Chapter 6
Damien
“I gotta visit the latrines. I’ll see you in class,” I told Luk after Intermediate Potions lab ended.
As I crossed the quad before heading over to Fundamentals of Magecraft II, I grinned, remember how perfectly Luk had taught that first-year island hick the lesson she deserved.
His sabotage of her lab exercise had been exactly what the malicious tart deserved for threatening him with exposure yesterday.
So why did my stomach twist when I remembered her horrified expression as that toxic sludge erupted from her flask?
I didn’t care. I shouldn’t care.
She was only a commoner. A nobody. And a huge problem for my best friend.
I’d swear she’d barely clapped eyes on him before blurting out the accusation that could get him arrested and expelled.
How in Nemara’s name did she know about his Fae blood? I thought I was the only person here besides Luk who knew his deepest secret.
When I emerged from the latrines a few minutes later, the quad was mostly empty except for a few tardy students hurrying to their next classes.
Great. I was going to be late for class again.
Despite regular whippings throughout my childhood, punctuality was one of the few lessons from Father that had never stuck.
At least the Imperial Academy didn’t believe in flogging students.
Then I spotted them—Miss Fishwife’s little twin sisters, identical down to the way their ridiculously old-fashioned braided hairdos.
They were running across the quad, shoes crunching on the gravel path, their cheap, ugly black robes flapping.
They’d somehow tested into this second-year class too, though they couldn’t be older than twelve or thirteen.
I slowed my pace, watching them. Something about them reminded me of my young self, always the new boy in a series of towns, always the general’s son who couldn’t afford to show weakness.
As they approached the Fundamentals II lecture hall, five second-years emerged from behind the pillars of the colonnade like wolves from the shadows.
I recognized their leader’s golden ringlets immediately—Lady Beatrix Fairhaven.
Lukhan found her amusing, especially the way she mooned over him. I thought she was shallow and boring, but I never said so aloud.
“Well, well,” Lady Beatrix said, sweet as poisoned honey, as she and her friends blocked the twins’ path. “Look what we have here. Two little first-year mice who’ve lost their way.”
I should have just walked past the group. Ignored them as I usually did.
The twins halted, instinctively drawing closer to each other. One of them squared her shoulders. “We’re not lost. We’re heading to our class.”
“Fundamentals II,” added the other twin.
Beatrix glanced at her companions. “Did you hear that? These little island savages believe they’re qualified to study with us.”
“We tested into this class,” the first twin said in a defiant tone. “We have every right to be here.”
Something about her set jaw and raised chin reminded me of their older sister. I felt a grudging flicker of respect.
These little girls might be hicks, but they had courage, at least.
“Rights?” Lady Helene Morgrave drawled. Her family held the tax monopoly on silk imports in Camarcon, and her academic robe, woven from dense silk, shimmered with iridescent black like a crow’s feathers. “You have no rights here, mice, except what we choose to grant you.”
The circle tightened around the twins.
Five against two—and the twins so much smaller, so much younger. My jaw clenched involuntarily.
I halted in the shadow of a nearby pillar.
“Your accents are atrocious and your clothes are worse,” Lady Beatrix continued, reaching out to yank a hairpin from one twin’s braid. “Is everyone from the Western Isles so uncouth? Or is it just your family?”
“Don’t touch me,” the girl said, stepping back.
“Or what?” Lady Beatrix’s smile widened, turning cruel. “What will you do, little savage?” She turned to her friends. “These commoners need to learn their place, don’t they?”
The others murmured agreement. One of them—Ethmond Valens, a pimple-faced boy with more cruelty than magical talent—grabbed the arm of the nearest twin. “They need a bath to wash off the stink of fish and peasantry.”
“The fountain will do nicely,” Beatrix suggested, her smile filled with dimples and malice.
The twin in Ethmond’s grip struggled to free herself, her eyes wide with fear now.
“Let her go!” The other one grabbed his arm, and tried to free her sister from his grasp.
Helene seized her. “You dare give us orders?”
“TALISA! Help!” For such a small person, the twin in Valens’s hold had a surprisingly loud voice.
There was an instant of startled silence. Then Lady Beatrix laughed. “Go ahead, call for your fishwife sister. We’re not afraid of her.”
Something hot and unfamiliar surged through my chest. My fists clenched at my sides as I watched the twins’ faces twist with identical expressions of defiant rage.
This isn’t right. They’re just children. And five against two—where’s the honor in that?
The thought came unbidden: What would Father say if he saw this?
