I kept my eyes fixed to the gravel crunching under my feet as I pulled my long dark hair back into a ponytail, a nervous habit I’d never admit to. But I couldn’t avoid this forever. I wasn’t even sure I wanted to, but it didn’t matter now.

I forced myself to look up at the gothic monstrosity of a castle looming before me. Obsidian Academy. My new home.

“Here,” I said hastily, moving to help the servants at the back of the carriage. “Let me—”

“Liliana!” I winced as my mother’s voice cracked behind me, aghast. Gravel crunched and silk rustled and then she was right beside me, smacking the small case from my hands. “Do you know how it looks for someone of our stature to be assisting the help?” she hissed, all while maintaining a sharp smile. “We are villains, not peasants.”

“Of course, Mother,” I said automatically, doing my best not to roll my eyes. She’d been tense all week as we prepared for my first year at the academy and I knew well enough there was no point arguing with her.

Everything must be perfect, especially me, as the daughter Fortunata Batista, famed Sorceress and Mistress of Misfortune.

There were other carriages, other parents and students milling about the courtyard, but my mother ignored them all as she stalked up the stairs to the grand entrance. Most people stepped deferentially from her path and inclined their heads, and others scrambled back and out of sight, but it didn’t surprise me. We were all villains, but there were villains, and then there was my mother.

I followed in her wake as she glided through the dorm entrance and up the stairs to my room. I had to pump my shorter legs hard to catch up, wishing for the umpteenth time I’d inherited her height and speed—though I suspected she used magic to glide as smoothly as she did, not that she’d ever admit it.

“Ah, here we are,” she said, flinging open the door with a golden 21. She stepped into the room, casting a critical eye over everything, and I tried to hold back my smile.

It was lovely in a brooding kind of way, with a large stained-glass window taking up the back wall, a welcome contrast to the monotonous dark stone of the walls, ceiling, and floor. Cozy armchairs were grouped around a mammoth fireplace and plush rugs and detailed tapestries covered the floors and walls. A sizable kitchenette lay to the left and a large sitting area separated the individual rooms. I’d be sharing with five strangers, and I’d been worried we’d be cramped, but this was plenty of space.

My room was 21b, and no sooner had I looked at it than my mom was opening that door too. Sure, go ahead, why would I want to be the first one in my own room? I thought, following behind her. I left the suite door open for the servants carrying my things, but the second I stepped foot in my room, my mother shut the door with a wave of her wrist.

“They’ll be bringing my stuff soon,” I pointed out. “They’ll at least need the door—”

“We have more important things to discuss,” Mother scoffed, flitting around the room, opening and touching everything. The chest of drawers, the wardrobe, the sheets of the four-poster bed. When she didn’t find anything to complain about, she spun to me. “What is your objective while here at the academy?”

Now where there were no judging eyes to see, I slumped down in my new desk chair and crossed my arms. “Of course, I remember what I’m here to do,” I said, letting some of my annoyance into my tone.

As usual, she ignored it. She made a tutting sound and spun my chair to face the mirror. “Look what you’ve done to your hair. I’ve told you time and again, let it flow.” She reached into one of the many hidden pockets in her voluminous skirt and pulled out a comb. “I didn’t spend so much time and effort on growing you such luscious hair for you to hide it.”

I winced as she started pulling the comb through my thick hair. “A ponytail isn’t hiding it.”

“A ponytail,” she said, curling her lip at the word, “does not show your hair or you to the best advantage. Liliana, you have to be more careful with your appearance. You must be pleasing to the eye at all times. Remember, everything about you is a weapon, my dear, and you must use your arsenal well.”

“I remember, Mother,” I sighed, wincing again as she yanked the comb through a knot, tugging hard at my scalp.

Then she was done talking and more products came from her pockets—styling cream and a traveling makeup case. I’d been surprised when she hadn’t insisted on primping and preening me before we set off this morning, but now I see it was because she had this all planned. She went to work, highlighting my dark eyes with gold and dusting my cheeks with pink to make the golden brown of my skin pop. I knew how to do all of this, could follow her steps from the feel of the brushes on my face alone, but I didn’t even bother trying to take over. As much as I hated being made up like this, like her mindless little doll, I knew it would only be a fight if I refused. A fight I wouldn’t win.

There was a timid knock at the door and Fortunata snapped, “Who is it?” in a voice that had the person on the other side trembling.

“Th-the luggage, Your Excellence,” our footman answered. “Shall we bring them ins—”

“Leave them there,” Mother snapped before I could speak. I sighed again, knowing I’d be the one dragging all the trunks in once they left. Her gaze zeroed back in on me and she said, her voice lowered, “You remember what you’re here to do?”

