by Eva Chase
Thankfully, the furniture layout in all the dorm rooms was essentially the same. I landed on a desk identical to my own, scattering a few papers that’d been left on it. At the thump of my arrival, the form under the bed covers jerked and shoved into a sitting position.
Declan squinted at me in the darkness of the room, his defensive posture relaxing as he recognized me. He didn’t look exactly happy, though.
“What are you doing?” he said in an urgent whisper.
“Sorry.” I slid off the side of the desk to plant my feet on the floor as quietly as I could. “Cast one of those silence spells?”
I knew he could manage it—he’d done it once before when he’d ended up stuck in my bedroom above while Victory and her cronies chatted outside. The Ashgrave scion’s brow stayed furrowed, but he said something with a wave of his hand and let out a sigh.
He ran a hand through his black hair, the smooth strands adorably rumpled from his interrupted sleep. The whole room smelled like him—that warm and dryly sweet scent like cedar wood. My pounding heart started to slow as I soaked it in.
“Okay,” he said, still quietly but no longer at a whisper. “Now are you going to tell me what you’re doing here?”
I ducked to pick up the papers I’d scattered and set them back on the desk. “You don’t have to worry. I cast an illusion spell so no one would see me coming down. It just—I needed to talk to you, and it was the only way I could think of that seemed totally, er, covert.”
His eyebrows arched slightly. “Well, it was definitely that.”
I shot him a mock glower for the teasing note in his voice, but my gaze couldn’t help dropping over the slim but solid muscles that defined his bare chest. The covers were pooled on his lap—I couldn’t tell whether he slept in pajama pants or boxers or… maybe totally naked?
A weird but giddy little thrill raced through me. When I raised my eyes to meet Declan’s again, even in the dim moonlight, I could see the smolder that had lit there. And suddenly there was one thing that I absolutely had to do before we got to the talking part.
I stepped around the desk to the edge of the bed and leaned in, my hand rising to his cheek. I was half afraid Declan would pull away, but he shifted forward to catch my mouth with his. His fingers slipped into my hair, tracing trails of pleasure over my scalp as we kissed, and God, I wished we didn’t ever have to stop. Why couldn’t my life be just this?
When he did draw back, it was only a couple inches, his hand falling to my shoulder. His voice came out a little hoarse. “You know I don’t like having to act as distant as I’ve been with you. If I could stand right there by your side—but with everything that’s at stake—”
Affection for him, for everything he was trying to do and how hard he fought to hold it together, squeezed my chest. “I do know,” I said. “Why do you think I went to all these lengths to arrange the stealthiest possible meeting?”
He laughed under his breath, and then he was tugging me to him again. He kissed me so hard my knees wobbled with the rush of pleasure. When he let me go, it took me a moment to catch my breath.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “We shouldn’t even— We definitely can’t do anything else. Even this room isn’t totally secure from intrusion.”
Yes, there were more compromising positions that would be much harder to explain away than me simply being in his room. “Of course,” I said. “But you don’t have to apologize.”
Before I ended up kissing him again, I sat down on the bed a few feet away, leaving what felt like a reasonable space. Declan scooted closer to the edge so that I only had to turn partway to look at him. “What’s going on?” he said. “It must have been pretty important for you to go to all those lengths.”
He had that lightly teasing tone again, but what I could see of his expression was serious. I swallowed hard. I had no doubt that I’d come to the right person, but discussing this still wasn’t going to be fun.
“You heard what happened to Professor Banefield,” I said.
Declan’s mouth twisted. “He attacked you and then stabbed himself in some kind of delirium from his illness. Although I’ve been assuming there’s more to the story than that.”
“Yeah. That’s just the official version. I didn’t know how much to tell anyone else. I didn’t know who I could trust.” I looked down at my lap. “Someone made him sick—magically. I know because I was able to dispel the curse. But they left a failsafe in, one that meant he’d try to hurt me, to make it so I couldn’t use my magic anymore. He killed himself to stop himself from doing that.”
Declan sucked in a sharp breath. “God.” He reached for my hand, and I let him twine his fingers with mine. His grip steadied me. “Did you find out anything about who cast those spells?”
I nodded. “He managed to tell me a little. He said… He said it was the older barons and someone called ‘the reapers’.”
“The barons.” Declan’s voice darkened. “I wondered, but they haven’t said anything to me. They haven’t even hinted… I knew they’d been making plans without looping me in. They don’t totally trust me. Fuck.” He paused. “And… the reapers?”
“That doesn’t mean anything to you?” I asked. “I have no idea what he meant. And I didn’t get a chance to ask for clarification.”
“No. I’ve never heard anyone use that term to refer to anyone in the community. But I can do some digging and see if I can turn anything up. It’s hard to keep something totally secret from a person who knows what they’re looking for.” He squeezed my hand tighter, and his expression shifted. “Speaking of which… your grandparents called on me.”
Shit. I stiffened. “What did they say?”
“Well, they seemed upset that you hadn’t gotten in touch with them yet, so it might be a good idea to do that soon if you can bear it. They made insinuations about our relationship—which of course I denied as blandly as I could—and then prodded me about helping them with some business deal that’s being put to the barons.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“Not your fault. I can handle them.”
