Rogue Royalty

by Rebecca Ethington

  Great, it was like every other class and public appearance, thankfully this time I could actually say something to stop their gawking. They all looked like idiots.

  "I guess it's not girls that turn into fly traps around a prince," I said the second I was within earshot. They all closed their mouths as though they had been remote controlled that way.

  "Boys! Come on now! It's time to settle down, that's enough," A man who was rushing over to us yelled, clearly trying to call the silent boys to attention. Not that they needed it. No one was talking. They were all still staring.

  The man who had yelled came closer. I recognized him at once. Thatcher Willems, a former Rugby player that used to front for Old Toomes South if I remembered correctly. He hadn't played for years. Looks like he had ended up at Imdalind Academy, as coach judging by the whistle around his neck.

  "Ahhh!" He said, recognition dawning on his face. "I was hoping you would show up! I spoke to your Uncle last night; we are glad to have you here Rowan."

  "Glad to be here," I said, taking his hand. "Glad to meet you, as well. I was a huge fan of yours and I'm excited to learn and play with you all."

  A few snickers echoed from the back of the boys, bodies jostling as the whispers returned. I hadn't even realized I was putting on the formal prince voice. Thankfully none of it fazed Thatcher. He thanked me and turned back to the now whispering team.

  The upside of meeting people who knew my family, or had been in a position of power in their own lives, was that they actually saw me as a real person.

  "As I am sure most of you recognize our new player, but for the sake of formality, I would like to introduce you all to Rowan Krul, our new Fly Half." Thatcher clapped me on the back, jerking me forward as he beamed at the rest of the team with his own brand of pride.

  The look was reflected in gaping stares and wide smiles as rippling arms pulled tight over equally as built chests. I would say they were all happy for my appointment, except that they all kept glancing between me and another player. A tall powerfully built guy who was covered in so much dirt that if it wasn't for the sweat I wouldn't be able to tell where the dirt ended and his dark skin began. He had clearly been there a while.

  And I was taking the position he had been hoping for.

  Except that no one was too fussed about it.

  "All right," Thatcher said before anyone could protest, shoving me toward the boys who stepped aside and let me stumble into the middle of them. "Since Rowan is already dressed down, let's scrimmage!"

  He blew his whistle once and everyone moved toward the pitch, more than a few shoulders and knees knocking into me as they made their way toward the center of the field. Let the hazing begin.

  "I don't think they can help themselves," a deep voice said from behind me. I threw my gear to the side of the pitch and turned to the last guy I expected to see. The massive dirt-covered man stood there, wiping the sweat and mud from his face with a rag that might as well be a permanent shade of brown with how much he was pulling off.

  "Greer Darkly," he introduced himself, holding out a hand to me. It was only then that I saw the twists of a dragon tattoo over his arm.

  An Undermortal.

  The same images from my dreams pressed into me, but I pushed them away. He wasn't in them after all. He wasn't the one with his hands wrapped around my brother's neck.

  "Rowan," I said, taking special care to pronounce my given name only, hoping that he wouldn't try to tack a 'Prince' on there for good measure.

  He took my hand greedily, even squeezing rather than giving me the fish-shakes that most people did.

  "Looks like I took your spot. Sorry about that."

  "Don't worry about it," he said, batting the air away as we walked toward where everyone else was starting to link together. "I think I’ll enjoy the next few days of not getting tackled every few minutes.”

  He smiled, trying to make his comment a joke but the joy on his lips was dead in his eyes. It pierced right through me, the breeze that was ruffling my hair feeling even colder than it had a minute ago.

  “That rough?” I asked, ignoring the calls of the team behind me.

  “Nah, they don't like anything different than them,” Greer said, going back to wiping the mud off his neck. “But who does really? We are all here, fighting for what we love. Some of us are just trying to fight for something better."

  "Get your ass over here, your highness. Leave the Drain alone," one of the boys yelled over, everyone snickering and cutting off what I was about to say.

