Forbidden Boys

by Chantal Cross

  Forbidden Boys: Academy of Sin

  7 Huntsmen - Book 1

  Chantel Cross

  https://chantalcross.com

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Text copyright © 2019 by Chantal Cross

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Published in the United States

  Cover design by Sekhmetrics

  Chantal’s Website: https://chantalcross.com

  Contents

  1. Ebony

  2. Seth

  3. Ebony

  4. Lucien

  5. Ebony

  6. Gabriel

  7. Ebony

  8. Ebony

  9. Ebony

  10. Ebony

  11. Ebony

  12. Gabriel

  13. Ebony

  14. Ebony

  15. Ebony

  16. Ebony

  17. Ebony

  18. Ebony

  19. Ebony

  20. Lucien

  21. Ebony

  22. Kashton

  23. Ebony

  24. Ebony

  25. Ebony

  26. Ebony

  27. Ebony

  28. Ebony

  29. Seth

  30. Ebony

  31. Dorian

  Chantal Cross

  7 Huntsmen Series

  1

  Ebony

  The summer solstice is my least and most favorite time of the year.

  I love it when everyone comes together to celebrate one of the most sacred times in our solar calendar. I love that the sunset seems to last longer on this day. I love all of the food we prepare, the dancing, and the music.

  I don’t love that my foster mother, Miss Cordelia Black, is the one who hosts the party every year. I can’t say anything too horrible about her. She gave the other foster kids and me a home when she didn’t have to. I am beholden to her for the clothes on my back, the food on my plate, and a roof over my head.

  However, Cordelia’s the most exacting woman I’ve ever known. Everything needs to be just so. Planning the solstice party takes months because Cordelia will change her vision at least three times and decide that every local vendor simply won’t do.

  Cordelia magically grew all of the flowers that decorate our home inside and out. She used advanced spells to weave special scents into the flowers. When someone walks by a rose, they won’t just smell a rose. They’ll smell a memory hidden deep inside them that’s somehow linked to roses. When I walk by the magical flowers, I try not to inhale. I don’t need a reminder that I haven’t been anywhere or done anything. All of the flowers either give me memories of this very home, or no memories at all.

  Maybe that’s for the best. Last year, Widow Holland walked by a cluster of calla lilies and spent the rest of the celebration weeping. I didn't dare to ask the widow what made her so sad. I notice she’s not in attendance this year.

  I stand on the back patio beside Cordelia. Most of the festivities are taking place in our fairy-lit backyard. Cordelia’s also spelled paper lanterns to float in the air without assistance. A table is set up by the old oak tree in our yard. Its nearly bending under the weight of all the food we’re serving tonight.

  Everyone says they come for the food, but the truth is that they come for the magic. Cordelia’s a powerful witch. She makes no attempts at hiding it. Even though it’s in poor taste, everyone secretly hopes Cordelia will offer them a spell or charm for free. She usually charges exuberant prices for her work.

  “Why aren’t you smiling?” Cordelia’s voice is light and silky, but I have a trained ear. I hear the displeasure beneath her words.

  “Wasn’t I?” I blink in surprise. “Sorry. I was admiring how lovely the backyard looks. My thoughts must’ve taken over my face.”

  “Learn to keep a soft smile permanently affixed to your mouth,” she advises.

  “Even if I don’t want to smile?”

  Cordelia leans over with a conspiratorial half-smile. “Especially if you don’t want to smile.” She winks.

  It’s one of those rare moments when I see the Cordelia beneath the public façade. I’ve lived with her for as long as I can remember, but I can’t say I truly know her.

  “Do you mind if I rest for a little while?” I ask. It’s an innocent enough question. During the summer solstice celebrations, it’s a tradition to stay up from sunset to sunrise. The sun has yet to set so I won’t be breaking tradition.

  “I suppose so,” Cordelia looks at me with a critical eye. “Just be careful not to wrinkle your dress. The fabric is delicate.”

  “I will.”

  I turn away from the backyard and head back into the house. Cordelia made me wear a white cocktail dress that felt like it was made of spun sugar. It was pure white, which certainly wasn’t my first choice. Now I’d have to spend the evening trying not to spill food or festival wine on myself. I didn’t think white suited me either.

  Cordelia often insisted that I wear white to social events. She says it promotes purity, whatever that means. The fact that she doesn’t let me socialize without strict supervision promotes her idea of purity even more. I was a bit daring when I dressed for the party earlier. Cordelia picked out my dress, but she didn’t pick out anything else.

  I wore my favorite red pumps. Cordelia only let me wear heels less than two inches tall, but I didn’t mind. Around my neck, I wore a paste ruby gem on a thin gold chain. The little accents of red really set off my long, black hair and dark honey skin. Apparently, I looked just fine because Cordelia didn’t say anything. She didn’t even lift a brow when I came downstairs with red lipstick on.

  My favorite room in the house was once the attic. Now, the wood is so rotted and unstable that it’s just an empty room. The best part? It’s a turret.

