The Rise of Ren Crown

by Anne Zoelle

  And the calming spells pumping into the room were overwhelming.

  I pushed my tray toward the center of our table, deposited my giant bag on top of Olivia's empty seat, whipped out a notebook, and started madly sketching before my butt landed in the chair.

  “Ren, um, what are you doing?” Will asked carefully, taking his usual chair. The others arrayed themselves in theirs.

  “Preparing.”

  I didn't have to see the exchanged glances to know they were making them over my head.

  “Stop worrying,” I said without looking up. “I'm not actively doing anything dangerous yet.”

  Axer was gone from campus again, which had naturally raised my fervor and stress back to Defcon levels, but I had a different focus this time. There wasn't an amorphous threat that might happen. We already had one. I needed to get my ducks in a row. I needed to be planning for what happened when we were ambushed from within.

  I saw Will place his eavesdropping device on top of the table. It was one of the good ones that would make what I was writing and drawing unreadable as well.

  Head still bowed, I cast a discreet look around. I could see a few people at the tables nearest to ours frowning and adjusting their own devices in escalating eavesdropping warfare.

  A few moments later, however, a member of the Justice Squad swept over and sanctioned each of them for having restricted devices or using appropriate devices but with restricted settings.

  It reminded me of Bellacia, who had been perfectly legal using her abilities on me up to a point. But when she'd gone past that point, she'd been hit with a Level Two, then a Level Three offense.

  “Justice Magic, how does it work off campus?” I asked, watching one of the mages argue with the Justice Squad member.

  Outside of campus, without the Justice Magic that bound us, I didn't want people like Bellacia whispering in my ear, scarab or no scarab.

  “Towns and countries have different ordinances and statutes,” Will explained. “When you move to a city, you enter into a social contract to live by the rules setup therein.”

  He pointed around us. “Like the contract you sign to attend Excelsine. The rules are different in different towns. Entering a town commits you to 'guest' standards.”

  I tapped my pencil against the page. “What about between towns?”

  “Many town boundaries border another. Outlaw Territories do still exist, but the Department has made it so people are able to travel around them pretty easily. And layer shifts happen on a yearly schedule in the Second Layer—easily anticipated—so it lessens the danger.”

  “Outlaw Territories? Those what they sound like?” I asked, writing again, mouth directed toward the tabletop. The eavesdropping charm was supposed to protect against lip reading as well, but who knew what might happen in giant fishbowl warfare.

  “No rules, no Justice Magic. Anything goes,” Will acknowledged.

  The Wild West then. I nodded.

  “It's a reason Travel Magic and porting is so lucrative and popular,” Will said, chewing on whatever the Caniopidas people had made him. “People want to move safely from one law-abiding settlement to another. The Department, for all their shadiness, has allowed Port Mages under their authority to work their magic frequently to help the towns under their jurisdiction. Which is pretty much the entirety of the Second Layer.”

  “Town rules are also why people are very careful with their social credit,” Mike added, giving Will a pointed look. “You can't move into some towns if your social credit isn't up to snuff. Like if you have Justice marks against you.”

  Will shrugged, and winked at me. “That's why I'm going to one of the think tanks after I graduate. All of the project planning you want, and none of the justice hits.” His expression went a little dreamy. “The hallways are safe zones—no magic—but in the labs, you are free. And they provide housing with the same rules. I can invent all day and not have to worry about what I'm doing.”

  That sounded...pretty good. But it wasn't important now. I needed to focus.

  “Third Layer?” I asked.

  Delia stayed silent, eating whatever green leafy thing was in her bowl and not making eye contact.

  “Most of the Third Layer is Outlaw Territory,” Will said. “Especially with the lack of stable or plentiful magic. Layer shifts are so common that you can barely use magic outside a settlement. And without the recycling components, magic attacks back.” He made an exploding motion between his palms. “Been trying to get a permit to do some research there. The settlements have recycling centers, but many of them are not great. Ask Loudon about it.”

