by Wendi Wilson
The office looked a lot like Rowan’s, and the similarities sent stabs of pain through my chest. There was a large hearth with a cheery fire flickering inside, but instead of a large couch, there were two comfortable-looking chairs.
I tore my eyes away from them and focused on Finn. I’d found Rowan on that couch and, though the furniture was different in Finn’s office, the location was the same. I didn’t know if I’d ever be able to sit before a roaring fire again.
I slid into a high-backed chair in front of Finn’s desk, attempting not to squirm as he regarded me silently. Though I dreaded finding out what he wanted with me, I wished he would break the tense silence and get it over with.
“December, look at me,” he said finally, his voice gentle, yet firm.
I tore my eyes from the wood grain of his desk, met his eyes for one second then dropped my gaze back down. A disheartened sigh echoed through the room. I don’t know what he expected of me. I was broken.
“You are not broken.”
His words hit me hard, and I jolted, my eyes flying up to meet his gray gaze with surprise. His eyelids crinkled a little at the corners, the only indication that he was happy to have gotten a reaction out of me. I cocked my head at him, my brow furrowing.
“Can you read minds?” I asked.
“In a way,” he said. “Emotions are a powerful force within a person, and in most cases, I can taste those emotions. I know when people are happy, excited, angry, or sad. I know when they feel guilty, or are lying. Every feeling has a unique flavor. And if the emotion is strong enough, if they really feel it in their flesh and their bones, I can hear it. It forms a language of its own and tells me its name.”
“So, my guilt and grief told you I’m broken?” I asked, flinching at the disrespectful tone of my voice. He didn’t deserve that.
“No,” he said, ignoring my cynicism. “Your guilt and grief told me you think you’re broken. I’m telling you you’re not. Heartbroken, maybe, but all hearts heal with time.”
I opened my mouth to argue, to tell him that I didn’t want my heart to heal. That I deserved to wallow in my despair forever for the way I treated Rowan right before I lost him. But he cut me off with a wave of his hand.
“Stop, December,” he said, his voice firm. Commanding. “You are behaving like a child.”
I sucked in a sharp breath, feeling the color drain from my face before rushing back in with a wave of heat. I hadn’t had a lot of interactions with Finn, but he’d always been kind. His reprimand caught me off guard, making my heart pound in my chest for the first time in weeks.
“Rowan Dobbs was a great Sylphid. One of the greatest. I’ve known him for over four-hundred years, yet I know my pain will eventually ebb. Time will heal. You must accept his death and move on with your life.”
“I don’t know if I can,” I mumbled.
He stared at me thoughtfully for a moment, his gray gaze looking into my very soul.
“Tell me why you feel so guilty.”
I swallowed thickly, gulping against the lump in my throat before saying, “I was with him before he died. He was trying to help me, and I was frustrated with my own shortcomings. I took it out on him. Said awful things to him. I left, and when I went back to apologize, he was gone.”
My voice cracked on the last word as tears rolled down my cheeks. My heart broke open all over again, its rock-hard shell crumbling to expose the bruised surface underneath.
“Do you think he was hurt by your words? That he died feeling the sting of your ire and that you must pay penance for that for the rest of your life?”
Hearing Finn say it in that way, in that mocking tone, made me angry. I pinched my lips together, refusing to take the bait. I knew he was trying to get a reaction out of me, to make me hash it out so that I’d feel better, but that wasn’t going to happen. I didn’t want to feel better.
“I was there that night, you know.”
His soft words caught my attention, my spine stiffening. “What do you mean?”
“I was out in the hall. I heard your words. I saw you run off in the other direction.”
“You did?” I whispered.
He nodded. “And had I known that you were wallowing in guilt because of it, we would have had this conversation a lot sooner.”
He rose from his chair and shuffled around the desk, taking the seat next to mine. Reaching over, he picked up one of my hands and wrapped it in both of his.
“I realize now that I failed you, December. I knew you’d been grieving, and I allowed you to have that time. I excused you from your classes, encouraged your friends to give you time and space. Now, I see that was a mistake. I should have spoken with you earlier.
“I talked to Rowan when you left. He told me what happened and we had a good laugh over the fiery moods of the young. He was not hurt by your angry words, dear. He knew you’d come back. We even made a wager over whether it would be one hour or two.”
“A wager?” I asked, incredulous.
He nodded. “We’ve spent the last few hundred years molding young Sylphs, teaching them to harness their gifts. Did you think no one else had trouble reining in their powers? That you were the only one who’d ever become frustrated and lashed out at one of us?” He paused for a moment, his grip tightening on my hand. “Do not get me wrong, December. Rowan loved you. He knew you were special from the very moment he met you. Did you know you were the first student he’d mentored in a hundred and fifty years?”
Shaela had said something about that. That Rowan offering to mentor me meant I was special.
“Look into my eyes, December,” Finn said. When I complied, he continued, “You have nothing to feel guilty for. Rowan knew you didn’t mean what you said. He believed in you. He was proud to be your mentor.”
The truth of his words shone in his eyes, forcing me to believe him. And just like magic, the heavy blanket of guilt that had been smothering me lifted, allowing me to breathe for the first time in weeks. Finn smiled.