  I brush away the cobwebs that appear every day, no matter how many times I clean and carefully make my way up the stairs. I know which steps creak, which ones buckle under my weight, and which ones are a straw away from snapping in two. I’m careful not to put all of my weight into my step.

  I wasn’t the only one who had the idea to come up here. My foster brothers, Seth and Gabriel, sit cross-legged across from each other on the dusty floor.

  “Took you long enough,” Gabriel smirks.

  “I couldn’t find a good moment to get away sooner.” The junk pile of furniture here isn't worthy for the rest of the house, but Cordelia doesn't see fit to toss it. A burlap sack covers a dresser a long time ago. I shake it out, sending flurries of dust motes into the already dusty air.

  “I don’t think that made much of a difference,” Seth points out.

  “Any little bit helps. Cordelia will notice if anything gets on this dress.”

  I sit on the burlap sack with my back against a relatively dust-free wall. Seth and Gabriel immediately move so that they’re sitting on either side of me.

  We’ve grown up together, yet we barely get to see each other. Cordelia teaches them separately from me, but I don’t know why. We eat our meals at different times if she can help it. They keep to the east wing of the house, while I share the west wing with Cordelia. The whole set up is strange. Every so often, one of us gets the courage to ask why things are like this. In addition to never getting a straight answer, we usually get a lecture and some form of punishment. Last time I asked, I had
to clean under both the front and back porches.

  Gabriel’s arm gently presses against mine. I jump a little at the physical contact. I’m not used to being touched by anyone. Cordelia never lets me get close to people. Slowly, I relax against his contact. Seth’s arm presses against mine as well. The more we chat, the more at ease we become.

  When Cordelia materializes into the room without warning, Seth’s head is on my shoulder, and one of my legs is on top of Gabriel’s.

  “What’s going on here?” She demands. The floorboards creak beneath her.

  “We’re just taking a break before we have to stay up all night,” Gabriel explains calmly.

  “You know the rules.” Cordelia doesn’t shout, but there’s something in her voice that’s scarier than shouting. She’s staring daggers at me. “Come with me, this instant.”

  Cordelia yanks me out of the room and drags me down the stairs. One of the steps breaks under our weight. Cordelia uses magic to keep us from falling.

  “You should know better,” she snaps. “I expected more from you. You’re supposed to be my pure one. My chaste one. How dare you tempt them?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  Cordelia drags me out to the backyard. More solstice celebrators have arrived. Gabriel and Seth follow us down and are standing silent on the porch. They know interfering just makes things worse for me. I feel better knowing they’re there. Cordelia’s never been violent with us, but I’ve never seen her this mad before.

  The guests notice the tense scene unfolding before them.

  “Apologize to your guests,” Cordelia demands.

  “My guests?” This isn’t my party. I hardly know these people.

  “You and your brothers-”

  Cordelia doesn’t finish her sentence. I look to her, but she’s not looking at me or the guests. She’s looking up, awestricken. Some of the guests are gazing upward as well. That’s when a cold drop lands on my arm. It wasn’t supposed to rain today.

  But that's not rain coming down.

  “Snow?” I whisper. How is that possible?

  At the sound of my voice, Cordelia snaps back to attention.

  “You and your brothers will go into the house. You will not have dinner. You will go to bed immediately. Tomorrow, I will have a new list of chores for each of you that will be your new normal until I decide otherwise.” I’ve never seen Cordelia look so pale. Her too-green eyes make me feel uncomfortable.

  I scurry inside. Gabriel, Seth and I don’t attempt to speak to one another now that Cordelia’s watching. I make a show of stomping across the hardwood and slamming every door I come across. I’ll probably get extra punishments for my outburst, but I don’t care.

  I’m tired of Cordelia’s controlling grip on my life. I could handle it better if I at least knew why.

  I slam the door to my bedroom. I’m wiggling out of my ridiculous dress when I spy something on the table. It’s a brooch. At first, I don’t recognize its design.

  I step closer and pick it up. I can tell that the sizable stone isn’t paste like the one around my neck. It’s a real ruby shaped into the form of an apple. I’m willing to bet the emeralds that make up the leaf are real too. Who would give me something like this? Certainly not Cordelia.

  There’s a note on the table. Swirling silver calligraphy on expensive card stock reads Happy Solstice. It could be a gift from a guest, but none of them know me well. It doesn’t make sense.

  I undo the clasp of the brooch. The little golden pin digs into the pad of my thumb. Bright blood slips down my finger.

  I’m pricked.

  2

  Seth

  Scaling the building has never been an issue. I slip in and out without being seen, a shadow that doesn’t even draw Cordelia’s astute scrutiny. After how she scolded Ebony, we’ve all been on edge. I’ve found it especially hard not voicing my thoughts on the matter. Then again, since our world changed, speed hasn’t been of the essence for me…

  Once I slip through the open window, I find Ebony sits on her bed, waiting for me. Her doe-eyed gaze pulls at my heart, my chest swelling as I look at her. She’s stunning. How Cordelia allows herself to chastise her in such hurtful ways amazes me; when you look at Ebony, all you see is purity. Even if she fell to temptation, gave herself to sin, she’d still be as pure as snow.