  I thought of the Midlands and the recycling plant, and what Raphael had been doing in there.

  I narrowed my eyes and tapped my pencil again.

  “That device you made to take a layer shift and power a generator, Will? Can it work in the Third Layer?”

  “It'd still, um, strip you of your clothes and anything else containing a wrinkle.” He rubbed a hand through his hair. “We've been working on other things,” he said defensively.

  I smiled. It was fleeting, but still there. Helen Price had been on the committee that had been stripped by Will's device.

  “What is the range again?”

  “Fifty feet.”

  I double tapped my pencil. “Can you throw it? Or trigger a delayed activation and run from it?”

  “Maybe, what are you thinking?”

  “Just mulling possibilities.”

  The Third Layer raised a myriad of challenges for me. Dead zones and lethal shifts of magic.

  And that's where Olivia was. I gripped my pencil.

  Neph's hand touched my arm. “Eat,” she said softly.

  I sighed and put my pencil and notebook away, then dragged my tray forward. I had an unidentifiable noodle, vegetable, and meat dish. The Caniopidas people seemed to think I required something sweet and saucy today. After the initial bite, I started eating quickly. They always made the best things.

  Five bites in, a tray hit the table next to me. I looked up, half expecting to see Patrick or Asafa, and half expecting to see Bellacia.

  I was not at all expecting it to be Constantine.

  I rarely ever saw Constantine in the cafeteria. And when I did, he was always at one of the two person tables located on the tier closest to the windows, farthest away from where most people sat. He usually either sat alone or was joined by some girl in the endless rounds that always tried to keep him. Sometimes one of the more notorious and flashy club members would join him—they were always very obviously strictly business meals, though.

  Constantine examined all of the faces at the table, his hooded gaze swinging from one to another and his smirking mouth not changing expression. He smoothly moved my bag from Olivia's chair to a conjured stool and slid into the seat, next to me. He swiped a finger across the edge of the table as he sat, then leaned back in his chair with insouciance.

  He slid his plate, loaded with some sort of breaded concoction, toward him.

  I blinked at his plate, my suspended fork dripping noodles into my bowl, then automatically looked at the faces around the table.

  Delia snorted and went back to eating her salad, but her fork was stabbing harder than it had been. Mike looked nonplussed. Neph felt nonplussed, though she looked calm. Will looked surprised, but he gave Constantine a nod and a greeting of, “Leandred,” as if this wasn't completely out of the ordinary.

  It was just a good thing Olivia wasn't here. Murder wasn't a good look on anyone.

  I sighed and set my fork back down. If I thought he was actually sitting with us because he wanted to, I'd not say a word. I'd be pleased, in fact.

  However, the anticipation thrumming in him meant that wasn't a remote possibility.

  “Do I want to know?” I asked.

  “Do you want to know how many people are staring at us right now?” He said, lifting a bread wedge. “Probably not.”

  He smiled, still practically draped across the ba
ck of the chair, body angled toward me, and ate the piece.

  I ignored the urge to look around the room. “I was going to thank you for those awesome roses.”

  “I have no idea what you are talking about,” he said, lifting another wedge. But I could feel his pleasure, and I could see his lips curve the slightest bit as he ate.

  “You realize Axer did this a few weeks ago? Ruined mealtime for weeks.”

  “Please, darling, everyone was watching this table long before you sat down. And people aren't even bothering to hide their plebeian gawking now. It will take months to go back to anything resembling normal for you.”

  I met Delia's gaze and she gave a short nod, not without a little uncharacteristic sympathy.

  “Lovely,” I said. “And you sitting here? What prompted this little injection of future gossip?”

  “What? I can't sit with my favorite?”

  “Ren?” Mike asked, looking like he was willing to perform some sort of “eject” spell, if I asked. He had been the one most likely to get rid of unwanted “Axer Dare” questioners in the last few weeks. He looked far more concerned about Constantine than he did most mages, though.