“There she is,” he said, as if he saw the real me break free from the prison I’d locked myself in. He released my hand and stood, moving back around his desk to sit behind it, saying, “Now that we have cleared that up, we must discuss the real reason I asked you to come here.”
“Real reason?” I asked.
A grave expression passed over his face and he folded his hands on the desk in front of him. I sat up a little straighter, bracing myself for whatever he was about to say.
But all the bracing in the world wouldn’t soften the impact of his next words.
“Rowan Dobbs didn’t die of natural causes,” he said. “He was murdered.”
Shock rippled through me and I visibly started to shake.
“Wh-what?” I stuttered.
“Rowan liked to have a drink in the evenings and kept a bottle of brandy in his office. He was drinking some of it when I entered the room after you left that night. In fact, he offered me a glass, but I declined. Don’t have a taste for the stuff.”
The wheels of my mind turned and twisted the information around and around, trying to make sense of it. I’d seen him drinking it before I ran out. Where was he going with this? When I didn’t voice the question out loud, Finn continued.
“When he was found dead,” he said, giving me a sad smile, “I had my suspicions and ordered the brandy tested. Unfortunately, my suspicions were correct. It had been poisoned. Had I accepted his offer, I would be dead, too.”
“You don’t think that I—”
“Of course not, dear. The brandy contained what humans refer to as Lox. While it gives them a euphoric feeling, it is toxic to Sylphs.”
“How is that possible?” I asked. “It’s just liquid oxygen, right?”
“The Zephyrs spread that story for the benefit of the humans. Though they know the Zephyrs have magic, they were much quicker to embrace a scientific explanation. A “liquid oxygen” that healed the planet. It is not. It is simply water infused with Zephyr magic that makes h
umans feel enraptured. But that magic is poisonous to Sylphs.”
“Why is it poisonous?” I asked. “And how did it get into Rowan’s brandy?”
“Zephyr magic and Sylphid magic are like opposite sides of the same coin. When concentrated into its pure physical form, our magic is as dangerous to them as theirs is to us. It keeps the balance, so that no race becomes too powerful. We keep each other in check.
“As I’m sure you’ve heard, a war is brewing because of the Zephyrs actions toward the humans. In an agreement as old as time itself, the Fae pledged to stay out of human affairs, ensuring that they made their own decisions and faced the consequences of those decisions. That they kept their free will, at all costs. The Sylphids upheld our end of the bargain. It’s why we never stepped in to help the humans.”
“But the Zephyrs set us up for failure, then came in to take over,” I said.
“Yes. And now, they are attempting to weaken the Sylphs by murdering the strongest of us. I’ve watched the video footage. No one went into Rowan’s office to taint the brandy. Which means the Lox was added before it was delivered to him.”
“How could they know which bottle was coming to him? Or that he even drank brandy?”
“That, I do not know.”
“Maybe they didn’t,” I said, turning thoughtful.
“What do you mean?” Finn asked.
“What if they added Lox to all liquor? Humans wouldn’t know the difference between the effects of the alcohol and Lox, right? They’d just think they were drunk. Maybe Rowan wasn’t the target, at least not specifically. Maybe it was a blanket attempt. Any Sylph who drinks alcohol would be dead.”
Finn stood up, grabbing a small box from his desk. He pressed a button on the side and held it to his mouth.
“Students and faculty,” he said, and his voice echoed all around me. “By order of the king, any and all alcoholic beverages must be brought to my office immediately.”
He dropped back into his seat with a sigh. He dropped the voice amplification box on the desktop and rubbed a hand against his eyes.
“How do you know everyone will turn it in? Won’t the students fear punishment for having it?”
He looked at me, his face drawn and tired, saying, “No Sylph can resist an order from the king, December. It’s part of our magical makeup. They have to obey when I say the words.”
Good to know.
Chapter Thirty
30
“I’m sorry.”
I knew the words were trite, but I felt their truth down to my soul. Shaela must have felt it, too, because as soon as they passed my lips, she rushed forward and slammed into me. Her momentum took us over onto the bed that was, thankfully, behind me. I hugged her tight, my laughter pealing out through my tears.
“Thanks for not giving up on me,” I whispered once our laughter died off.
“Never,” she said. “I didn’t even consider it. I knew you’d come around, eventually.”
We sat up on the bed facing each other, and I recounted my conversation with Finn. Shaela’s face grew horrified when I revealed that Rowan had been murdered and the means the Zephyrs used.
“So that’s why the order to hand over any and all alcohol?” she asked.
I nodded. “After he settled that, he told me something else. One of his spies overheard a conversation between a couple of young Zephyrs. They’re planning something. The spy didn’t hear any details, other than the fact that it involves Sebille…and Oberon Academy.”
“The Zephyr queen?” she gasped.
“Yeah,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “Shaela, I’m scared.”
“Well, don’t be,” she said. “The brightest and most talented Sylphs in the world are here, including our king. Anything Sebille tries is bound to fail.”
“She killed Rowan.”
Her face drooped, and she swallowed hard before forcing a smile.
“Well, now we’re prepared, right? We know she’s planning something and we won’t be caught unawares again.”
