The Protection of Ren Crown

by Anne Zoelle

Mike was already ahead of us on a direct route to Dorm Twelve—no help there. I looked to Olivia, but she was looking into the crowd with an odd expression on her face. “One hour won't hurt,” she said gently.

  My shoulders drooped and Delia cackled, pushing me into the crowd.

  ~*~

  The surge of people moving toward Dorm Twelve made it hard to feel conspicuous, yet there were people near the entrance closely watching the crowd. One of these days, I was going to reach my “watched” limit and my magic was going to blow.

  Once we got past the bottleneck, though, the mass of humanity inside swallowed us whole.

  Dorm Twelve was more of a frat house than a dorm. It consisted of an immense gathering room two stories high, with balconies and halls to the personal rooms shooting up and off to each side. Unlike last time, there was no furniture in the room except for a tiered table in the center.

  A large glass bowl full of Ambrosia stood on the table. Little glass cupids shot rosy liquid into the center, automatically refilling the container as each cup was magically served. I was handed a full glass, but I discreetly tipped half of the contents into a trash chute on my way past. Half a glass would make it look like I was drinking without actually having to. I still hadn't recovered from the last time I'd tried Ambrosia.

  Olivia didn't even bother to grab a glass. In the press of the crowd, our group was quickly split in multiple directions. It seemed as if everyone on campus had come to celebrate. Last time, the party had been large, but this, this was huge.

  Olivia and I stayed together in the surge, but got mired in a section of cramped humanity discussing the social commentary and politics of the brutal competition. I nodded where necessary to support Olivia and otherwise zoned out, glass in hand, trying not to draw attention to myself while running project schematics through my head. Mike was working on a magical weather vane, and from the number of mealtime complaints about it, the project was giving him grief. It had been a long time since I had done something for Mike, so I set my mind running with a few ideas that might help with his project.

  Olivia's voice grew increasingly contemptuous as she argued with a group of people wearing bright orange. I patted her arm absently and agreed with her statement—whatever it was. The orange people responded in outrage.

  Maybe the design of the vane was the problem. Maybe a slightly different shape would adequately express the magic the way he desired?

  Neph's soothing magic swept through me and I turned to locate her. She and Will were clear on the other side of the room, up on one of the balconies. Will motioned to me with his hand, then toward the staircase in the corner.

  I elbowed Olivia and pointed. She gave a decisive nod, sneered at the people in orange, and strode in Neph and Will's direction with purpose, cleaving the crowd as she went. Trying not to spill my cup on anyone, I cursed that I’d taken a glass at all, and tried to move with the shifting crowd in her wake. Soon enough, Olivia was on the other side of the room, while I was clenched in the crowd's armpit.

  A group in front of me started juggling flaming knives overhead. I edged nervously around them, watching as they manipulated the air around the steel, keeping the flames level and the movements steady.

  I turned to move forward again, but Dare appeared suddenly in front of me. I jumped and my fingers automatically pushed my cup toward him, the arc of liquid sloshing forward. His fingers wrapped around my cup, steadying it, his magic creating an invisible barrier over the top to keep the liquid from leaving. His eyes crinkled at the corners and the edges of his lips lifted.

  Devastating.

  “You destroyed my track record for painting you pink at parties,” I somehow quipped as his fingers let go, brushing against mine as they released their grip. “And ruined a perfectly good celebratory dousing.”

  “I'm going to start getting a complex that you just want me to take off my shirt.”

  I stared at him, heart beating abnormally in my chest. “Uh, no, we wouldn't want that to happen.”

  Everyone with a pulse wanted that to happen.

  I cleared my throat. “So, congratulations on kicking the crap out of everyone.”

  “Thanks.” He looked amused, studying me with his hands now in his pockets. Unlike the mass of people jamming into my back, personal space surrounded him. Even with people calling out congratulatory remarks left and right, no one infringed in his bubble of territory.

