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“No.”

She nods. “Good. I know it’ll be hard, but try not to talk back.” With that last piece of wisdom, she releases me and strides up the steps.

“I don’t talk back,” I lie.

Silverstone shakes her head and makes a hand gesture. “Come, come.”

Exhaling harshly, I jog up the stairs, wondering what Silverstone didn’t say and why she’s so worried about me doing what I’m told.

“No.” I shake my head hard. “No, I won’t do it.”

Silverstone, who’s standing beside the chancellor, clears her throat, one eyebrow lifting high. I wince, but it’s too late to take back the words. Double the training with Carver? Tutoring with Silverstone on top of it? It’s ridiculous.

Carver sits like a statue beside me. The slightest flutter of his jaw muscles is the only thing that tells me what he’s thinking. He’s as annoyed as I am.

Why isn’t he saying anything?

Chancellor Tweed sits behind a grand mahogany desk with ornate carvings on the legs. It’s as old as time and beautiful. Every piece of furniture in his office—the shelves lining the walls, the table and chairs nestled against the back wall, and even the seat I’m sitting in—is meticulously crafted.

All I can see is money wasted and Tweed glaring at me, likely contemplating killing me himself. “Perhaps you misunderstood, Raina. This isn’t a choice, and the more you resist, the more I’ll add to your plate.”

I press my nails into my palms to keep from saying anything else.

“Given how your power registered, we can’t just let you continue to fail. One way or another, you will learn to use your magic. You’ll meet with Carver every day of the week. Once in the morning, once in the afternoon, and three days a week with Silverstone.”

My mouth parts, ready to tell him that’s impossible with my work schedule, but Silverstone shakes her head ever so slightly, and my mouth snaps shut.

“Extra tutoring might be pointless, given that she refuses to even try,” Carver says, finally speaking up.

“Or perhaps you're not as good a teacher as you think you are,” Tweed counters before eyeing my forearm. “It’s also come to my attention that you arrived with a mage bargain in place.”

I cross my arms, hiding the one with the bargains, not that he can see them. “Is that a crime?” I swear Professor Silverstone’s eyes flutter closed, but the sudden rush of power on my skin snaps my attention to Tweed.

“Show me.”

{{Show me. Show me. Show me.}}

I fight the pull of his magic, but it’s like trying to hold a handful of sand. I’m up and out of my chair, leaning across the desk and offering my arm, before I can stop myself. Anger churns in my gut, and the brush of Tweed’s thumb over the invisible marks of the bargains. One with Mr. Peters, one for Diremount, and one with Bellamy. Magic buzzes against my skin, and the three bands become visible, almost as if they were tattoos. I fight the urge to rip my arm away.

I don’t like the way his magic feels against my skin.

He hums to himself. “Who are these two with?” He touches them again, and my stomach revolts.

“My guardian,” I grit out. There’s no way I’m telling him, Melody Tweed’s uncle, about my deal with the vampire his niece is courting.

Tweed finally releases me. The bands become invisible once more, but I can still feel Tweed’s touch on my arm. I tuck it behind my back.

“Did he bind your magic?” The look on Tweed’s face is distant, thoughtful, as though he’s solved the mystery.

My laugh, bitter and hollow, rings throughout the room. “If only that’s what Mr. Peters had done.” I startle when I realize I said that last part out loud. Carver’s eyebrows are drawn down, while Silverstone’s eyes are soft with concern. I clear my throat. “I mean, no, he didn’t bind my magic.”

Silence is a void engulfing the room, and as it threatens to pull me under. “Are we done here?”

Chancellor Tweed squints. “Careful, Raina. Your attitude is too much like Carver’s, and look where he ended up.” Tweed slides his gaze to my tutor. “A formerly prestigious captain of the Paranormal Guard demoted all the way to instructor at my university.”

Carver is still as stone, though there’s no mistaking the pure hatred burning in his eyes. Tweed goes out of his way to remind Carver of his loss of station. Why? What’s their history? Now is definitely not the time to ask.

The chancellor flicks his hand. “Leave.”