  “You better get over there before talking to me gets you face-down in the mud,” he smiled again, the emotion still trapped in the corners of his mouth, maybe it was dragged away by the suddenly icy breeze.

  “That’ll never happen,” I knocked him with my elbow, the action inciting more yells and more catcalls from the already prepping team.

  I made to run and join the scrimmage and start the game, but Greer didn't move. "Aren't you coming?"

  "Nah, you only need one fly half," he said with a white-toothed grin, laughing as he wiped more mud off the back of his neck. "Besides, they got me pretty good last time."

  “Next time, I’ll switch you,” I said, getting an actual smile from him. “Talk to you later, Greer.”

  I made sure to use his name, letting the word carry in the wind and drown out the derogatory comments I was running into.

  My magic buzzed as I linked up with the boys, pressing my shoulders against the others as we prepared for coach to make the call.

  "Finally, he stops asking the Drain to wipe his royal ass long enough to join us.” Everyone laughed at the disembodied voice, the scrimmage shifting and moving right into me.

  “Here I was thinking they were replacing the Drain with a real man, instead we get a Drain lover," someone to my left said, the mockery triggering more than a few snickers.

  "He's no pussy! You've seen him with that Demarco, girl,” another voice bellowed as we slowly began to shift, bodies pressing together as the scrimmage began. "Takes a man to control that whip."

  They all laughed. I tried to join in, but the strong wisps of magic I had felt in the air earlier were growing stronger, triggering the sparks at the back of my neck. I pushed the magic away, shoving the wind and power and everything I didn’t want as far away as I could get it. I was going to enjoy this.

  Enjoy a regular game, with regular magic. Even it meant the lie about Sia Demarco was following me around like bad gas.

  "That girl’s gorgeous, have you seen her in spells? So strong. I heard she slept longer than anyone."

  "Three weeks," I reluctantly provided when more than one head turned my way in question.

  "Damn," a freckled kid right beside me said. "That's strength. Bet she matches you pretty well. Eternal blood and a strong Chosen soul. As it should be. None of those damn Drains, we showed them in the end. They can't tear us down, the Eternals won't let them. Isn't that right Rowan?"

  They all laughed again, the riotous sound cutting deep. It physically hurt to force the smile that time, the reality of everything my father had said, and everything my father had forced me into beginning to settle in my heart. Healing ties. He had hoped for healing ties.

  Except it only appeared to be creating a different sort of rift between them. The Goldens, the Drains, and me somehow lodged in the middle. I wasn’t healing anything, especially with Sia on my arm. I was only empowering them more.

  "That's enough, boys!" Thatcher’s voice boomed over all of us. "Save the talk and show the prince what you're made of."

  "Goldens forward!" They all yelled in unison, everyone moving the second the coach blew his whistle.

  Shoulders, feet, and more than one elbow pressed together, everyone grunting as we moved back and forth until the ball moved into play and we broke apart. I didn't get more than two steps before I was slammed into the mud, face full of muck as they all trampled behind me.

  I was more out of practice than I thought.

 
; “Stay away from the Drain or you’ll end up looking like them.”

  Or maybe not.

  "Feet up!" Coach said, pulling me up and slapping me on the back, sending a spray of mud everywhere. "We finally have a full team, prince. Let’s play like it!”

  I ran after the others, my eyes drifting to the side of the pitch, and to Greer, who was bent over a bag, its contents spread over the dewy grass. He shoved everything back in before turning to cheer his teammates on, even though pain was clear in his eyes. Just like Gemma's in so many of the dreams I had had over the years.

  Just like in my dream, as she facilitated Talon's last breath.

  Pain. Suffering.

  ‘We are all here, fighting for what we love. Some of us are just trying to fight for something better.’

  My mother had told me once that nothing was certain. That everything could change, even sight, that sometimes the things I would see, that Draks would see, were more of warnings. Warnings of what could come if something didn't change.