  I scanned him from head to toe while trying to hide the color that was undoubtedly accompanying the increasing warmth in my face. “You look surprisingly healthy.” Broken bones and long gashes had been healed, and he looked as fresh and non-bloody as if he'd stepped off the magazine page I always imagined he rested upon when he wasn't in view.

  “Medical. The qualifier counts as part of the exam grade for the graduating class, so they put in extra effort to revive us.”

  I looked around, trying to see if the rest of the combat mages had arrived as well. I could see Lox and Greene near the Ambrosia table, laughing with each other as they took glasses.

  “Thank you for your crap kicking display, by the way,” I said, looking back at him. “I feel way better about my own lackluster performance against you after seeing what you did to some of the others.”

  He smiled. It was a personal smile of a shared joke. And it was possible I was having a heart attack.

  “I'll remember to make things worse for you tomorrow.”

  “Yeah, how about we skip that? Take a day?”

  “I don't think so.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  It struck me suddenly. Right now there was no assignment, no monster, no strategy to think about. This right now...this was almost like we were hanging out.

  As if we were friends.

  And I realized that I already clearly thought of him that way. He'd never be merely a friend—not with my tangled emotions surrounding Christian's death—but the ties were all there. And if there were perhaps far warmer notions in my thoughts around the word friend in relation to him, well, I was a girl with working eyes, after all. Not under a stranger-crush any longer, but clearly as susceptible as the next red-blooded eighteen-year-old to the epitome of male magnificence that he represented.

  He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it and looked to his left a split second before an arm circled his shoulder. Unlike me, Dare was never surprised.

  “Axer, drinks! Countdown! Shot tally! Now!” Lox said, pulling Dare's head and neck in roughly and intruding on his space as only one of his close comrades would dare. Two more combat mages grabbed them both, wrestling off and carving a large swath through the crowd, shouting about what they were going to do.

  I breathed a sigh of relief, saved from the entirely unexpected revelation that I might actually be friends with Axer Dare.

  “Good evening, Miss Crown.”

  I swallowed, my relief suddenly tasting like rancid meat. “Miss Bailey.” I turned and smiled with effort. “Good evening to you.”

  “Of all the people that our school champion stops to speak to, it is you.” Her voice was melodious. “Congratulations.”

  Lovely. “I was mostly just in his path, I think.”

  “But you are here at the side of the room. Not in a path to anywhere of note,” she mused, still so deviously pleasant. “No, I don't think you were simply in his path.”

  Tell me, tell me why. I could hear her voice whisper the words, though her lips didn't move.

  I took a nervous sip of Ambrosia before I could remember not to. But better that than to focus on what the echo of her voice was compelling me to do.

  “You are working with him, I hear.” She looked at the backs of the combat mages who were gathering in the center of the space, getting even louder and rowdier. “Camille said you were partnered with Alexander.” She smoothly hooked her arm with mine and started to lead me toward the front door.

  “Um, yes, to help the Troop protect campus when the combat mages are at the competition.”

 
“That is so generous of you to help with campus safety. The Troop is a marvelous resource for our campus security.”

  “Um, yup. I'm sure they will be great. We will all be very safe.”

  She leaned conspiratorially toward me as we walked, her voice near my ear. “Why don't you tell me your plans?”

  Despite tireless hours of defensive practice with Draeger, my lips started to form the words.

  Olivia stepped directly into our path, which focused my gaze. The tinkling shards of Bellacia's broken enchantment echoed, and I shuddered with relief.

  “Bailey,” Olivia said, smoothly disengaging our arms.

  Bellacia still had a lovely smile in place, but there was a dark edge to it now. “Price. I was just speaking to your lovely roommate. She is a dedicated student with such interesting friends.”

  Inessa Norrissing suddenly popped up like a creepy jack-in-the-box.

  “Oh, look who it is,” Inessa said. “Everyone's favorite symchastersy.”

  Symchaster-what?

  Olivia steadily looked at me, trying to communicate something, but her voice was aimed at the other girls. “Look who it isn't. Come, Ren.”

  “Do let her decide,” Bellacia said in her lilting voice. “I'm sure Miss Crown will benefit from many different points of view.”

