Page 30 of Wicked Chains (Serpentine Academy #2)

Twenty-Eight

Rose

The last thing I want to do is go to classes, but I need to watch myself and stay in line rather than risk attracting Ash or Helena’s attention.

I slip out of Soren's class as quickly as possible, but not before catching his gaze tracking me like I'm a fancy dessert being wheeled by on a cart. He’s been undressing me with his eyes all period, which is equal parts annoying and arousing, a combination I'm getting way too familiar with at this point.

Not to mention the bold hand placement on my ass when I walked by him on the way in. Professor Professionalism, everyone.

"Rose." His voice catches me just as I reach the door.

I stop, one foot already in the hallway. The last of my classmates file past, a few giving me knowing looks that make me want to trip them.

He waits until the room empties before approaching, and I catch his hand sliding down to grab my ass one more time. I bat it away without looking back.

"Nice try, Professor."

His laugh follows me into the hallway.

I'm still shaking my head at Soren's audacity when I feel Hank shifting in my pocket.

"Hey, Hank," I say, patting him. "Ready for lunch?" I’ve recently learned that Hank is perfectly capable of going long periods without needing to eat. In fact, he may never need to eat, which makes sense for a magical familiar. But, he does seem to enjoy a little snack. I’ve also found out that frogs are carnivorous, which is moderately unsettling, but it does mean that I won’t try and feed him chocolate chip muffins anymore. He’d prefer shrimp cocktail, I’m guessing.

A soft croak answers me. Having Hank with me is comforting, especially after recent events. Makes me feel like I have a friend, instead of navigating the halls of the academy alone, hearing everyone snicker and their comments about ‘liking to be on my knees’.

I couldn't give two fucks about what those pretentious, spoiled snots think. My frog’s a better soul than any of them could ever be.

My stomach growls, After tossing and turning most of the night, I'd overslept and barely made it to Soren's class on time.

I turn down the main hallway that leads to the dining hall, mentally preparing myself for the stares and jeering that will inevitably follow. Maybe I can grab something quick and eat outside, despite the cold.

"Rose Smith."

The precise, cold tone of Helena Wickersly stops me in my tracks. She stands in the middle of the hallway like she's been waiting for me.

"Headmistress." I nod, trying to step around her.

She shifts to block my path. "Not so fast."

Great. Just what I need. "Can I help you with something?" I ask, fake politeness stretched thin over my words.

"You caused quite a scene at our Family Day celebration." Her eyes are daggers. "Insulting some of our most prestigious families."

Of course this is about that. I should have known Thorne's daddy would run straight to Helena to complain about the mean poor girl who dared to talk back and not eat his shit sandwich.

"If by 'caused a scene,' you mean 'defended myself against their blatant classism and cruelty,' then yeah, I guess I did." I cross my arms. "The Hawthornes and the Kents are terrible people."

Helena's eyes harden to black diamonds. "The Hawthornes contribute more to this academy in a single year than you are worth in your entire miserable life, Miss Smith. And Bartholomew Kent sits on the International Council of Magical Regulation."

"You don’t say," I mutter.

"Do you have any idea the position you've put me in?" She steps closer, and despite myself, I take a step back. "Elias Hawthorne is threatening to withdraw his considerable financial support unless I, and I quote, 'teach that feral charity case some manners.'"

"Sounds like a Hawthorne," I say. "I guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree."

"This is not a joke, Miss Smith." Helena's voice drops. "Your behavior reflects on me, on the Blood Moon Coven, and on this academy. I will not tolerate your disrespect any longer."

I feel Hank shifting anxiously in my pocket. "Look, I'll apologize if that's what you want."

"Oh, it's far too late for apologies." Helena's gaze drops to my pocket, where Hank's movement has caught her attention. "Is that your familiar?"

“He’s napping.”

"Show me," she demands, holding out her hand.

"No." I step back again, covering my pocket protectively. "He's got nothing to do with this."

Helena's smile turns cruel. "Everything you have, everything you are, belongs to the Blood Moon Coven now. Including your familiar." She snaps her fingers, and I feel a sharp tug as magic pulls at my pocket.

I grab for Hank, but it's too late. He flies from my pocket into Helena's waiting hand, his small green body squirming as she closes her fingers around him.

"Put him down!" I lunge forward, but Helena's magic holds me in place as effectively as Ash's did yesterday.