  My footfalls are soundless, my movements swift so as not to alert attention. Cordelia will be asleep now, but that doesn’t mean she isn't listening. She’s always listening. Crossing the room as fluidly as my sluggish bones will allow, I sit beside Ebony and watch as she naturally snuggles into me. We fit together so well, two pieces of the same puzzle. Everyone else thinks their love for her as strong as mine, however, they don’t know how I feel for her when I see her face when I feel her gentle touch. I don’t deny their affection for her, but it’s more fickle than mine.

  Tears trickle down her smooth cheeks, their translucent lines glowing in the pale moonlight. I sweep a finger across her skin to catch them, my eyes fixed on her. “You can let it out around me, you know that,” I whisper. She turns to look at mine through moist lashes. Why is she more beautiful when she cries? It’s a cruel twist of fate to make someone so beguiling to be around. She disarms without words.

  “I, I don’t mean to be wicked, Seth…” Ebony sobs. “All I want is to be affectionate, I don’t mean to cause trouble. I’m not a bad person… am I?” The doubt in her voice is broken glass against my skin. It rips through me, leaving me stunned.

  Taking her back in my arms, her head resting on my chest, I cling to her as she does to me. We need one another in ways we can't explain. Again, it’s my cruel burden that Ebony has no memory while I remember everything.

  “You’re nowhere near wicked. Cordelia gets angry, it’s what stepmoms are supposed to do; she’s a little harsh, but I think she means well.” Even as I say it, I doubt my own words. Cordelia has a simple enough task, but Ebony is difficult to control. One minute Ebony’s predictable, the next she’s fluid, like water. I don’t blame Cordelia’s frustration, but I don’t like witnessing it either. Cordelia should know better.

  My words soothe Ebony, the two of us sinking back onto the bed, our bodies intertwining as we go. Being this close to her is second nature to me. However, I can’t deny that it’s becoming harder with each passing day. To quiet my mind, I talk to Ebony about her dreams, her hopes, and ambitions. Immediately she’s overcome with enthusiasm.

  “Oh, Seth, there’s so much I want to see — to do! I want to explore, go all over the world. To learn about secrets and magic, to know how others live and see them living it. I want to explore it all, free from this place —” She turns me to. “You’ll join me, won’t you?” I nod my head, smiling. Then I nudge her nose with mine. It’s dangerous being so close to her lips, yet I can’t stop myself initiating such familiar touches. I’m becoming blind to the promise I made all those years ago.

  It’s why it’s so painful to hear her speak so optimistically as if she has control over her destiny. Ebony commands her life how mortal beings command the skies: we don’t. We can’t. Some things in life aren’t easy to harness, and Ebony is one of them. She can take herself off to faraway places in her dreams, but ultimately, she’ll never have adventures she longs for. She’s unknowingly caged.

  I agree with her plans because I can’t resist her — who am I to dash her fantasies? Lord knows she needs them! She’s cooped up all the time, scolded for being herself. All of us are on edge in case one tiny slip should happen. I wish we could give her more freedom and wish she could be who she thinks she is. But wishes are for fairytales, and ours died long ago.

  Resting my forehead against hers, we remain silent as I think back to the promise I made her… and how she’s not prepared for when Rhiannon rises again.

  “Seth,” Ebony murmurs in my ear, drawing my attention back to her. “What should I do about Gabriel? He keeps touching me in ways I don’t like, teasing me all the time. I try and tell hi
m I’m that I'm uncomfortable, that we shouldn’t do it, but he’s always so forceful.”

  “I’ll talk to him, Ebony, don’t worry.” Talk to him again, I bitterly want to add but don’t. I don’t want to upset Ebony more than she’s already been. Nevertheless, I’m angry at Gabriel for testing the boundaries again and again. Not wanting to discuss it further, I leave Ebony to softly sleep on my shoulder while I think about all the possible futures that will never come. For a few moments, I allow myself to become one with this idyllic world she’s created; we’re able to do whatever we like when we like. There’s no repercussions. No risks.

  But we’re being watched. Eyes, untrue in their intent, are trained on us.

  As gently as I can, I pry myself away from Ebony and make my way back out the window. Lurking just below is Gabriel, his eyes flashing with mischief as he arches his eyebrows at me.

  “Someone can’t say no, can he?” he teases.

  “Someone is a glutton for punishment.” I quip back, making sure to emphasize his own flaws as much as he tries to mine. As always, Gabriel is unmoved. In fact, he relishes me being wound up. “You know you need to control yourself around Ebony,” I add, still vexed by how he treats her.

  “Oh, please, Seth. You and I both know that you’re the one with the problem,” I go to protest this, but he’s already charging ahead. “You know your behavior isn’t exactly pure — one kiss, that’s all it takes, yet you’re nuzzling into her and gushing at her every move. If you ask me, you’re more in danger of awakening her true form than I am.”