Read Online A College of Magics by Caroline Stevermer - Free Book Online Page A

authorities that she had broken curfew? Or did the authorities know things without the need to be told?
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    O nce away from the Glass Slipper the night before, Tyrian had insisted on escorting them to the college. Jane led the way back to the garden. Under the oak tree, she paused. “Gunhild goes first,” Jane whispered. “If anyone is waiting for us, she ought to be the one to greet them.”
    Tyrian helped Gunhild up into the rustling branches, then Jane, Portia, and Eve-Marie. When he turned to Faris, she stopped him with a touch of her hand.

    â€œFirst tell me,” she said quietly, “did my uncle hire you?”
    Tyrian’s soft voice was surprised. “Weren’t you told?”
    Faris didn’t answer.
    â€œObviously not. He hired me as soon as he had certain knowledge that you were a student at Greenlaw. He wanted to be sure you stayed at school.”
    â€œStayed where he put me, rather. So you are my guard.”
    â€œYour bodyguard, should circumstances ever require one. I am surprised that my services weren’t needed tonight. I had no idea Greenlaw College provided such a liberal education.”
    â€œThey don’t teach that at Greenlaw.” Reluctantly, Faris handed the poker to Tyrian. “Nothing so direct.”
    â€œPerhaps they should. Our nautical friend may think twice before he approaches another student.”
    The thought cheered Faris. For the first time since the fight, she felt her heart lift. “A useful object, the poker,” she said.
    â€œI’ll handle it with care,” Tyrian said.
    Faris jumped to catch the oak branch and found Tyrian’s hands at her waist as she reached the top of her leap. Aided by his strength, she caught the branch and let the spring of it swing her over the wall.
    The oak leaves rustled around her as she looked back down into the garden. Tyrian was gone. For a long moment, Faris let the tree branch rock her in the darkness, listened to the November wind sort dry leaves with a fitful rustling shiver.
    â€œFaris?” hissed Jane, from the darkness on the Dean’s side of the garden wall. “Are you all right?”

    Faris climbed down the oak tree and joined her friend in the shadows. “Absolutely.”
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    A ll the way to the Dean’s office, Faris expected to encounter Jane or Gunhild or another fellow culprit. She had the feeling she ought to be riding in a tumbrel. Instead, she walked the maze of corridors alone, climbed the stairs alone, and finally stood alone before the Dean’s desk.
    The Dean, a woman of formidable height, with a glint of steel in her manner, did not look up from her work.
    Faris reminded herself that she was a string of pearls and fell into the perfectly balanced posture Dame Brachet had taught her. It was tempting to steal a glance around at the book-lined room but she kept her attention focused on the Dean instead.
    The Dean put down her pen. “I’ve received a letter, Faris Nallaneen. I want to know the meaning of it.” She selected a sheet of paper from the stack before her and held it up. Her dark eyes caught Faris’s pale ones. “Have you blackmailed many of your classmates, or is Menary your first attempt?”
    Faris felt her jaw drop. After a moment’s stunned silence, she managed to say, “I beg your pardon?” with only one stammer.
    The Dean’s stern expression eased slightly. “Or was it inadvertent?” She held the letter out to Faris.
    Faris took the letter, read it through, and looked up at the Dean, horrified. “I didn’t-threaten her. I didn’t say anything of the kind. It didn’t happen this way at all …” She paused to collect herself.

    The Dean arched an eyebrow. “Yet you are very short of funds. And as Menary’s father makes abundantly clear, the Paganells are an important family. And important families are almost always wealthy families.”
    Faris took