Chapter Three #3
THE NEXT MORNING, MRS . Ash and I sipped our coffees while our steady gazes latched on to each other—locked in an epic staredown.
I broke first, offering her a bland smile. “Thank you so much for coming back, Mrs. Ash. I’m sure you’re a busy woman, and I have an hour before class starts, so why don’t we get right to it,” I said, setting down my mug. “You said you have ideas on how to improve relations between the students, and further Luame’s glorious vision for the future. I’m eager to hear them.”
Setting down her cup, Ash offered me the same polite smile in return. “Thank you for inviting me back, High Priestess, and offering me this opportunity in aiding you in furthering that glorious goal. I too believe we should get right to it , so I’ll begin with my first proposed change.
“The trials.”
I cocked a brow. “The trials?” My tone couldn’t have been blander.
“That’s right. It’s come to the council’s attention that you’ve been allowing students to hold full court trials against everyone to whom they have a grievance. This must stop.”
“Must it?”
“Very much so.” Bending down, she reached into her holdall, pulled out a folder, and slid it over to me.
Ash looked just as severe and polished as she did the day before. Her gray suit was pressed, burning away any pesky wrinkles that dared mar her outfit. Her hair was pulled back in a tight bun. Her makeup was so understated as to not be noticeable at all, and her tiny kitten heels were spotless and scuff-free.
I felt like a slob next to her, even though I was wearing a perfectly acceptable blue sheath dress and blue Mary Janes.
“Not only is holding full trials incredibly disruptive to the students,” she went on, “leaving them little time to focus on their studies, but there’s also the issue of resentments building among the student body. We want harmony and cooperation to be our mantra, not tit-for-tat retribution. That is why I’m proposing we start the first Corvin Academy Student Honor Board.”
“An honor board?”
“That’s right. Page seven.”
I flipped through fast, but she wasn’t pausing for me.
“The honor board will be made up of eight students—equally alpha, beta, omega, and epsilon. From now on, if there are disputes between students, they will submit their grievances before the honor board.
“If the honor board decides it has merit, they’ll bring the students before them, let them share their case, and then they will hand down the punishment, if they so decide punishment is warranted.” She tipped her head. “Of course, we will determine exactly what punishments they’re allowed to hand down.”
“I... I see,” I replied, scanning the very detailed description of the new honor board that went on for five more pages. “This is—”
“Necessary. We’re putting power back into the students in a fair and honest way that applies to all,” she sliced in. “No one will be able to claim they’re being ganged up on. And the epsilons will stop having to drop everything just so they can arbitrate the outcome of every petty complaint.”
I flipped through, trying to find something to argue against, and coming up short. The honor board she was describing would achieve the same result as the trials. It would make the students feel heard, and it would free up time for my epsilons. Just the other day Melisent mentioned they took a lot of time out of her day.
“This is... good,” I forced out. “Good idea.”
“Of course it is. Now, on to the next point: school meals.” The woman was barreling on and she didn’t care if I was still hanging on for the ride. “You’ve got all the students eating the meals that were once reserved for alphas. Your intentions there are understandable, but not practical.
“It’s putting way too much on the kitchen staff—so much so that triple their salary hasn’t stopped their complaining.”
“Wait, complaining?” I sat up. “Who’s complaining?”
“What does it matter? The issue would need rectifying even if they weren’t.” She tapped the desk, nodding at the papers in my hand. “On page eighteen, I’ve drawn up a new, simple, nutritious menu. Everyone will eat what is on the menu, or they’ll starve. If they want Belgian waffles with glazed strawberries and maple bacon, they can make it at home.”
“That’s reasonable,” I muttered, scanning her menu and once again not finding anything I could argue with. We were sitting in my headmistress’s office with me sitting in the fancy, prominent chair, but for some reason, it felt like our roles were reversed.
“Meals will also be served buffet-style, and rooms will no longer be assigned or chosen by the student,” she said, pausing briefly to sip her tea. “The alpha dorms are the most coveted dorms in the school. They’re unnecessarily extravagant, and I’ve always thought so. Every student wants them, but there aren’t enough alpha rooms for everyone, so a lottery is the only fair way to divvy the rooms up.”
