Page 9 of Cathmoir’s Sons (Bad Boys of Bevington #5)
Chapter 9
Black Reprimand
KELLAN
A day after I wake up at Jane’s with jumbled memories of slow-dancing with Luca and strolling through a wintry garden with the Holly King—my mind’s definitely been rolled by a Crow Queen again—I return to Bevington to prepare for Winter Study. Only to find my crystal knife bouncing in the Air above a pile of mail.
The first envelope I open is a summons from the Academic Standards committee.
As a junior professor, or even an assistant curator, summons from the Academic Standards committee are never what you want to receive. But since my last act before the Yule break was to report that I took students into a dangerous situation in which they were injured and might not be back in time for Winter Study, the summons isn’t unexpected.
That the interview is set for that afternoon, and that Dean Quinn and Charon Carver, The Mr. Black, will be attending, is not expected.
Not very welcome, either.
I open the rest of my mail and answer emails before I head home to change into my one good suit. Academic armor.
Dean Quinn greets me at the door of the small conference room in Bodeman Main at the appointed time. She’s wearing full robes, as are the three other members of the committee, while The Mr. Black is in a gray pinstriped, three-piece suit.
I’m damn glad I went home to change.
Dean Quinn shakes my hand and gestures to a chair near the door. The committee and The Mr. Black take seats facing me. The chair is warm, like someone was just sitting in it, and I recognize a truth charm.
I didn’t plan on lying anyway.
Dean Quinn sits down across from me in a similar high-backed leather armchair. I doubt hers is spelled, although I’ve always known her to be fair and honest. Carver glowers at me from her right.
Carver was a year ahead of me at Bevvy but we were definitely not friends. He was part of the old money crowd. Connections. Patrician good looks. Entitled assholes. He and his friends bullied a girl in their year so badly she dropped out. He’s from a big-name New York mage family so, of course, nothing happened to him. But he washed out of the White Cloaks after just a year and I’ll admit I felt like justice had been served. It was a huge disappointment to find him back at Bevvy.
The three members of the committee are cyphers. One’s Professor Dittman, a former White Cloak and the chairman of the school’s magickal law enforcement department. He teaches a lot of battle magic seminars and I hear he’s a hard ass. Another is a Fire professor who I don’t know personally. The last committee member is Erasmus, the school’s ancient administrator who I’ve never heard speak, but when I transposed the numbers in my date of birth when I submitted my initial pay request, he sent it back to me with the date circled in red and a thorn hex on the paper.
I don’t expect a lot of sympathy out of any of them.
“Kellan,” Dean Quinn begins. “Do you know everyone?”
I nod because the Fire-mage’s name has just come back to me: Sarah Ratner. She taught at Bevvy when I was a student here, although I never took any of her classes.
“We’re here, of course, because of your report about involving three students in a conflict against an extra-planar entity in December,” she continues. “We’ve all read your report. Do you have anything to add to it?”
I shake my head.
“Very well,” Dean Quinn says. The corners of her mouth turn down and I wonder if I should have added something to my report. “The Mr. Black?”
Carver nods. “I’ve followed up with Rhodes Hale, the Cait princes, and their families. They were all very clear that no one blamed Professor Wyndham for leading the three students into the battle. Rhodes Hale was independently summoned. He credits Professor Wyndham with saving his life when he was attacked by a rogue family member. I think we’re all aware of the Hale family and its issues.”
He waits until everyone around the table nods.
“Kimberly Cavalo-Darling is of Niles Hale’s line and evidently shares his anti-fae agenda,” Carver continues. “Although I don’t quite understand the nuances of why she attacked her cousin, I understand it was part of the larger offensive by anti-fae forces who were seeking to destroy the ley line on which the Thistlemist Court sits and assassinate the Thistle Regent. Rhodes Hale was instrumental in countering this offensive. Professor Wyndham was not the only Bevington professor to fight in the battle and I think we’re all aware that Doctor Prince tragically lost her life there. I’m not inclined to recommend any disciplinary action against Professor Wyndham due to her accompanying Rhodes Hale into the battle.”
I stifle my sigh of relief because I feel a “but” coming.
“The Cait princes are another matter. Professor Wyndham reported a relationship with a student’s family member several months ago. The report doesn’t name the family member, but it does name the student: Lucas Cathmoir. Prince Lucas is also Professor Wyndham’s research assistant. During our interview, he spoke passionately and at length about the work they’re doing and his admiration for Professor Wyndham. Prince Lucas and his twin also have an unfortunate reputation for rash and violent behavior. This is excused by this administration on account of their heritage as Cait Sidhe.” The knots in Carver’s jaw show what he thinks of Dean Quinn’s leniency. “Given the depth of her involvement with Prince Lucas and his family, I believe that Professor Wyndham should have foreseen Prince Lucas following her into the battle. She should have contacted either his family or the crows to detain him.”