I finally met her eyes as she put the finishing touch on my face. “Yes, Mother, I know. I’m here to find the mole.”

“Not just find them,” she pressed gravely. “What do you need to do, my daughter?”

I let out a quiet breath. “Kill the mole.”

I hoped she wouldn’t notice my hesitation, but this was Fortunata Batista. She frowned and gripped my chin with her bloodred nails, forcing me to meet her eyes.

“Do you have an issue with the kill order, Liliana?” she asked, dangerously calm. “You know where it comes from. I need to know you will not disobey a direct order from our king.”

I didn’t want to fight with my mother. Especially not over this. It wasn’t as if I’d never taken a life before—of course I had. It was my duty as daughter of one of the most powerful sorceresses in the kingdom to destroy all threats to our nation, and the traitor in our midst was a huge threat indeed. I knew exactly how important this mission was, and I knew I was one of the only people who could probably carry it out.

We didn’t know much about the traitor, or the mole, as my mother called them. Only that they were poised to operate out of the academy, not what weapons they used or what magic they possessed. But as one of the only people in the kingdom who could wield all four elements—not to mention trained by Fortunata herself—I was uniquely qualified to take this on. In fact, I didn’t have a choice.

Whatever my mother saw in my eyes must have satisfied her, because she nodded and let go of my chin.

“Perfection,” she said decisively. Somehow it didn’t feel like a compliment. Then she turned and swept from the room. “Now come.”

I got out of the chair and stepped toward the mirror, wanting to see what version of perfection she’d chosen for me today, but she snapped my name from outside the door and I found myself scrambling to obey.

We needed to get to the campus supply market before it closed, and I sighed as the list of things I still needed ran through my head. This day had already been a lot, and it was only the beginning of living on my own with this enormous task on my shoulders.

Overwhelmed didn’t begin to cover it.

***

The campus market was in its own building, and when we stepped in, I blinked in surprise—and glee. Rows and rows equipment, anything one could need for any kind of villainy, all right here for students to purchase. Or not, I thought as I slipped a ring for base enchantments in my pocket, just to see if I could. This was a school for villains after all.

My mother went off to look at fancy wands—which I hated using because I didn’t need them—and I slipped away to the armory. I breathed in the smell of leather and steel and some of the tension in my shoulders eased. We were all allowed a weapon of our choice to bring to combat class, and mother had made me leave my favorite bolo at home, deeming it too worn to be appropriate.

But as my eyes snagged on another bolo knife, this one with intricate carvings on the blade, I forgot all about the one at home. I reached for it eagerly. The handle looked sturdy, and if I was right, the balance should perfect for—

Another hand knocked mine aside and snatched the sword from its perch.

I spun to face the thief, indignant—and had to crane my neck up to see his face. The man towering over me stared down with slate gray eyes, his gaze cool and blank. It was the only cool thing about him, for this man was hot. Perhaps the hottest man I’d ever seen.

He had jet black hair that came down to his collar, slicked neatly back behind his ears so it didn’t distract from the sharp lines and angles of his face. He looked carved from stone by a master’s hand, save for one imperfection—a jagged, stunning scar that ran from his right temple down his cheek and to his chin, barely sparing the corner of his luscious mouth.

While I stood there, dumbstruck, whatever words I was going to hiss forgotten, he lifted the blade and twirled it in the air between us.

I jumped back to avoid getting sliced up, and a sly grin grew on his face. Brief insanity over. No one this shitty can be hot. “That’s my blade,” I declared, lifting my chin.

The bastard opened his mouth and laughed, a loud, arrogant sound. “And yet it’s in my hands,” he said coolly. “However, I’ll challenge you for it. Last one standing leaves with the blade…and their life.”

Despite his broad stature and huge size, I felt a pulse of electricity shoot through my veins at the challenge. Keeping an eye on him and the bolo, I reached for a nearby katana. The moment my hand closed around the hilt, he struck.

His blade swept through the air with both hands, relying on pure strength to defeat me, but he’d have to do better than that. I parried at an angle, forcing his blade to slide down mine and sidestepping so his momentum carried him a stumbling step forward, right where I’d just been.

The man spun to me with a frown, gray eyes suddenly stormy as he thought through his next move, but I didn’t give him time. He might have the strength, but my longer weapon gave me the reach. I danced forward to sweep a cut across his chest, already knowing he’d be too slow to get his blade up in time—

“Liliana,” my mother’s voice shrieked, “what in the world are you doing?”