I nodded along. That was another good point. Most of the omegas abandoned their crappy dorms the minute I took over the school, but they couldn’t all move into the alpha dorm because it was seventy percent filled with alphas. They suggested—loudly—that I kick the alphas out so that the rooms could be given out fairly, but the alphas raised holy hell about it. A lottery would be the fairest way.
Ash clapped, flicking my eyes up. “On to classes. This free-for-all, everyone-studies-whatever-they-want nonsense must come to an end, it simply must.”
My eyes narrowed. “This free-for-all nonsense is exactly what the council agreed to support.”
“They were wrong,” she dropped. “The fact is most of the students have been studying and training for their specific tracks since they were four. Now, while the late Headmistress Dagem did champion a back-to-basics curriculum for this year, it was done with the assumption that there would be a separate playing field among wolf types.”
“She assumed wrong.” My voice was as light as a field of daisies. “Not the first mistake the woman made in her short lifetime.”
Ash’s brow twitched—the only crack in her stern, disapproving mask. “You’re misunderstanding me, High Priestess. What I’m trying to say is that the back-to-basics curriculum is not working for a mixed student body, because what constitutes basics vary wildly from alpha to omega.
“Omegas, for example, are not required to learn martial arts, economics, or the history of the dominions in public school.”
“What?” I cried, brows bouncing together. “They’re not required to know about the history of the planet we freaking live on? Whose dumbass idea was that?”
She lightly lifted her shoulders. “My point is the majority of omegas joined the alpha track after you announced the changes, so they’re faced with material they’re seeing for the first time—while competing with alpha students who have studied and practiced the material for over a decade. I’d be highly surprised if most, nay all, of the omega students aren’t failing.”
My lips pressed into a thin line. I didn’t have an answer to that, but when she spelled it out that way, I would be surprised if they weren’t failing too.
“Those that aren’t failing must have instructors that are doing the extra work of catching them up,” she said. “Work they shouldn’t have to do. Either way, I doubt the alpha council will call this experiment a success if the omega students fail, or all the professors break under the heavy workload.”
“I doubt that too,” I forced out, feeling smaller and smaller—stupider and stupider with every word. Why hadn’t any of this occurred to me? “What do you suggest?”
Ash smiled. “Page twenty-seven.”
I flipped through, landing on the title written in bold across the top. “Transitionary Introduction Classes?”
“That’s right.” She leaned in, lacing her fingers on the desk. “What I propose we do is have all of the teachers set clear benchmarks for their classes, and then design a test based on those benchmarks. Every student will take these tests—from alpha to omega. After all, there are subjects that omegas were taught that alphas weren’t as well.
“Once we know every student’s strengths and weaknesses, we’ll change their schedules and enroll them in the appropriate introduction classes. Only after they’ve passed those classes will they be placed in their chosen tracks. If they cannot pass the introduction classes...” She shook her head. “Then, they must simply accept that track is not right for them.”
Ash sat back, smiling wide because she knew she was right, and there was nothing I could say to contradict her. And dammit, it was true.
“Believe it or not,” she continued, “I applaud you for forcing this change for the mere fact that these introduction classes will finally be made reality. I proposed them seven years ago, but the current headmaster at the time rejected the proposal.
“For decades, we’ve relied on recommendations as assurances a particular student is up to the level of this institution, instead of simply testing to confirm if that’s true.” She nodded sharp. “No more.”
“I— Okay, but all this testing isn’t going to be quick or simple,” I argued. “Plus, you’re suggesting we create a bunch of new classes out of thin air even though you just said the professors’ workload is too heavy.”
“Just so,” she agreed. “School-wide exams for the entire student body will not be quick or easy. That’s why we’ll have to cancel classes while the staff prepare, and the students study. As for the new classes, we’ll interview and hire new staff—all who we’ll have no trouble paying after the current staff’s pay is reduced to their normal salary.”
