Chapter 13 #2
Chatelaine Lirelle could overlook many things, but not a blatant violation of the Supernatural Relations Act. I’d be expelled immediately now that my deception was revealed. And probably arrested by the agents of the Genealogical Inquest Office for lying about being fully human.
No one at my table had noticed my hair yet. They were all too distracted with the dissolution of their own glamor charms.
Only Damien seemed unaffected, damn him!
He really is as handsome as he appears, I thought, my mind reeling with shock and panic.
For his part, Damien reacted with lightning speed. He whispered something under his breath and gestured.
A fresh wave of magic pulsed outward from where he sat next to me.
As I glanced around wildly to see who’d noticed my unmasking, I saw a sea of purple heads appear throughout the dining hall.
Students at every table, commoner and noble alike, suddenly sported tresses in all shades from pale lavender to the deep purple garments worn by Their Imperial Majesties on formal occasions.
Even the mage-instructors at the staff table weren’t spared.
Mundise’s smooth dark ponytail transformed into a violet identical to my natural shade, while Varro’s silver hair transmuted into a magnificent shade of plum.
A beat of shocked silence hung in the air. Then excited chatter erupted, quickly spreading throughout the hall. Even Mage-Instructor Mundise joined in, examining their transformed locks with a bemused expression rather than yesterday’s anger.
“Well, that’s better!” Lady Helene exclaimed as she twirled a violet curl around her finger.
“Masterfully done,” Baron Halfinger’s son agreed, patting his newly purple hair with relief, clearly preferring this embarrassment to his previous one.
Damien had masked my exposure by making it universal.
Relief rushed through me. I didn’t even have to force myself to laugh along with the others.
“Are you all right?” Damien murmured under his breath, his eyes scanning my face.
“Fine,” I managed. “Thanks to your quick thinking.”
“It was the only thing I could think of at the moment. It was a close call.”
My relief instantly vanished, leaving me seething with rage and terror. In my heart, I knew this wasn’t just a random prank. This had been a targeted attack—one that had come perilously close to destroying me.
My eyes narrowed as I scanned the dining hall. Who did this?
Who could have crafted a spell powerful enough to strip away cosmetics and unravel anchored charms across an entire room?
I sought out Talisa of Bernswick, sitting with her sisters and the usual pathetic gaggle of first-years. She was fingering her newly purple braid with an expression of innocent confusion, as if she were just as surprised as everyone else.
But the timing was too perfect, too calculated after Lord Ormond’s prank against her and her commoner friends yesterday.
Beside her sat that jumped-up merchant’s son, Elio Ferraro.
Unlike Miss Fishwife, Ferraro didn’t try to hide his satisfaction. When he caught me looking, he tossed his wine-colored curls and grinned at me with breathtaking insolence as he made an obscene gesture.
He knew. And he had somehow helped her do this.
“It was her,” I hissed to Damien. “Miss Fishwife. She did this to me!”
Damien didn’t respond immediately.
When I turned to look at him, I found his gaze fixed on Talisa. There was something alarming in his expression, a flicker of something that looked dangerously like admiration.
“You have to admit,” he said finally, “a combination cosmetics-remover and anti-glamor charm was clever. And impressive spellwork for a first-year.”
“Clever? Impressive?” I repeated in disbelief. I lowered my voice to a whisper. “She nearly exposed me in front of the entire academy!”
“But she didn’t succeed,” Damien pointed out, just as quietly. “Look around—everyone thinks this is a joke.”
I stared at him. Whose side is he on? Doesn’t he know what might happen if my Fae heritage becomes public knowledge?
“She knows what she’s doing,” I insisted, my voice low and urgent. “She’s trying to ruin me.”
“She’s not the one who used black magic.” The coldness of Damien’s tone shocked me.
Could it be true? My only genuine friend, my truest ally, disapproved of my efforts to save myself?
I turned back to where Talisa sat, watching with revulsion as Elio gave her a besotted look and reached out to toy with one of the purple braids draped over her shoulders.
My humiliation curdled into something darker. It wasn’t enough anymore merely to drive her from the academy.
I needed to crush her completely to ensure she could never threaten me again.
And not just her—all of them. That insolent merchant’s son with his smug grin. Her annoying sisters. Every upstart commoner who rallied to her side and plotted sedition with her.
They all needed to learn what happened to those who challenged their betters.
To those who threatened me.
I would destroy them all, one by one, starting with the people she cared about most. I would make her regret the day she met me.
“Luk?” Damien’s voice broke through my dark thoughts. “Mundise is coming this way. They don’t look happy.”
“Why not? Purple suits them even better than it suits me.” I forced my expression back into one of amused innocence, but inside, my resolve hardened like cooling steel.
“Well, well, well, look at all of you.” Mundise stopped at our table and surveyed me and my tablemates. “May I remind you, students, that the casting of spells and charms outside of classes and labs is strictly forbidden?”
“None of us cast this charm,” I lied.
Mundise’s dark eyes rested on Damien. Damien returned the instructor’s gaze blandly.
Then Mundise moved on to the next table and repeated their warning.
I looked over at Miss Fishwife and her friends again.
She’d come dangerously close to ruining me today.
What would she try next time?