by Eva Chase
“Well… You’ve been insulting them behind their backs. Riling people up against them who might have been just fine with everything that’s going on.”
I barely restrained myself from rolling my eyes at her. At least this gave me a chance to appeal to the wider audience still gathering around us.
I pitched my voice a little louder. “Do you honestly think that we could convince people to push back against the barons if they didn’t really feel it was necessary? Almost everyone is scared of them, for good reason. All we’re trying to do is make sure everyone who’s scared but worried about what they’re doing can say so together with others who feel the same way, so they have safety in numbers. And anyone who’s been too scared until now should know that if they decide to speak up too, all of us scions will stand with them.”
“You’re trying to keep us low down in the shadows like we’ve been lurking around beneath the Naries for so long,” piped up someone from the fringes of the crowd. “Maybe it doesn’t matter to you because you’re already as high as you can get, but the rest of us don’t want to throw away the chance at that power.”
I frowned in their general direction. “Unfortunately, you can’t take that power without dragging everyone else along with you. And how much enjoyment are you going to get out of it when you have to spend all your time making sure the Naries don’t fight back? It’s a heck of a lot easier to lord it over them when there’s way more of us than them here on campus. Did you ever think about how many more there are in the entire country?”
A muttering spread through the gathering, sounding both irritated and unsettled. More unsettled, I hoped.
The guy who’d first argued with me gave an indignant sniff. “Well, we’ll support our actual leaders, and you can keep on being traitors. I know who’ll come out ahead.”
He turned to stalk away, and the others followed him. The three members of the Guard they’d been harassing shot me sheepish smiles.
“Sorry,” the one guy said. “I didn’t know how to talk them down.”
“It’s fine.” They’d probably only backed away from fighting with me because they were nervous of my powers as a Bloodstone. “Has this sort of thing happened before?”
“I heard a couple of people with Guard badges got snipe-attacked with some painful spells last night on their way back to the dorms,” the girl said. “And there’s been a lot of… talk. Classes aren’t super fun right now.” She brushed off her arms, one sleeve of her jacket deformed where a spell had melted a splotch of fabric.
I guessed that was to be expected. They didn’t look surprised by it. “Stay on your guard, then,” I said. “Ah, no pun intended. And if you need backup from any of us scions, all you have to do is say so.”
The second guy gave me a little salute, and they headed off to whatever business they’d been involved in before our classmates had interrupted them.
I’d have liked to think that incident and the one the girl had mentioned were isolated pockets of resentment. But as the day went on, I couldn’t help noticing the looks cut my way in class, the glares when certain students thought I wouldn’t notice them followed by a jolt of fear when I did. And if they were displaying even that much hostility toward me, they weren’t going to hold back with the regular students who’d signed on to the Guard.
The tensions came to a head faster than I could have anticipated. In the late afternoon, when a bunch of classes were letting out, I came out of Nightwood Tower to find a swarm of students forming on the green.
Declan, who’d been in the same seminar as me, scanned the assembly with a deepening frown. “I don’t like the look of this. I’d better alert the others.”
As he tapped out a text, a pattern in behavior emerged. Some of the students ahead of us walked straight through the crowd without interference. Those who were wearing their Scions’ Guard badge, though, found their ways blocked by their classmates. At least a few dozen people were closing in on us, their expressions stormy. One of them snapped out a spell at a Guard member near him, who blocked it only to be shoved to his knees by another spell cast from behind.
“That’s enough!” I said, loud enough for my voice to carry. “We’re all fearmancers here. We want what’s best for the community.”
“Yeah,” someone shouted back. “And we’re going to make sure we get it without a bunch of stuck-up heirs screwing us over.”
“Oh, really?” Malcolm strolled up at the other end of the green, his tone cocky but his eyes blazing. “And you think ganging up on people you disagree with and pummeling them into submission would make you right? If your ideas are so great, why do you have to stomp on the opposition rather than convincing us?”
“Hey.” Declan lifted his arms to catch people’s attention and then spread his hands. “We’d love to hear why the moves the barons are making are so important to you. Maybe you can convince us. I’m a lot more likely to think you have something useful to say if you actually say it instead of beating up on everyone else.”
“Who the hell cares what you think?” another voice rang out. “You got kicked out of the barony before you even had it. Traitor!”
“Traitors!” a cry went up from several directions at once. Magic flashed through the crowd. I murmured my defenses even stronger around me and flung out more magic toward the members of the Guard I could spot. My spells shuddered with the impact of the searing energy thrown at them.
We scions were strong together, and we’d picked our Guard well, but we were outnumbered at least three to one here. Unfortunately I didn’t think our classmates were going to pick up on the analogy that they could overpower us the same way all those Naries might overthrow any rule we ended up imposing on them.
A quiver of my own fear was just passing through me with the cries and grunts ringing out when several dark figures marched onto the green from the back doors of Killbrook Hall.
“What the hell is going on here?” hollered the blacksuit in the lead, coming to an abrupt halt at the edge of the crowd. He motioned to his colleagues, and their casting words flew out together. A momentary dizziness swept over me and everyone else I could see, bringing the fighting to a halt.
