Avalon Academy 1

by Bailey Dark

  “It seems that all the years of planning that your father has done are for nothing, now that you know about the secret order.”

  “You have told me little about this order,” I snap. “Maybe you should keep talking.”

  “No. That’s your father’s place. So, go on. Tell me about these dreams.”

  I want to argue, but I have come here for different reasons and I need answers. “I will, but first you need to explain to me what Lance was trying to get from Holly.”

  “I think you know,” Chancellor Andrews says. “I have reason to believe that a witch

  coven was involved with the murders.”

  “How did you come to that conclusion?”

  He smirks. “There are some secrets, dear girl, that an old man must keep.”

  “Don’t you think your secrets have gotten you in enough trouble?” I challenge.

  “Not nearly as much as it could if the council knew every ability that I possess.”

  Curiosity is killing me, but I know that he won’t bend on this, so instead I get back to my reason for hunting him down.

  “You were right,” I offer. “A coven was involved. Dowager.”

  “I was right,” he says to himself. “How did you come about this knowledge?”

  I tell him everything from my dreams. He sits, listening with rapt attention.

  “How did you put two and two together about Lance and Holly?” Tristan asks.

  “I remembered a conversation I had overheard my parents having one night. Holly had almost not been allowed into Avalon Institute because her bloodline was mixed.”

  “Avalon has always been rather snobbish when it came to things of that nature,” Chancellor Andrews comments.

  “If she’s not full sorcerer, then what?” Tristan prods.

  “Her father was a sorcerer, but her mother descended from a long line of witches. My father had said she had deserted the Dowager coven years prior to meeting Holly’s father.”

  “The council has maintained that a witch’s coven was involved in the murders, but they believed it to be the Souveign coven going back on their pact. That didn’t make sense to me.”

  “We have their book. It would make sense that the council would automatically assume it was them. Why were you not convinced?”

  “Call it an instinct,” he smirks, and I roll my eyes.

  His evasiveness is getting on my nerves.

  “What did you think you’d find out from Holly?”

  “The Dowager coven and the Souveign coven are mortal enemies ever since the Souveign’s pact with the council. Witches and sorcerers have been at war for years and the pact that the Souveign coven made with the council was a grave betrayal to all witches. I believe that someone within the secret order betrayed us by allying with the Dowagers to steal Excalibur and start a war.”

  “Why would someone do that?”

  “There has been unrest within the secret order. Some want to take the power away from the council forcefully, while others believe that a few additional council members can be persuaded to see reason. It was only a matter of time before someone got desperate enough to take action and Dowager—although unwillingly—would likely team up to overthrow the council. It would be one step closer to them finally winning the war and coming out of the shadows where they’ve been hiding for centuries.”

  I rub my temples, a headache coming on. This is so much bigger than me. There has been a war between my kind and witches for centuries and I’ve had no idea. That isn’t something they talk about in our textbooks. Hell, it isn’t even a rumor. The council has somehow managed to keep this dangerous truth quiet. But why?

  “One last question,” I promise. “Why is the war a secret?”

  “The council feared that if anyone knew the power that the witches possess, they’d do something like this. Their whole goal is to remain in power and if anyone saw a way to dethrone them, they’d be in jeopardy of losing everything.”

  “Greed.”

  Chancellor Andrews nods.

  “How do I join this secret order?”

  “Gwen, you can’t be serious,” Tristan scolds. “The council keeps us safe.”

  “The council is crooked,” I seethe.

  “So is every other governing body in this world, yet I’d have their greed in order to have their protection.”

  My eyes bear into Tristan’s. How can he not see what the council is doing? They’re alienating all of us. Unless you’re part of the council, you’re uninformed, and being uninformed in times of war leaves you unarmed and vulnerable. Hadn’t he heard the lengths my own father had went to protect me? Shouldn’t that give him reason to despise the council further? I was made to believe my own father hated me and that I was without abilities, so that I could actually enjoy my childhood. They would’ve robbed me of that, had they have known.

