Page 47

Lucille

“Madame Lucille, I wanted to discuss your speech...”

I accept the chilled martini from the nervous headmistress, flicking my eyes around the room briefly, looking for anything suspicious. Once I effectively ended that nuisance meeting, the Council and other supposedly important preds got ushered into a separate lounge so the clean-up crew could dispose of the carcass, and I could get a drink.

Worth it.

Elite gatherings are never wasted occasions—they always provide an opportunity for business to continue, no matter the circumstance. Those with the most power and influence customarily provide a secure location to solidify deals that should only be discussed in person. We cannot put some things in writing or risk a recorded line, and we cement these transactions at private cocktail hours such as this one.

“Henrietta, I have no interest in listening to your beak flap about the students being in danger. Fear keeps the sheep in line—and the sheep include smaller preds. If their sad progeny can’t defend themselves, they do not belong at Apex.”

The eagle fluffs up a bit, pushing her glasses up her nose as she no doubt tries to figure out how to protest without looking like she’s questioning my decision. She’s smarter than she looks, as finally, she nods, and I smile into my glass in triumph. I refuse to have the Council or its heirs looking weak by adding security to the campus.

May the strongest survive.

It’s infuriating enough that my weasly informant got himself killed before he could provide much in the way of useful intel. Bruno and Bruiser paid a visit to the weasel’s parents weeks ago in order to secure their cooperation in keeping tabs on my errant child, and now that effort has gone to waste. He was getting mouthy lately, so I suppose this isn’t the worst outcome.

It saves me the trouble of having his family killed, one by one, for leverage.

Unfortunately, his death leaves a gaping hole in my ability to monitor Delores. Her pathetic ex-friends keep her beaten down and frightened, but none of them can provide undramatized information on the shifters she’s cozying up to.

I need facts, not hysterics.

But I spied some intel of my own.

“Henrietta, why was the ex- heir of the Draconis clash allowed to leave the meeting before I was finished speaking?” I arch a brow at the sniveling Shirdal, making certain she can see how displeased I am at the disrespect.

“Aubrey… I mean, Professor Draconis… has lived at the Academy for longer than anyone. He frequently assists with administrative matters. I believe he left to locate our clean-up carrion,” she squeaks out.

I scoff at her response—I’m familiar with more royals than her. His exit was one of disgust, not diplomacy. I haven’t had the pleasure of dealing with a dragon, but my father despises them. He’s complained about their hoarding of wealth and knowledge my whole life, and if I can locate where the largest clash has hidden themselves for all these centuries…

A victory such as that will more than make up for birthing a defective heir. It’s vitally important that my wayward daughter befriends the surly librarian, perhaps even seduces him, but I will need more information to ensure she seals the deal.

Of course, this would be much easier if I could simply order her to do what I want, but she’s far too stupid to understand how the real world works. If dragons weren’t famous for being a bunch of judgmental inbred fools, I’d contact the Draconis clash and offer her in trade. Alas, even using her as a bartering chip isn’t possible for my albatross of a child.

I hold my empty glass up, instantly annoyed when none of the roving waitstaff gets the hint. “You allow your staff far too much autonomy, Henrietta. Get them under control, or I’ll find someone who can teach their underlings respect.”

“Yes, Lucille,” she replies, taking the glass and scurrying off. She did it to escape my wrath—my birdbrain assistant isn’t here this evening, but Matilda does the same thing when she believes I’m going to lose my temper before I receive a fresh drink.

Works for me.

Surveying the room again, my gaze alights on Bruiser. He’s standing near Bruno while my husband talks shop with Atticus Volkov. The Luna of the wolf pack has several nephews and nieces at Apex—both staff and students. One of them got killed in the staff Pred Games earlier in the month, so I can guess why she cornered my other weak link. She wants to demand the Council punish a Khan for a perfectly legitimate death in the Games, as if Bruno has any sway. Per usual, Felicia underestimated me for that conversation, but I’ve also made it clear I have no interest in whatever nonsense he’s spouting. The Volkovs are useful because they have a firm grip on imports and exports. Other than that, they’re dumb as a box of rocks and not worth the air they breathe.

When the eagle returns with my martini, I tilt my head, pretending to be curious. “The dragon isn’t the only celebrity professor you employ, Henrietta. Tell me about the staffing here. I find myself curious about the quality of education my daughter is receiving. Outside of murders at holiday parties, that is.”

“No, no. Death outside of the usual turf wars is not normal, Madame Luc?—”

“Oh, stuff it, feather head. I know this event was unusual. Tell me about the rest of your staff before I lose my patience.”

