The Wicked Witch of Kriegspiel: Steamy Fantasy Romance (The Kriegspiel Witches Book 1) by S. L. Prater

Author:S. L. Prater [Prater, S. L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Independent
Published: 2021-07-10T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 8

Back on Kriegspiel’s campus, Ren left Maximus in Erin’s capable hands. He had a bone to pick with a certain big-nosed vaunter, and it couldn’t wait.

Provost Byron was an unmarried priest, sharing Rook Hall’s dormitories with other innovation professors and several third-year students. Young novices milled about the entryway. They recognized the popular chancellor and attempted to catch him in conversation, but he stopped them, asking for directions to Byron’s quarters.

Up on the second floor, Ren stormed through the common area, drawing attention. He pounded on Byron’s door. The moment he caught sight of the provost’s oversized nose, he shoved into the room, leaving the door open at his back. He felt the weight of several sets of eyes staring from the hall, and he ignored them all.

“Are you mad?” Byron puffed his chest in his silk house robe. His black hair was wet like he’d just finished in the bath. A towel draped his neck.

“Pack your things,” Ren said, stretching to his full height. “You don’t live here anymore.”

“You can’t just dismiss me!”

“Already have. Pack. Now!” Ren charged by him, storming around his fourposter. He shoved up the second-story window. The glass shuddered as the chancellor grabbed at books and odds and ends on the nearby dresser. He shoveled them outside, satisfied by the sound of items crashing and breaking below.

“My things! You have no right!” Byron sprinted for the window, sticking his head out, making mewling sounds as more of his goods followed the others. “Those were expensive!”

“Lesedi was nearly murdered by a mob in Pistol,” Ren said, seeking more things to throw. “Very nearly stoned to death and tossed on a burning pyre.”

His face fell, throat bobbing. “She went by herself? Why would she go and do something stupid like that?”

“Of course she went by herself. She’s not from around here. She doesn’t know any better. You sent her there. Now pack and get out, or I put you out the window next!”

Byron showed his palms. “I didn’t think she’d get hurt . . . humbled maybe . . . How was I supposed to know she’d go alone? I thought she’d have researchers from the medical college with her!”

Ren stole his towel roughly off his neck and tossed it out over the sill. Then he opened the top drawer of his dresser and began ejecting socks and drawers out after the towel.

“All right, all right!” Byron threw his hands up. “I’m packing!” He removed a canvas bag from under his bed and began piling hodgepodge books and clothing into its open mouth.

“Good enough,” Ren said, capturing the former provost by the upper arm in a brutal grasp. He hauled him out behind him, into the commons room. Their shouting had drawn more eyes. Students and faculty stared from the doorways of their dormitory rooms. All conversation halted. “Everything in that room is free,” Ren called, pointing behind him.

Novices raced to be the first inside.

* * *

Ren awoke in his bed, having no memory of falling

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