Chapter 38 Defend Your Friends
(with Extreme Prejudice and Broken Windows)
Arabella
The Academia of Malice lived up to its reputation as the premier (and only) institution for aspiring villains, teaching everything from demon summoning to tax evasion.
“ ‘Lecture Hall of Catastrophic Consequences—Third Floor,’ ” Thorne read from a floating sign that helpfully pointed the way with a skeletal finger: Stabilization Matrices and Their Applications in Controlled Chaos.
“Sounds about right for Griffin.” I stepped over a puddle of ink that was attempting to spell out obscenities on the floor.
Nyx padded beside me, her massive form somehow managing to avoid the various magical hazards littering the corridors.
Students pressed themselves against walls as we passed, though whether from fear of the pink dragon or recognition of who I was, I couldn’t tell.
The doors to the lecture hall were carved from dark wood. I pushed them open as quietly as possible, not wanting to interrupt Griffin’s moment of academic glory.
The scene inside was not what I’d expected.
Griffin stood at the podium, his impossibly long frame hunched as he dodged a flying textbook. Then another. Then an enchanted scroll that was attempting to beat him over the head.
“—and that’s why the tertiary stabilization matrix must be calibrated to—” He ducked as a bottle of ink sailed past his head. “To account for the inherent chaos coefficient!”
The audience was a mixed bag of villains, apprentices, and students.
Some took notes with genuine interest. Others seemed more invested in using Griffin for target practice.
In the front row, the demon-adjacent delegation with horned features and flaky, charcoal-colored skin sat with their heads in their hands, looking mortified.
They must have been the diplomats from the Ashen Wastes.
“Is this normal?” I whispered to Thorne.
“Academia can be brutal,” he replied, though his hand had moved to one of his many weapons.
“Poor Griffin.” The voice at my elbow made me jump. Sebastian had materialized beside us, and I noticed writhing vines kept sprouting from the floor at his feet. He tamped them down with frustration. “I’ve been keeping to the shadows. Some of the students were giving me… interested looks.”
I could imagine. Sebastian, even in his subdued colors, stood out like a beacon of wholesomeness in this den of villainy.
“He doesn’t deserve this,” he continued, and there was an edge to his voice I rarely heard. “Griffin’s brilliant. These idiots just can’t appreciate genuine innovation when they see it.”
The anger in his tone—the protective fury on behalf of someone he cared about—triggered something in my mind. A memory, rising like a bubble through dark water.
A garden at night. Sunspire Palace, years ago. I’m arguing with my father, my chin raised in defiance as he grabs my arm. His fingers dig in hard enough to bruise.
“Your behavior is unacceptable,” he snarls. “No daughter of mine will—”
“Let her go!” A younger Sebastian, thirteen, wearing a ridiculous golden tunic that makes him look like a canary. He steps between us, violet eyes blazing with righteous fury.
My father’s hand cracks across Sebastian’s face. The sound echoes through the garden.
I gasped. Sebastian had tried to defend me. Had taken a blow meant for me. And I’d forgotten. How could I have forgotten?
But there was more. The memory kept unfolding, reaching further back to earlier that same night.
The garden again. Pixies flutter through the topiaries, playing and teasing each other. Sebastian and I sit beneath a flowering tree, and he’s wearing that same golden tunic.
“You’re beautiful,” he says, with all the earnest awkwardness of a boy experiencing his first real crush.
I laugh, but it’s gentle. “You’re ridiculous in that tunic.”
“My mother picked it out.” He’s blushing now, visible even in the moonlight. “She said it brings out my eyes.”
“It does.” And then, because I’m thirteen and brave and a little bit in love with my best friend, I lean in and kiss him.
It’s sweet and clumsy and perfect, tasting of the honey cakes we’d stolen from the kitchen. His hand comes up to cup my cheek, gentle as butterfly wings.
When we pull apart, we’re both breathless and grinning like fools.
The memory slammed into me with the force of a lightning strike. That’s why Father had been so angry. He’d caught his daughter kissing the son of a minor lord, and his plans for my advantageous marriage had been threatened even though I was so, so young.
Shame and fury warred in my chest. I’d kissed Sebastian. We’d been… something. And they’d stolen it from me. Erased it like it never mattered.
Another book flew at Griffin’s head, and I snapped.
The shadows responded before I’d fully formed the thought. Dark tendrils erupted from every corner of the room, but this time they were laced with golden light—my heroic bloodline and my chosen darkness working in perfect harmony.
The hecklers found themselves yanked from their seats by constructs of pure shadow wrapped in aureate fire. Their surprised shouts turned to screams as I hurled them through the high windows of the lecture hall. Glass shattered with the sweet sound of destruction.
The room erupted in panic. Students dove under desks. The Ashen Wastes diplomats looked ready to faint. And every eye in the room found me standing in the doorway, shadows and light still swirling around me. A living, breathing storm in their midst. Nyx loomed behind me, wings spread.
So much for not revealing the extent of my power. I wasn’t any better than my husband. But I found I didn’t care. They’d hurt my friend. They’d disrespected someone under my protection.
I was Lady Blackrose, and I was done playing nice.
Griffin stood frozen at the podium, his amber eyes wide behind his glasses. Then a slow smile spread across his face. He raised one impossibly long arm, gave the audience a gesture that was decidedly not academic, and announced, “Class dismissed.”