  Delia touched Mike's arm and minutely shook her head. Mike's gaze didn't move from us, and his frown didn't lift, but he said nothing more.

  Will reached toward his eavesdropping device.

  “Don't bother, Tasky.” Constantine tapped a long finger against the tabletop, which shimmered for a moment when he did so. The table had never done that before, so this was obviously the result of something he had wiped on it with that initial finger motion. I was far too used to Constantine's materials and created concoctions to be surprised that whatever he had done had invisibly spread so quickly.

  “Nothing beyond three feet gets through this,” Constantine said. “And even then, the surrounding tables will only hear a truly entertaining conversation.”

  I sighed, used to his antics. “Are we all complimenting you?”

  “You are doing a magnificent job at flirting, darling.”

  I put a hand to my forehead, rested my elbow on the table, and closed my eyes as I chewed another bite. “Just...just wake me up when this is over.”

  He gave a low chuckle and ate another wedge.

  “So?” Delia asked, gaze sharp. “What are you doing here?”

  “Planting some seeds.”

  “What? Why did you sit here, Leandred?” Delia demanded, gaze sharp, eyeliner drawing itself to thick kohl.

  “To build some delightful tales, or at least the foundation for them.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “The foundation? With what happened on the Eighteenth...people are already talking.”

  There was something audacious about discussing anything in the press of people around us, even with layered eavesdropping spells.

  “You don't even know what happened on the Eighteenth, Peoples,” he said dispassionately, eating another wedge.

  A slashing smile took her lips.

  “Didn't realize that the Alpha scarves had a little more juice, did you, Leandred? You got Bryant's. He was a Beta. We didn't hear the conversation, no, but our scarves picked up a few things.” Her lips pressed tightly together. “That there was a conversation with Vincent Godfrey at all, is peculiar. Interesting pieces of a jagged puzzle.”

  Constantine's eyes narrowed, and there was a glint there that made me concerned for everyone at the table for a moment, then the creases at the edges of his eyes smoothed. “The Alpha scarves just encompass those at this table.” He gave the table top another tap with his finger. “A non-event. And no one else remembers the events anymore.”

  “Are you sure?” I frowned, interrupting their pressurized spat. “Maybe they're just holding onto it for a better time.”

  Someone had recorded footage of the fight under Raphael's dome—Asafa and Patrick had used a portion of it in the firework. And Bellacia had made it apparent that there were no secrets she couldn't find. I'd assumed that just meant everything would come out eventually, including my little world ending moment and Constantine's duplicity.

  “Positive.” His lips curled again.

  “How?”

  “How should I know why people forget things of import, darling?”

  I sighed. I had an idea of how he might have changed people's memories. He had manipulated Origin Magic after I'd let him leech me to fix his wounds. He could have used it for a number of spells in that moment—like for spreading a memory enchantment to anyone close enough to see us.

  He'd manipulated the minds of the men who had attacked us in the First Layer, and he was a lightning-fast learner. Once he had done something, repeating and adding to it was simple for him.

  I was surrounded by quick and powerful mages—attracted to them, obviously.

  “Remove it,” Delia said suddenly and succinctly.

  Constantine smiled and ate another wedge.

  “What?” I asked, looking around the table. “Remove what?”

  “Mind trap.” Will looked enthused. “Did you lace that in your eavesdropping potion? Those are tremendously difficult to coordinate. When Professor—”

  “Will.” Mike rubbed his eyes tiredly as if he was just done with everything. “It's an eavesdropping anti-charm, Ren. That witchy piece of magic Leandred did when he sat down also contained something that would contain knowledge in anyone who touched the table. All those shiving finger taps he keeps doing likely activate different parts of the magic and the brain. I swear to Magic, if you make me incontinent, Leandred, I will make sure they never find your body.”

