by Wendi Wilson
I leaned into Easton and whispered, “Are we in some parallel universe?”
He laughed, responding, “They’re not all so rigid as Tiana and her followers. They know who you are, and what you did. You saved the life of their future king, after all.”
That last part was added with a smirk. He never talked seriously about his future and what was in store for him when his grandfather decided to step away from the throne. I assumed it was because of me and my initial reaction to finding out he was heir to the Sylph throne.
I’d freaked out a little.
I hip-bumped him and he chuckled. When we reached the dance floor, he pulled me into his arms. A soft, slow love song was playing, and I thought I recognized it.
“Is this Titania’s Handmaidens?”
“You know this band?” he asked, his eyes wide.
“Yeah. Shaela played their music for me. I like it.”
As if my speaking her name, Shaela appeared beside us, Charles in tow.
“Hey, guys,” she greeted us. “Is this awesome, or what?”
“It’s beautiful,” I agreed, glancing around at the decorations.
Charles spun Shaela around, sending her flying outward before twirling her back in toward his chest. Then he dipped her backwards, pressing his mouth against her throat before pulling her upright and snuggling her against him.
I giggled at his antics, my laughter fading into a soft smile as I saw the joy written all over my best friend’s face. She was so happy. Just like me.
I looked up at Easton, catching his eyes on me. We stared at each other, nothing but the music between us, as we swayed back and forth to the slow beat of the melody. His aura flashed from pink to yellow and back again before swirling into some mixture of the two.
Then something caught his eye over my shoulder and the color drained from his face. It drained from his aura, too, turning it the bright-white of fear before it darkened into deep blood-red. But I didn’t need to see his aura to tell he was angry. It was written all over his face.
I stiffened, mentally preparing myself for a face-off with Tiana. I was certain she was standing behind me ready to spew venom or share some ill-begotten video footage of me doing something that appeared to be sinister.
Easton’s grip on me tightened, but I pried my hand from his and spun on a heel to face my tormentor. My head cocked to the side in confusion. Tiana was nowhere to be seen.
A man I’d never seen before stalked toward us, his eyes intent on Easton. His white-blonde hair was swept back into a ponytail at his nape, and his light blue eyes shot sparks in our direction. His lips turned up into a snarl as he closed in on us, and I widened my stance, ready to defend myself…and Easton, if need be.
The man ground to a halt, his eyes raking across my hair and wings before focusing on my eyes. He looked angry, and disgusted, and…exactly like Easton. Only older.
Easton’s next words confirmed my suspicions.
“Hello, Father.”
Chapter Seventy-Four
5
“Mind if I steal December for a dance?”
The words came from behind us, and I turned to see Cris standing there, an uncertain look on his face. My eyes widened and I forgot all about Easton’s dad as I took in my own father’s appearance.
He was wearing a tuxedo and looking very dapper, but that’s not what had me spellbound. It was the pair of wings protruding from his back. They were beautiful. Sparkling in the light of the candles scattered around us.
And they were violet.
Easton nudged me toward him and I paused, unsure of what to do. I didn’t want to disappoint my dad, but I also didn’t want to leave Easton alone with his. Before I could decide, Cris grasped my fingers and pulled me away.
Taking me in his arms, he kept a respectable amount of space between us. His back was stiff as he guided me through the steps of the dance. Once I had it down, he relaxed a little.
“Easton will be fine, December. You don’t need to get caught up in the middle of his family feud.”
I decided we could agree to disagree and didn’t respond. I couldn’t let myself get emotional in front of all these people. I was already getting some strange looks for dancing with a teacher. No one knew he was my father, and we needed to keep it that way.
“So, violet, eh?” I said, smiling.
“It’s tradition to wear your wings to these things. It’s a simple Glamour, as you know,” he said between clenched teeth and smiling lips. “And I knew you liked the color.”
“I do,” I agreed, remembering the time we practiced Glamour and he had me change my appearance. I’d turned my wings the exact color his were sporting.
“You look magnificent tonight,” he said.
“Thanks,” I said, blushing. “Shaela loaned me the dress.”
He opened his mouth to respond, but several loud gasps cut him off. We both looked toward the sound as the music suddenly cut off, leaving the room cloaked in a thick silence. A wide berth split open in the sea of students as an older gentleman made his way through the throng.
Hushed whispers followed behind him, but before I could make out what the kids were saying, Cris mumbled, “Robin.”
As I tried to place the name, a screech echoed through the gym as a blur of green shot toward the man. Shaela skidded to a halt in front of him, her eyes wide and glassy with unshed tears.
“Grandfather?” she said, and her voice cracked with emotion.
“Shaela, my dearest granddaughter,” the man said, making a show of taking her hand and placing a chaste kiss upon it. “This meeting has been a long-time coming.”
