft after just two years of training. And right now, he was showing off.

I let a smile bud.

I’ll be better.

A little competition was good for the soul.





Chapter 11





“Why don’t you just admit it?” Pete said with spite in his voice as our crew climbed the stairs after breakfast.

I’d broken the news about Gregory to everyone this morning. Well, everyone except Orin, who I’d told last night, and who I was convinced never slept. The news hadn’t set well with Pete. Ethan didn’t seem to care overmuch, which only made Pete angrier.

“Admit what?” Ethan said.

“You ordered a hit on Gregory,” Pete replied. “You threatened him. We all heard you. You hated him.”

“If I’d wanted him gone, I would’ve gotten him expelled, genius. Hitmen and kidnappers cost money. Framing someone is free and much easier.”

“He’s got you there,” Orin said.

This discussion had been going on some time, and my mind drifted back to my near miss with the assassin. In the moment, I’d been incapable of anything but fear, but it had struck me after the fact that Rory and I should have been in plain sight of my stalker. Or as good as. . . Where else would we have gone but the trees? The guy had basically stopped right next to us too. He’d even turned our way! But then…nothing. He’d moved on as soon as my pulse had slowed. He hadn’t even stooped to peer into the shadows. It was like he’d been feeling out his prey—me—and lost the trail as soon as my panic faded. Almost as if Rory had somehow shielded our whereabouts.

“I know it was you,” Pete grumbled, cresting the stairs and turning toward our rooms.

“Awesome. Let me know how that works out for you trying to pin something on me that I didn’t do,” Ethan said sarcastically, pulling me out of the residual tremors of fear from the night before.

Wally waited in front of our room, staring at the ceiling as if she could see right through it.

“She’s like a bad smell,” Ethan said as he brushed by her and opened the door.

“Hello, everyone. Ready to get going?” Wally said, as chipper as I’d seen her. “Nicer room, huh? Where’s Gregory? I didn’t see him at breakfast.”

“I’m surprised I didn’t see you at breakfast,” Ethan said dryly, stopping by his bed and reaching for a note pinned to his pillow. A quick look around said we all had one, except Gregory.

“Oh, I thought it prudent to eat with my roommates like we’re supposed to.” Wally shadowed me to my bed. “You know, to ease the sting of leaving them high and dry for the trials. They could use my help.”

“Are you serious?” Ethan read the note.

“Not again,” Pete groaned. “I’m tired. When do we get a day off?”

I picked up my copy of the note.

You are hereby summoned. Your next trial awaits. You have one hours.

“Number one, there is a typo,” I said blandly, not able to summon up the effort to feel outraged. “Number two, there’s no time stamp. How are we supposed to know when the hour is up?”

My watch vibrated, and I glanced down at it. The face didn’t give me the actual time, but a countdown that said we had fifty minutes and thirteen seconds left. Awesome.