Chapter 12
REGAN
Let’s continue to the next point on the agenda.
The list of revisions to the School Code of Conduct.
” I stood and faced the faculty seated at the long narrow table.
“Let’s begin with the dress code. A fairly straightforward point: All blightborn students will return to the standard First Year approved wardrobe. Blue and silver only, no house colors.”
A murmur of confusion rippled through the room. I suppressed a sigh: It was almost as if they hadn’t bothered to read the agenda in advance. Considering some of these professors had once chided me about failing to read their syllabi, I thought it was rather ironic.
I glanced around the room. It was full of dark polished wood furniture, much of which was covered with rather creepy little carvings of naked women that Headmaster Kim had added in his term.
Professor Vane leaned forward, squinting to look over the agenda, and his hand wrapped around a carved blightborn woman’s left breast. I bit my lip, repulsed.
The carvings would have to go at once. I wouldn’t even ask Viktor’s approval.
This was my suite of offices now, wasn’t it?
Though, the truth was it was hard to believe I now ran the school and wasn’t still a student myself. I saw Headmaster Kim every time I walked into his office. The ghost of him, scribbling with his quill on parchment or frowning up at me as I approached his desk.
At night, I saw him, too—more often than I’d ever dreamed I would.
Saw his mouth slack, head jammed ruthlessly onto a blood-slicked spike, cheeks a mottled greyblue with frost. Had he still been able to feel when Viktor had slammed his head down onto that spike?
At what point precisely did nerves cease to feel?
Professor Rodriguez would probably know—not that I’d be asking.
I tapped my foot. “Highbloods, of course, will retain their traditional house colors. No changes there. Any questions?”
“For identification purposes,” a familiar voice muttered from the far end of the table.
I gritted my teeth. “What was that?” Was it too much to hope that he’d shut up and let me continue? Apparently, yes.
Rodriguez slowly rose. “It says here that the blightborn uniform is being changed for identification purposes.”
“Yes,” I said, as brightly as I could. “That’s correct. So much easier this way, and think of the money saved on clothing. Many of our blightborn students come from families of limited means. I’m sure their parents will be thrilled.”
There were some titters of laughter from highblood faculty.
“What about the danger this dress code alteration places our blightborn students in?” Rodriguez demanded.
“Danger?” I laughed. “I hardly see a change of fashion as a danger, Professor.”
More titters of laughter. I tried to relax.
I’d been manipulating people my entire life.
A group of underpaid, poorly dressed academics was no different.
They weren’t smarter than me, they just thought they were.
I was the one with the real power. I could do this.
Still, my entire body felt tight and tense.
“Visible markers of being blightborn,” Rodriguez said flatly. “If you’re going to brand them, why not come out and say so?”
“How ridiculous,” I said, my smile still not dropping. “We’d never be so savage. They’re not cattle, they’re people. No one is questioning that. It’s a simple change. Really, what got into your kava this morning, Professor Rodriguez?”
Some staff members laughed, but then came the sound of a second chair backing up.
“I beg your pardon, Headmistress,” said a female professor. “But I have to admit, I see Professor Rodriguez’s point. This makes blightborn students immediately visible and, as such, much easier targets.”
“Targets for what, exactly?” I said coldly. “Professor Allenvale, isn’t it?”
“Yes, Vasanti Allenvale, Headmistress. And as for targets of what, I’m afraid the answer to that is systemic harassment and discrimination.” She paused, looking uncomfortable. “Or worse.”
“Professor Allenvale, you’re a visiting scholar, aren’t you?
You aren’t from Bloodwing.” I gave her a cool look.
She wore a long dress in the typical purple and gold of House Orphos.
She was pretty enough for a teacher. Dark-skinned with long braided hair, but she’d done something absolutely ludicrous with her hair.
She’d dyed it—streaking it with green and purple.
“Yes, that’s correct,” she responded.
I eyed her up and down slowly, trying to raise her sense of unease. “That explains it, then. Obviously Bloodwing fashions must be very confusing to someone who looks the way you do.”
I watched her stiffen, and my smile grew.
“I beg your pardon, Headmistress?”
