I flicked a glance over to my handler and then turned to face the professor.
Yep.
He was reading minds again.
Crossing my arms over my chest, I steeled myself against any thoughts about last night with Air, or kissing Vexer this morning … No way a professor at my new school needed to see that shit. I yelped as a feather plucked itself off and danced away in a light breeze.
“You can?” Jasinda asked skeptically as Spicer sat down on the steps and then … unbuttoned his shirt completely, setting it aside and flashing a muscular chest covered in tattoos. He leaned back and closed his eyes against the sun, reaching up briefly to fan at his face.
What a weirdo.
“Absolutely. There’s a generous stash in the Catacombs, buried with a former dean of the Royal College who”—Spicer paused and cracked one blue-green eye—“just happened to hail from Vaenn.”
I felt my brows go up.
“Seriously?”
“At the time of her death, cosmetics made with silver ash were quite common,” Spicer—er, Professor Cross—said as he lounged with all eight of his glorious abs on display. I pretended not to notice. There were enough annoyingly beautiful men around that I had to deal with already. “So they buried her with a horde of it, so she could make those shimmery silver shadows for her eyes in the Otherside.”
“Wow, thanks …” I said, a bit surprised at our run of luck. We’d have to contact the queen and have someone fetch the silver ash from the Catacombs for us, but there was no way she’d protest considering her son—and her throne—were on the line. “How do you know about that?”
“I know all sorts of tricks,” Spicer said as Eli gave him a withering glare and adjusted his beautiful white wings. “I’ve been around campus for a while. I might not be able to leave this building”—he gestured with his chin—“but I hear gossip. Enough to have kept me entertained for the last five years.”
Eli smirked.
“I knew you’d been for some time,” he murmured, but the professor ignored him.
“If you need help with anything else, my door is always open to students.”
I stared at him while he sunbathed and then realized with a small start what he was doing.
He was feeding the tattoos on his chest. Those weren’t just regular designs—they were living ink, creatures trapped and bound in Spicer’s flesh. At a moment’s notice, he could snap his fingers and they’d peel off, materialize, and be ready to kick some serious a— bum. Even with Spicer being dead, the living ink needed sunshine to sustain the magic.
Fascinating.
Never in my life had I wanted to be a mind whisperer—I had a feeling that the visons would drive me slowly insane—but the living ink was totally cool.
“We appreciate the help,” I said as I hooked my arms through Air’s and Elijah’s, nodded at Professor Cross, and started back toward the house. It was right in the middle of campus, painted in the queen’s colors of purple, red, and white, and featuring an ostentatious rendition of the royal crest right above the doorway. Within hours of students arriving on campus, everyone would know where we lived.
“Beware the blood and ice,” Spicer called out after us, but when I glanced back at him, he was smiling.
Crouching on the edge of the receiving sofa, I stared at Brynn’s class list and tried to imagine sitting through hours of this stuff every week. I had to admit, it was terrifying.
“Hour One,” I read aloud as Brynn used some flour to mock up the spell circle on our common room floor. It was a good idea, testing it out like that. No point in wasting what little of the silver ash the queen’s servant had dug up from the Catacombs. There was a decent amount of it, but for the number of times I was sure we’d have to try this stupid spell, it probably wasn’t enough as is.
Fuck, we’re going to have find more. I could feel it in my bones. I might not be prophetic like the weirdo professor with the living ink, but even I sensed that this particular mineral was going to give us trouble.
“Hour One,” I repeated as teased my fingers through the piece of paper and then with a push of energy, actually picked it up. The assistant, the scribe kid, what’s-his-name, widened his eyes in terror as he watched the class list float off the table. Too bad his spirit charm had worn out. Well, too bad for him. Personally, I quite liked picking on the guy. “Historical Studies in Relations to Politics?” I rolled my eyes. “Gag.” Shaking out the page, I continued. “Hour Two: Ghosts and Spirits. Okay, no surprise there.”
Brynn and her handler seemed to be ignoring me, but that was okay. I was used to it. Years spent hiding in the castle’s shadows meant I was well-accustomed to talking to myself. At least now, there was a chance they might be listening. And a chance was all I needed.