  After all I had seen of Gemma and her life, after all we had done to fix it, nothing had changed. If anything, it had all become a whole lot worse.

  Something had to change. I was starting to understand what.

  Maybe my mom was right, maybe I had to stop being scared.

  But first, I had to stop blaming Gemma for things she has never done.

  Things she may never do.

  11

  Gemma

  "I think I finally convinced the Ghostlanders to get their act together and stop being so selfish," Kara said as she slid between me and Ed and we all began our customary meander through old stone hallways to the atrocious remedial classes we were all forced to take.

  The Goldens were all retreating to the grounds, or their dorms, or the underground sparring halls that the older students were allowed to use. They were all too busy with their egos to care about what all of us little Undermortals were doing. We were all dragging our feet to avoid the classes that had quickly become one of the most abhorred parts of our days.

  Yes, I said abhorred, although Professor Smythe would still have you believe we couldn't read or understand more than 'Meet Jack, Jack sat on a cat. Jack's cat clawed his ass.'

  "Good," Ed said, Geo coming up on the other side of him, the two waving to a girl as she passed them, looking the pair up and down. I gave him a look. "What? I'm allowed to appreciate a figure or a person. Doesn't mean I have wavered from my true love."

  Eddy threw his arm around Geo's shoulders, the two laughing and walking as they waved to anyone who crossed their path. Including an especially irritated Golden who looked confused as to how they had ended up in the remedial hall in the first place.

  "So, they are on board?" I asked Kara, ignoring the two men who were now loudly gloating about how excited they were to learn to count to twenty today. I would have hissed at them to shut the hell up, but they provided the perfect cover.

  "Yes." Kara smiled and gave me a nod. "They were the last holdouts, so everyone is on board, we are just waiting on that last piece..."

  Damn, Kara had some wicked good side-eye. She had always been a good fighter. When she was a kid she had even stood up to a Tarn soldier, back before they had started to kidnap and haul us off to The Wastelands. Guess I knew how she had won against the armored lackey; she had probably scared the guy off with a look.

  "You sound like Eddy," I said, trying to force a laugh, but the sound was dead and laced with the foul aroma of frustration.

  It had been more than a week since I had hoisted my panties and asked Anal-line to get the Queen a message. Seeing as I hadn't heard anything, I was sure that letter went into the dark sarcophagus that she housed her soul in every night and never came out.

  "Yeah, well, maybe you need to give that guy a shot again..."

  "If 'that guy' is referring to his royal highness of salty looks and jackassery, I'm going to stop you right there." I held my hand up, the boys still being loud and boisterous even though most of the hall had cleared out. "I still have a couple tricks up my sleeve."

  I gave Kara what I had assumed to be a conspiratorial wink, but the girl stared at me blank-faced, confused.

  "Don't forget, Kara," Eddy hissed, finally having disconnected himself from Geo, "she's besties with the Queen. They had girl time and everything."

  "Threats, possible torture and a forced agreement to bind my magic." Yes, I was fully aware I was growling. "If that's girl time I have no interest in being her bestie."

  Or being alone with her in general, ever again. The memory of those few moments was still like a bad dream that was gnawing at my spine.

  "Well, whichever royal you want to get in bed with, I don't care. We are all waiting on you," Kara said, hands over her hips as she angled herself in front of me, stopping me in place and forcing the thinning crowd to move around us. Voices and stomping feet mumbled around us like a diverted river.

  "Don't worry. I got this, even if I have to get in bed with one of them, I'll do it. Wouldn't be the first time," I shrugged, trying not to think of the shocked expression on the Prince's face when I had let slip about that particular escapade. Not my fault they treat that stuff like some kind of silken virtue.

  "Poor meat-head Adrian," Eddy mused as though he was giving a speech at a funeral. "His sacrifices will not be forgotten. Ow!"

  I slugged the poor guy in the arm so hard he winced. Yes, I had totally put a little bit of magic behind that. Hopefully, it would leave a bruise.

