by Bailey Dark
“Are you all right, Miss D’Morte?” Professor Langley asks from the front of the room.
My eyes meet his as my body shakes.
“I-I…”
“Fell asleep?” he offers, sounding bored.
I nod.
“You had one hell of a nightmare, I’d say.”
“You could say that,” I huff. “I’m sorry, Professor,” I offer lamely.
He purses his lips.
“Don’t nod off again in my class,” he spits before turning his back on me and continuing
to write ‘pop quiz’ on the Smart Board. “All right, class dismissed.”
Students start collecting their things and heading toward the door.
“Remember there will be a pop quiz on Thursday. Be prepared to discuss the symbols of alchemy.”
Groans sound around the room, but I can’t even stand from my seat. I’m trying to process the dream. The same room. Same men. It was only a dream, right?
Clearly, my mind is on the slain Knights. It’s typical to dream about things that are on your mind. It wouldn’t be out of the realm of possibility for me to parallel the events with the Knights to my dream. But it was so vivid. I felt like I was there. The tang of blood was burning my nostrils, and I could still taste the salty thickness of the air. I shake my head, trying desperately to rid my mind of the macabre dreams. Before I have a chance to move, the crackling of the loudspeaker ahead signals a broadcast.
“Attention, students and faculty. Please report to the auditorium for a mandatory assembly. Be in your seats within ten minutes. Anyone tardy will lose merits.”
My eyes met Mr. Langley’s grim expression. “Better get moving, D’Morte. They’re not gonna wait for anybody.”
I stand, gathering my papers and bag. Before I walk out the door, I turn back to my professor. “Do you know what this is about?”
“I think we just need to get to the auditorium.”
And with that and a wave of his hand, I’m dismissed.
Chapter Two
The auditorium is silent. Dread hangs in the air as everyone waits for Chancellor Andrews to begin. There’s no question in any of our minds that this revolves around the whispered rumors of the three dead Knights.
Everyone wants answers, but if they were like me, they’re scared to know the truth. Nothing like this has happened in my lifetime. Hell, nothing like this has happened in our parent’s lifetime.
I scan the room for Lance. Right now, I need a comfort that only he can provide, but I come up short. He’s nowhere to be seen. In two minutes, he’ll be late, and he’ll lose merits. It’s so unlike him to be tardy. Where could he possibly be?
As if I had personally summoned him, the large, wooden, double doors swing inward and Lance comes strolling through with Holly Hunter close to his side. My back stiffens.
“She finally got her claws into him.”
I look to my side and raise a brow at Sara Wagner.
“Am I missing something?” I ask a tad abrasively.
“Only that she’s been trying for weeks. And you know as well as I do that Holly gets what Holly wants.”
I frown, knowing she’s right about that. Holly is a she-devil, oozing with sex. The boys of Avalon don’t even attempt to resist her, making her the school pony.
“She’s not Lance’s type. He won’t fall for her shit. He’s too smart for that.”
Sara rolls her eyes as if I was an idiot.
“Holly is everyone’s type, Gwen.”
I scoff. “You don’t know Lance.”
And you definitely don’t know that last night his fingers were inside me. I clench my thighs together, thinking about it. I had come so hard all over his hands. It was the furthest we’d taken things, but that night I wanted all of him.
“And let me guess… you do?”
I shrug my shoulders, not wanting to play this game. It was my rules that kept our relationship secret, and I was not ready for us to be found out. The bottom line is that I’m the total opposite of Holly. He can’t want me and want her too. Right?
“At some point he’s going to grow tired of trying to impress you. Holly’s just biding her time.”
What the hell does that mean? Is it that obvious to everyone how he feels?
“Why are you being such a bitch?” I snap, steeling her with a death glare.
She sighs. “I’m not trying to be,” she says, sounding trite. “I’m only stating the obvious. He’s in love with you.”
My stomach bottoms out.
Love.
It’s no question that he cares, but love is a bold word. I’ve been wondering lately, but God, am I ready for that?
“You’ve got it wrong. We’re…close.”
It’s Sara’s turn to quirk a brow.
“Whatever you say.” With that, she turns back toward the front.
My concentration hones in on my best friend and the girl currently looping her arm through his. There’s no denying the jealous feeling that filters through my body. I don’t like her hands on him, but do I really have a right to feel this way? Do I actually want something more with my best friend?
Decide, my inner voice screams.
I shake off the thought and face forward, ready to get this over with. Not even a minute later, Lance slides into the seat next to me.
“There you are. I waited for you in the hall.”
“Oh? I didn’t see you.” I say, a little too bitterly.
“I waited in our spot.”
Our spot. The place where we typically make out in between classes. It’s nothing more than a small closet in a mostly deserted hallway.
“It doesn’t look like you were alone,” I say, sounding jealous.
Lance tries to mask the smirk he’s currently wearing. Clearly, the green plastered all over my face isn’t just obvious to me. His hand lowers to rest on top of mine.
“I would’ve much rather been with you,” he says, low and husky. “My fingers were inside you last night. Not her. Never her.”
I remain silent. My eyes meet his and the burning want I see has me paralyzed in place.
