Chapter Twelve: Preparations | Part 5
Thirtyx channeled Seerla’s quiet fortitude through the free period and the subsequent capstone class. He hadn’t seen Rhea or Benn since lunch, so he headed for his final class alone, fighting to conceal how he peered around corners for the headmistress and refused to stray too close to open classroom doors. Seeing Professor C from afar nearly spurred a panic attack. What kind of a wimp was he for crumbling like this? He’d always known he couldn’t hide behind the prince and princess for the rest of his life, and he really needed to start acting like it.
So it was with a facade of stony anger that he walked to his room after class. The hallways were quiet. Most magic students were already headed toward the gates, entourages in tow. Thirtyx hoped he wasn’t holding up his own friends, but when he opened the door, they pulled him inside and slammed the door behind him.
“What are you—”
“Hold your arms out to your sides. We don’t have much time.” Rhea’s eyes were filled with purple sparks, and she held a stylus aloft like a weapon.
Her behavior alarmed Thirtyx enough that he didn’t notice what Benn was doing until another stylus began moving across Thirtyx’s back. He flinched.
Benn’s stylus paused for less than a frac. “Don’t move. I don’t want to botch this and set you on fire or something.”
“You know, it isn’t customary to let someone magic you without getting an explanation first.”
“It’s all the protective spells we can think of that will last the entire weekend,” Benn murmured. “We skipped our last two classes and made a list. Grimm and Azirenne didn’t reach an agreement. She got out of charges on a technicality, so Grimm agrees she’ll likely be out for blood.”
Thirtyx gritted his teeth. “I feel the need to point out that while you two are indeed spellcasting prodigies, Azirenne has over 40 years more experience than you, and she can probably break through any defenses you put on me.”
“Maybe,” Rhea said, her enthusiasm grating on Thirtyx’s nerves. “But if she does, she won’t be able to dodge legal action this time. We’ve woven branding into the spells. If anyone breaks our wards or lays a finger on you, it’ll leave an indelible mark on them.”
Benn nodded. “We may not be able to stop her, or anyone else for that matter, but we can make sure they get caught.”
Rhea grabbed Thirtyx’s outstretched arms and crossed them across his chest. He let himself be posed like a rag doll. “I appreciate that. But what’s this technicality? The board wasn’t sympathetic because they think I’m conspiring against Grimmary?”
Benn released a bitter sigh, and his stylus faltered again, but he didn’t answer. After a few silent fracs, Rhea spoke in an uncharacteristically meek voice. “The case didn’t make it to the school board because Azirenne basically blackmailed Grimm. She claims Benn threatened her when we rescued you. Her memories are airtight—she could get him expelled.”
Thirtyx hung his head from the force of the blow. He sucked in a breath through gritted teeth. “Amendment set 185, section seven: Orinski’s Rules of Formal Threats. By the time Benn threatened her, she’d stopped the torture, and Rhea had me freed. Legally, he wasn’t defending me, because I wasn’t in danger anymore. And inside the school, she outranks him according to Orinski’s Social Hierarchy, making it a punishable offense.”
“Grimm shouldn’t have made that decision without me.” Benn’s stylus pressed harder against Thirtyx’s shoulder. “I’d gladly go down to take her with me—repeat my senior year somewhere they don’t torture innocent students. And if no one else wants me, why do I need a stupid diploma, anyway?”
“I’d bet that’s why Grimm didn’t ask you,” Rhea said gently. “Look, he didn’t make the decision lightly. It took a full week of negotiations. And apparently, Grimm bound Azirenne to an agreement of no physical violence against Thirtyx. Add that to the wards we’re applying now, and our dear headmistress will need to get creative. But if she does, there won’t be any technicalities this time. We’ve made sure of it.”
Calley Jones 