Then his eyes flicked toward me and narrowed as he straightened to his full height. Keeping Shaela’s hand in his, he sauntered toward me and Cris. He stopped in front of us, his eyes perusing Cris’s violet wings with an arched brow.
Could he see through my dad’s Glamour?
“Grandfather, I’d like you to meet my roommate and best friend, December,” Shaela said. “December, this is my grandfather, Robin Goodman.”
It was a little surreal that Shaela was introducing me to her grandfather like he was beloved relative when, as far as I knew, it was the first time she’d ever met him.
His eyes left Cris and moved over me, taking in my hair, my wings, my dress. His expression was pleasant enough, but something just under the surface sent chills racing down my spine. I just couldn’t put my finger on what it was.
“So good to finally meet you, December,” he said, holding out a palm.
I placed my hand in his, and suppressed a shudder as he pressed his lips to the back of it in the same way he’d done Shaela’s. He straightened, giving me a polite smile. I tried to return it, but I was sure it came across slightly maniacal.
I didn’t know why I was having such an intense reaction to him. I’d just met him, and he’d been extremely polite. Almost too polite. It seemed forced, and only skin-deep. My gut told me something was off.
His eyes snapped to my father and something flickered in their greenish-blue depths. His teal wings quivered as he stuck out a hand toward Cris.
“I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure. Robin Goodman,” he said, his hand hanging in the air as he waited for my dad to take it.
“Crispin Jonas,” he replied, taking Robin’s hand and giving it a firm shake. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Goodman.”
“Please,” Robin said, with a jovial laugh, “call me Puck.”
“Puck,” my father repeated with a respectful nod.
“Now that we’ve properly met,” Puck said, clapping his hands together with a loud pop, “I’m afraid the time has come to end this farce you’ve been propagating.”
“I’m sorry?” Cris asked, confusion lacing his voice.
“No apologies necessary,” Puck said, one side of his mouth lifting into a smirk.
“What are you talking about, Grandfather?” Shaela cut in, her face lined with worry.
I was confused, but at the same time, f
illed with dread. My heart began to race as I looked around at the crowd forming around us. Puck had every eye in the place trained on him, waiting for his next words. I searched the sea of faces for Easton, but I couldn’t find him. Or his father.
“What I’m talking about is this shoddy display of Glamour that has you all fooled.”
I sucked in a sharp breath. Cris’s gasp echoed mine, his hot breath huffing against the back of my neck. He grasped my elbow and tried to pull me behind him, but I held fast, keeping my body between him and Puck.
But it was no use.
Puck lifted a hand and snapped his fingers. Gasps of horror echoed through the room, followed by a murmuring that increased in volume by leaps and bounds. Shaela looked at Cris with pain in her eyes and I turned to see what caused it.
Black wings. Black hair. Black eyes.
“Oh, no,” I mouthed, but no sound came out.
“I am sorry to be one to do this,” Puck said, projecting his voice so that every ear in the gym would hear it, “but the Sylphids at this school deserve to know who is teaching them. They deserve to know what he is.”
Shouts of agreement came from the back, and Tiana’s bitter laugh grated on my ears. Cris was my mentor. He was important to me, so his downfall filled her with satisfaction. What it did to him didn’t matter. Especially now that everyone knew he was a Zephyr.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, but Cris shook his head and refocused on Puck.
“Why are you doing this?” he asked.
“I already told you. The students of this school need to know who’s instructing them. They need the truth, and you’ve given them nothing but lies.” His eyes moved to me, narrowing further. “But he’s not the only one who has lied, now is he?”
I sucked in a sharp breath as the blood pumping through my veins froze. He couldn’t know, could he? My eyes snapped to Shaela and she moved her head, just a centimeter or two, in a negative motion. She didn’t tell him anything. She’d never even spoken to him, as far as I knew. Charles hovered just behind her, his handsome face lined with worry.
“This Zephyr,” Puck called out, pointing an accusing finger at Cris, “has had you all duped for months. There is no telling what dark ideas he’s planted into your heads. What Sylphid secrets he’s shared with his brethren.” He paused for a moment, letting the silence hang like a shroud around him before adding, “What he’s told his mother, Sebille, queen of the Zephyrs.”
My magic rose up inside me as he shouted those words. Cries of fear and disbelief echoed around me, but all I saw was Puck. He was a threat to my father, and my magic begged to be released, to wreak havoc across his lanky frame. To wipe that damned smirk off his arrogant face.
Before I could let it loose to do its worst, Shaela jumped in front of him. I stumbled back a step, her sudden appearance shocking me out of the magical trance I’d been falling into.