If he says one more word, I’d likely give the entire student body a show. God, what’s coming over me? Thoughts of his hands all over my body have my cheeks heating. He leans in slightly, his hand running up the inside of my leg. I catch a moan in my throat as my eyes close, waiting for his fingers to graze my soaking panties.
A tapping of the mic on the auditorium stage has both of our attentions pulling forward, and his hand retreating. The moment is officially broken. I take three deep breaths to center myself. I’m about to excuse myself to the restroom when Chancellor Andrews walks onto the stage. That helps to clear my head. He wears a grave expression that I can see from clear in the back. This isn’t going to be good.
He clears his throat. “I’m sure by now all of you have heard three Knights were killed yesterday at St. Laurence Academy.”
Silence. Nobody breaths. Each of us hangs on for his next words.
“We don’t know the reason and we don’t know who the person is behind it. But rest assured, the council is working diligently to unmask the murderer and the motive,” his voice booms. “You should not be worried, as there’s no indication that anything like this will happen here at Avalon.”
My insides twist, thinking back to my dreams. If what happened to the Knights is even similar, it’s too frightening to consider happening here.
“We’ve warded the school grounds and everyone who stays within shall be safe.” I look to Lance, confusion was written all over his face. I can see it in the way his brows knit together.
Why would they feel the need to ward the school?
“Due to the events at St Laurence, the council thinks it’s best that the students are transferred off of the school grounds while an intensive investigation ensues. In light of this, St Laurence has to postpone their annual Trial of Crowns.”
Murmurs ensue. The Trial of Crowns has long since been a trad
ition of St. Laurence, in which six students compete for the chance of being Crowned the victor and winning an offering from the high council. According to the stories I heard as a child, the first chancellor for the school was a retired knight who had fought a battle of evil and came out victorious, supposedly saving the entire round table. I’ve yet to learn the entire story as that’s taught in Knight History 201, junior year. I’m not slated to have the course until the spring. To cancel it would be a decision made only under extreme circumstances.
“As you all know, the Trial of Crowns is a sacred event and with the unrest of the students, the council felt it imperative that the competition goes on. We chancellors of the three magical schools came together and decided that Avalon would host St. Laurence and Westoff Academies and begin a new tradition.”
The place goes nuts. Speculations are tossed all around me.
“Quiet,” Chancellor Andrews bellows. “There is much to discuss.” Students go back to their seats, ceasing all conversation. Everyone is eager to hear more. “The first annual Trial of Crowns held between the three schools will commence in three days’ time. Each school will have two representatives compete in the trials. Contestants shall be chosen by the individual school’s professors based on merit count, academic performance, and magical intuition. The challenges for the trial will be outlined once all three schools are on Avalon property. Three days from now we will hold another assembly in which all of the contestants are named. In three days’ time after the announcement, there shall be a ball.”
Everyone claps excitedly. People hoot and holler as Chancellor Andrews’ hands come up, motioning for everyone to allow him to finish. “Know this, the trials will not be easy. They will test the competitor’s endurance, intelligence, and magical prowess. Those chosen will be placed directly in the line of danger. These trials are not for the faint of heart and should be taken very seriously. If anyone does not wish to be considered, please place a note of decline in my mailbox by tomorrow morning. Dig deep into your armoires, students. Find your best tux or gown. Avalon Institute needs to impress.” He smiles. “Now, enough talk and speculation about the Knights. The council will enlighten all of us as soon as there is more word. For now, we concentrate on the trials and bringing home the first ever crown to Avalon Institute.”
“Hear, hear!” people around me call.
“Professors, your votes for our two competitors will need to be in within two days’ time. Choose wisely, and students: do your best to impress over the next forty-eight hours, for glory will be given to the victor.”
With that, Chancellor Andrews turns on his heels and stalks off the stage, leaving everyone to chat amongst themselves. The excitement is clear and the death of the three knights all but forgotten for most students. For me, questions just kept piling up.
For one, our school is the smallest of the three. Why would they send everyone here?
What are they hiding? I don’t have a chance to think any more about it. Lance is standing, pulling me to my feet.
“Well, Princess, it looks like we have a ball to prepare for.”
I smile at his term of endearment. “Princess, eh?”
“Always.”
The next twenty-four hours went by in a flurry.
Students were on their best behavior fighting for merits and testing their abilities. It was laughable. Two days ago, the same girls and boys were dicking around in the hallways, blowing off classes and only using their magical abilities if they needed them to cheat. All chancellor Andrews had to mention was glory and the stakes changed.
Now, however, the time is dragging, painfully. I am holed up in my room, with nothing to do. All students were asked to remain in their quarters until dinner, as the school committee worked to polish and decorate Avalon for our guests.
Staring at these four small walls was maddening. At Avalon we weren’t forced to share rooms; at least not if you were a legacy, like I am. Right now, I wish I did share. Being confined to this room without anyone to talk to was the worst form of torture. Classes were cancelled for the next few weeks through the trials. I don’t have homework and Lance is playing cards with his roommate.
I am bored stiff. My room is not luxurious. It’s a shoebox, with enough room for a bed, a desk, and a small personal bathroom. For the bathroom, I was grateful. The idea of sharing a washroom with others has me cringing.
