The Gauntlet

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by Rebecca Ethington


  Okay, I changed my mind. It all sounded boring. And Royal Dispatch? What kind of nonsense was that? I closed my eyes, pinching the bridge of my nose as warmth pooled in my neck. At least I had the added benefit that I would be sleeping through half the year.

  I had already sat here for an hour longer than I should have in the hopes of missing breakfast and my Uncle’s speech. Much longer and I would cause a scene walking into the main hall in the middle of it. Might as well get this over with.

  I didn’t even bother to smooth the wrinkles in the shirt I had worn all night, I just grabbed the starched jacket and threw it over my shoulder, only grabbing my prepacked satchel of books when I realized I should probably look like I had no idea what I was doing.

  Thankfully, the hall was empty, Cail having placed me in one of the largest dorms in a hall normally reserved for teachers. It would have been nondescript if it wasn’t for a plaque with our family name overhead. He should have just hired one of the Chosen to keep a giant neon sign above me at all times.

  I could feel the darn thing blinking above me as I moved toward the excited voices, toward the shuffling of feet and catcalls. All of which grew quiet the moment I stepped into the main hall. Tables of fruit, muffins, oatmeal, and piles of cereal were left forgotten as every single head turned toward me, hundreds of identical expressions peering right at me.

  Oh damn. I kept my head high and wandered in, at least all of the propriety training Father had forced us into was good for something.

  “That’s him isn’t it?”

  “Oh, he’s just as handsome as his brother.”

  “Oh my god, he’s so cool.”

  Voices followed me as I weaved my way toward the last remaining empty stretch of table, watching the wooden bench fill up as dozens of Golden’s began to realize where I was headed and changed their seats to match.

  I was about to grab some toast and seek shelter in my cousin Analine’s classroom when a shriek broke through the banter. The sound pulled everyone to silence, the irritating resonance slicing down my spine like a knife.

  “Rowy!” Rowy, over here.”

  Rowy? No one called me that, possibly because it was the stupidest nickname I had ever heard. Well, except to the girl who was now frantically waving to me from where she sat at a table on the other side of the room, surrounded by at least a dozen brand new Chosen. I recognized them at once. They were the children of many of the elected Chosen leaders.

  I tried not to groan, really I did, but it seeped out as I forced a smile her way, giving her the tiniest of waves. It was enough. She shrieked and raced across the room, pushing at least one Undermortal out of her way. I could feel her magic prod against me the closer she came, the wave of her perfume assaulting me.

  Oh god, that smell wasn’t an accident.

  “Rowy!” She continued with the damn nickname like I liked it, it was all I could do to keep the smile plastered on my face. “I was so worried you would miss breakfast. I saved you a seat and some toast, just in case.”

  I would say the gesture was nice if she didn’t wave to half a dozen people as she weaved her arm through mine, practically dragging me after her. Taking the long way, of course.

  “Guys. This is Rowan,” She spoke at full voice the second we were in ear shot of her friends. If earshot counted for yelling distance. More heads turned, more eyes swooned, more hopefuls smiled before their faces fell in shock.

  I forced myself to smile and wave, but not to the snot-nosed Goldens she was trying to introduce me to, but to the few girls at the table we were walking by. To the guys who were staring two tables over, and to a pretty blond Undermortal who blushed so deeply even her hair went pink.

  That made me smile more, it was cute… oh god, that sounded like Talon. I needed to back this truck right up. That was not a trip to douche-bag lane I was hoping to take.

  “Rowan is King Ilyan and Queen Joclyn's son.” Geeze thanks for pointing out the obvious. “He will be eating with us.” Sia continued through a tick in her jaw as I continued to smile and wave at everyone. She had obviously seen and not approved of my momentary lapse in royal judgement. “Rowan and I are together.”

  I fell onto the wooden bench she had been settling into, her arm wound around mine so tight I had no choice but to sit right next to her, and drag her down in my near collapse. Her high-pitched giggle resonated in my ear as she fell into me, her scorned expression adding fuel to my already churning stomach.