I knew the answer. He’d say nobles had the right to discipline their inferiors.
He’d say strength trumped weakness every time.
He’d say I should walk away and mind my own damned business.
But as I watched the twins struggling against their larger, stronger captors, I remembered always having to prove myself against local boys who’d already formed their alliances.
“Let’s see if island girls float better than mainland ones,” Ethmond was saying, pulling his captive inexorably toward the large fountain in the center of the quad, ignoring the blows the other twin rained on him.
I stepped out from behind the pillar. “Enough, Valens.”
Five aristocratic heads whipped around, eyes widening as they recognized me.
“Mr. Corvellan,” Lady Beatrix said, giving me a brilliant smile framed by dimples. “We were just teaching these first-years some manners. Care to join us?”
I strode forward, using my height and build to loom over Ethmond. “Let her go.”
His brow wrinkled in confusion. “But why, Corvellan? They’re that fish-wife girl’s sisters.”
“Did I stutter, Valens?” I asked, staring him down.
I saw him swallow hard. My reputation as Lukhan’s protector served me well—they all knew what I was capable of when provoked.
Beatrix’s pretty mouth turned down with frustration. “But they need to learn their place!”
I didn’t disagree with her sentiment, but something about her attitude irritated me more than usual today.
“And their place is in Fundamentals of Magecraft II,” I said coolly. “Now, on your way before Mundise or one of the other mage-instructors sees you all and wonders what you’re doing.”
I’d observed last year that Mundise held egalitarian sentiments despite having Baron Mundise of Caralin as their uncle.
The twins were staring at me with matching expressions of astonishment. I ignored them, keeping my gaze fixed on Lady Beatrix.
“Their elder sister is fair game,” I continued. “She was old enough to know better than to insult Lord Lukhan like that. But these two are just children, and off-limits. Do I make myself clear?”
Ethmond released his captive twin immediately. “Perfectly clear, Mr. Corvellan,” he said, bowing his head and backing away quickly.
Lady Beatrix wasn’t so easily cowed. “Does Lord Lukhan know you’re protecting these island rats?”
I stepped even closer until I was towering over her. “Would you like to ask him yourself, Lady Beatrix?” I drawled sarcastically. “I’m sure he’d be impressed to hear how you needed four helpers to intimidate two half-grown first-years.”
Her face flushed an ugly red. Before she could respond, quick footsteps sounded behind us, and a familiar voice rang out.
“Get away from my sisters!”
Miss Fishwife charged across the quad like one of Nemara’s avenging furies, her eyes blazing. Her robe was still blotched with shiny purple stains from earlier, and her tanned cheeks were flushed with outrage.
Lady Beatrix threw me a disgusted look before she and the others scurried away in all directions.
Either I’d done a good job of intimidating them, or none of them were eager to explain their actions to an instructor who might be drawn by the commotion.
Miss Fishwife rushed to her sisters. “Are you all right. Mira? Did they hurt you?”
“We’re fine,” Mira assured her. “Lord Corvellan stopped them.”
Miss Fishwife turned to me then, her dark, unfashionably wide brows raised in disbelief. “You helped my sisters?”
I shifted uncomfortably. “They’re children,” I said gruffly. “Five against two wasn’t honorable. And it’s just ‘Mr. Corvellan,’” I added. “I’m not a lord.”
“Well, thank you for protecting them, ah, Mr. Corvellan. I owe you.”
The notion of a yokel from the Western Isles owing me a debt of honor should have made me laugh. It was ridiculous.
But somehow, the gratitude in Miss Fishwife’s hazel eyes felt unexpectedly…nice.
The three sisters stood close together now, arms around each other’s waists, a tight unit against the world. I felt a sharp pang of longing so intense it made me flinch.
As an only child, the closest I’d ever come to that kind of sibling bond was my friendship with Lukhan, and even that was complicated.
“I appreciate what you did,” Miss Fishwife continued, “though I admit I’m surprised. After yesterday, I mean. And this morning.”
I cleared my throat, suddenly desperate to escape her too-sharp gaze. “Oh, I haven’t forgotten how you insulted my friend, Miss Fishwife. But your little sisters here shouldn’t have to suffer for your sins. That’s all.”
“Even so,” she insisted, “you helped them when you didn’t have to. And I didn’t mean to insult—”
“And now I’m late for class,” I snapped, turning on my heel.
I didn’t want to hear her apology. It wouldn’t change anything. Talisa of Bernswick was a danger to Lukhan. So, she had to be destroyed.
I flung open the heavy door to the lecture hall and marched inside.