I stiffened as I eyed the blacksuits, rubbing my head. Had the barons sent a force to officially bully us into submission? I wouldn’t put it past them. They’d used the law enforcement officers to collect the Naries’ phones and cast that anti-communications spell on them just a couple weeks ago.
“We’re bringing down the traitors, like they deserve,” said someone in the crowd.
“I don’t see any traitors here. I see a bunch of unruly school children.” The disdain in the blacksuit’s voice came through loud and clear. He swept his arm toward the mass of students. “All of you except the scions, out of here, now. You’ve created enough of a disturbance as it is.”
That didn’t sound totally antagonistic. On the other hand, maybe they didn’t want any witnesses for whatever they were about to do with us.
I waited until most of our classmates had dispersed in their various directions, and then walked over to meet the blacksuits, braced for some new attack. Declan came with me, Malcolm and Connar, who’d emerged from Ashgrave Hall, joining us. Jude was nowhere in sight, but he had been bowing out of any confrontation likely to involve magic.
I stopped several feet from the blacksuits and looked them over. “Thank you,” I said warily. “Things were getting pretty… riled up. We haven’t instigated anything against the students who support the barons.”
The lead blacksuit grimaced. “No, from what I’ve seen it’s the barons doing most of the instigating.” He tipped his head toward his colleagues. There were eleven blacksuits in total now, clustered around him. “Which is why we’re here. The way the situation has escalated, and the talk we’ve heard from the barons recently… I gather Baron Nightwood outright attacked the four of you yesterday. I can’t think of any clearer indication that they’re not in their right minds. It was time to draw the line. We d
on’t feel comfortable following their orders any longer.”
Declan’s eyebrows rose. “You’ve defected.”
“We prefer to think of it as a temporary hiatus from duty,” said a woman next to the leader in a dry tone.
The leader nodded. “We understand that you’re spearheading efforts to encourage people to speak up and show their disapproval of the recent plans involving the Naries. Standing together so no one feels they’re an isolated target. That approach seems rather wise. We were hoping we could stand with you here too rather than facing whatever penalties might be waiting if we simply go it alone.”
All these blacksuits had not just defected but come to support our cause. The tension gripping me fell away. I found myself smiling at them. “Of course. Obviously we could use a little policing around here if we want to avoid being mobbed by our own classmates. Have you talked to Ms. Grimsworth?”
“We’ve been granted accommodations in the staff area,” the man said. “Although I’m thinking we should operate on a rotation of some sort. Perhaps set up regular posts in the dorm areas to keep an eye on things?”
“And someone on the green wouldn’t be a bad idea,” Malcolm put in. “It’s the people we’ve brought on for our Guard who’ll be more at risk than us.”
“Excellent. We’ll draw up a schedule and consult with you to finalize the details.”
We exchanged contact information, and the blacksuits filed back into Killbrook Hall. I couldn’t help letting out a little laugh of relief as my fellow scions and I headed down to the scion lounge to find Jude. “I guess those phone calls made some kind of difference even if it wasn’t the way we were expecting.”
My good mood lasted until we stepped into the lounge and found Jude staring at a laptop with an unusually grim expression. He glanced up at us and motioned us over.
“You dealt with the mess outside?” he said.
“Some blacksuits who aren’t too happy with the barons arrived and lent us a hand,” Malcolm said. “What’s going on?”
“I’m starting to think our dear classmates weren’t acting of their own accord, but that the barons might have nudged their families to encourage a distraction. Things for the Naries are not looking good.”
My stomach sank. “What do you mean?”
He made a face at the computer. “I got suspicious about the timing, so I went looking for more news reports. The Naries have been forming mass protests to rally against the policies the barons are arranging. And I’m going to guess that it’s not normal for police to open fire on thousands of peaceful protesters?”
“What? No!” I dropped onto the sofa beside him. At the sight of the photograph on the screen of dozens of bodies draped in cloth and blood spattered on the pavement around them, I brought my hand to my mouth in shock.
Jude sucked in a rough breath. “Over seven hundred dead across three different rallies,” he said. “The mages the barons sent out into the world aren’t just working their magic on politicians, I’m going to guess. They want to strew around as much chaos as they possibly can.” He looked at me, his dark green gaze painfully bleak. “The barons don’t give a shit what any of us say. What the hell can we do to stop them now?”
Chapter Twelve
Jude
I went to sleep with queasiness gripping my stomach and woke up feeling just as sick. Looking at my reflection as I went through the motions of shaving, the realization came over me that the problem wasn’t that I had no idea what to do to make anything in this shitstorm any better. The problem was that I did, and it was the last thing I’d ever have wanted to do.
But it might be the only thing I could actually contribute right now, given that my current magical feebleness made me useless in almost every other way we might tackle the barons. At least it wouldn’t necessarily mean throwing myself into mortal danger, so I should be able to convince Rory and the guys to get on board. I wasn’t going to put her through the same stress as when I’d snuck off to New York to deal with the joymancers.
She wanted me with her, feebleness and all, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to toss that love away.
