Royals of Villain Academy 6: Foul Conjuring

by Eva Chase

  Rory frowned at me. “Why shouldn’t I talk to her now? She’s my mother.”

  Yeah, that was the problem with her thinking right there. As if the blood relation was any guarantee of mercy or even an open ear. “This is politics,” I said. “Major politics. You can’t just march into the middle of it and start making demands, or you’re giving them an excuse to come down on you, openly this time. If you want to change this without screwing yourself over, you need to handle it carefully.”

  “I still have to handle it.” Rory’s brow knit as she studied me. Something in her expression made my stomach knot. “I remember how you talked about the ‘feebs’ before. Do you even think they deserve better than what the professors like Crowford are setting them up for?”

  I opened my mouth and closed it again. I didn’t think all those random kids were worth risking her safety over, but I’d have said the same about any group of fearmancers too. The Naries were just there. For us to work on and work around as need be… But after all the ideas I’d challenged myself on over the last couple months, maybe I should take a closer look at that instinctive reaction too.

  “I don’t think they deserve to be terrified or to have their memories scrambled,” I said. “Maybe I haven’t seen them as worthy of making friends with or whatever, but I never went out of my way to torment them myself. Picking on people who don’t have the slightest chance of keeping up with you is lazy and pathetic, not impressive. I think the mages who terrorize their familiars to fuel their powers are jackasses too.”

  Rory arched one of her eyebrows. “So you see Naries as on the same level as animals.”

  “That’s not what I meant.” I dragged in a breath, willing my thoughts into some kind of order. It was my own fault for walking into this conversation, but I wasn’t going to fail the test it’d turned into if I had any say in it.

  “I can’t give you a perfect answer right now, Rory. I honestly hadn’t given it much thought. The way I see them is mostly based on the attitudes I picked up from people like my parents, so obviously I need to re-examine those. I know—I know you were a force to be reckoned with before you even knew you had magic, let alone how to use it. Magic isn’t all that matters. And not having it shouldn’t consign someone to be kicked around. I just…”

  I couldn’t bear the thought of the girl—the woman—in front of me setting off to do battle and returning broken. I’d already lost my best friend in every way that counted until we could figure out how to save him. If I lost Rory too…

  I couldn’t find the words to express any of that in a way I could stomach. The best I could settle on was, “I don’t want anything else happening to you.”

  Rory’s posture had relaxed as I’d spoken. “Okay,” she said. “That’s fair. I will be careful. I just can’t stand back and not try when I’m one of the few people who has a chance of making a difference.”

  “Of course you can’t.” So much affection rose up inside me as I gazed down at her that I couldn’t hold myself back any longer. I slid my fingers along her jaw to the soft fall of her hair and leaned in to kiss her.

  It was so much better than that first time—having her melt into me rather than stiffening against her desire, the hot press of her lips matching mine. I lost myself in the embrace just like I had back then. To be honest, the moment her mouth had brushed mine in the midst of our argument, everything I’d wanted to prove, everything I’d been accusing her of had flown out the window, and nothing had mattered but provoking all the passion I could from this stunning woman.

  That thought stayed with me as I forced myself to pull back, with an itch of inspiration. Rory had been right that during that argument I’d been looking at her with nearly as much hostility as Connar was now… with more attraction than I’d wanted to admit underneath. Maybe there was something in that we could use.

  I’d have to poke at the possibility some more and see where I could take it. We didn’t have time to discuss it right now. Rory stepped away from me, and I groped for anything concrete I could offer.

  “I’ll talk to Crowford this afternoon and see what I can find out,” I said. “He’s my mentor. I don’t need much of an excuse to call on him.”

  Rory nodded, her cheeks still lightly flushed from the kiss. “That sounds like a plan. You can tell me how that goes when I get back—in one piece, I promise.”

  “You’d better be,” I muttered, but I flashed her a smile before she set off again.

  I didn’t have to wait long to call on the Persuasion professor. After five years, we didn’t have regular mentor appointments scheduled anymore, but I knew his office hours. I spent the last little while mulling over my approach and trying not to agonize over the trouble Rory might be getting herself into, and then strode over to Killbrook Hall.

  Another student, a junior, was just leaving Crowford’s office when I reached it. I gave the kid a mild glower just to make sure he knew who I was and where respect was due, and let up the second a flicker of nervous energy flitted from him to me. “I’m guessing you have class to get to,” I said mildly, and he scampered off with a bob of his head.

  Professor Crowford looked up as I came in and blinked with obvious surprise. Gratifyingly, he stood up to welcome me. This man certainly knew to defer to his future barons. The problem was more how much he was already deferring to the ones currently in charge.

  “Mr. Nightwood,” he said. “It’s been a while. What can I help you with today?”

  I propped myself on the arm of the chair across from his desk, tipping my head with an air of total confidence. “I’ve heard you’ve got a special program that just started running. Something about getting more juice from the Naries. Only a select number of students involved. I assume it was simply an oversight that I wasn’t included in that number?”

