Royals of Villain Academy 1: Cruel Magic Page 4

  “I hope you’ll consider this school a home for as long as you’re with us,” Ms. Grimsworth said as I stepped out of her office. “If you should have any concerns, you can always come to me.”

  Professor Banefield set off down the hall with a rhythmic stride. After walking alongside him for a minute, I realized he was a bit bowlegged.

  “This building houses the staff offices and residences as well as the junior dorms—for students aged fifteen to seventeen,” he said, and pointed at a door with a gleaming bronze name plaque. “If you need me, you’ll be able to find me here. You’ll be living in the adjacent Ashgrave Hall, which contains the senior dorms—for our students aged eighteen to twenty-one—and our extensive library.”

  That name rang a bell. When I’d gotten here with my parents’ attackers, the head guy had called one of them “Ashgrave,” hadn’t he?

  “Why Ashgrave?” I asked.

  Banefield gave me a quizzical look but answered easily enough. “Each of the ruling families had a hand in creating this university. Yours had the distinction of giving their name to the entire school, but the others each adopted a building.”

  Someone who’d been part of the attack was a member of another ruling family. I wasn’t sure what to do with that information.

  “Bloodstone, Ashgrave… What are the other ruling families?” That seemed important to know.

  “Nightwood, Killbrook, and Stormhurst. This is Killbrook Hall we’re in right now. The classrooms and health center are in Nightwood Tower, which forms a triangle with the two halls. And closer to the lake you’ll find the Stormhurst Building for Physical Fitness.”

  Banefield rambled on as he led me down the stairs. “The university seeks to provide all students with both privacy and a communal experience. The senior dorms are set up with ten individual bedrooms around a common living and kitchen area, with a bathroom shared just by the ten or fewer in that dorm. Because of your status, you’ll naturally receive one of the few corner rooms with a little more space and a view of the lake.”

  “Naturally,” I muttered, and snapped my mouth shut when he shot me another of those puzzled glances. “So, what happens in this ‘assessment’ thing tomorrow?”

  “Nothing for you to worry about. All you need to do is be present, and the assessors will take care of the rest. From what I recall, it feels like a brief, mild tingling.”

  If he was telling the truth, I could probably handle that much.

  We stepped out through a side door into the cool spring air. The sun had dropped below the trees, and the shadows sprawled long across the ground. A paved pathway swerved through the neatly trimmed grass to another medieval-ish stone building that rose five stories to a gable roof.

  Another path rambled across the way to a narrower cylindrical structure nearly twice as tall that easily earned the label Tower. Banefield pointed between Ashgrave Hall and Nightwood Tower toward a squat building topped by a dome farther across the green.

  “Assessments take place in the main gymnasium,” he said. “I’ll come by your dorm to escort you there at nine o’clock tomorrow. We all understand it’ll take you some time to get your bearings.”

  And yet they seemed perfectly happy to throw me into this life with hardly an acknowledgement of the one they’d ripped me out of. Did fearmancers have so little conscience that it didn’t occur to them that I might still be bothered by my parents’ deaths even now that I knew Mom and Dad had supposedly kidnapped me? Was that fact supposed to erase an entire childhood of love?

  The first two floors of Ashgrave Hall held the library. A few students were ambling between the shelves, glancing our way and then going back to their business. We hiked up three more flights to the top floor. No elevators to speak of, apparently. I was going to have killer legs if I stayed here very long.

  “It’s important to note,” Banefield said as we climbed, “that we welcome a number of Nary students to the university to assist with certain aspects of our programming. They wear a gold pin shaped like a leaf that they believe simply marks their scholarship status. You must be careful to avoid discussing any magical subjects while they’re within hearing and to ensure they don’t pick up on any spells you cast on or around them. Discipline is rather strict in that regard.”

  I blinked at him. “You let Naries into your university of magical studies?”

  He shrugged. “We prepare you for every aspect of the world you’ll be venturing into. None of us can exist without some dealings with the Nary population.”