I hoped she was right. I didn’t think I could handle losing someone else I cared about. Speaking of…
“I should go find Easton,” I said. “We’re good, right?”
She smiled, leaning forward to wrap me in another hug, saying “We’re good.”
I climbed from the bed and walked to the door. I pulled it open, then turned back to face my friend. She smiled at me, arching an eyebrow.
“Thanks, Shaela. You’re the best friend a girl could ask for.”
“Damned straight, I am,” she said, smirking. “Now, go get the guy. I expect a full report later.”
I placed two fingers against my brow and gave her a salute before turning to walk through the door. I pulled it closed behind me and paused, garnering my courage. I had more amends to make, and I was sure things with Easton were going to be a lot harder than they were with Shaela.
I just hoped I could win him over in the end.
I made my way to the boys’ dormitory wing, blushing to my roots after having to inquire on the whereabouts of Easton’s room. After a few snickers and knowing looks, the juvenile boys pointed the way. It wasn’t until I was down the hall that I realized the boys’ doors had nameplates on them just like the girls’. I could have saved myself the embarrassment and just found the room myself.
The last door on the left was the one I was looking for. The nameplate just had Easton’s name on it, but I already knew he didn’t have a roommate. It had come up during one of our many conversations during our daily jogs in the gym.
I just hoped he was inside. I brushed my hands down my shirt, attempting to smooth some of the wrinkles. I wish I’d thought to change into some fresh clothes and maybe ran a brush through my hair before searching Easton out.
I knocked on the door before I lost my nerve and heard his deep voice call out for me to enter. Taking a fortifying breath, I grabbed the knob and twisted it, pushing the door open. I spotted Easton lying on his bed, a book propped against his chest, with a surprised look on his face.
“December,” he said, but I rushed in and shut the door behind me, leaning back against it before he could order me to leave.
“Before you say anything,” I said, “please let me talk. I have some things to say and I really hope you’ll hear me out.”
Keeping his expression blank, he nodded and plucked the book from his chest. Sitting up, he placed a slip of paper inside to mark his place and set it down on his nightstand. Then he crossed his arms over his chest and stared at me.
I cleared my throat, which had suddenly decided to close up. It wasn’t lost on me that I was alone with Easton Oberon, in his bedroom, and he was looking sexy as hell in a white t-shirt and some loose shorts. My tongue darted out to lick my lips and a nerve ticked by his left eye.
I took that as a good sign and started to talk.
“I realize that I’ve been awful these last two weeks. I shut you out—I shut everyone out—and I shouldn’t have done that. I think…I think it was just easier to block out all my feelings for everyone. I had so much guilt weighing me down. I didn’t handle it very well—”
“You didn’t handle it at all,” he interjected.
“You’re right. I didn’t. I thought Rowan died thinking I hated him, and I couldn’t take it.”
Tears stung at the corners of my eyes, but I pushed them back. I was not going to give myself that advantage, if seeing a girl crying was even one of Easton’s soft spots. I wasn’t sure, but I didn’t want to take that chance. If he was going to forgive me, then I wanted it to be all his choice.
“What are you thinking right now?” he asked. “Your colors are changing so rapidly that I can’t get a feel for what’s going on in your head.”
I smiled. “I was trying not to cry. I don’t want my tears to influence your decision.”
“My decision about what?”
“Your decision about whether or not to forgive me and get back what we had,” I said.
&
nbsp; In a blink, he was off the bed and looming over me, his hands braced on the door on either side of my head. My breath hitched in my throat as his blue eyes bored into mine, the intensity shining in their depths nearly overwhelming me.
“There’s nothing to forgive,” he whispered, his breath brushing against my lips. “I was angry earlier, but that was my problem, not yours. I just missed my girlfriend, and I didn’t handle it very well. I’m sorry, December.”
“Girlfriend?” I asked, my heart racing.
“That’s all you got out of that heartfelt apology?” he asked, grinning. He leaned in even closer, and his lips brushed against mine as he said, “Yes, girlfriend.”
Then his mouth crashed down and all coherent thoughts fled my mind. My hands slid up to lock behind his neck and he pushed in closer, sandwiching me between his chest and the door behind me. His fingers wove into my hair, turning my head to the side so he could deepen the kiss.
Before I knew what was happening, Easton bent his legs and, gripping the backs of my thighs, hoisted me up. My legs went around his waist, locking at the ankles. Without breaking our kiss, he turned and carried me over to the bed. Spinning around, he dropped onto his back, taking me with him.
When we landed, I was lying on top of him, my knees straddling his hips. I panicked, and he must have sensed it, because he rolled to his side, taking me with him so we lay facing each other.
“Too much?” he asked, brushing his lips softly against mine.
“Sorry,” I started to say, but he cut me off with another kiss.
“Never apologize for that, December. I don’t want you to feel like you have to do something because I want it. We go at your pace, or not at all.”
“But—”
“Nope,” he said, cutting me off again. “No arguments. I know you haven’t done this kind of thing before and I don’t want to push you.”
“And you have?”
I regretted the question immediately. I had no desire to know what his experience level was, or who it was with.