“Hour Three: Basic Combat.” A nod of appreciation. I could get down with that class. Brynn was decent in a fight, but she could definitely use some extra training. “Hour Four: Manners and Etiquette?!” I snapped my eyes up from the page and was surprised to see that Brynn was actually looking at me, her gold gaze focused on my amber one, her lip curled up at the corner. I think we were wearing matching expressions of disgust. “What a serious waste of time.”
“Believe me, it is,” the prince said, and I knew for a fact that that was true. I’d seen him attend a number of lessons over the last five years and they were gods-awful. “But it’s a required class for everyone—it’s even on my schedule.”
“Huh.” I quirked a brow and watched as Brynn went back to drawing runes in bread flour. It wasn’t like I hadn’t spent a lot of time admiring her in the past, but … it never got old. Never. That was one of the things that’d surprised me, how often I came back to this girl. Watched her eat, read, talk, laugh, smile, sleep. It was one of my few pleasures in the Otherside. I couldn’t live life, but when I watched her do it … Well, let’s just say it made the whole being dead pill a little easier to swallow. Cursed spirits, if I hadn’t got caught with those gods-damned panties that night, I’d be living like a king in some foreign land, with enough magic to destroy an army.
I knew for a fact that even if Brynn did manage to resurrect me, the queen was never going to let me go. I’d have to escape. Which meant leaving this girl with the bronze skin and the white hair, and wings like ebony.
Fuck Venin’s big hairy nuts.
There was the teeniest, tiniest little chance that I was like, crushing hard on this girl. I snapped my wings together and drew everyone’s attention with the sound. They were small—with a whopping two foot wingspan—but they weren’t totally useless. Even if I couldn’t fly with them, they were sensitive as Hell and felt damn good being sucked. It wasn’t like a dude’s nipples had much more purpose than that anyway, right?
“Lunch Hour—very descriptive—is followed by Hour Five: Spirits and Shadows. Seems redundant, but okay.”
“Do we really need the running commentary?” Elijah of Haversey asked, slouching in a chair and letting his white wings spill across the floor on either side like snow. I scratched one tattooed arm, and then ignored him completely.
“Hour Six: Maths. Wow. Talk about a shitty class schedule. And you guys worked for years to get into this place? What in the fuck were you thinking?”
“There’s no better education on the continent,” the prince said, narrowing his eyes at me, but when he flicked them back to Brynn of Haversey, once again dressed in that short, black, pleated skirt, I wondered if he had ulterior motives. The Royal College uniform was nothing to scoff at. Forcing the students to dress up in it just to pick up their class schedules at the admin office though? Brilliant. Another good excuse for me to stare at long, bronzed legs and powerful calf and thigh muscles …
The prince and his cousin both were glaring at me so I grinned, winked, and then went back to the schedule again.
“Hour Seven—does this thing ever end?—Geography and Culture of Europia?!” I paused and sat back, the paper drifting from my ghostly fingers to land on the floo
r. “Holy crap, this sounds like pure torture! What sort of sane, rational person would subject themselves to five fucking hours a week of Geography and Culture of Europia,” I said, sniffing and straightening my spine as I mimicked a haughty royal accent. “And that’s not even the last class of the day! Hour Eight, Whisperers: General Studies. Talk about a serious yawn-fest. Spend a few weeks with me trolling the city and I’ll teach you more useful information than you’ll learn in an entire year here.”
“Don’t mock a Royal College education until you try it,” Brynn said as she took a step, slipped in some flour, and fell right on her ass with a massive poof of white. The air reeked like sourdough bread as she sneezed and sent more of the powdery dust up in a cloud to coat her black wings. “Flubbing mother flubber son of a blitz!” she cursed as Jasinda helped her to her feet. “Why does this have to be so damn complicated?!”