The lecture hall emptied in record time. Students trampled one another in their rush to escape, leaving behind scattered notes and overturned chairs. Only the Ashen Wastes delegates remained, approaching us with the careful steps of people who were calculating their odds of survival.
“Lady Blackrose!” The lead delegate, a woman whose skin looked like cooled lava, bowed so low her ornate headdress nearly touched the floor.
“I’m Emissary Pyrrha. We are mortified by this display!
Such disrespect toward your companion—well, the students were protesting the mandatory attendance requirement, but that is no excuse for such behavior!
” She wrung her hands, and sparks flew from her fingers. “We deeply apologize for any offense—”
“Perhaps next time,” I said coolly, “you’ll ensure your audience has proper manners before subjecting my friends to their company.”
I kept my gaze fixed on the delegates, carefully avoiding looking at Sebastian.
The memory of that kiss was so fresh, so vivid, it might as well have happened yesterday.
For me, it had. Meanwhile, he’d been sitting across from me at dinner, helping Griffin with experiments, making himself at home at Skyspire, all while carefully pretending that kiss had never existed.
It was years ago, I told myself. We were children.
But the shame still burned, not because of the kiss—that had been innocent enough—but because he had to remember. And I’d forgotten.
“Of course, of course!” Pyrrha said. The delegates continued their frantic apologies, bowing and scraping like their lives depended on it. Which, given what I’d just done, they might have thought they did.
A man in elaborate robes approached, and I recognized the ostentatious display of skulls and dark crystals that marked him as Academy faculty. He was trembling slightly, though trying to hide it behind an air of authority.
“I am Dean Mortifax of Theoretical Villainy.” His voice quavered only slightly. “And I must insist—that is, I demand—well, I strongly suggest that you pay for the damages to our windows.”
I tilted my head, letting a small smile play at my lips. “Since when do villains pay for damages?”
“Well, there are certain protocols—”
“Besides,” I continued, my voice dropping to something more dangerous, “such treatment of my friends will not be tolerated. Tell me, Dean, how far is the drop from those windows?”
He paled further, if that was possible. “Not… not too far. The students are likely revivable. With effort.”
“Pity.”
There was something familiar about him, something nagging at the edge of my memory. “Have we met before? Were you at my wedding, perhaps?”
His entire demeanor changed, the fear melting into eager delight. “Yes! Yes, I was! Such a magnificent ceremony. The shadow binding, the bone rings—truly inspirational! I’m so honored you remember!”
I didn’t, actually, but I nodded as if I did. The wedding had been a blur of faces and veiled threats. Half the villain community had been there to size up Kazimir’s new bride.
Griffin finally managed to push through the crowd, his face glowing with excitement—though I noticed Pyrrha and her companion positioned themselves on either side of him, close enough that wisps of smoke from Pyrrha’s increasingly heated skin were drifting across his robes.
“Lady Blackrose! That was magnificent!” Griffin seemed oblivious to the sultry looks being directed at him from both sides. “Did you see how they scattered? Like roaches when you light a lamp! And the way you combined shadow and light—it was magnificent!”
“Griffin,” I said gently, trying to stem the tide of his enthusiasm while also trying not to laugh at the way Pyrrha’s cracks were glowing brighter with each word he spoke.
“—and the best part is, some of the smarter attendees actually paid attention to my lecture!” He gestured wildly, nearly elbowing the male delegate in the face.
“Ten of them want to apply as my apprentice! Though I don’t really need another apprentice, I have so many already.
” His face fell slightly. “They do tend to die rather frequently, though. Occupational hazard of experimental enchantment, I suppose—”
“We remember your demonstrations at the wedding,” Pyrrha purred, and actual flames flickered in the cracks of her skin. “The lightning bridges were exhilarating.”
Her companion nodded with equal fervor. “We’ve been hoping for a repeat performance.”
And then I remembered a tale about Griffin being drunk at the wedding and disappearing across a lightning bridge with these very delegates. That memory hadn’t been stolen, simply buried under a mountain of others during that chaotic time.
Griffin blinked at them both, utterly befuddled. “Oh! Well, I could certainly arrange another lecture on dynamic magical architecture if you’re interested in the technical specifications—”
I caught Sebastian’s eye and saw him fighting a smile.
“Griffin,” I said more firmly, placing a hand on his arm and gently steering him away from his admirers. “We’re going home.”
“Oh.” He blinked. “Right. Of course. Let me just gather my notes—”
I felt Sebastian’s gaze on me. He hadn’t said anything since my display of power, but I could sense his concern, his questions. I knew that if I looked at him now, I’d see that earnest worry in his violet eyes. The same look he’d had when he stepped between me and my father all those years ago.
I couldn’t deal with that. Not now. Not with the memory of honey cakes and pixies still fresh in my mind.
“Thorne,” I said, proud of how steady my voice sounded. “Please help Griffin with his materials. We leave as soon as the Sky Serpent arrives.”
I turned and walked out of the lecture hall, Nyx padding silently beside me.
I had bigger problems to worry about. Like the fact that I’d just revealed my hybrid magic to an entire lecture hall of villains.
Or that we were about to embark on a quest to gather heroic bloodlines with my husband, who was slowly being consumed by an ancient evil.
Or that I could still taste honey cakes when I pressed my lips together.
Or that in his current state, Kazimir could never, ever find out about that kiss.