Honestly, I left it fairly vague whether I’d gotten away at all.
If Forsooth or any of the administrators noticed that, or if it concerned them, they didn’t say. I suspected at least some thought Strangemore had successfully raped me, and that I hadn’t wanted to admit that, which is possibly why they left it alone.
Regardless, the school’s Oracle had enough to support my complaint. When they checked my memories against Strangemore’s for the same timeframe, Graham’s fate was sealed, with the university, at least.
The swiftness of the process shocked me, and made me wonder how Graham thought he would ever have gotten away with it. He must’ve had some plan for that, something he would have done to my memory or threats he could have made. I’d worried that without Bones there to back up my story, they wouldn’t do much, or even believe me, given who I was. But once the Oracle declared everything in my complaint verified and truthful, it was all over.
Also, as it turned out, Bones had been right to stay out of it.
The school’s complete inability to keep any aspect of the incident quiet grew apparent within hours. My name must’ve circulated pretty much immediately following my report, because by that first night, the entire school knew. As soon as word got out that Graham would be expelled, and handed over to the authorities on charges of criminal assault, the entire campus exploded in rage, most of it aimed at me.
As for Graham himself, he got escorted off campus before supper on Sunday evening.
That part happened right in the courtyard of Valarian, as he’d been returning from his last Skyhunt practice as a member of the Malcroix Skulls.
So far, at least, I’d heard no mention of Bones in connection to that night.
I didn’t know if that was because Graham had kept his mouth shut, or because of something Bones had done to him, but I strongly suspected the latter. I could think of absolutely no reason why Strangemore wouldn’t tell anyone who’d listen that I’d left with Bones, if only because it would twist the attention off himself.
I strongly suspected Strangemore didn’t even remember Bones was there.
Not like having Bones involved would have helpedmein the slightest. If the school knew Bones got between me and Strangemore, it only would’ve cemented their opinions of me even more. I’d be accused of being a slag for sleeping with Bones after rejecting Strangemore, and most of them would probably assume I’d shagged both of them, anyway.
No, Bones couldn’t have helped me, even if he’d been willing to.
It was me, “the hybrid,” who got everyone’s favorite Skyhunt player expelled.
Which meant everyone knew exactly who to blame if the Skulls lost their first big match of the year the following Sunday.
I’d been trying to keep a low profile all weekend.
As soon as I returned to classes Monday, that was no longer an option.
“Shadow!”Quicksilver clicked his fingers at me the instant I entered the torchlit shed. “Front and center.” When I hesitated, his voice hardened, along with his eyes. “Now.”
I walked to my professor warily, wearing loose, dark trousers and a tank top over what amounted to a sports bra. Even though we fought primarily with magic in these practicals, now that we were in our second year, I was expected to start incorporating physical moves into my sparring. That included both attack and defense, and misdirection to aid my magic.
Quicksilver made it clear I was utterly terrible at all of these things, even though I’d spent far too much of my school years fighting in Overworld, defending either my brother or myself.
The martial arts they used here, the moves used by mages and witches who’d trained in it, sometimes since they were very young, were completely foreign to me. They were precise, circular, graceful, and totally unlike the paltry fighting skills I’d developed over the years, which I’d mostly worked out on my own.
Whenever I broke out of the forms Quicksilver had us practice and tried to defend myself the way I knew how, Quicksilver ended the fight at once. He’d then order me into another part of the shed to practice by myself, or sometimes with dummies. Once, when I happened towina fight against another Magical that way, unofficially at least, he got even angrier, pointing out how easily I would’ve been taken down, had I been fighting anyone remotely competent.
Truthfully, though, I usually felt like Quicksilver wastryingto help me.
In a strange way, him pushing on me felt almost like an expression of faith that I’d eventually get there, but maybe that was wishful thinking on my part. I knew I’d frustrated him a lot this year. He seemed to think I should have progressed more by now, and his annoyance with me had only gotten worse since my magical “incident” a few weeks previous.
Today, he snapped words at me before I’d even reached where he stood.
“You’re not in here anymore,” he said.
He didn’t look at me as he spoke.
He looked over my shoulder, to my right, and around at the other witches and mages in my Offensive and Defensive Magic practical, but not at me.
“You’re practicing in Experimental Magic Shed Four from now on, Shadow. Compartment One. Your hours and days will be changing as a function of your new assignment, so be sure and note that on your revised schedule.”
My mind tripped over that information, then I paled.