Again that bland, shaming smile. “No instructor who works for me needs a bribe. They either want to teach in this hallowed institution, or they don’t. All the same, every member of staff will be paid a fair salary with the expected holiday bonuses, and not a penny more.”
I hummed. “None of that extra money came from the school funds. I paid them from my own private accounts.”
“Your commitment to not misappropriating school funds is admirable, but a bribe is a bribe, and I’ll have no part in it.” Her glittering eyes pinned me to my chair. “Especially because the council is fairly certain you’re being funded by the same vampire leech that released the video you made, violating our most sacred law.
“You may desire to be tainted by that filth’s dirty money, but you will not make the good decent wolves in this school a party to it.”
My brows rose lightly, amusement dancing on my smirk. “You’re not one for sugarcoating, are you?”
Ash returned my smirk, placing her folded hands on her knee. “I find it’s better to be direct. Speaking of, do I have the position or not?”
“Not so fast, Mrs. Ash. Keep that directness going and tell me your conditions, because we both know you have them.”
She chuckled—the first time anything approaching a laugh came out of her. “Very well. I won’t insult you by denying it. I do have conditions, and they’re nonnegotiable. First, should you insist on remaining the headmistress of this school, even though you don’t have the experience, training, or knowledge that makes you fit for the position, you will agree that the staff falls solely under my purview,” she said.
“You are both their boss and their pupil. It creates a power dynamic that is simply unacceptable. Your leadership professor shouldn’t have to worry that failing you will result in their termination.”
“I’m not that petty or that unethical,” I shot back. “But I do agree it creates a weird power dynamic.”
“Does that mean you agree to the condition?”
I sat back, considering her. I wasn’t stupid. Like I told the epsilons, Ash was one hundred percent here to be an agent of the council—ensuring that if anyone got their way in the end, it would be them and only them.
But even though I knew Ash wasn’t on my side, that didn’t mean she was a liar or incompetent. She had good—no, great—ideas for equality and fairness in the academy, and she was right that killing someone and stealing their job didn’t make you qualified for it. She knew what she was doing, I didn’t, so—
“Agreed. The staff report to you, but , any decisions you make about or for them go through me. Also, while I may not be able to fire them for pissing me off, I will get rid of them if they piss off Luame by not obeying her commands. She wants an equal society. They will not get in the way.”
“Absolutely. I am united with you in enforcing Luame’s wishes. As is everyone in this school. I will stand for nothing else.”
I tipped my chin. “Is that your only condition?”
She hummed, smiling. “Not quite. While we’re on the subject of unacceptable power dynamics, we must talk about you and your fates.”
“My fates? What about them?”
“We’re in a situation where the headmistress of this academy is mating with or expected to mate with her own students.” She tutted, disapproval etched into the wrinkles around her eyes. “I’d have them transferred to another school, if there was another academy on par with Corvin. The other, most obvious, route is for you to step down—”
“Nope.”
Her lips curled tighter. “With that being the case, the last and only option is for your fates to be under my authority and only my authority. Your duties to Luame supersede all, but relationships between students and staff are a serious matter. What if the unnamed fate who pressured you into extorting two million dollars from the council, demands you doctor their grades and give them a glowing recommendation?”
I gave no reaction, even though I was straight shocked she knew about the two million.
“When it comes to you and your fates, you are their fellow student only. Do you agree?”
“I—”
“And no,” she broke in, face hard. “I will not run decisions concerning them by you. I would do that with their headmistress, but you are no longer their headmistress. You agree, or I walk out that door right now.”
I bared my teeth. “That’s hardly a threat since I never asked you here in the first place. Need I remind you, I have other candidates to interview.”
“Oh? And where would they be?” Ash made a show of looking around. “I didn’t see them out there in the waiting area? Do you have these other candidates hiding under your desk?”
I bit my lip hard, nostrils flaring. Me and this she-wolf were not going to get along... because I fucking hated her.