  The fifth floor landing offered four doors. Banefield swiped a keycard over a panel for the one marked C1, and the lock clicked over. He handed the card to me and pushed the door open.

  The square room on the other side was four times the size of my living room back home, with a similar aesthetic to the headmistress’s office, just fewer books and more seating. A thick rug covered most of the floor under the clusters of sofas, armchairs, and coffee tables. A ten-seater mahogany dining table stood between the living area and a kitchen with two stainless steel fridges along the far wall. Five wooden doors stood along the walls on either side of me, and another door next to the kitchen must have led to the bathroom.

  A couple of girls around my age were sitting at one end of the table finishing off their steak dinners. The rich smell of sirloin laced the air. A few others were sprawled on the sofas. All of them had been looking toward the open bedroom door in the far left corner when we came in. Their gazes jerked to me and then back to the bedroom.

  Another girl was poised just outside that door with her hands planted on her curvaceous hips. Perfectly neat waves of auburn hair spilled down to the middle of her back.

  “I didn’t agree to this,” she was saying in an acidic voice.

  “You can take it up with the headmistress then,” a woman said from inside the room. She came out carrying a box, a stiletto heel protruding from inside. “Or them, I suppose,” she added, lifting her chin toward Banefield and me. She walked along the line of doors to deposit the box in the bedroom closest to us.

  The girl spun around. The beauty of her angelic face, pale and smooth as porcelain, was ruined by the narrowing of her eyes and the disgusted curl of her lip.

  “That was my room, Professor Banefield,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest as she strode over. “It’s been mine since I moved to senior last year. I don’t see why I should have to give it to her.” The disgusted curl deepened as she looked me over. I bristled automatically.

  “Victory,” Banefield said in an even voice, “this is Per— Ah, this is Rory Bloodstone. As a scion, she’s owed the best room we can provide for her. If she’d been with us from the start, you wouldn’t have gotten to enjoy the room for as long as you did.” He turned to me. “This is Victory Blighthaven, one of our most talented students.”

  His compliment bounced right off Victory. From the glare she was shooting me, she wished the fearmancers hadn’t found me at all.

  That makes two of us, I wanted to tell her, but I couldn’t figure out how to express my profound desire to be anywhere but here in a way that didn’t offend her and every other mage around me even more.

  The fact was, though, that I didn’t really care about the room. If I had my way, I wouldn’t be staying in it very long anyway. If having it would keep this witch out of my way, let her have it.

  “I don’t need a special room,” I said to Banefield. “It’s fine. I’ll take whichever one was empty.”

  Victory brightened for the instant before Banefield shook his head. “We have standards for a reason. You’ve been denied your heritage too long, Rory. We aren’t going to hold you back from it even here. I believe Victory’s things have already been moved over?”

  The woman who’d carted the box out reemerged. “Yep, we’re good to go. I set up the wardrobe like Ms. Grimsworth wanted, too. Come on, Miss Bloodstone. Let me show you.”

  Victory’s eyes burned a hole in my back as I followed the woman over.

  With the two of us and Banefield in the bedroom, there wasn’t much standing room left. A queen-sized bed filled about half of the space. Across from it, a small mahogany desk and chair sat beneath a huge picture window that showed the field between the hall and the athletic building as well as the sparkling water of a huge lake farther beyond that. A wardrobe that stretched almost to the ceiling stood against the wall next to the door.

  The woman tugged open the wardrobe’s doors. Silky blouses and dresses and several pairs of slacks hung in a row. Every piece was sleek and posh. A fearmancer’s clothes.

  “I bought undergarments and the like for you—new, of course,” the woman said, motioning to the drawers at the bottom of the wardrobe. “They said you wouldn’t be coming with much. If the sizing’s off, just pass on the word to someone from maintenance. We had to go by the initial observations. There are a few pairs of shoes in there too—you can see if they fit. Harder to tell feet sizes. From the looks of you, they were right that her clothes should work.”