  Constantine spread his fingers on the table with an expression of innocence.

  I frowned. “I didn't feel anything.”

  Constantine's finger was suddenly drawing beneath my chin. “I would never bespell you like that, darling,” he said, gaze slowly roaming my face as his finger drew a path along my skin. “I'd save yours for something far more delicious.”

  “Son of a—” someone said, but I couldn't make out who was speaking. I could only stare at Constantine.

  He sat back again and resumed eating.

  “Price is going to love this,” Mike muttered, and took a page from Delia's book and stabbed his food.

  “Forget Price. Axer Dare is going to commit murder,” Delia said, stabbing her fork at Constantine. “And I'm going to be an unhelpful bystander.”

  “What is going on?” I asked, dazed.

  Constantine smiled. He looked very pleased. “It's rather simple. The populace will think you've succumbed to my charms. And that I picked you as my latest conquest based on your power, or wanting to one-up my beloved roommate. Simple and it will easily give us hours uninterrupted to do...whatever needs to be done.”

  My mouth opened, but nothing emerged. “You want...you want people to think we are going back to your room to...what?”

  He raised a brow.

  “To do...science?” I said halfheartedly.

  “Yes.” He looked suddenly quizzical. “What else would I mean?”

  He reached out and curled his fingers around the back of my neck, tilting my head just enough to put us at a very interesting angle. “Lots and lots of science,” he said, voice low, gaze hooded and hypnotic.

  Nothing emerged from my mouth, which was trying, and failing, to form words.

  His other hand touched my chin, urging it downward, gaze tracing the movements of my lips.

  Delia cursed, leaned forward, and yanked his arm down and away from me. “Leandred, I swear—”

  Interestingly, he didn't curse her for touching him. He just leaned back in his chair and smirked. “Don't be overhasty, Peoples. You might find yourself forgetting how to apply your makeup in the morning.”

  It was a definite threat.

  Constantine finished his meal and pushed back his chair. He reached forward, turned over my fingers, and dropped something into my palm. I looked down at it. It was a key. Made of the astrophene Axer had given him.

  “What is
this?”

  “Don't be thick, darling.”

  He lifted my bag and slung it around his shoulder, then strode up the steps of the cafeteria tier.

  I stared after him, lips parted.

  “Okay. I have a question,” Will said, as we watched Constantine walk away.

  “Just one?” Mike said, and stabbed his food repeatedly.

  Chapter Twenty-eight: Justice, the gift that keeps giving

  By my second rotation of Justice Squad duty, I was mentally resolved to the inextricable realization that I would be committing murder by nightfall. The Department didn't need to send a Shadow Mage to torment me, a portion of the student body had it well in hand.

  I had created and used two dozen more roses—once again with Greyskull strangely appearing again exactly as I began constructing the first one and handing me a ward, then continuing on his way through the Medical corridor.

  The calls that used roses were fine. Or, not so much fine, but bearable. Helpful, in a way—with me being able to offer a moment to share the Justice Offender's grief, lessening their burden.

  No, those weren't the calls that were going to end in murder. The imbeciles with far too much money in their trust fund accounts—that was the only explanation for how they had gotten into one of the most prestigious universities in the magic world—were the ones happy to torment me for free.

  “Guys, she's here.” The guy looked at me and leaned against the doorframe. It was such a similar action to the one Constantine had undertaken when I'd first met him, that I blinked. However, time and affection had softened my view of that memory. This guy and this situation didn't have that advantage.

  Nor was he even close to being as hot or as smooth. I'd been ruined for normal assholes.

  “Name,” I asked in a bored tone.

  “Anything you want it to be, precious.”

  Ugh.

  “Bolton Haynes. Level One. Substance abuse,” I said, reading from Justice Toad. It didn't increase the punishment if I had to look up the offender's name, but Justice Toad gave a happy croak, sensing another productive visit to stretch out the kinks he still had from being nearly fried the day before.