  Crowford stayed standing, giving me his usual slick smile, but his hands had tucked into his pockets as if to stop them from fidgeting. He could tell he was on shaky ground.

  “I didn’t realize word had gotten out,” he said. “Who did you hear it from?”

  “I’m not here to get anyone in trouble. I just want in—and to know why I wasn’t included in the first place.”

  “Well…” He shrugged, all casual. “The barons requested that we run the initial sessions without any involvement from their heirs. The concern was, I believe, that having any of you present might bias the reactions we got from the other students, who’d look to you for cues as authority figures. They wanted clean runs so we could count on the responses being genuine.”

  I supposed that excuse made a decent amount of sense, at least enough for the barons to avoid it looking odd that they were hiding the policy change from their own heirs. If we acted like the whole thing was a great idea—or a horrible one—a lot of the other students would fall in line no matter what they’d have thought otherwise. A fact which could work in our favor later on.

  “The cat’s out of the bag now,” I said. “You’ve had time to gather a decent amount of data.”

  “I’m sure you can understand that I’d prefer to stick to our agreement with the barons,” Crowford hedged.

  I had to get something useful out of this meeting. I sighed as if the whole thing was carrying on too long for my liking. “I’d like to at least see how it all works. I can keep out of the way, out of sight, and simply watch. Unless you doubt my abilities.”

  I said the last bit just pointedly enough to provoke a slight but noticeable tensing of the man’s shoulders. Crowford shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He had to contend with my father now—but he’d have decades of dealing with me coming soon enough.

  “I suppose in that case it wouldn’t be breaking from the agreement,” he said. “It would be awkward in the classroom setting, but we do have an outdoor session planned in a short while.”

  “Perfect,” I said. “Just tell me where and when.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Rory

  When I’d contacted my mother t
o ask to see her, she’d directed me to a small city about halfway between Blood U and the main Bloodstone residence. Apparently we had a business property there.

  I parked outside a mirrored building in the middle of the downtown core and gazed up at it for a moment, gathering my resolve. Malcolm’s warnings were still lingering in my head.

  I didn’t really know my mother yet. She might think exploiting the university’s Nary students this way was a brilliant idea. She might not care at all that I disagreed. But I could at least find that out and make the best case I could.

  She wanted a strong heir. I’d show her I was one—and that I wasn’t afraid to tell her when I thought she was wrong.

  The company it appeared the Bloodstones had a major stake in was on the fifth floor. I took the elevator up and walked through the door just down the hall with the right sign next to it.

  The room I stepped into had probably used to be a bustling modern office. Several glossy white desks were spread throughout the space, brightened by sunlight streaming through the broad windows along one wall. The sight was made eerie by the fact that none of those desks were occupied except the one my mother was sitting at toward the far end of the room.

  Lillian sat kitty-corner to her, flipping a paper they must have been going over, and Maggie lingered near the windows. Otherwise the office was utterly vacant.

  My mother’s voice nearly echoed through the emptiness as she beckoned me over. “Persephone. Not the most impressive setting, I realize, but we’re working on restoring operations here. Hard to keep businesses running with no one around to oversee them.”

  “Of course.” As I crossed the polished floor, my shoes squeaked so loud that I had to restrain a wince. A lemony scent hung in the air. She’d made enough progress that someone had already come through to give the place a thorough cleaning, anyway.

  What kind of business was she setting up that she needed advice from a blacksuit? Or was Lillian here acting only in her best-friend, non-professional capacity?

  “How have you been?” my mother asked as I reached the desk. It occurred to me that she still hadn’t mentioned my birthday in any of our communications. Had she still not remembered, or was she waiting to see if I’d bring it up? I wasn’t sure it’d be wise to mention that failing when I had a much more serious problem to tackle.

  “Good,” I said. “There’s just something I wanted to talk to you about. Preferably in private.” I shot a quick smile at her companion. “No offense.”

  Lillian had been working with Baron Nightwood on his other illicit plans. I doubted I could count on her supporting my complaints.

  The blacksuit eyed me consideringly, but she kept her tone light. “Don’t worry about me. Family comes first.”

  “Indeed.” My mother stood up. “We can use the president’s office.” She tipped her head to Lillian. “Give that one aspect of the proposal some more thought and see if you can’t find a simpler strategy.”

  Lillian bobbed her head in agreement, and I bit my tongue against asking what strategies they were working on. Yet another thing that would distract from my main purpose. But I couldn’t help commenting, as my mother led me over to a walled room in the corner, “I guess as you’re getting things back on course, you’ll let me know how this all works? I haven’t really had a chance to look over all of the family’s properties or anything like that.”

  “Of course you haven’t,” she said easily. “Your schooling was naturally your top priority, as it should be. We’ll have plenty of time to discuss the various pies we have our fingers in as I get settled in myself.”

  She opened the door to the supposed president’s office with a casting word and a twist of her fingers. The space on the other side had the same tall windows along one wall, a glossy desk nearly twice the size of those in the outer room, and a couple of cabinets in pale gray. There was nothing else, not even a chair. The emptiness there felt more claustrophobic than outside. Maybe that was why my mother had been working in the larger room.