  "I am showing her around Imdalind Academy for the first little bit," I corrected her. Saying it out loud made the whole thing seem more ridiculous. We were both new here, how was I supposed to show her around some place I had only been twice before?

  She didn't seem to care, her long nailed fingers pressed into my forearm, her magic flaring in a murky rage that was pressing against me in what I am sure she thought was a warning. At least I had the good sense to smother myself in a shield before she touched me, there was no way she was letting her magic mix with mine again today.

  "What he means is that daddy was worried I would be scared after everything that happened, so the King agreed to have Rowan escort me," her magic was boiling now, the same heat burning through the murky brown of her eyes as she peered into me. Even though she was smiling, laughing, the warning was screaming against me ike nails pounding into the back of my skull. Every muscle in my back tensed. "But I think we hit it off in the carriage yesterday, don't you?"

  Her fingers pressed harder against my forearms, a bit of magic trying to break through. Stronger Shields.

  "Are you going to introduce me to your friends?" I asked desperate for a change of subject.

  "Ah yes," she instantly brightened, thankfully shifting away from whatever tongue swapping she had been hoping for. "This is Tasha." She gestured to the girl with long ruddy hair and enough constellations on her face she could be her own solar system. "Melinda, Carly, Em, Joseph." She gestured to the four others who were all staring at me with different arrays of wonder. "And Mico."

  “We’ve met,” he grinned, extending his hand.

  “Yes, a few times if I recall.”

  Mica was broad shouldered, a mess of dark hair falling over deep green-blue eyes. He smiled with all the smug arrogance I had come to expect of the Goldens, and my brother. He reminded me so much of Talon it was making me uncomfortable. He shook my hand with what he had hoped was some kind of cool magic trick. All that happened, however, was that his palm warmed, I chose to ignore it and his face fell.

  "Nice to meet you all," I said, scooting away from Sia in an attempt to find some breathing room. She countered it, scooting even closer and giving me what I am sure she thought were love sick eyes. Thankfully my Uncle chose that moment to stand from the ornate staff table at the top of the hall and turn to face us, a wide smile stretching over his face.

  "Welcome!" He announced, his voice magically enhanced and pulling the focus of every formerly chattering student. "Another year in Imdalind has begun, and what a wonderful year it will be! With more new students than ever before, powerful new friends, and a whole new generation of Chosen born into our family. Welcome all to this, our seventieth year!”

  Cail raised his hands high, smiling over everyone as they all began to cheer and stomp their feet until the old wooden rafter rattled.

  “Imdalind Academy has trained and created Chosen from all walks of life, as they learn grow and find their place among their peers. As many of you know, at the end of your second year you will be tested and placed among the holders of one of the four branches of magic they most closely align with. The Skirteks: The powerful magic of love and light, the guards of our world.”

  Before he had even finished speaking, the room had exploded, the groups of those who had tested closest to the Skritek magic line erupting in pride.

  “The Trspiliks: Breakers of rock and manipulators of fire. The Builders.” More screams, more woops and hollers as they pounded feet against floor and knives against tables. Cails’ face spr
ead into a wide smile. As one of the few Trspiliks left, he had every right to be proud.

  “The Vily: Power of air and water, the peacemakers. The artists and those who guide the world in every way.” Unsurprisingly, every Golden around me moved into a cheer. They always wanted that, if only because on paper the power seemed so power hungry. In person he was just irritating.

  “The Drak.” Cail gave no explanation, which was fine. The room had gone eerily silent, not one of the Chosen calling out in support of the deranged power. Although I could have sworn more than a few heads turned my way

  “Each magic is a pillar in our world, and their gifts and contribution to this school and to our community is a tradition we are proud of,” he continued when the screams had died down, “and one that we will continue to cultivate as we bring so many people together, and unite our people.”