Ash rose to her feet, smoothing down her skirt. “There are no other candidates and there never will be, because no one other than me is willing to work with a child. But I am willing, High Priestess, because I understand a heavy weight was thrust on your shoulders from the moment you were conceived, and while everyone else is out for their own interests, you live to champion Luame’s.
“I respect that,” she stated, “and believe it or not, I respect you. But you cannot do this job, so let me help you.” Ash extended her hand. “That’s why I’m here.”
I eyed her palm, making no move to take it. “What about you?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“What are your interests, Mrs. Ash? Are you out for yourself? For me?” I looked her in the eyes. “Or for the council?”
“Neither,” she replied without hesitation. “I’m here for my sons. My omega sons.”
I kept my shock off my face, but only barely. Her sons were omegas? Sons that I just learned were undereducated and tossed aside by the same educational system she devoted her career to.
If I can sacrifice everything for my daughter, I guess I can believe someone else can do the same for her sons.
“Alright, I agree to your conditions.” Standing up, I shook her hand firmly. “You have the job, Mrs.—make that, Vice Headmistress Ash.”
“Excellent.” She granted me a tight smile that was gone as soon as it appeared. “Now, if you would escort me to the gates, I need to go home, pack a few things, and then I’ll return tonight at eight o’clock. Is that a good time for you to welcome me back in?”
“Perfect time,” I said lightly, following her trail to the door. It was wise of her not to ask for me to key her into the gates’ magic, because that was never going to happen in a million years. “Is there anything else you’ll need to make your quarters more comfortable? There’s an amazing lavender hand soap in mine that I’m happy to share.”
“You’re kind, but no. I have everything I need.” Stepping out, Ash picked up her phone from the tray resting on the empty desk.
That desk was for the receptionist that I didn’t have. He beat it out of here when he found out Dagem didn’t leave, she was actually murdered and stuffed in a closet. For some reason, the poor man thought he would be next.
Ash tucked her phone away, nose wrinkling slightly. Together we were a silent duo walking through the halls and out to the gate. I waved her goodbye with a wide, beaming smile on my face that she didn’t return.
Ava melted out of the shadows the second she was gone.
“Did it work?”
I turned that beaming smile on her. “It worked. She didn’t suspect a thing. Or I should say, she didn’t smell a thing.”
There was no reason Ash would. Because when I asked her to put her phone in the desk tray and leave it out there during our meeting, she didn’t see that under the desk was some complicated cell-phone-hacker-device thing that remotely downloaded the program that would let us intercept every text and email she sent on her phone. The one that hacked into her laptop was under my desk.
It was incredibly unwise to put your fingers all over a werewolf’s things, because they’d scent you coming from a mile away. But this way, none of us laid a pinky on her cell or computer, which she confirmed with a subtle sniff when she picked up her phone.
“Are you sure this will work?” Ava asked. “All she has to do is call Sunella and all of this ends up pointless.”
“There’s always that risk, but I believe we’re safe. Wind wolves are careful with the spoken word. More so than the rest of us. They’re not as careful with their texts and emails because they don’t have to be. Only alphas are allowed to be taught the skills that lead to computer hacking, and alphas trust other alphas. They also trust their nose to tell them if someone’s been snooping on their things.” I nodded to myself. “We’re good.”
“What were her demands?”
I rolled my eyes. “Exactly what we thought.”
“She wanted complete authority over the staff?”
“Yep.”
“So that she could recruit them for the coup that’ll kick you out and put her in charge?”
“That was the subtext.”
We shared a look, cracking up.
“She also demanded complete authority over my fates,” I added.
Ava’s brows crumpled. “What? Why? What would that get her or the council? Even with authority over them, she still can’t force you guys to bond before you’re ready. Because there’s a word for that—it’s called rape.”
My head slowly bobbed. “It’s strange to say, but I don’t think that’s their angle. I promised the council already that I would complete the bonds. They didn’t need to send Ash here for that. They must have something else in mind.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know,” I whispered, “but it can’t be good. I speak from experience”—I thought of Castor and how easily Dagem arranged his murder—“the power in this school can do a lot of damage. Deadly damage.”