  Tristan’s refusal to look at me only worries me more.

  Whose side is he on?

  Chapter Seventeen

  “Gwen, wait,” Tristan calls as I stalk down the hallway.

  I need to get away from Chancellor Andrews’ office, and I’m trying desperately to put space in between Tristan and me. The uncertainty of whether Tristan is on my side or not hovers over me, threatening to pull me under.

  “I said stop.” The hard edge of Tristan’s voice makes me stop, but I don’t turn to face him. “What has gotten into you?” he asks.

  I spin around, glaring at him. “How can you defend the council? After everything you heard in there and after everything we’ve shared together, how could you side with them?”

  “I didn’t say I sided with them. I’m trying to figure this all out too, Gwen,” he says, running a hand through his hair. “You’re asking me to turn my back on a lifetime’s worth of teachings that the council protects us.”

  “They’re not protecting us. They’re protecting themselves,” I seethe.

  “As easy as it is for you to believe that, it’s hard for me,” he huffs. “That man has lied so many times, yet you’re so eager to believe him. You haven’t even bothered to check the facts with your father.”

  “I believe him. Isn’t that enough?”

  “That’s just it, Gwen. You’re emotional and clinging to someone you see as a father figure, but for all you know he’s feeding us both a line of bullshit to cover his own tracks.”

  “I’m clinging? Are you fucking serious, Tristan?”

  “Baby, I’m not trying to hurt you. I just want you to take a few minutes to truly think through this before you give your allegiance to the first person who’s had a chance to tell their side.”

  My shoulders sag in defeat. I understand where he’s coming from. Despite everything the Chancellor has said, Tristan has plenty of reasons to question him. So do I, but for some reason I don’t. I know with certainty that he’s telling the truth, but I can’t explain that to Tristan. I can hardly explain it to myself. I just know.

  “I’m not on the council’s side, and I’m not on his side,” Tristan points toward the Chancellor’s office. “I’m on yours. Just give me time to process all of this.”

  My anger melts away, and I lean into him, breathing in his masculine scent and relaxing immediately. His strong arms come around my back, hugging me tight.

  “What do we do?” I whisper into his chest.

  He exhales. “We get to the bottom of all of this. I can’t help but wonder if we’ll have more answers once this trial is completed,” he says.

  “I need to turn in the folder,” I say, suddenly exhausted.

  “And I have some things to finish up on my end. I’ll walk you to your room and then I’ve got to head out for a bit.”

  We’re walking toward my room, the hall quiet and empty. The hairs on my neck prickle. It feels like eyes are watching me from some hidden corner just out of my line of sight. I push the unease down, believing it to be paranoia. Plenty of things have happened to warrant the feeling.

  Tristan is a few steps ahead of m
e, clearly in a hurry. I’m just about to call out to him when someone grabs me from behind, covering my mouth with the palm of their hand. I feel a sharp tip of a blade at my throat. I keep perfectly still as the blade is too tightly pressed to my jugular. One wrong move and I’m dead.

  I squeeze my eyes shut, willing Tristan to turn before my captor manages to pull me out of sight.

  “Thomas,” Tristan’s voice says gently. “Put the knife down.”

  My eyes fly open. Thomas? As in Thomas Carter? There’s no way he’d ever. He’s always been the gentle sort. Why on earth does he have me at knife point?

  “I-I can’t,” he stutters. “I have to.”

  “You don’t,” Tristan says, shaking his head.

  “It…it was in the letter.”

  “What letter?” Tristan asks.

  It’s obvious Thomas’s trial letter is what he’s referring to, but Tristan is just trying to buy himself time to think of a plan. I’m sure of it.

  “My challenge said I had to kill Gwen. Or my family would die.”

  The blood drains from my face. Oh god. They’ve threatened his family. Of course, he’d do it.

  “Don’t you see?” he says almost hysterically. “I don’t have a choice.”