  I swallowed, willing my back to stay straight. It was clear my father had written this speech, and that it wasn’t going to work nearly as well as they hoped it would.

  “We hope that all of our new students, no matter where they come from, and what their journeys to these halls may be, will strengthen themselves and find friends in places their once were enemies and help us in our task to bring this people together.”

  He paused, but instead of applause there was only hushed whispers from the other side of the hall. The sounds filled the cavernous room like a sack of bees. I lifted my head, peering over hundreds of heads to the hundreds of others. Even with the uniform, the Undermortals stuck out. Colored hair, piercings, tattoos painted over their skin.

  He shifted, straightening his jacket before he leaned over the podium and boomed in a voice that seemed a bit too full of scorn for him.

  “Here is to a great year! And to a great first day! Here is to a powerful future.”

  I was pretty sure Dad hadn’t written that.

  I stared at him, Sia knocking against me as she hissed about getting to class. I didn't even flinch as she planted a kiss against my cheek and took off. I just sat staring at my Uncle, magic burning against the back of my neck as he smiled at me.

  His last words burned against my heart just as violently. The malice that dripped from each word, might have been masked, but it was still there.

  Seeing as I had a private tutor session with him or something, I would have to ask him.

  Keeping my eyes on my uncle, I stood, bag in hand, jacket over shoulder, as I left the hall, the massive space full of only a few hopeful girls by the time I made my way to class.

  The whispers and turned heads followed me through each dark stone hal, many of the goldens even going so far as stopping in place to watch me pass. Judging by the strength and control of the magic that surrounded me it was clear that more than one of my rubberneckers weren't first years either. Magic pressed into me at every angle, assaulting me as they tried to sense my power. To connect with me.

  I could already tell that that shield was not going to come down anytime soon. Thank god Ryland had taught me how to shield my magic completely, I didn't need any curious onlooker getting any hint about the dangers that were brewing inside of me.

  The halls may still be full of students, but every desk in my classroom, save two were full, eager faces turned up to me the second I entered. What, did everyone know my schedule? The only saving grace was that Sia's wide toothy grin wasn't staring up at me, or plastered to my side. Didn't make any of the eager eyes any less traumatic.

  "Good morning, Rowan," My cousin Analine said with a grin that was far too knowing. "Glad you could join us, your seat will be your seat for the semester. So, choose wisely."

  She gave me a wink, god maybe she was as much trouble as her mother. She knew exactly what she was doing.

  Every eye followed me as I stepped through the desks, moving closer to the two chairs that were placed side by side. Which will it be? The chair surrounded by brunettes, or the chair surrounded by blondes. What was this class, made up of a million girls and me? Oh wait, the boys had occupied the seats around the edge, looking at me like I had already stolen their spoils of the hormone war.

  Trust me, dudes, they are all yours.

  I had no sooner sunk into the seat on the left, giving all of the collective blondes around me a sigh of relief when the door to the classroom slammed open, banging against the alternate wall and sending a few cracks through the old plaster. Everyone around me jumped, but I was frozen in place, jaw locked as she walked in.

  Fishnet stockings, combat boots, bubble gum pink hair that fell in graceful ringlets over her bright violet eyes. She hadn't even bothered to cover the tattoos on her arms, or neck. The dark lines danced over her skin in a million stories that I wanted to trace. Wanted to understand.

  "Woops. Sorry to interrupt. I didn’t mean to be late, first day and all." She didn't sound a bit sorry, and Analine wasn't buying it, she just stared at her, fuming as she clomped through the silent classroom in those massive boots, clearly making as much sound as she could as she weaved her way to the last open seat in the class. The one right next to me.

  The blondes looked pissed.

  "Nice tie, your majesty," she said, giving me a wink and a pop of her gum before she threw her shit-stained boots onto the desk, crossing her ankles and sitting back in her chair like something I had seen in a TV show Aunt Wyn had shown me once.