I look down at the table between us to keep from sneering at him. Has he ever been in a real fight? I didn’t have hours to prepare. From what I can remember, I had seconds. At best, I might have taken a moment to close the Court of Cold Mist behind me so Law and Luca couldn’t follow me, although I’m not convinced they wouldn’t have found another way through Faery, particularly given what I know now about Luca and Rhodes. There’s no way Luca would have let both of us go into battle without him.
And he and Law must have been doing some pretty tap dancing with The Mr. Black. How did they keep him from figuring out that it’s Law I’ve been seeing?
Dean Quinn sighs. “It’s at the request of their parents that we’ve treated the Cait princes like any other students. They declined special security. They haven’t been given any additional privileges. They’re both extremely good students. What’s more, they’re both legal adults. I don’t see what grounds the crows would have had to detain either Prince Luca or his twin. Doing so would have been directly contrary to their parents’ express wishes.”
“We wouldn’t let any student follow a teacher into a violent conflict,” The Mr. Black argues.
“The Cait princes are not court fae,” Professor Dittman interjects. “They’ll spend their lives fighting. I don’t see how this battle was any riskier than the many times they’ve left campus to take on the Mirk. From the report, Lawson Cathmoir was injured by a Mirk Rider he defeated. That is, frankly, his job . What’s more, I know Rhodes Hale well. He’s one of my best students. I helped him apply to the White Cloaks. He’s going to be inducted in June. I have absolutely no concerns about Rhodes as a White Cloak or in a combat situation. He’s ready.”
Carver’s cut jaw ripples like he’s grinding his teeth. A different kind of vibration shimmies through me at hearing that Rhodes already has a position with the White Cloaks after he graduates. Yet another thing he didn’t tell me.
“Then the school should reconsider the freedoms we allow the Cait princes. It’s unacceptable for students to be injured chasing around after a teacher,” Carver insists.
Professor Dittman shakes his head but doesn’t say anything further.
“I would like to hear from Professor Wyndham,” Professor Ratner pipes up. She’s probably Dean Quinn’s age, but she has none of the Dean’s charm. She looks withdrawn and somehow, ashy, in her gray suit and glamored blonde hair. “Professor Wyndham, did you have any reason to believe the Cait princes would follow you into the battle?”
I shake my head since it honestly never occurred to me. “I don’t even know how they knew about it.”
“Prince Luca had a vision, evidently,” Carver says.
More tap dancing but at least Law and Luca didn’t mention anything about the whole fated mates business.
“I can only say that now that I know Prince Luca would act so rashly and has the means to follow me through the Fae Ways, I’ll do what I can to prevent it,” I offer.
Professor Ratner nods and sits back in her chair.
“That’s not enough,” Carver says. “Prince Luca should be bound to the campus for his own safety.”
Dean Quinn’s eyebrows shoot up over the edge of her glasses. “I seriously doubt that either he or his parents will agree to that. They’re wild fae.”
“They’re a liability is what they are,” Carver says. “And if they get killed while they’re students at this institution, I think we all know who their parents will blame.”
“I don’t agree,” Professor Dittman says. “Cathmoir’s a warrior, like his sons. He understands the risks of the job.” He drums his fingers on the table. “Is that all? I assume you’re recommending that Professor Wyndham be disciplined for failing to anticipate and prevent the Cait princes from following her into battle. I know how I’m going to vote and the committee must be unanimous, so the recommendation doesn’t pass. Are we done?”
“Yes,” says Dean Quinn, tapping the papers in front of her back into a pile. “Professor Wyndham, thank you for attending today. The safety of Bevington’s students must, of course, always be our first priority. I personally agree with the students’ families that you weren’t at fault. And you have my many thanks for protecting and healing Rhodes Hale. You’re excused.”
“Thank you.” I stand and get ready to get out while the getting is good.
Professor Dittman halts me. “Professor Wyndham, may I speak to you for a moment?”
I steel myself.
“Of course.”
He rises from his seat and walks out of the conference room with long, sure strides. I follow him, envious of his thickly treaded boots when I’m tottering along in my heels.
He walks down the hall of the academic wing of Bodeman Main to a small conference room that I think is used by the school counselor. He ushers me inside the room and closes the door behind me.
“Are you sleeping with Rhodes Hale?” he asks.
I stammer, then admit, “Yes, I was.”
“Well, that makes sense,” he says. “The boy’s had his head so turned around this past semester, I thought he had harpy fever or something. He’s been my best student for three years and I was so disappointed in his final exam that the only reason I didn’t ball it up and lob it at his head was because he ran out of the exam room like his tail was on fire. It was an offense to the Mother to have to give him a passing grade. Did you lead him on a merry chase?”
“Yes, it probably looks like that.” I rub the bridge of my nose. “I didn’t know he was a student until after the battle. I’m sure that seems absurd to you since you’ve known him for years, but in my defense let me say that he deceived me into thinking he worked at Bevington and did a damn good job of it.”
Professor Dittman’s mouth twitches. “Did he, now?”
“Yes.”
“Sorry to say I probably taught him that.”
“White Cloaks are supposed to be incorruptible,” I point out, irritated at the thought that the man in front of me helped turn Rhodes into someone deceitful.