Gulping, she nods and clears her throat. “Yes. Well, we have Professor Abel in the history department—his family traces back to royalty in Europe, although he himself is far removed. Professor Sarabhai’s family are world renowned dancers, and Professora Balena retired after many years as a prima for the Metropolitan Opera.”

Not what I want to know, idiot. It’s like pulling teeth with this moron, I swear.

I’m perfectly aware of the history and background of every single person on this campus. However, if the disgraced Shirdal keeps talking, she’ll spill secrets that aren’t in the files. If I can bear to listen to her ramble, I may glean gossip that will be useful when I need to properly… motivate Delores.

I may also need more alcohol.

A waiter finally walks by with a tray of wine and I pluck a glass off, handing it to the flustered avian with a deceptively friendly smile. “Henrietta, I can read their staff profiles anytime I choose. Are any of those people… exotic shifters? Dragons are a species Delores would never meet if she were attending another institution, and I want to know what other perks you’re hiding.”

She takes the glass cautiously, as if I had time to poison it—or would waste the poison on her. “Yes, having Professor Draconis at Apex to curate our archives has been a great boon, and you are correct, Madame, in assuming he is not our only rarity. Professor Laveaux is a gargoyle—as you know, we rarely see them outside of their clans. He teaches botany and literature, depending on the season.”

My eyes narrow and I give her another fake smile. “Does my daughter take any of his classes?”

“Absolutely! Delores is excelling in most of her classes, Madame. She has high marks in Professor Laveaux’s class and good evaluations from her work study with Professor Draconis. That alone would be quite impressive, but she also did well on exams for Professors Balena, Sarabhai, and Chester in the areas of her arts major.” She pauses for a moment and sips her wine, then holds a finger up. “Even Professor Khan has been impressed with her progress in Shifter Basics, and he’s a very difficult tiger to please.”

Oh, I’ll bet he’s impressed.

That predilection of his is infamous, and my dumb bunny is the perfect bait. I’ve always wondered how to bring the Khans to the table more often, and snaring their disgraced heir might be enough leverage to make it happen. The question is, how I’ll achieve all of this without tipping anyone off.

“That’s very interesting, Henrietta. I would think—given her unfortunate handicap—that Delores would be more of a hindrance in shifting studies class than a star student. Good thing you have a Khan in charge, or the poor thing might get eaten!”

Henrietta sputters into her glasses, nearly choking as she attempts to speak. “Oh, no, Madame! I can assure you we have taken every precaution to ensure the safety of your illustrious heir. I promise?—”

If only I’d put my sunglasses back on when Bruiser brought my spare Yves St. Leopard dress after my shift. I could roll my eyes at this imbecile without killing the mood I’m creating. As if I care about our family’s embarrassment getting killed on campus… I wouldn’t have sent the little twat to this school if I was concerned with keeping her alive. “I’m sure you set the correct expectations. However, as we both know from our time at Apex, shifting is where those instinct-fueled ‘accidents’ are most likely to occur.”

“Delores bested Heather Erickson in the ring a few weeks ago, Madame. The girl had to have another nose job to correct the damage. I spent a lot of time smoothing over the incident with Mr. Erickson. Oh, and I believe she sent Todd to the infirmary. Todd… I’m forgetting his family name, as there are so many Todds and Chads and… Either way, you should be proud,” the eagle says as she nervously gulps down another sip, babbling, just as I’d hoped.

Interesting. Delores has grown a spine, has she?

I nod, pretending to look bored as I scan the room again. “That idiot Erickson should stick to his microchips, and his daughter deserves to be taken down a peg. Notice how he didn’t request my input on the situation.”

“No, Madame. He was most insistent that I not disturb you with something so trivial. He said he would speak to Mr. Drew at the next Council meeting.”

Of course he did.

Bruno is so gullible that every male in that wretchedly ineffectual group thinks they can influence me by starting with him. It’s laughable, if not deserving of a decisive slap during our next business negotiation. Perhaps I’ll require a hefty donation of Erickson tablets to the school as an apology.

Yes, I believe that will be a worthy tribute for his insolence and a beneficial tool to spy on my disappointing progeny .

“Henrietta, I want copies of every assignment my daughter turns in to her professors forwarded to my assistant. We must monitor our heirs to ensure they are representing their families appropriately.” She bobs her head and I turn to look at her. “I also want files on every student who attends classes with her, including their parents’ information from Admissions. I need to know exactly who my daughter is cavorting with at all times.”

As most of the students are not in the one percent of society, all I need to do is dangle the right carrots—either money or power. Eventually, my wayward rabbit will be the key to securing my spot at the top for good.

Carrot. Aren’t I clever?