“Because you’re doing the impossible?” I suggested as I reached down, focused my energy, and grabbed her class list, setting it back on the surface of the table. “Restoring life to spirits long dead. That, and clearly the gods are intent on torturing you.” Brynn cast me a look with raised white brows. “They’d only assign you to nine hours of Hell a day if you had past life sins to make up for.” Her lips quirked into a smile and she shook her head at me. “What? I’m telling the truth.” I paused as she moved over to the couch and flopped down in another explosion of flour. “Okay, so I’m exaggerating slightly: I’m sure lunch will be perfectly acceptable. So eight hours of torture a day then.”
“It’s an honor and privilege to be here,” Jasinda said, tugging on her waning spirit charm and plopping down next to her handler. “The resources at our fingertips …” Her sapphire eyes sparkled as she trailed off.
“Make you want to come?” I finished for her and she scoffed. Fortunately, Brynn chuckled at my stupid joke. “Can … teach you how Brynn bound us all to her in the first place? Because if this resurrection spell is going to take a while, I’d like to be re-bound to the castle for a few week. As dry as that place is, it’s got to be infinitely more interesting than Manners and Etiquette.” It was all a joke, of course. Well, not the part about … gag … Manners and Etiquette, but I really did want to know how I’d been bound to Brynn. After five years stuck in the castle, one night out on All Haunts’ Eve and everything was different.
But it did seem as if my circumstances were changing for the better.
Now, if only I could get another kiss …
It was tough, being in love with someone that I felt I knew even better than myself … and yet, she didn’t know me at all. That’s what I got, for watching from the shadows. Choking back a sigh, I stood up and stretched my arms above my head. It was impossible to miss the way Brynn’s gold eyes traced up the ropy muscles in my arms, taking in the brightly colored ink that traced all the way to my fingertips.
“There’s nothing on that class list about poison,” I said as I adjusted the black bandana tied around my head.
“So?” Brynn asked, her full lips quirking into a smile.
“I’m just saying, it’s worth a person’s time to build up immunities to poison and”—I touched the knives at my waist—“to learn to throw.”
“I’m taking Basic Combat,” she said, but we both knew that class wouldn’t cover the sorts of things I knew.
“So? You’re already devoting a million hours a week to nonsense. Set aside just one or two for me and let me teach you all the worthwhile skills I have under my belt.” My mouth quirked up at one corner. I couldn’t help it. I’d had a lot of sex in my life and I fucking loved it. But Brynn, poor thing, had such a limited repertoire to pull from. I was only trying to help. Well, that and I’d been celibate for five horrible years. Why not kill a whole flock of birds with one stone by convincing her to sleep with me?
“If he managed to break into the royal palace then he probably does have skills worth learning,” Jasinda said as the scribe boy started to sweep up the flour on the floor, looking a tad put out at the chore. God, I hated Amerin nobles. Not that my people were any better: dämon were notorious for their rigid class structures. At least the nobles here didn’t sacrifice their own people—like, literally sacrifice them—to appease the darkest and most corrupt of all the gods.
Leaving home was the best decision I’d ever made, even if I did end up swinging from a rope in the castle courtyard. I wouldn’t have made it past age twelve if I hadn’t gotten the Hell out of there. The god Hellim loved my people, treated them like chosen pets, which made me nervous for Brynn. Being a shadow whisperer, being bound to a god that allowed the sort of behavior I’d witnessed back home … that made me nervous.
“Just so long as you don’t think I’m interested in learning skills on my back,” Brynn said, crossing her arms under her full breasts and making me raise an eyebrow. I reached up and played with the pointed tip of one of my ears.
“Why does everyone always say that? On my back, on her back, on their backs. There are a million ways to have a good time in the bedroom that don’t involve being on one’s back.” I lifted up a hand and started to tick fingers off, one by one. “On all fours.” I paused and gave Brynn a meaningful look. I may or may not have glanced into her room to check on her the other night and seen something that perhaps I shouldn’t have. “On one’s knees, against a wall, in the waters of the bathhouse. The possibilities are endless.”
“And you can keep those possibilities to yourself, thief,” the prince said as I levelled a look on him. As far as nobles went—and especially princes—he wasn’t a bad guy. Really, he wasn’t. But I knew all his secrets, every single one of them. He best remember that. Especially since I intended on competing for his girl and becoming his compeer one day. Maybe. Then perhaps I could stick around and not get murdered by the queen for the second time?