  Olivia's smile was a small, poisonous thing. “I've never put much stock in the notion that every opinion contains value.”

  “You wouldn't, would you?” Inessa snarked.

  Olivia looked at Inessa in disdain before addressing Bellacia again. “Neither does the Free Press. A little trouble with the security of your feeds lately, Bailey? Having a little trouble with hijackers?”

  Bellacia's smile spoke of death. “If someone would do their job in keeping our Layer safe, then perhaps it wouldn't be an issue.”

  I put my free hand to my forehead, my mind trying to muddle out what was going on. “If you guys start snapping your fingers and dancing with switchblades, I'm out of here.”

  Bellacia's head tilted toward me, her gaze keen. “What do you mean?” Her gaze moved quickly to my hand pressing my forehead, then down my raised arm.

  “West Si...” I trailed off. What if they didn't know West Side Story? Why not just get a red marker and write “feral” on my forehead?

  As I was trying to figure out how to finish my sentence without sounding moronic, I realized exactly what Bellacia was staring at—my cuff, where my sleeve had ridden back with my arm's motion and gravity.

  My unbreakable cuff. As opposed to the removable control cuffs Bellacia and everyone else wore, I couldn't remove mine except by dumping paint loaded with Origin Magic on it.

  I smiled falsely and dropped my arm, letting my sleeve fall back into place. “I forgot. I have a thing. And some stuff. With some people. Got to go. See you in class.”

  Behind me, I could hear Olivia saying something toxic to them—gaining me time, bless her. But I didn't stick around to watch. I channeled Olivia's posture and pushed through the crowd. I didn't look for Neph, for Will, for Delia, for Mike, or for Dare. I kept my gaze focused on the open front door, and upon reaching it I nearly leaped over the threshold and into the free air. Not safe, though; not yet.

  I strode quickly to the left, but in the thirty-six-section superstructure that spanned the entire circumference of the Fifth Circle of the mountain, Dorm Twelve was nowhere close to Dorm Twenty-five in the Magiaduct. I picked up my speed.

  “Leaving already?”

  I looked over sharply to see a tall, familiar shape leaning against a tree, smoking a magic-filtered device. I waved, but didn't pause my quick pace.

  Constantine extinguished the tip of the device between his fingers, and his long stride easily allowed him to catch up. “You aren't staying?”

  “No,” I said decisively.

  “Did you spill something on Alexander Dare again? Turn him pink? Maybe with purple polka dots this time? Did I miss the actual fun of the night?”

  “I've been very graceful lately, I'll have you know.” Constantine didn't need to know that if it had been up to me, pink liquid would have coated Dare once more.

  He smiled. “So, why the early exit? Half past ten in the evening is only mid workday for you.”

  “I'm trying to avoid someone.” I cast another look behind me. No one seemed to be following in the shadows, but one never knew with the stooges. “I think I'm in trouble.”

  One brow rose. “And who is the lucky mage who has the power to make you run?”

  “It seems everyone has the power these days,” I grumbled.

  “Who is making you run tonight then?”

  “A girl named Bellacia Bailey.”

  Constantine's eyes—always sharp—zeroed in on me. “Is she now?”

  I took in his facial expression as I continued slicing through the shadows of the Magiaduct. “You know her?”

  But that was a silly question, and I knew it as soon as it passed my lips. Everyone of aristocratic consequence seemed to know—or at least know of—each other, even in a campus population of fifteen thousand.

  “Yes. She's a cow and terrible in bed.”

  Gaping and not watching where I was going, I tripped over a tree root.

  He easily caught my arm and put me back on stride. “Nothing else constructive to add, I'm afraid,” he said.

  “That was constructive?”

  He shrugged. “That is the sum of the best that can be said of her. I hold my position of 'most-hated' on Bellacia Bailey's list in high regard. Quite the coup.”

  I sighed. “You dated her and she still wants you.” It was a statement, not a question.

  “Everyone wants me, darling.”

