Fated for Her Wolves - Tara West Page 0,88
beach. That school had been beyond luxurious. If only her former headmistress hadn’t believed those stupid rumors.
“Serah Goldenwand?” Dame Doublewart’s lips twisted into a tighter scowl, as if she’d just finished sucking on a rotten lemon or the timer on her fifteen-minute enema had expired.
Refusing to be intimidated, she brushed a strand of her wavy auburn hair behind her ear and turned up her chin. “Yes.”
If it was at all possible Dame Doublewart’s disapproving expression deepened. “The correct response is ‘Yes, ma’am.’”
She fought back a curse. Grinding her teeth, she spit out the words. “Yes, ma’am.”
She had no choice but to kiss Doublewart’s ass. This school was her only hope. One-hundred-and-fifty billion merlins were at stake, thanks to Grandfather’s ridiculous rule. No diploma, no inheritance. She enjoyed designer purses and shoes too much to end up poor.
Dame Doublewart perused a file as thick as a tomb, shaking her head. “Let me get this straight. You seduced every one of your professors at your previous school, ruining no less than five marriages.”
She tensed. “Only one professor, and he wasn’t married as far as I know.”
Her face contorted with distaste, her gaze practically boring holes in Serah’s skull. “One professor is bad enough.”
Unnerved by Dame Doublewart’s penetrating, black eyes, she pretended to admire one of the many old cuckoo clocks in a small collection hanging behind Doublewart’s desk. It was covered in cobwebs. “I realize that now.”
“Your disciplinary report says you slept with all the male professors.” The matron’s voice rose in pitch with each word, making her sound like a squawking hen. “They were found guilty of giving you passing grades in exchange for sexual favors.”
Though she shouldn’t have been surprised the exaggerated tales of her exploits had preceded her, she resented the judgmental tone in Dame Doublewart’s voice. She was a Goldenwand, the sole heiress to the largest fortune in the third realm—probably in all four realms. She didn’t have to tolerate Doublewart’s self-righteous attitude. “Believe the report if you want, but I only slept with one professor.” The rest she bought off, thanks to Grandfather’s generous allowance.
She repressed a sigh when she thought of Professor Prometheus Periwinkle’s calm, deep voice, wavy blond hair, and blessedly large wand. He’d been so kind during their early tutoring sessions. So attentive. That first kiss had been the next natural progression after months of mutual flirting. By the time they ripped off each other’s clothes and he draped her across the top of his desk, she’d been so horny, she couldn’t see straight. After repressing her siren instincts for so long, she’d lost it. And she’d certainly paid for her transgression ten times over.
“Doesn’t matter if you slept with one professor or a dozen.” Dame Doublewart folded her hands and glared at Serah like a hawk zeroing in on a mouse. “It seems no other magical school in our realm will take you.”
Tension stiffened her spine. “Correct.”
“We are your last hope.”
Dame Doublewart’s lips twisted so tight, Serah thought they would snap.
“Yes.”
“Miss Goldenwand,” Dame Doublewart said and sighed, “you are already eighteen, a year older than most other high school twelfth years. Why don’t you just drop out?”
If only. She fought to maintain a neutral expression. “I would if I could.” It’s not like she needed an education. Potion and spell classes were now obsolete, thanks to the Goldenwand 2050. Why did she need to memorize spells when the Goldenwand did all the work for her?
Dame Doublewart eyed her expectantly. “What do you mean?”
She refused to answer. Why give Doublewart ammunition that she could use against her to get her to behave? She studied the woman’s face, wondering exactly where those two warts were hiding.
The matron had an assessing look in her eyes. “Your silence confirms that other rumors are true. You will be disinherited without a diploma.”
She found the nerve to make eye contact with Dame Doublewart for a moment. “Are you going to accept me or not?”
Dame Doublewart lifted a thin, graying brow. “Are you aware of our academy’s rigorous course load?”
She thought of a half dozen different spells she’d like to use on Doublewart. “I’ve heard it.”
“Each student is responsible for his or her own work.” She pointed her beak nose at Serah, eyes narrowing to slits. “You can’t suck your way into passing grades here.”
Heat flamed Serah’s cheeks. “I’ll manage.” She swallowed an angry retort and clutched her wand so hard, her knuckles ached.
“You’re aware of our disciplinary policy?”
Serah shrugged. “I heard it was strict.”
“Strict?” Dame Doublewart let out a