“Professor Wyndham, you’ve been out in the world. You’re not one of these soft-handed academics who’s cowered inside Bevington’s ivory tower their entire career. You know the world isn’t like that. Justiciars are often the judge, jury, and executioner. They have to be practical. They have to do what it takes to get the job done. Being scrupulously honest and truthful and upright? It will get them dead.”
I rub my hand over my face. I do understand that. I know justice isn’t black and white. I’d just like—for one moment—something to be immutable.
But that’s not the way the world works.
“Well, good job. You taught him well.” I keep my tone friendly, because Professor Dittman could really fuck me over here. But I don’t sense that’s his goal. “Why do you ask?”
“I’m not planning on outing you to Dean Quinn and her bulldog, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Dittman says, his brown eyes holding mine. “I’m just looking out for Rhodes. I know he’s involved with that Cait who followed you into the battle, even though they kept it quiet. Did the Cait follow you or did he follow Rhodes?”
“I honestly couldn’t say. I didn’t know about their relationship until afterwards. I’ve tried not to have any contact with the Cait princes or with Rhodes since then.”
Dittman clears his throat. “And you think just cutting off contact is going to work?”
Thinking of the cat who sits outside my window in the snow every night, I wince.
A smile, quickly suppressed, flits across Dittman’s mouth. “I don’t envy you. Cait are notoriously sneaky and ruthless when they go after something they want.”
I humph . “Oh, I’m aware. I don’t expect you to know how to deal with the Cait, but as Rhodes’ mentor for several years, any advice for me? Luca’s warned me Rhodes won’t just give up. He said something about Rhodes never losing at anything. Is that true?”
Dittman nods. “A hundred percent winner, that boy. Tenacious and driven. I’ve encouraged those qualities, I'll admit. They’ll make him an excellent White Cloak. I have high hopes for him as one of the Pillars someday. But I appreciate that puts you in a pickle.”
“I can avoid him for a few months,” I say with a certainty I don’t feel.
Dittman’s iron gray eyebrows raise. “Good luck with that. Patience isn’t a quality the boy possesses.”
“Surely a good White Cloak needs to be able to see the long game,” I point out.
“They get impatience beaten out of them the first year or two in the field,” Dittman says. “I won’t send them into the White Cloaks anything less than raring to go.”
“Is the first year very hard?” I ask, not knowing anything practical about the Aedis Astrum’s White Cloaks.
“Fifty percent drop-out rate,” Dittman tells me. “Rhodes won’t be one of them, unlike that snotty asshole who’s wearing the crow mantle. But burn out is real, too. They need connection. Someone to come home to at the end of the day who isn’t going to duck and run the first time they break down ‘cause they made the hard call. The Cait prince will be good for that, but you’ll be better.”
I blink at him. “Why do you think I’ll be better?”
Dittman lets his smile spread this time; it’s not a nice smile. It’s cold and it tells me that Dittman has also seen his fair share of the real world. “I hear your gift is resonances. You read vibrations. I’m a Fire-mage. I read auras. I know when someone’s lying. Made me a great White Cloak, and not a bad teacher. I know you were skating close to the line a few times in that meeting. And I know the aura of someone who has killed, who has made more than one life-or-death decision.”
I nod in acknowledgement. He’s gotten too much out of me already. I’m not giving him more ammunition.
“Well, I appreciate your discretion,” I say.
“You have it,” Dittman says. “For now. Do not end up in front of the committee over this issue, Professor Wyndham. I’m not going to tattle, but I’m also not going to cover for you. If you end up in front of the committee for improper relations with students, I’ll vote against you.”
“That’s fair,” I agree.
“I’m not going to patronize you by telling you what to do, and I’m not on your tenure committee so I don’t have a say in it, but I hope if you get offered tenure, you’ll turn it down. You don’t belong at a lectern, Professor Wyndham. Not after what I saw at the museum. Not after I helped ward that death cup. Not after hearing about what happened at Jedburgh Abbey. You belong out there in the field. You and Rhodes would make an incredible team. I hope you’ll think about that.”
“I’m not a White Cloak,” I protest.
“Justiciars have wide latitude in what they investigate. Are you telling me you’ve dug everything you’ve found out of the ground? I don’t believe that. Your aura has a distinct streak of righteousness. You’ve gone after the makers of fakes you wrote about when you were a student, haven’t you?”
“When I could,” I admit. “I’m not a crusader.”
“No, but Rhodes could be. You’ve seen the world, Professor Wyndham. You know what’s important and you know when to pick your battles. You’re not someone who will run from the uglier parts of being a White Cloak. Help the boy find his way. He could be great. We need a little greatness in the Aedis Astrum again.”
I’ll admit I don’t think much of the organization. My few run-ins with them have shown them to be bureaucrats more interested in their own advancement than getting anything constructive done.
Maybe the Aedis Astrum needs cleansing as much as Faery.
Chewing over that thought, I nod at Dittman and excuse myself. He holds the door for me and does me the courtesy of going the other way when I head to my office.