Chapter 8. Eloise
Eloise
I fly backward, slamming into the fancy wooden desk, Grayson’s tall frame wedged between me and the dogs. My hands are pressed into his back and I feel his racing heart through my fingertips. The dog that was lunging at me is now frozen in the air, its jaws already widened for a bite.
“Move slowly,” Grayson warns through clenched teeth.
I carefully slide out from behind him, only to realize with horror that the second dog is also frozen—but not before it got a death grip on Grayson’s forearm. Jaws locked. Blood dripping onto the carpet.
My stomach plummets. Grayson not only took a bite for me, but he did a hell of a lot more. Because my dog wasn’t aiming for my arm, it was aiming for my neck.
“What can I…,” I start, my mind racing for spells.
“You’ve done enough already,” he mutters, and my stomach drops even lower.
The door swings open, and the Chancellor strides in. Despite the gruesome scene, he looks as polished and unbothered as always—a Mage through and through.
He stares at the frozen dogs. “I see I never disabled my guard dog spell. You’ll have to forgive the oversight,” he says, and while I want to feel relief it doesn’t come. I just keep thinking of Gran and how she says to never trust a High Mage.
The Chancellor frowns. “I expected more from you, Grayson.”
Grayson smiles in return, actually smiles like he doesn’t have dog teeth piercing his arm. “Yeah, well, I thought it impolite to let Eloise get her neck ripped out on the first visit. That’s more of a second-visit goodie bag.” Even the lilt to his voice holds charm.
I blink at him, dumbfounded he’s cracking jokes. And the dogs blink with me.
The spell Grayson used on them must be wearing off. My gaze shoots to the Chancellor, but he just stares at his nephew.
“I fail to see the humor in this,” the Chancellor says, and even though I agree, I’m more focused on the dogs, whose ears just twitched.
“Oh, believe me, I don’t think it’s funny,” Grayson replies. “But I was forced to make a strategic move—one even you would agree with.”
And what the heck does that mean?
Two seconds tick by, and I want to scream at them both.
There’s a half-formed growl, the only warning we’re given before the dog that launched at my neck, continues his jump, heading right toward Grayson.
“No!” I yell, reaching for my magic, but before I get a spell formed, the Chancellor flicks his wrist and both dogs disappear.
Grayson lurches forward, grabbing his bitten arm to his chest, his expression turning to confusion as he stares at his wound.
“Impossible,” I breathe, because the bite didn’t disappear the way an illusion injury should. I’ve never seen a spell like it.
Grayson doesn’t so much as wince, stoically staring back at his uncle. “Well played,” he says.
Is he seriously praising him? Gran was right—Mage families are unhinged.
The Chancellor’s eyebrow arches like he’s once again considering his nephew. Then slowly Grayson’s skin knits back together.
“Are you all right?” I ask, but despite his nonchalance with his uncle, the look Grayson gifts me is pure frustration.
The Chancellor moves to the other side of the desk. “Sit,” he says politely enough, but in a tone that leaves no room for disagreement.
Grayson’s dark waves tumble across his forehead as he drops easily into an armchair, relaxed and at home. Meanwhile, I’m an absolute nervous wreck.
“Tell me, who were you angry at this afternoon, Miss Belrose?” the Chancellor asks, and the question catches me off guard.
“I—” I start and stop because he’s right that I was angry.
The Chancellor sighs. “I do not advise lying.”
Everyone knows the Chancellor reads emotions, but I’ve never experienced it firsthand. And the truth is I’d happily tell him what happened in detail. But I have no clue. “I was less angry,” I say, “and more embarrassed.”
“Mmmm,” he says like he’s considering it. “Angry and embarrassed that you were called out for tampering with the discernment spell?”
“I would never,” I say with commitment.
He spreads his hands. “I was there, after all. I saw you touch my spell. I felt the shift in it.” He pauses. “I think we can both agree that there must be consequences for your actions. That I cannot allow a student who has cheated in their entrance exam to attend our prestigious University.”
And now I’m angry all over again. “I got into the Alchemy Guild,” I say firmly, restraining myself from adding that I certainly worked harder than his nephew who spent half his days passing notes and flirting.
“Did you?” he asks. “Because last I saw, you had a portrait of Grayson’s face above your head, which represents no guild I’m familiar with.”
Every late night, every hour I’ve pushed myself to exhaustion for my family. He’s not only taking my future, but theirs.
The Chancellor leans back in his chair. “Only that’s not all you did, is it?” he says, and my gaze whips up to meet his. “Or should I say all you and my nephew did?”
“No need to include me in that sentence,” Grayson says dismissively.
“You will find, Grayson, that I can and will include you in any sentence I so choose,” the Chancellor replies. “Because the stunt you both pulled coincided with a Lawless raid. A coincidence? Possible, but unlikely.”
“I’d never help the Lawless,” I say with feeling. “There’s no one I hate more.”
The Chancellor cocks an eyebrow. “Then tell me plainly, what did you do to the discernment spell and why should I believe that it had nothing to do with the Lawless raid?”
My heart thunders out of rhythm, like an overloaded washing machine, because how can I explain what I don’t understand.
“I don’t know what happened with that spell or why I felt the need to touch it.
But I didn’t mean anything by it. It all just …
happened,” I say, hating the words for how cheap they sound.
Because in a way I did mean something by touching it—a silent demand that it recognize my worth.
But saying that out loud only makes it sound like I tampered with it, which I didn’t. I think.
“I warned you not to lie to me,” the Chancellor says, and a pit forms in my stomach, realizing he must be reading my doubt. “And now that you have, I must remind you that you know the punishment for aiding the Lawless.”
“I never—” I start, but the Chancellor lifts his hand, stopping me.
I look at Grayson, but he completely ignores me.
“You’ll both pay the price for your transgressions,” the Chancellor continues, folding his hands in his lap. “Unless you’d like to confess and tell me what you know of the raid and the details of the Lawless’s plans?”
“Grayson,” I say, my voice demanding. “Tell him we didn’t do what he’s accusing us of.”
Grayson doesn’t say a word, doesn’t so much as look in my direction.
“If you’re not ready to come clean, Miss Belrose, then I regret to inform you that the next step is to question your family,” the Chancellor says, and fear floods me.
I always thought what all Laborers do—that the Chancellor was a typical arrogant Mage, his only redeeming quality that he had exceptional magic to protect us from the Lawless. But in this moment, I hate him with every fiber of my being.
“Wait!” I say, not caring if I have to beg. “They don’t know anything. My sister is only six. Ask me anything and I’ll tell you. Ask me to do something to prove my loyalty. Please, just don’t involve my family.”
“I’m growing weary of this conversation,” the Chancellor replies. “I’ve already given you the opportunity to explain or admit your guilt. You’ve done neither.”
He stares at me expectantly, the stillness of the air sucking all the life out of the room. And I actually consider lying. “Okay,” I say slowly, my mouth suddenly dry. My life for theirs. “I—”
“The Archive Key,” Grayson says, cutting me off. But he’s not talking to me, he’s talking to his uncle. “I’ll make you a deal.”
Wait, what?
The Chancellor’s gaze whips to his nephew.
Grayson’s easy smile returns. “As an expression of our loyalty and to prove to you that we did not in any way create a distraction for the Lawless, we’ll call the Archive Key.”
My stomach plummets to the floor. What the hell is he saying?