  Despite the fact that the man has me at knife point, I feel sorry for him. I can hear the desperation in his voice and I can tell he doesn’t want to do it. The council once again has the upper hand and there is no doubt that they are on to my prying.

  That’s why they want to get rid of me. To their knowledge I have no ability, so I am of no use, and if I’m sniffing around and coming close to uncovering their secrets, I have to go.

  How can my father allow it? If he’d been trying for all these years to protect me as the chancellor said, he should be stopping this. He’s part of the damn council. He has to know what the challenges entail.

  “I’m sorry, Gwen. I never wanted to hurt you or anyone else.”

  “Stop,” Tristan warns. “We can come up with something else. You don’t have to do this. We can help you escape.”

  “There’s no escape for me. They’ll just kill my family and I can’t let that happen. I’ve already been too much of a burden to them,” he says sorrowfully. “I’m a disgrace to my family and the son of a bastard.”

  That’s why he doesn’t possess the abilities that the council sought. The father he’s been raised by isn’t his.

  “My mother and her lies have disgraced all of us.”

  “Then you’ll have no objections to leaving and allowing the council to do as they will with her,” Tristan argues.

  “They’re too powerful. They’ll find me. I have no choice.”

  Knowing there is no reasoning with Thomas, I decide to take matters into my own hand. I’ve taken one semester of self-defense. I just have to hope that this works before my jugular is sliced. I clench my teeth shut and throw my head back into his nose as hard as I can.

  The blinding pain slices through me, but I have to act fast, as his grip on one of my arms loosens. I’m able to wrench my arm free and send my elbow into his nose. He groans, covering his nose as blood seeps down his face. Tristan is just about to act when Thomas’s arm flies out, sending the knife through the air at Tristan.

  Tristan acts fast, diverting the knife and sending it flying back towards toward Thomas. I screech as it plunges deeply into the center of his chest. The boy’s eyes widen. A few gurgling sounds come from his mouth, and eventually he falls back.

  Tristan has killed him.

  I run to Tristan’s arms, sobbing. A combination of fear for my own life that was almost taken and sadness for the boy who was nothing more than a pawn for the council fills me. I weep as Tristan holds me tight.

  “I didn’t have a choice, Gwen. I didn’t have a choice,” Tristan whispers into my hair.

  I want to comfort him, because I know it isn’t his fault. He did what he had to do to protect both of us, but I can’t stop shaking long enough to give him that reassurance. By this point, students have heard the commotion and have made their way to the hallway. They stare in shock and horror at the boy lying dead at my feet in a pool of his own blood.

  Chancellor Andrews comes flying up to the scene, hair askew, looking disheveled. His eyes fly back and forth between Thomas’s body and Tristan and I. “What on earth happened?” he screeches.

  “He tried to kill Gwen.”

  It’s all Tristan offers. The Chancellor pales.

  “This is getting out of hand,” he says to no one in particular. “Boys and girls…back to your rooms,” he booms. “Lock your doors and stay inside until I say otherwise.”

  They all heed his warning, hurrying away.

  “Come with me,” he says to Tristan and I.

  “What about Thomas? We can’t just let his body stay here,” I cry, tears streaming down my face. “This was the council’s doing,” my voice rattles as my teeth chatter. I’m losing it.

  “Quiet,” the Chancellor hisses. “We don’t know who’s friend or foe in this building.” He ushers us both away, and this time I follow. He’s right: who knows who else has orders to kill me? Terror thunders through my body.

  These trials have just become deadly.

  “Tristan, go to Gwen’s room and retrieve the manila folder,” he looks to me. “That is where you’ve kept it, right?”

  I bob my head, unable to speak.

  “Grab it and meet us at the locker.”

  “I’m not leaving Gwen,” Tristan says through gritted teeth.

  “You don’t have a choice, boy. We’re in a hurry.”

  “How do I know that I can trust you?” Tristan asks.

