Chapter Ten: Under | Part 8
The headmistress laughed, a sound that snapped Thirtyx back to attention as his blood ran cold. “Well, well. That is interesting information indeed. And to think that you felt a previous attack on the king was worthy of hiding. Is that because of what else you said while you were under? Something about it being the Veriths?”
“The palace doesn’t know who attacked him,” Thirtyx spat. “It’s all conjecture. That’s probably why they’re keeping it quiet for now!”
“Venmagalion, you’re a political science major. You know better than that.” She folded her arms, taking on an air of playful superiority. “You saw the effect tonight’s attack had on the public. By dawn, groups will be speculating about what it means for the Grimmary’s hold on the kingdom. Surely, the palace hid the first attack to avoid that unnecessary drama. But now…” Her chuckle drove a shudder down Thirtyx’s spine. “Someone is after the throne.”
Even amidst the fear and the torture and the whirlwind of events since the lockdown started, he’d figured that out. “And it’s your job to make sure the heirs are safe. I get it. But with the Twins as my witness, I truly believe they left to seek safety, and that they’re either with Grimmary or acting on his orders. Headmistress, I swear it.”
Azirenne responded with a cold, interrogating stare that lasted several fracs. Thirtyx dared to feel hope—he might crumble otherwise—that he was winning her over. Any moment now, she would deem him trustworthy and let him go.
“I believe you, Venmagalion.”
Her words were quiet, almost a murmur, and it took Thirtyx a moment to accept what had been said. His heart soared. Spots entered his vision from the force of his relieved breath.
But when he blinked them away, he saw the sneer on the headmistress face. “But you wouldn’t be going to this much effort to hide how they’d done it if it wasn’t a matter of royal importance.”
Perhaps it was the roller coaster of emotions preventing Thirtyx from connecting the malice in Azirenne’s expression with her steady, factual statement. Thirtyx inhaled a shaky breath. “How they left is protected information, just like the first attack was.” After several fracs with no response from the headmistress, Thirtyx continued, “You understand, then, why I can’t tell you? That I’m being loyal to Grimmary and his heirs by keeping their secret?”
She nodded, but her slight sneer had grown to a full smirk. “Yes, I understand all that, Venmagalion. But I’m taking it from you anyway.”
Thirtyx’s mouth fell open. “Wha— headmistress, why?”
“I am not a fan of having my rules and security measures breached without my knowledge, even if it is by royal decree,” she said over the end of his protest. “If there’s a secret passageway or royal spies at my school or some magical loophole I’m not aware of, I feel inclined to know.”
“But ma’am, that’s treason.”
“It’s an insurance policy,” she snarled. “A concept your generation couldn’t possibly understand. You’ve been incredibly privileged to grow up in this unprecedented time of stability, so you cannot comprehend what a threat to the throne truly means.”
A new dread began creeping through Thirtyx’s veins. Insurance policy? Did she mean—“But I’m Grimmary’s age. I lived through his conquest. I remember how the moment the attacks started, everyone scrambled to take advantage. Those opposed to the former system rushed to Grimmary’s aid. Others betrayed their friends to curry favor with the new regime. If Grimmary’s hold on the throne is slipping, loyalties and alliances are now meaningless.” She inclined her head toward Thirtyx with a passionate, serious look that made all the dread in his gut turn to lead. “Chaos lies ahead, Venmagalion. And every single one of us needs to figure out where we stand.”
Calley Jones 