  “Her clothes?” I repeated.

  “Your mother’s. We picked out a selection from the estate that seemed appropriate for university life.” The woman flashed me a grin. Then her expression turned more serious. “We wanted you to have something from your family as you get started here.”

  My mother. Something from my family. The Bloodstones, they meant. The birth mother I couldn’t even remember. Not the one whose literal blood had drenched my hands less than a day ago.

  A prickling rushed up behind my eyes before I could catch it. “Thank you,” I said, as quickly as I could manage without being a total ass. “I, um, this is great. I think I just need to lie down for a few minutes.”

  “Yes, of course. I’ll see you in the morning.” Banefield ushered the woman out of the room and closed the door. The second it thudded shut, I sank onto the edge of the bed.

  Deborah scurried down the back of my shirt and poked her little white head out from under the hem. Lorelei, if you—

  “Not right now,” I whispered hoarsely, and just like that, the tears I’d been holding in from the moment I’d woken up spilled out in a torrent. I bowed my head into my hands and let grief take over.

  Chapter Five

  Rory

  The first sound that penetrated my cloud of grief was Victory’s caustic voice carrying through my bedroom door, pitched in a low but pointed way to give her plausible deniability while she fully intended to be overheard.

  “I heard the Bloodstones have always been bitches. ‘Oh, really, I’ll take whatever room’s available,’ as if she didn’t know they’d already kicked me out of the one she wanted. Looks like the line runs true.”

  At least a couple of someones twittered with laughter in response.

  I rubbed my stinging eyes and pushed myself upright where I’d curled up on the bed. My head was muggy, and my stomach pinched with hunger. It had to be well past my usual dinner time now.

  Mom had been planning a roast. I’d seen it thawing in the fridge this morning, less than a day and what felt like hundreds of years ago.

  I inhaled shakily and resisted the pull of another wave of tears. Crying wasn’t going to help me. If I was going to get through this, I needed to pull myself together.

  Tiny claws tickled the back of my hand. Deborah the mouse peered up at me from the bedspread. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to prepare you better. I didn’t know about you being a scion. I was going to tell you the fearmancer part in the car, but there wasn’t time. If I communicate with you like this around them, they might pick up on it.

  “It’s okay,” I said under my breath, with sharp awareness of how easily voices could travel through the door. “If you can talk to me like that, can you cast other kinds of spells too?”

  Unfortunately, no. It’s part of the familiar bond. A mage can tie their spirit to an animal, and there’s a certain mental connection… Regular animals wouldn’t be able to communicate in words like this, of course. I only can because my mind is human.

  “My parents created the bond,” I said. They must have, in some way I hadn’t noticed at the time.

  So I could watch out for you in ways you didn’t realize you needed, Deborah said.

  “Yeah.” I wished they’d thought they could trust me with those revelations. “I guess we should find a home for you somewhere in here. I don’t want to know what the assholes here would do if they found out I’ve brought a disguised joymancer along with me.”

  Yes, good thinking. I’d rather not discover the consequences either. Her furry body shivered.

  I poked around the room with Deborah perched on one of my palms, and we decided my sock drawer would make an ideal hiding spot. The notch in the front for pulling the drawer open was just big enough for her to squeeze in and out, and if a few mouse hairs got on my socks, I didn’t think anyone would be looking closely enough to notice.

  My stomach grumbled more insistently. Was there anywhere to get food on campus? Professor Banefield hadn’t mentioned a cafeteria.

  I went to venture into the common room, and my pulse jumped at how easily the doorknob turned. Banefield had given me a keycard for the dorm, but my bedroom door didn’t appear to have any lock at all. No keyhole on the knob, no bolt I could slide over from the inside.

  I’d assume respect for personal belongings operated on an honor system, except from what I’d seen honor wasn’t a quality fearmancers valued highly.