I’m just about to lay down to nap when my door creaks open and Lance sneaks in, locking it behind him.
“I had to see you,” his voice is raspy with want.
“Oh yeah? Did anyone see you come in?”
He shakes his head, stalking toward my bed.
He hovers above me. “Take your shirt off,” he commands.
I obey, yanking my school issued shirt up over my head. Lance’s eyes are hooded as he takes in my black lace bra that does wonders pushing up my breasts. He palms both, pulling down the lace to tease my nipples. A moan escapes me, and Lance catches it with his lips. His fingers trail down my stomach, over my hips, and finally reach my skirt.
“What do you want, Gwen?” he asks.
“You.”
He chuckles. “Soon. We don’t have time today and I don’t want to rush it.”
A pang of disappointment hits me, and I internally scold myself. What the hell has come over me? I’ve turned into a walking horn ball lately. I’ve held onto my virginity for eighteen years and all of a sudden, I’m in some huge rush to be rid of it.
“Gwen, I want to,” Lance promises. “God, do I want to,” he groans. “But not like this.”
I nod, knowing he’s right. Hell, I’m not even sure that I want more with Lance. Fucking him and then running from whatever this is, is sure to kill our friendship. No matter how annoying my inner bitch is, she’s right. I need to decide and until I do, I need to cool this down.
I kiss him once more before pulling away.
“Where are you going?” he nearly growls.
Picking my shirt up from beside the bed, I pull it over my head and straighten it into place.
“You’re right. Now isn’t a good time. Especially given the events of today.”
He nods, slowly, thinking about what I said.
“I’m just slowing things down, Lance. I want it too, but you’re right. Now isn’t the time.” Walking to the window I assess how miserable it is outside. Anything to get my mind away from the mess I’m making with Lance. It’s a dreary day. A light fog blankets the lawn while a light drizzle begins to fall. A shiver runs down my spine as I watch the gates open. They’re here. Three long buses with the Westoff insignia emblazed on the sides pull through. And so, it begins. Tomorrow the contestants for the crown will be announced.
“I better get back to my room,” Lance says, placing a kiss on the top of my head. “I’ll see you later?”
I bob my head in confirmation, but I don’t say anything. His footsteps retreat, the door creaks open and closes, and I’m finally left to myself. The weight of what I’ve allowed to happen to us falls over me like a lead blanket. I’m suffocating at the thought of losing his friendship because at this moment, as much as I enjoy what we’re doing, I know I’m not ready for more. There is too much going on right now to even think about starting a relationship.
I lie back on my bed, the Trial of Crowns taking over my thoughts. Who would be the champions for Avalon? Names ran through my mind. Lance has a good shot of making the cut. He’s always been studious and he’s a professor favorite as far as merits are concerned. Add in his dimpled smile and he’s practically a shoe-in.
The word glory is so broad. One can only guess as to what that means, but now more than ever Lance could be in the spotlight. If the girls of Avalon were obsessed with him, there’d soon be triple that number. I know I need to truly decide fast. There’s a ball coming. Girls will be flocking to his side. Do I want that? Could I handle seeing him with someone else?
My thoughts are spiraling downhill and I can’t stop them. Nausea coats my t
hroat as bile rises. The truth is I would be completely crushed to watch him with someone else.
Chancellor Andrews’ words about the trials being difficult has me scared for him. What if something happens to him? With hundreds of students to choose from, it’s hard to know for certain if he’ll be chosen, but something in my gut twists, and I feel the sudden urge to throw myself at him just in case. I’m a complete mess. The yo-yo of my feelings is making me dizzy. Is this how all hormonal teenagers act? Or am I just completely fucked up?
Chapter Three
The auditorium is bursting with people. The energy is palpable. Not a seat goes unfilled as all three houses congregate under one roof. This has never happened before, and everyone is bursting with excitement I can’t admit that I was, too. Never before has Avalon Institute shown this much pageantry.
The welcome committee had gone all out. The place is decked out to the nines. Beautiful tapestries hide the once plain walls. Original light fixtures had been replaced with beautiful draping chandeliers. Ornate fixtures are in place of the basic hardware on each of the doors. How they managed this in the last forty-eight hours is beyond me. Even with magic, this had to have taken hundreds of volunteers.
“Who do you think our champions will be?” Lance asks.
“Well, I think you have a good chance.”
He preens from the compliment.
“You think?” he asks, trying to sound coy.
“Don’t be so humble,” I reply. “You know you have just as much of a shot as anyone else. If not more.”
“What about you?” his voice takes on a husky tone. “Not only are you a legacy, but you’re a D’Morte.”
I roll my eyes.
“I’m a defective D’Morte.”
“Don’t say that.” Lance grates. “You could never be anything but perfect, Gwen. I don’t care what anyone says.” His face grows a darker shade of red. “Fuck your father. He doesn’t know shit about anything.”
My father, my hero, has turned ugly in the face of my lack of abilities. Recently, his whole attitude toward me has changed. He’s frustrated and lashing out and Lance has been even more pissed about it than I have.