  "You deserved it. Baby," I snapped, Eddy still rubbing his arm and scowling as the bell rang and the last of the Undermortals began shuffling into their remedials classes. Heavy oak doors groaned loudly as they snapped shut, leaving me and Ed standing in the middle of the musty stone hall.

  "You coming?" Eddy asked, taking a few steps toward the still open door of Topher Smythe's classroom.

  "Not yet," I gave him a smile and shifted my bag, the heavy math books pulling at my shoulder. "I think Professor Smythe would miss my raucous arrivals. I can't be on time yet."

  Our snickering laughs filled the now empty hallway as Eddy turned with a wave, vanishing into the overfilled classroom and I went about my usual time-killing hallway stalking, listening to the hum of voices and the buzz of magic that bled through the doors. Normally I would amuse myself with trying to identify which person each magic belonged to, but today I was having trouble focusing past the problem that didn't want to leave me alone.

  Getting the food to the Undermortal communities and getting this whole mess started. Analine was a bust, Rowan was a bust, which basically left the headmaster himself. Difficult considering, I hadn't seen the guy since the first day when he gave that weird speech at breakfast.

  Cail it was then, unless I wanted to call up the queen and ask for help. She had said to let her know if “I needed anything.”

  Call me crazy, but I would rather go through a third party than take advantage of that. Going right to her and asking for help was like admitting I was working for her. I was only playing at being her double agent and had no intention of giving in to that crazy woman. Play along, get my magic back, and continue toward the goal I had set years before. Asking her directly was directly against that.

  No, thank you. Now, I just had to hope that she couldn't read minds, too.

  I grabbed a piece of bread out of my bag, munching on it as I turned a corner on autopilot, brain occupied with disappearing headmasters and secret meetings. I nearly collided head first with a wall of plaid skirts and resting bitch faces.

  Sia Demarco and her sheep standing still, arms over their waists as if they were waiting for me. They were standing in a line, like a plaid barricade. A plaid barricade of bitches.

  The Bitchicade. I was so saving that.

  "Oh god, did I walk into the bitch convention on accident? I am so sorry, let me back up, I'm sure there is a hallway that isn't full of shit around here," I sneered, knotting my face up in false disgust as I squished the bread in my fis
t. The softness hardened into a rock in one tiny flare of my magic.

  "The only hallway that's full of shit is yours." So much for backing up, that froze me in place. It was clear she hadn't meant it that way, but bless her heart, Sia was loyal to her crappy comeback. Even if her crony’s where all trying to stifle a laugh.

  "Okay," the words stretched out as I tried to figure out something smart to respond with. "Sorry, I got nothing. I'll see you guys around."

  I waved in what I assumed was goodbye, ready to turn and strut my way into class. I knew I was late now. I didn't get more than a step or two when a wild wind wrapped around me, tugging at my hair and blazer and trying to pull me back.

  Ahhh. The Bitchicade had come for payback for me breaking Sia’s nose and humiliating her in class and probably a few other things. Well, I couldn’t say I hadn’t seen this coming. Predictable bitches. I could handle this. I totally cracked my knuckles.

  "Do you really want to do this?" I asked, letting my bookbag drop to the ground. "I mean, I'm three for zero, Sia. Do you really want to make it four?"

  "No, your three for nothing." She smiled, her friends smiled I was left standing there, staring at them in confusion.

  "Yeah... that's what I said." I mumbled under my breath. The more I was around her, the more I was starting to think she was as dumb as rocks. Either that or I was missing something about above-ground living that made every single bizarre thing about her make sense.

  "I mean, you're nothing," she snarled, flipping her hair before she took a few steps closer to me. "You don't belong here. You and your Drains keep strutting around here, thinking you belong. You don't. It's high time you realized that."

  She took another step, her eyes darkening as her hand opened, sparks of what looked like yellow fire jumping between her fingers. That was more intense than a few days ago, good to know my resident bully hadn't been idle.