I gestured to her hair and wrinkled my nose.
“House Orphos has always set itself apart from the other houses. I’m not sure what’s considered fashionable in the Sable Isles, Miss Allenvale—” I said, purposely dropping her title.
I was being an evil, snooty little bitch and I knew it.
Why? Because it was the easiest way to get someone’s back up.
And once I’d rattled this woman, she’d sit down, shut up, and no longer be a threat—to me or to herself. “And I don’t care to know, but—”
“It’s Professor, actually,” she said, sounding annoyed.
“Of course. Professor. Well, this is how we do things at Bloodwing. You simply aren’t in the Sable Isles anymore. House Orphos does not have a greater say at the table than any other house.” I smiled sweetly, as I drank down my own cup of lies. Spoken like a true Drakharrow. Or nearly so.
I leaned forward and tapped my finger on the next part of the agenda.
“Now, if we may move on?” I didn’t wait for agreement.
“Next point, curfew regulations. Blightborn students will be expected to return to their towers by nine o’clock sharp each night.
Highblood students will retain their current privileges.
” I sped up, not bothering to wait for any questions.
“Next, registration for sensitive school areas. The library and greenhouse, as well as any storage areas that contain potentially hazardous materials, will now require blightborn students to register and sign in before entry. For safety purposes, naturally.” I glanced up briefly and saw Rodriguez beginning to open his mouth.
But to my surprise, Professor Allenvale beat him to it.
Apparently she had more of a backbone than I’d guessed.
“This is outrageous,” the Orphos professor said, her voice trembling. “The greenhouse? Why on earth would students need to sign in at the greenhouse? It’s a classroom.”
“You teach about plants, don’t you?” I said dismissively.
“I teach alchemy and herbology, yes,” Allenvale replied, narrowing her eyes. “So what?”
“Well, some of those plants are poisonous, aren’t they? We’re trying to limit blightborn students’ exposure.” I smiled reassuringly. “For their own safety.”
“You’re treating them as if they’re criminals,” she exclaimed. “They’ve done nothing wrong.”
“Of course they haven’t. It’s not punishment, Professor. It’s merely precaution. We have a responsibility to those students’ families.” I clasped my hands in front of me and tried to look maternal. “We must keep them safe.”
A snort rang out—Rodriguez, of course. I closed my eyes briefly. That man was going to be a constant thorn in my side.
“Safe? I don’t recall anyone caring about blightborn safety when it came time for the Consort Games,” Rodriguez said disdainfully.
“The loss of life there was despicable. But there was no concern for blightborn students’ families then.
Let’s be honest. This is just the beginning.
Next you’ll have them chained to the lecture tables. Escorted from their towers in groups.”
“How ludicrous. There are no plans for any of those measures at this point in time,” I said smoothly.
“Now, next matter on the agenda. Some classes are being reassigned facilities.” I looked down at my notes, trying to remember which classes were being moved.
Some of the changes Viktor had demanded be implemented only this very morning.
“Ah, yes. Basic Combat for Blightborn, Intermediate Combat for Blightborn—”
“Basically all of the combat classes for blightborn taught by Professor Stonefist,” Rodriguez interrupted loudly. “She’s right over there. Why not look at her when you’re speaking to her?”
A muscular dwarven woman stood up, clasping her hands behind her back. “Pardon me, Headmistress, but I see you’ve moved the classes to the old gymnasiums. The walls there were thick with mold the last time I checked. And the ceilings leak and are cracking—”
“They’re being renovated,” I lied, flashing her a brittle smile. Dear Bloodmaiden, did the woman have a beard? “As we speak, improvements are being made.”
“Improvements?” Stonefist muttered. “Those will take months of repair.”
“Just a few small changes, and all should be fine,” I insisted.
The sound of a throat clearing interrupted me. “Headmistress Pansera, if I may—”
I looked across the table where Professor Sebastian Sankara was leaning back in his chair. The tall darkfeatured professor didn’t bother to rise. I’d always thought him rather handsome. Now he looked at me with stark disapproval.
“Headmistress Drakharrow, if you please,” I cut him off. “I’ve decided to take my archon’s house name.”