Percival’s head whips around, eyes scanning the room like he’s expecting Jamie to step out of thin air and challenge him to a duel.
Nix meets his gaze evenly. “You received a formal email from our pack’s legal counsel, I assume?”
“Yes, of course,” Percival replies, guarded now. “Otherwise, we would not tolerateyourpresence on our premises during school hours, I can assure you of that.”
“Then you know I’m here as Alpha Rhodes’s representative.” Nix’s voice sharpens just enough to cut through the humid air. “According to the Were customs you claim to know, Headmaster, I speak with his authority. I am here byproxy…asGrayson’s Pack Alpha.”
It’s as easy as that.
Harder is holding back the memory of the last time Nix served as Jamie’s proxy in an official capacity.
Percival’s face pales at the same time realization dawns. When Finn had said he needed to do whatever it took to get them both home in one piece, Nix had secretly hoped it might be more ass-kicking in a literal sense, but seeing this pompous, racist, micro-dictator reduced to sputtering and unintelligible apologies is almost as good.
“What if we canactuallyprove that Grayson acted in poor faith? That he deliberately lied?” Dahlia says smugly.
In a surprising show of support, Professor Bixby stands beside Grayson and crosses his arms. “Grayson’s ice manifestation is new today, I can assure you of that.”
“If you say so.” Dahlia shrugs. “But how can we know for sure? He could have been tricking us all this time. It would be a dangerous precedent if we allowed an untrained magic user to laugh behind this honorable institution’s back—behind GASP’s back. Not to mention his subterfuge means he is using magic without training and putting the country—the world—in serious jeopardy.”
Her eyes never leave Grayson. The look she gives him is avian—sharp, unblinking, reverent in a way that feels wrong, like a crow convinced it owns the corpse it’s watching.
Nix catches it. That glint. It’s the same look she’d had in her eye when she and the creepy man were talking on the phone. It’s pure, zealous obsession, but this time it’s made worse by something more—triumph.
She plays her part well, her voice oily-smooth. “We would need to be sure. Especially with someone so…special.”
There’s a note of emphasis on the last word, just enough to raise the hairs on the back of Nix’s neck. Her posture shifts, but her satisfaction is unmistakable. Like she’s springing a trap they didn’t even know they’d stepped into.
Her words give Percival’s pomposity new life, and he straightens his robes, once again hiding his hands under the sleeves of his robes.
“Yes, indeed. We should know if Mr. Pearce intended to make a mockery of this institution regardless of his status as a Were.” That he fails to mention the possible danger to the community at large speaks volumes to Nix about the headmaster’s priorities.
“Headmaster, I’m sure you agree that Grayson Pearce should stand before a Truthseeker so we know for certain of his intentions.”
“What are you talking about? That’s completely unnece—” Percival’s eyebrows drop down, before his eyes glaze over, and he says, “Yes, that’s an excellent idea.”
“There is one in Nashville right now. If you made the official request, a tribunal could be arranged in a few days.”
“Now, see here,” Professor Bixby begins. “There is no need for extreme measures. Grayson is merely a student.”
Grayson hasn’t moved, but Nix feels the ache in his soul. His mate throws up the wall he uses to keep The Plain closed off. He seems to fold inward, but the way his fingers twitch tells Nix everything—this was a trap, and they walked right into it.
Headmaster Percival folds his hands behind his back, posture rigid, chin lifted a fraction too high.
“Novice Grayson Pearce, you are hereby formally suspended until we can ascertain whether you have violated the terms of your agreement with the Nashville Guild—pending a tribunal before a Truthseeker.”
“Headmaster, surely we should arrange to have Grayson detained on the Guild’s premises? For safety? We can’t be sure he can be trusted not to flee.”
Nix’s wolf has his claws down and his teeth bared before he can think about it. It’s only Grayson’s arms around his chest holding him back, and the flood of love through their bond that stops Nix from making her regret her words.
“Why you little—” Nix hisses.
“That will be unnecessary, Professor Kirwan. He’s bound by the integrity of your Were customs as well, aren’t you, Mr. Pearce?” He says the wordWerein the same way someone says the dog haspoopedin the yard.
He doesn’t wait for an answer, and with a final nod, Percival exits the room in a swirl of robes and a cloud of patchouli. Nix is only a little mollified to know he’d scared the bureaucrat enough that he had been drawing on The Plain for his own possible defense.
“But, Headmaster—” Dahlia is on the verge of insisting, but when Nix bares his fangs, she stumbles back a step before scurrying after her superior like the rat she is.
Professor Bixby remains behind, wide-eyed but silent. The chill in the room isn’t just from Grayson anymore.