“But anything I can do to convince them they’ve got nothing to hold over your head, the better.” I bit my lip. “I’ll give it my best shot. What do you think I should do about— We might not know who these ‘reapers’ are, but the barons aren’t a secret. Is there something I should watch out for, some way I can defend myself better?”
Declan frowned. “I don’t know. They shouldn’t be meddling like this in the first place. If we had solid proof, it could cost whoever cast the spell or gave the order the barony. But that’s exactly why they’ll have been incredibly careful. It’s impressive Professor Banefield was able to tell you as much as he did.”
My poor mentor. “He did his best. He gave me a key, too, that he implied would lead somewhere important, but I have no idea what it’s for.”
“I can’t help you there, but if you can find it, it might help a lot. I can pay extra attention to the barons’ activities. It’d be hard for them to come onto campus without anyone noticing.”
“They got to Banefield when he took a trip off-campus, I think,” I said.
“That makes sense. So I’d be extra careful of any staff if you find out they’ve taken time off—or anyone new on campus who you haven’t seen around before. And just watch for changes in behavior in general. That’s where your skill in Insight will help you the most.” He grazed his fingertips over my temple. “I’ll keep an eye on the staff and students too. Between the two of us, hopefully we can pick up on any ill intentions before it turns serious.”
I could take a little comfort from that solidarity, anyway. “Do you think—if the other barons haven’t even told you what they’re doing, will they have mentioned it to the other scions?”
The emphatic shake of Declan’s head put that one worry to rest. “I talked with each of them to feel them out during the break. I can’t promise they’ll all be on good behavior, but everything I saw convinced me that no
ne of them had a clue about a plot among the barons. They didn’t even realize the professor who died had any connection to you.”
“Well, I guess that’s something.” I groaned. “It’s so hard not knowing who to trust.”
“Hey.” He waited until I met his eyes again. “I might not be able to offer you very much, but I can offer you this: I’ll have your back in every way I can, no matter what happens. You can trust in that. I don’t want to be standing in the pentacle of barons unless you’re going to be standing there beside me.”
My throat tightened as I smiled back at him, closing around the one secret I couldn’t reveal even to him: that I didn’t intend to stay among fearmancers long enough to take on the barony in the first place. But either way, I did still have to survive first.
I clasped his hand. “Let’s hope we make it that far, then.”
Chapter Eight
Rory
Malcolm must have been waiting for me to come down from my dorm. As I stepped out of the stairwell into the hall, he peeled himself off the wall across from me, his dark brown eyes fixed on me with a cool glower.
“Bloodstone,” he said, “we need to talk.”
I tensed automatically from head to toe—shields up, casting words at the ready, alert to any move he might make. But apparently he really did just want to talk. He tipped his golden head toward the far end of the hall and started ambling over as if he expected me to follow him.
I did, just a short ways, keeping a careful distance and trying to figure out what he was leading me to. I came around the bend to see him reaching for the door to the scions’ basement lounge, and stopped in my tracks.
“If you want to talk, we can talk up here,” I said. I had no interest at all in being alone in an enclosed space with this guy.
He stopped and folded his arms over his chest. He might not have been quite as brawny as Connar, but the pose still highlighted the ample muscle in his chest and arms. “I think it’s best to keep scion business between scions, don’t you think?”
I couldn’t hold back my laugh. “Oh, like you’ve kept your issues with me so very private in the past? What’s different this time? Are you starting to realize that you don’t actually come off looking as impressive as you assumed you would when you try to push me around?”
His jaw tightened, and he took a step toward me. His gaze darted across the hallway and came back to rest on me. This end of the hall was decently secluded. If I yelled, there were plenty of people in the library and coming and going from the dorms who’d have heard, but speaking at normal volume, we wouldn’t draw any notice.
Maybe I didn’t want to be totally alone with the Nightwood scion, but I wasn’t itching for an audience either. Having spectators seemed to add extra fuel to Malcolm’s spite.
“I thought you were so big on conscience, Glinda,” he said, his voice searingly cold. “Now seducing my friends so you can use them against me is fair play in your book?”
I blinked at him. “‘Seducing’ your friends? Excuse me? Who exactly are you talking about?”
“Connar didn’t get it into his head to come to your rescue out of nowhere. He wouldn’t throw away more than a decade of friendship over some girl out of nowhere. You might have picked insight, but somehow I suspect you’ve been honing your persuasive skills as well.”
For a second I could only sputter, my throat was so choked with indignation. “Are you fucking kidding me? Maybe he just happens to think that you’re wrong without any outside influence at all. I didn’t even ask him to do anything, let alone magic him into jumping in.”
Malcolm’s glower came back. “Do you really expect me to believe that, especially when you’ve somehow convinced Jude to trot at your heels for weeks now too?”
I just about exploded then, but the murmur of voices carrying from around the bend brought me back to caution just in time. I schooled my voice as low as I could without diminishing the bite of anger. “I didn’t want Jude’s attentions. I’ve been telling him to leave me alone. You know, you really should spend some time paying attention to what’s actually going on around you instead of making up stories in your head. I’m not the villain in this story to anyone but you.”
