Page 113 of Serpent and Shadow

I jumped when Alaric sank into the seat next to me, at the same time as he plopped down an open newspaper, right on my lap. I’d been staring sightlessly at an open textbook right before that, sitting in a lecture hall in Evernight College, waiting for Ancient Rituals to begin, my 7:30AM class on Tuesdays.

I’d bumped into the second tier class this term, which meant I’d changed from the smaller classroom to the auditorium-shaped space in Evernight, which had a huge ritual space in the center of the room, surrounded by steep rows of seats on all sides. The higher-level course also contained a wider range of students, mostly third and fourth years, along with the handful in my year, and even a few post-graduates.

Unlike a lot of the newer students in there, I still had the same professor. At least two other profs taught the lower-level courses, so that was to be expected, too.

Tuesdays was my big academic day of the week, with Ancient Rituals spanning my entire morning, starting with a ninety minute lecture followed immediately by two hours of practicals. Alchemy came next, right after lunch, followed by another long practical where we spent most of our time over cauldrons and forges.

Numerology and Symbology didn’t have a practical at all, only a lecture, but came directly after Alchemy let out, and went until seven in the evening. It also tended to have significantly more assignments we were meant to do on our own time, which meant my evening would be used up, also.

It also meant a late dinner, for me and for Wraith.

With everything going on with Dark Cathedral, I’d learned to get my revising and assignments done as quickly as possible, generally right after class ended, at least when I could. That way, the material remained fresh in my mind, and I could spend the bulk of my other time on everything else. It turned out a lot of my coursework this term took place in practical sessions, which was lucky. It meant fewer nights staying up past midnight, trying to get assignments done in a single night to free up more hours the next day.

The toughest of my practicals by far was for Ancient Rituals.

It also had the most dire repercussions if I wasn’t paying attention.

Just last week, a mage named Carlton Roth forgot to close a portal all the way, and a minor demon slipped through. The auditorium was thankfully sealed against that kind of thing, so it couldn’t get out, but we spent the rest of the class trying to banish it, which ended up in a lot of singed hair and eyebrows, and a number of burns and bruises on the rest of us.

Our teacher, Professor Wragnus, seemed oddly delighted by the development. He stood back, shouting suggestions to all of us and waving his foul-smelling pipe as we tried to stuff the demon back into the dimensional hole from which it came.

Unfortunately for Carlton Roth, Wragnus still docked his points for the day.

The rest of us were pretty grumbly towards him, too.

I’d rather not do that, given how little time I had to spend on coursework now.

Anyway, this class mattered to me.

More than most of my classes, the subject felt directly relevant to everything going on outside the school walls. I’d managed to get Wragnus to answer questions about Resurrection spells and family curses already, including blood curses that prevented one Magical from harming another. Expectedly, most of his broader answers mirrored what Forsooth already told me, but Wragnus offered a lot more detail and theory.

“Look.” Alaric pointed at the headline of the paper he’d tossed on my open book. “He attacked Marlborough last night. And an estate outside Ramsbury.”

I winced, knowing who he meant before he’d said it.

“No images of him this time,” Alaric added. “Not even in that foul mask.”

I grimaced but nodded.

After what he said, I only glancing at the photographs long enough to verify what Alaric told me. Most just showed damage done to the stone walls of the town, and townspeople running away in a panic. The top image had the most detail. A hillside burned there, with dark-robed figures in the foreground staring up at a castle among the trees. When I didn’t see anyone in them I recognized, my eyes fell to the story’s text.

“I don’t see anything here about royals,” I said after a moment. I was still skimming the text as I spoke softly. “Wasn’t he there for one of the families?”

Alaric shrugged. “He might be done with those now.”

“Done with them?” I turned to stare at him. “What does that mean?”

Alaric met my gaze, his expression grim. “I just meant they might’ve moved on.” He pointed at the paper. “That’s the closest they’ve gotten to London so far. They’re keeping it quiet, if it’s true, but there was some talk in Valarian this morning that the estate belonged to one of the advisors to the Magus Imperius. Apparently a number of higher ups in G.O.R.E. live in Marlborough also.”

I bit my lip, but only nodded.

Alaric was right. Going after the royals was only part of it. Malefic would want to unify all of the Magicals, not only the royal families. Once he had everyone with royal blood under his banner, he’d go after the government itself.

Then the King.

Finally, the Ethnarch, and any lesser kingdoms.

“Have you talked to him yet?” Alaric asked, softer. “Bones?”