  “Constantine…”

  “I dearly hope she still falls into that category.” He smiled—one of his far-from-nice smiles. “Would serve that miserable, psychotic friest right.”

  That word translated very unkindly. I stayed silent for too long, wondering what to say next. He decided to answer my unspoken questions.

  “She is an industrious and talented player at the game of revenge, and was singlehandedly responsible for the denial of my petition to work in the Arking Chem Labs in the Fourth Layer last summer. She was also responsible for all of the events surrounding the very public denial of said internship. Even charming and beloved Stuart Leandred took a popularity hit in the resulting wreckage.”

  I stared at him. Stuart Leandred had to be his father. At some point, I needed to do a news search.

  “Never underestimate the media,” he said, “and that is the whip that she wields. Never underestimate what they will use as 'facts' when they present their 'worries' to government officials.”

  He waved a hand at my horrified expression. “I collected a most fitting revenge; worry not. And I take extra...precautions now. That pathetic experience was worth something in the end, at least.”

  I remembered the way Bellacia had doubled over in pain in the Dorm One hall from something Constantine had done.

  “Does she go after all of the girls who come by your room?” Standing outside his door could not have been beneficial in helping me escape her notice.

  “Of course not. She'd never be able to keep up.”

  If the statement weren't so true, I'd roll my eyes. I shook my head instead. “I hope you have some magical equivalent of STD protection.”

  “The best that a truly gross amount of money can buy. No mess, no fuss, no application, no—”

  I held up my hand. “Okay, okay.”

  He tried to hide a smile. A real one.

  I couldn't help but smile in return. “You are terrible.”

  “Incorrigible. I should be beaten.”

  “I'll keep that in mind,” I said dryly.

  His eyes turned shrewd again. “Tell me what she has done.”

  I scratched my cuff and tried to shrug convincingly. “It's nothing. She just asks a lot of questions and whispers in my ear.” I pulled at an earlobe without thinking. “I'm vuln
erable to auditory magic, it seems.”

  He stopped and put two fingers to each of his temples, eyes closing, as if in great pain. “Never tell anyone that. Ever again.”

  “Let's face it, you could already do worse to me,” I said frankly. “And I'm going to fix the auditory thing so it won't be an issue. It's nothing.”

  He stuffed a hand in his pocket, and pulled something out. His fingers unwrapped to show a small metal object in his palm. “It's never nothing—not with Bellacia.” He stroked the metal briefly with his thumb, then tucked the object into my hand. “If she gets too close for comfort, push this. It will give you a reprieve and make her forget her task for a period of time.”

  It looked like a child's toy—the kind that made clicking noises when you pressed it. I clicked it, as I would any toy with a moving part that came into my hand. “Wait, what exactly does it do?”

  He whipped away the lock of hair that had slid over his eyes, and smiled. “Keeps her from prying into other people's affairs. I hate to part with such an amusement, but keep it in that bottomless bag of yours for the next week. Feel free to click it on my behalf, at least once. When bored or sad or angry too. At will, really.”

  That sounded...concerning. “It doesn't hurt her, just makes her forget?”

  One eyebrow rose. “It will make her forget, and it will protect you.”

  The metal slipped into my pocket. I kept a finger on it for a moment, before telling myself it was foolish to think that something would protect me from everything. “Thanks.”

  “Anything for you,” he said smoothly.

  “You going back to the party?”

  “To celebrate Alexander Dare's victory? I'd rather die.”

  I choked. “Oooookay. You want to work instead?”

  “Lead the way.”

  Chapter Twenty-four: Luncheon Companions

  At lunch the next day, I watched Will and Mike grumble through their hangovers.

  “Why aren't you in pain?” Mike whined at me. “You always look halfway to death in the mornings with your usual two point five hours of sleep.”

  “Olivia was really weird last night.” I shrugged. “Dragged me back to our room and forcibly tucked me in. I got ten hours of sleep. Ten hours. I feel awesome. I totally solved your weather vane problem this morning. I'm going to cure death today.”