Because although the crown prince of Amerin was a decent person … that didn’t mean his mother was. And I knew that firsthand because I knew all of her secrets, too, something that she wouldn’t soon forget. Really, I doubted I even needed to wait to be resurrected before she tried to have me killed. My gut told me she’d send someone to exorcise me sooner or later.
With the things I knew, I could destroy everything for Everess of Hekkett.
“I’m terrified,” I told Air as I shucked my boots and tossed them onto the floor, running both hands down my face. The last few days had flown by far too quickly—especially with Vexer out of the picture. It frightened me, how much I wanted him back. “Scared completely … shipless.”
“Shipless, huh?” the prince asked with a slight smile, flashing me those slightly pointed teeth of his. “That’s a new one.” He watched me carefully as I shed my clothes and slipped into an eggplant purple nightgown, made of Amerin silk, of course. For just about the hundredth time, I checked to make sure my uniform was pressed and clean and hanging in my wardrobe. Tomorrow was the first day of school, the beginning of orientation week.
I’d managed to avoid the rush of new students by using Air as an excuse. I mean, it was true that we didn’t want anyone to see him, but we were going to eventually have to learn to walk the campus while keeping him hidden anyway. My excuses weren’t going to last forever. In fact, as I moved over to the windowsill and checked Jasinda’s timekeeper, I realized with a fresh burst of anxiety that they weren’t going to last another twelve hours. No, in eleven and a half hours, I’d be seated in a classroom with a few dozen other first-years, soaking the armpits of my uniform with sweat and trying not to puke.
Three years Jas and I had worked to get into this place and now … it was happening, and I wasn’t even going to have Air’s hand to hold to get through it.
“I’m going to miss you tomorrow,” I told him, glancing over my shoulder and pushing back that familiar wave of melancholy. I’d already decided I was going to beat it, that I wasn’t going to let those feelings get the best of me. Still, I couldn’t stop them from rearing their ugly heads every now and again.
/> “You’ll do just fine,” he promised as I surreptitiously checked my uniform pocket for the royal ring. I couldn’t help myself; I’d taken to carrying it with me pretty much wherever I went. That didn’t mean anything though. Nope. Not a darn thing. I was going to wait until Air was alive and breathing again before I made any decisions about marriage. “Now come to bed,” he whispered in low, sultry tones that promised there was a hell of a lot more the prince could show me than just what we did for our dual ‘birthday’ celebration.
The last few nights, I’d been catching up on sleep, taking advantage of having Air in my bed to calm my frantic nerves. That, and yesterday evening, Jasinda had snuck in here to cuddle up with me, the way we used to do when we were kids.
I wasn’t the only one that was nervous about starting our Royal College career.
Of course, that meant Air and I hadn’t had sex since, and my body was not happy about it. Not one bit.
Turning the kerosene lamp down, I crawled on top of the blankets and scooted close to Air, curling up against his side. Being under the blankets with him was not fun because he didn’t have the skill yet to actually keep them on top of his body. They just fell through and ruined the whole illusion that he was still alive.
I didn’t let it bother me though. Instead, I just made sure there was a big, roaring fire in the fireplace, the orange and yellow flames sending dancing shadows across the wall. Speaking of … I reached up and curled my fingers around my double necklaces. I knew almost nothing about my new magic or how to use it. But studying here, I’d find out. Even if Talon thought the classes were ridiculous—yes, some of them were—the Royal College campus had an extensive collection of resources that I could pursue in my own time. If nobody here wanted to teach me about being a shadow whisperer, I could learn on my own.
“Once I’m back, we’ll rule the campus,” Air said, stroking my hair with his fingers. My eyes closed in bliss as I felt his fingertips go from ice-cold … to scalding hot. Touching me in any capacity—sexual or otherwise—seemed to heat him up now.
Spirited: A Reverse Harem Fantasy Romance (The Academy of Spirits and Shadows Book 1) Page 23