  I had forgotten about my tie. It was still untied around my neck, the top two buttons of my shirt open, jacket thrown over the chair. In fact, we were the only two in the classroom that weren't in perfectly pressed uniforms. Even the Undermortals at the back had worn the full ensemble.

  "I'm ready, Teach. Educate me about your glittering perfect history." She leaned forward, peering at Analine over her boots. "I want to know about all the damn lies."

  Everyone around us gasped, appalled as she popped her gum again, the Undermortals in the back of the room snickering.

  I just sat, staring at her as she threw me another wink, the simple action sending my magic into overdrive.

  I was having trouble controlling it, and it was no wonder why. I had spent years dreaming of the girl who was now inches from me, the tanglewood sent of the shampoo she had used drifting over to me and testing my control even further.

  Her spunky winks faded when she caught me staring.

  "Didn't your fucking parents teach you any manners?" Her eyes darkened as she hissed, just as Analine started the class, introducing herself as Professor Krul and spouting off facts about herself that I had either known or witnessed through my entire life.

  The rest of the class was a blur, a blur of dizzying magic and terrifying buzzing that jumped between my fingers. I felt like I did when I was a child and accidentally blew up the bathroom for the third time. Like I was about to explode.

  I burst out of my seat and down the hallway the second class was dismissed, desperate to get away from the smell of her, the magic of her, and leaving a string of pouty girls behind me. I needed air, or at least the chance to get some of this energy out that was trying to take control. I still had one more class before my class with Cail, which if I was lucky would be nothing more than a daily chess match.

  I was surely going to explode long before then, seeing as Gemma cut me off, hand over the frame of the door I was about to duck through.

  "Let me see that," she said, popping a bubble that matched her hair as she took my schedule from me, eyes widening as she scanned it, keeping a finger with a big ugly burn on it away from the paper. "Looks like someone has a death wish."

  She winked again, handed me back my schedule and left me standing, jaw agape as she smiled, chuckling a bit. I must have looked like I had been punched.

  "Nice monsters," she said as she as she dodged me and skipped into my next class. Our next class.

  If I had to guess she was going to be in nearly all of them.

  Also by Rebecca Ethington

  THE WORLD OF IMDALIND

  The Imdalind Series

  Kiss of Fire, Imdali
nd #1

  Eyes of Ember, Imdalind #2

  Scorched Treachery, Imdalind #3

  Soul of Flame, Imdalind #4

  Burnt Devotion, Imdalind #5

  Brand of Betrayal, Imdalind #6

  Dawn of Ash, Imdalind #7

  Crown of Cinders, Imdalind #8

  Ilyan, Imdalind #9

  The King of Imdalind Series

  Spark of Vengeance, Book 1

  Flare of Villainy, Book 2 (Coming 2019)

  Books 3-4 TBA

  Imdalind Academy

  The Gauntlet, Book One

  Rogue Royalty, Book Two

  Broken Renegade, Book Three

  Reluctant Seer, Book Four

  TBA, Book Five

  THE CIRCUS OF SHIFTERS

  The Phoenix’s Ashes Series

  Rise of the Witch, Book One

  Fall of the Dragon, Book Two

  Flight of the King, Book Three

  Flame of the Phoenix, Book Four

  Death of the Demon, Book Five

  THE OTHER WORLDS

  The Through Glass Series

  Book One: The Dark

  Book Two: The Blue

  Book Three: The Rose

  Book Four: The Cut

  Book Five: The Light (Coming 2019)

  Book Six: The Ascended (Coming 2019)

  Of River and Raynn, The Series

  The Catalyst: Act One (Rereleases 2019)

  The Requisite: Act Two (Coming Soon)

  THE PARTY IS HERE

  About the Author

  Rebecca Ethington is an internationally bestselling author with almost 700,000 books sold. Her breakout debut, The Imdalind Series, has been featured on bestseller lists since its debut in 2012, reaching thousands of adoring fans worldwide and cited as “Interesting and Intense” by USA Today’s Happily Ever After Blog.

 

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