“I can see perfectly fine,” he snapped, his hands dropping to his sides as he shifted closer. His gaze didn’t leave my face for a second. “And if you think casting a couple of love spells is going to make me go easier on you—”
“I didn’t cast any spells,” I shot back. “And you know what? Even if I was happily welcoming every guy in this school into my life and, hell, into my bed, it wouldn’t be any of your business. Or do you think being king of the school means you get to decide who your friends date too?”
Malcolm’s jaw clenched. “It’s not dating if you’re brainwashing them into it.” But even though the words came out taut, I caught a flicker of some emotion other than anger in his devilishly divine face. Something that had come out when I’d mentioned taking guys into my bed. Something as hot and hungry as the way Declan had looked at me when I’d appeared at his bedside last night.
I’d have expected to recoil at the idea that Malcolm had any interest in me that way. Instead, the recognition sent a triumphant shiver through me. The magic that coiled behind my collarbone, born of others’ fears and weaknesses, hummed in harmony.
There was a chink in Malcolm’s armor. There was a way of dueling that I hadn’t tried yet, one where I now knew I had the upper hand. Maybe a way to stop us going in more and more of these stupid vicious circles and put him off from hassling me for good.
And fuck, it would feel so good to win one real victory here.
I didn’t question the impulse. It rose up in me like an instinct I’d always had, and I let it propel me forward. Close enough to jab my finger against Malcolm’s well-built chest and watch the spark light in the back of his eyes.
“You know what?” My voice fell into a silkily cool murmur I hadn’t known I had in me. “I don’t think even you really believe all these stories about me working voodoo on your friends. I think you’re just jealous that I’d even consider giving them the time of day when I can’t imagine ever wanting anything to do with you.”
Malcolm’s stance went rigid. “What the fuck are you talking about? That’s the last thing I—”
“No?” I said, cutting him off, and bobbed up the last short distance between us to brush my lips against his.
At least, it was supposed to be just a brush, the faintest whisper of a kiss to kindle a reaction. But oh boy, did he react. The second my mouth grazed his, he caught my jaw and tugged me closer, turning the kiss into a branding.
It wouldn’t have mattered. He was proving me right. The problem was in an instant I wasn’t so sure I had the upper hand here after all. The heat of his mouth blazed through me right down to my toes—fuck, the guy knew how to kiss—and a whole lot of other parts of me woke up with tingling attention.
I didn’t want to want him, but apparently a significant portion of me did despite myself.
I jerked back, willing my breath to stay calm and the flush to retreat from my cheeks. With what remained of my composure, I managed to swipe the back of my hand across my mouth as if the kiss had been so distasteful I couldn’t wait to wipe all trace of it away. Malcolm stared at me, his gaze outright scorching now, his stance momentarily hesitant.
Thank God for that brief hesitation. “I think I’ve made my point,” I said with all the tartness I could summon from the whirl of emotions racing through me, and strode off before he might try to pay me back in kind.
What the fuck had I been thinking?
It was over. I’d kept up my front of being unaffected. The gambit might have worked, regardless of how I’d felt about it. No matter what else he felt about me, Malcolm wanted me, and he knew I knew it. That meant I had one thing over him I hadn’t had before.
I could at least be thankful that my summer project target was predictable. Benjamin and his three architecture program friends
took to what appeared to be their favorite spot in the field nearly every day in the early afternoon and stayed there for a couple hours as long as the weather was pleasant. Today, no one was lurking beside Ashgrave Hall watching them—until I took up that post myself, anyway.
Naries didn’t have any mental shields, with no magic to generate them and no knowledge that they’d need to. I guessed that was part of what made them such appealing targets in general. I fixed my eyes on Benjamin’s forehead from across the field and murmured my casting word for a general insight spell—the word that honored the family that had raised me to care about how others saw the world: “Franco.”
I didn’t want to delve too far. Benjamin Alvarez deserved as much privacy as anyone. But I needed to figure out the best way to motivate him toward my goal, which I suspected he’d have had as a goal of his own if he’d been given reason to think it might be possible.
I’d just have to give him that reason.
Impressions flitted through my senses. Insight wasn’t a direct ask-and-answer situation even when you asked a specific question. You caught a glimpse of this and that inside the person’s head and had to construct the meaning out of that.
Benjamin enjoyed the warmth of the sun and the soft cushion of grass beneath him. Pride rippled through his evaluation of the sketch he’d been working on—it was a building he was hoping he’d get to renovate someday back in his home town, wherever that was. I pushed a little deeper, sharpening my mind with thoughts of this school, of the potential hostilities of the other students.
Ah, there it was.
I caught a whiff of frustration in a memory of some guys jostling past him, skewing the line of his pencil. A general sense of always being watched. Unnerving pranks like all the writing instruments abruptly disappearing from his room. He rose above the tensions of the university pretty well, but the need for constant vigilance wore at him. I could relate to that feeling.