  She propped herself on the edge of the desk, looking trim but no longer gaunt in her long-sleeved sheath dress. “Well, then. What’s on your mind? You look rather serious. This obviously isn’t a mere social visit.”

  “No,” I acknowledged. “I—” I’d thought I’d known exactly how I wanted to approach this, but faced with her cool eyes, my confidence faltered. Any dissembling I tried, she’d probably see through in an instant. Maybe it was better to cut to the chase.

  “There’s been a recent change to how the Nary students at the university are handled,” I said. “Allowing students to reveal their powers to them. Were you involved in making that decision?”

  My mother chuckled, a low melodic sound. “The other barons could hardly have gone ahead in approving that large a shift without involving me.”

  But somehow they did without Declan, I thought but didn’t say. At least she was admitting how big a deal the change was. On the other hand, she was obviously totally on board with it. My throat tightened. I couldn’t be surprised by that, but I still wished it wasn’t true.

  I kept my voice as calm and steady as I could to match her bearing. “I’ve been seeing the effects on the Nary students firsthand, and I think they’re more extreme than the barons must have anticipated. Their memories might be altered so they don’t remember that magic exists, but the emotional impact is lingering. And that’s with only a few exposures, I have to assume.”

  “All the better,” my mother said. “Any fear that continues to rise up because of the students’ actions will give those mages even more energy. That’s the primary reason we’ve taken this step—so that you all will have more magic to work with and be able to do bigger and better things with it. I don’t see a problem there.”

  Right. Because to her it obviously didn’t matter what distress the Naries were feeling. Or occur to her that I might not want to do greater magic if it meant torturing innocent people in the process.

  I groped for the practical reasons I could offer that didn’t require saying, Treating other people that way is really shitty even if they don’t have magic. “I’m not sure how sustainable it could be. If they all end up having nervous breakdowns within a few months of starting school, pretty soon no one’s going to send more Nary students to Blood U at all. There could be investigations.”

  My mother waved those concerns off before I could go on. “You haven’t been in our world long enough to see how efficiently we can handle the Nary authorities. They don’t pose any threat. And this stage is merely the first experiment to evaluate how it goes. If we find we’re pushing them too hard, we’ll have the students adjust their strategy so it can be sustained for the entire period of enrollment.”

  And then what? They’d all have nervous breakdowns within months of leaving Blood U? It’d really have earned the name Villain Academy then.

  My throat had constricted even more, but I forced another argument out. “If we want to avoid exposure to the larger world, it’s also going to be a lot harder when the fearmancer students start feeling like it’s okay to openly use their magic on Naries. It wouldn’t take many slips for word to get out no matter how hard you try to control things. They couldn’t keep the secret even just at school for more than a week.”

  “Persephone.” My mother pushed herself off the desk and came over to rest her hand on my shoulder. “You really don’t need to worry about all of this. We do have the situation entirely under control. I appreciate how much thought you’ve put into this and how you’re looking out for the school and our society in general, but I assure you, we’ve put even more thought into it. We’re certain this is the best way forward.”

  The best way forward toward what? I didn’t know how to ask that in any way that wouldn’t sound accusing. Or how to explain that I wanted to look out for the Naries too. My heart was sinking with the suspicion that if I mentioned that, she’d laugh in my face.

  Before we’d even rescued her, I’d been prepared that she might
share the common, callous fearmancer attitude toward Naries. It’d taken a hell of a lot for even Jude and Malcolm to start to see things differently. I’d just have to work on this over time—and find other ways to show the problems with the new policy back on campus, until the barons would have to admit that it couldn’t continue. Arguing with my mother any further didn’t seem likely to get me anywhere.

  “Okay,” I said, forcing a smile. “I’ll see how it ends up working out. I’m sorry I bothered you with this. Thanks for talking it through with me.”

  “Of course. I can hardly give you proper guidance if I don’t know what’s on your mind. I can’t imagine how you managed all those months here without anyone to properly turn to.”

  I’d had my fellow scions, as slowly as it’d taken some of them to come around. I’d had my first mentor before the other barons had ripped him apart to put me off balance. If the guidance came with swift decisions to institute cruel policies… that wasn’t a deal I’d have wanted to make.

  I walked with her out into the main office space, doing my best to ignore the churning in my gut. Lillian got up from her chair when she saw us, holding some of the papers in her hands.

  “Everything sorted out?” she asked, her gaze sliding between the two of us.

  “Quite satisfactorily,” my mother said.

  Lillian motioned with the papers. “I think I can find some additional leniency when it comes to that one ruling. I’ll need to talk with a couple people when it comes to the others, but there are always options for exerting more sway. I’ll get on that right away, unless there was something else you needed me for right now?”

  I suspected she was being purposefully vague because of my presence. It didn’t seem to faze my mother at all.

  “The faster we can move on this when we’re ready, the better,” she said with an air that felt more momentous than if they were just talking about setting up some kind of workforce here. A prickling ran over my skin.