  “You don’t, but I assure you, I won’t harm her.”

  Tristan glares at him for several minutes, not saying a word.

  “The longer we stand here, the more likely the next assassin will come for her.”

  Tristan growls. “I’ll be there in less than five minutes. If you touch a hair on her head, I’ll end you,” he threatens.

  “I’d sooner end my own life than harm hers.”

  With that, Tristan takes my key, running down the hall to retrieve the folder. Andrews grabs my hand and leads me in the opposite direction of Tristan. Sometime later, I realize he’s brought me to the auditorium.

  “Gwen.” The Chancellor shakes my shoulders. “You’re in shock. Sit.” He pulls me toward a bench and eases me down onto it. I rock back and forth, a steady stream of tears rolling down my cheeks. He swipes one away. “They’ll pay for this. I promise,” he says.

  What feels like an eternity passes before Tristan comes running into the room. When his eyes land on me, he breathes out in relief.

  “Here,” he says, thrusting the folder into the Chancellor’s arms before sitting next to me. He grabs my hand in his. “Baby, I’m here,” he says.

  The Chancellor squats down until he’s eye level with me. “I can’t place this into the locker, Gwen. It has to be you. If we are going to take on the council, I need you to be strong, and I need you to trust me. Can you do that?”

  I swipe an errant tear from my eye, take several deep breaths, and nod at the Chancellor. I stand on unsteady feet and give myself a moment to adjust. He’s right, I need to pull myself together

  I will end this, and the trials may be the way I do it. I grab the manila folder and continue toward locker one sixteen. When I open it, I find my final letter.

  I exchange the folder for the letter, going back to the bench to read the contents. As much as I want the privacy of my own room, I need to know what it said. Things have gotten so dangerous, and I am desperate to end it.

  Tearing open the envelope and discarding it on the floor, I read the note, dread pooling in my stomach at the three words written on the paper.

  Kill chancellor Andrews.

  “What’s wrong?” Tristan asks, concerned.

  I thrust the note toward the two men, remaining silent. Tristan inhales sharply and the

  Chancellor’
s eyes fly to mine.

  “What game are they playing?” Tristan asks.

  “A very dangerous one.”

  Footsteps on the tile floor snap all of our attentions toward the entrance. Mallory stops in her tracks, thoroughly caught off guard, as she takes in the three of us.

  “Is there a problem?” she asks, looking confused.

  The boys remain silent until another rustling outside the door has Tristan moving in front of me, acting as a shield.

  His posture doesn’t relax as Gareth Sanders and Galahad Watts stroll in. I haven’t seen any of them since the beginning of the trials, and it’s strange to have all of us in the same room together. For a short moment, I wonder if any of them will find that they are tasked to kill me as well.

  Looking at their puzzled expressions, I calm. It doesn’t appear like any of them are out to harm me…yet. I find it so strange how quickly a person can turn on another when glory is at stake.

  The council has us all fooled into thinking that we depended on them, but the truth is, they depend on us. None of them are immortal and without future generations’ abilities, the council will cease to exist. Those of us in this room are the ones that hold the power. And that’s when it all clicks.

  “They’re hosting these trials because they lost specific abilities with the death of the three knights,” I say aloud.

  All eyes are on me, variations of confusion and surprise. “They need us for something. These trials are to find which one of us has the abilities that they are now lacking,” I continue to work it all out.

  “What are you talking about?” Galahad barks. “And come to think of it, what are you all doing in here?”

  “Same as you,” Mallory gestures toward the lockers, signaling that she’s here to complete her task and get the last one.

  “Doesn’t explain her ramblings,” he says, making a face in my direction.

  I ignore him, going on, “The council has secrets. Dangerous secrets.”

  “Of course they do. They are our entire society’s protection. That’s the way it has to be and I for one don’t care to know all the gory details. As long as my ass is safe, they can keep their secrets,” Galahad chimes in, garnering a hoot of support from his friend.