"So protective," she muses, studying Hank with cold curiosity. "How touching."

"He's just a frog," I say, panic rising in my throat. "He's harmless."

"Yes, he is rather pathetic, isn't he?" Helena turns Hank this way and that, like she's inspecting merchandise. "A fitting familiar for someone like you."

"Please.” My voice breaks. "Please don't hurt him."

Helena's eyes find mine, and what I see there makes my blood run cold. There's no mercy, no hesitation. Just evil.

"Actions have consequences, Miss Smith," she says, her voice almost gentle now. "It's time you learned that."

Her fingers begin to tighten around Hank's small body. I throw myself against the invisible barrier, my magic rising up in response to my panic, pushing against her spell, but it's not enough. I don’t have enough skill yet.

"Stop!" I yell. "Stop it! I'll do anything!"

"A little late to learn obedience, don't you think?" Helena raises her other hand, a small spark of magic dancing between her fingers. "Some lessons need to be memorable."

Hank's desperate croaking turns my panic into full-blown terror. "No! Please!"

"Helena."

The voice ricochets through the hallway, deep and commanding. Ash is in the corridor, his tall frame silhouetted against the light from the windows. He walks toward us, unhurried but purposeful.

"What are you doing?" he asks, his tone deceptively mild.

Helena doesn't release Hank, but she does turn to face Ash. "Teaching Miss Smith some much-needed discipline. She insulted the Hawthornes and the Kents at Family Day."

"Did she now?" Ash glances at me, then back to Helena. "And you thought killing her familiar was an appropriate response?"

"The girl needs to learn respect." Helena's fingers flex, and Hank squeaks in terror.

Ash’s green eyes darken. "Put the frog down, Helena."

"Excuse me?" Helena straightens, indignant. "Need I remind you who is in charge of this academy and who decides what is effective discipline?"

"Need I remind you," Ash says, "that Rose Smith's magic belongs to me through the contract? Any damage to her familiar could potentially impact her power, which is mine to command, not yours."

The two of them lock eyes in a silent power struggle once again. I stand in the middle, hardly daring to breathe, my eyes fixed on Hank's small form in Helena's grip.

"The girl needs discipline," Helena insists, but there's a hint of uncertainty in her voice now.

"And she'll receive it," Ash agrees smoothly. "But not like this. Not from you."

Another long moment passes before Helena's shoulders drop slightly. The barrier holding me in place vanishes, and she tosses Hank carelessly in my direction.

I jump forward, catching him just before he hits the floor. His tiny heart races against my palm as I cradle him close.

“Are you sure the girl isn’t clouding your judgement, Ash?”

“On the contrary. Rose and I have an understanding.”

The memory of kneeling before him in the snow is so fresh it makes my cheeks burn. I say nothing, just clutch Hank closer.

With one last venomous look in my direction, Helena turns and walks away, her heels clicking sharply on the floor.

When she's gone, I release the breath I've been holding. "Why did you stop her?"

Ash regards me with that unnerving, intense stare. "I told you. Your magic belongs to me. That includes anything connected to it."

"So you didn't actually care if she killed Hank," I say bitterly. "You just didn't want it to affect your access to my power."

"Would you prefer I had let her crush him?" Ash asks, one eyebrow raised. "I can call her back."

"No!" I take a step back, shielding Hank with my body. "No."

Ash smiles, satisfied with my response. "Then perhaps a 'thank you' is in order?"

The words stick in my throat. Thanking Ash for anything feels wrong, like I'm betraying myself. But he did save Hank, even if it was for his own selfish reasons.

"Thank you," I manage finally, the words tasting like dirt in my mouth.

He inclines his head in acknowledgment. "You should be more careful, Rose. Helena doesn't share my appreciation for your spirit."

"Is that what you call it?" I don’t look at him; I’m too busy checking Hank for injuries. He seems shaken but unharmed.

"She would have killed him without a second thought," Ash continues. "And enjoyed watching you suffer for it."

A chilling realization settles over me. As terrifying as Ash is, as much as he's hurt and humiliated me, there's a purpose to his cruelty, an emotion. Helena's feels more sadistic. More impersonal. Like that’s just who she is.”

He walks past me, his shoulder brushing mine as he goes. I stand there for a long moment, stroking Hank's back with a trembling finger.

Two things are clear: Helena Wickersly is even more dangerous than I realized, and my position here is more precarious than ever. I need to find a way out, and soon.