  When I came out, two different girls were at the dining table, perched at opposite ends. One fidgeted with her mousey-brown ponytail as she hunched over the bowl she was eating from. The other was cutting into a filet mignon, her tawny waves pulled back from her face with a silver clip in the shape of a raven. The girls who’d been eating steaks earlier had moved to a sofa at the other end of the room where they were paging through a fashion magazine together.

  And Victory was lounging on the sofa closest to my room, her bare calves sprawled over the lap of a girl with a shiny black bob. She’d thrown her head back in a laugh at some comment made by her other friend, whose ice-blond french braid was streaked through with purple and pink. At the click of my door, her gaze shot to me. I ignored her, but I could feel her narrowed eyes studying me as I tested my doorknob from the outside.

  “No locks in here, your highness,” she cooed. “But I’m sure someone as special as you can figure out other ways of keeping your door secure.”

  Oh. They must all use magic to prevent intruders. And if someone was better at magic than you, they’d be able to break in no matter what you did, if they wanted. Of course that was how security would work at Villain Academy.

  At least I didn’t have much in there I wanted to protect. The only things that actually belonged to me, I was wearing. Deborah could hide herself just fine.

  I turned away from my room, fighting the urge to hug myself defensively, and considered which of my dormmates would be the safest to ask where I could find my own grub. I hadn’t gotten any farther than eliminating Victory and her sidekicks when the dorm door whipped open, and four guys who definitely didn’t belong to this room strolled in. Apparently even that lock opened to the right spell.

  The guys moved through the common area with total confidence, as if they walked into girls’ dorm rooms every day. Which for all I knew, they did.

  At the head of the pack was the divine devil from earlier, his wickedly flawless face split with an easy grin and a small cloth bag dangling from one hand. He was flanked by the redhead and the musclehead from before, which was no surprise, but ambling along behind them was the striking guy with the swept-back black hair and hazel eyes who’d tried to reassure me during my parents’ murders.

  “Mal!” Victory cried. She and her friends sprang up, and she sashayed over to give the divine devil a kiss on the cheek while the other two batted their eyes at the whole pack. Her hand lingered on his forearm.

  “Hey, Vic,” he said, his expression pleased if not exactly warm. The fact that he enjoyed this girl’s attention only solidified my initial opinion of him.

  The guy with the dark copper hair tugged on the end of Victory’s friend’s braid with a teasing smirk. “Does your hair just grow this way, Cressida? I never see you with it down.”

  The other girl arched her eyebrows, but an eager flush colored her cheeks at his touch. “Maybe someday you’ll get to, if you prove yourself up to the challenge.”

  “What, you haven’t been sufficiently impressed so far?”

  The divine devil—Mal?—shot his friend a knock it off look, and the copper-haired guy let go of her braid with a breezy flick of his fingers. Victory gazed up at the ringleader coyly. “To what do we owe this visit? Got big plans you need company for?”

  His gaze found me where I’d stiffened just outside my bedroom door. He aimed his smile my way with no hint of his earlier animosity. “I figured a little housewarming was in order for our newfound scion.” He lifted the cloth bag higher. “We come bearing dinner, made by Jude’s family chef. Best roast duckling you’ve ever tasted.”

  That wouldn’t be hard, considering I’d never tasted roast duckling before, period. Why was this guy being so friendly now? Victory’s smile had tightened, and she was as close to shooting daggers from her eyes as she could get without actually fileting me.

  I’ll admit that being homeschooled most of my life had its downsides, the main one being the isolation. The only people I’d socialized with on a regular basis were my parents. I liked to think that these days I didn’t put my foot in my mouth anywhere near as much as I had in the first few months of college, but my capacity for complex social navigation was still pretty limited. And if the tricky situations I’d encountered at my old school had been algebra, this right here felt like advanced calculus.

  “Um,” I said brilliantly.

  The divine devil’s gaze darted across the room and settled for a moment on the mousy girl hunched at one end of the dining table. He murmured a few words with a clench of his hand. She slumped back in her chair, her eyes glazing.