I ordered up some breakfast from a place that did delivery in town, because I’d be damned if I didn’t hold up my end in every non-magical way I could, and sent out a call for the scions to join me for waffles and bacon in the lounge.
“You didn’t have to,” Rory said as she came in, but seeing her face light up at the sweet scent of warmed maple syrup told me that yes, I absolutely had. We all dug in without much talk, although as tasty as the offerings were, I found it difficult to swallow each bite.
Which Mr. Insight naturally noticed no matter how carefully I tried to disguise my nerves. “Did you want to get us all together for some other reason?” Declan asked after he’d popped his last bite of bacon into his mouth. He contemplated me as he chewed in that way that made me feel like he might be reading my mind even though he hadn’t spoken a single casting word.
I leaned back in my chair, striking what I intended to be a casual pose. “Actually, there is. I have an idea for upending the barons’ current solidarity.”
Rory gave me a curious look. “I’m all for that. What are you thinking?”
“Well…” I twirled my fork in my hand. “We were hoping that losing Connar’s mother would throw the pentacle off, right? But it hasn’t really, because there’s still the three of them who’ve been tight since the old days—and Declan’s aunt who’ll grovel at the snap of their fingers. But what if we could break apart even that trio?”
“That should at least slow them down,” Malcolm said. “But it’s not like they’d listen to anything we tried to tell them anyway, even if it’s true.”
Rory grimaced. “Yeah. I’m not sure my mother would even react all that much if I told her how the other barons treated me when I was first here… Either she wouldn’t believe me now that she doesn’t trust me, or she’d think it was my fault, just like she blames me for turning against her now.”
“Except there’s something we absolutely can prove, and that has nothing to do with any of our loyalties, only theirs.” I inhaled slowly, squaring my shoulders. “I can reveal that Baron Killbrook has passed off a false heir for almost twenty years.”
Rory stared at me. “However angry they get about that, they’ll take it out on you too.”
I shrugged. “Not if I’ve got the four of you backing me up. We’ll have to arrange the reveal carefully, so I can be sure of getting away from them safely, but you’ve managed to fend off any further attacks my fake father might have wanted to stage here on campus. I can live under lockdown for a while if it screws up their little coalition.”
“It would help your uncle’s bid for power too, wouldn’t it?” Connar said tentatively. “Even if the barons wanted to brush off what Baron Killbrook did, it’s a huge crime. Their supporters wouldn’t be happy about it—some of them might even push for him to be replaced.”
“Which makes it an even more obvious move to make.” My not-actual uncle had made some noise about wanting a say in current affairs since Rory and I had gone back out to meet him and confirm our agreement, but it didn’t seem to have shaken the barons up much. With this, I could give him real ammunition.
And I just wouldn’t think about how much disdain he might look at me with after he found out the truth. Our magical deal wasn’t dependent on me being a Killbrook by birth.
Rory was still watching me, her face paled but not outright resistant. “Are you sure about this?” she said. “Once that information is out… it’s probably going to spread. Everyone will know.”
“So let them know,” I said. “Like you’ve always said, I didn’t do anything wrong. He’s the traitor. Let them all chew on that. If it makes life here a little more annoying for the next year and a half before I graduate, oh well. After that, I never have to see any of these people again if I don’t want to.”
The corner of her mouth twitched upward at my tone. I was putting on a whole lot m
ore bravado than I actually felt—but to tell the truth, the twist in my chest wasn’t anywhere near as fraught as when I’d told the guys around me the truth.
The four people in this room had accepted me as I was, regardless of my name and talent. I really didn’t give a shit what the barons thought about it.
But I would very strongly prefer not to get killed in the process of telling them.
I leaned forward, bracing my elbows on the arms of the chair. “I had a few ideas for how we do the reveal. We’ll definitely want them all together for maximum impact. If we can find out when their next meeting at the Fortress of the Pentacle is…”
We let Connar drive, seeing as he was the only one of us who hadn’t gotten into a direct spat with the remaining barons, so the arrival of his car might not provoke as much hostility as any of the rest of ours. As much as I generally enjoyed being behind the wheel of my Mercedes, I couldn’t say I minded. I was too distracted by thoughts of the impending confrontation to have immersed myself in the journey.
Rory turned where she was perched between Declan and me in the back seat and touched the dragon charm pendant she’d lent me for approximately the millionth time. It felt like a sort of good luck charm at this point, considering the spell she’d had it imbued with before had been instrumental in saving Connar’s ass from his parents’ machinations. Hopefully it’d prove just as useful this time around.
“With the four of you casting on it, I’m sure the spell won’t have worn off in the two minutes since you last checked it,” I teased.
Rory wrinkled her nose at me. “It’s not just about whether the spell lasts but whether it’ll be powerful enough in the moment.”
“I return to my initial point about that spell being the work of four scions. I can’t imagine it could be much more powerful than it already is.”
She let out a huff of a sigh. “You can’t blame me for worrying. One of the people we’re about to send you off to face tried to kill you just a few weeks ago.” She paused, her jaw tightening before she added, “Are you completely sure you have enough energy right now to activate it?”