“Please, D. He’s my grandfather,” she uttered.
I swallowed hard and gave her a nod, taking another step back. The noise of the crowd rushed back in, flooding my ears with nasty words and jeering taunts. The students had completely turned on Cris, lambasting him for being a Zephyr, forgetting everything they’d learned about not judging other faeries by the color of their wings. Of course, Cris was the one who’d taught them that.
“I can appreciate your loyalty to him, December,” Puck said in a booming voice, causing the room to fall into silence once more. “I’d expect nothing less. He is, after all…”
Oh no. No, no, no.
“your father.”
Chapter Seventy-Five
6
Mayhem. Pure bedlam.
Cris grabbed me around the waist and pulled me across the room, through the doors, and out into the hall, away from the chaos the gym had become. I must have been in shock, because I didn’t question where we were going when he grabbed my wrist and ran, dragging me along behind him.
We didn’t stop until we were in his office, the door closed and locked behind us. Only then did I remember to breathe, and those breaths came out shaky and filled with fear.
“What just happened?” I croaked out.
“This is bad.”
It was the understatement of the year. Robin Goodman just outed him as a Zephyr, as Sebille’s son. And as my father. It was way worse than bad.
“What are we going to do?” I asked, dread rushing through me with every beat of my heart. “Everyone heard him.”
“I’ll keep you safe, December.”
“I’m not worried about me,” I snapped with a slash of my hand. “I’ll be fine. It’s you that I’m scared for. What if they fire you? What if they make you leave?”
Me. That’s what I really meant. What if they make him leave me? I only just found him. I couldn’t lose him.
“Sebille, herself, couldn’t drag me away. Don’t worry. Finn already knows the truth and his is the only opinion that matters.”
“But the students…their parents…”
He placed a warm hand on my shoulder and squeezed it.
“Don’t worry, December. It will all work out in the end.”
Before I could respond, a loud pounding echoed around us. I flinched and folded in on myself as shivers wracked my body. The lynch mob had arrived.
“December! Let me in!”
I rushed forward at the sound of Easton’s voice. I unlocked the door and it swung open, Easton’s arms swallowing me before I could even take another breath. I heard the door close and lock again, but I couldn’t see anything through the tears pouring from my eyes.
“I’m sorry,” Easton murmured into my hair. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there. My dad…he pulled me away before Puck showed up. Charles found me and told me what happened. I had no idea, D.”
“It’s okay,” I choked out past the lump in my throat. “I’m okay.” I pulled away, forcing the tears back and looked into Easton’s eyes. “Are you okay? Your dad looked…stern.”
He barked out a cynical laugh at my choice of words before pulling me back against his chest.
“My dad is an asshole, but I can handle him. It’s you I’m worried about.”
“I’ll be fine,” I assured him, my words muffled against his dress shirt. “I always am.”
“Things may be a little rough for her for a while,” Cris’s voice called out from behind me. “While the students have accepted her Zephyr half, being the grandchild of Sebille is a whole other matter.”
I pulled away from Easton, turning in his arms to face my father. I gave him a reassuring smile as I wiped a stray tear from my cheek and sniffed.
“I’ll get through it,” I said. “I have you, Easton, Shaela, and Charles. I won’t be alone.”
“Do you think you’ll be able to stay here?” Easton asked, voicing the same question I’d asked earlier.
“Finn already knows everything,” Cris said. “Nothing has changed, other than everyone else knowing. I can’t see it being a problem.”
“Unless parents start pulling their children out of the school to keep them away from you,” Easton argued.
“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it,” Cris replied. “For now, I think one of us should be with December at all times. We can’t leave her alone until we know there will be no retaliation.”
“I can take care of myself, you know,” I said.
My argument was weak with no conviction behind it. I could take care of myself. My magic was strong enough. But I didn’t want to be alone, so I didn’t put up much of a fight when they insisted.
“Where’s Shaela now?” I asked.
“Charles said she left with Puck. I’m guessing she wanted to find out why he’s here and why he felt the need to do what he did.”
“Because he likes to cause trouble,” Cris said. “He enjoys conflict and drama.”
“Do you know him?” I asked.
“Not personally, no. But I’ve heard the stories. He’s famous, even in the Zephyr community.”
“How
did he know who you are? That Sebille is your mother and December is your daughter?” Easton asked.
“That, I do not know. But I’m going to find out,” Cris swore, the deep timbre of his voice making the words sound like an oath of honor.
“We’re going to figure it out,” Easton corrected him.
“Together,” I added.
I just hoped it wouldn’t be too little, too late.
“Where have you been?”
I flinched at the imperious tone of my voice, but I didn’t apologize. It was the middle of the night, and I’d been up pacing our room for hours, waiting for Shaela to show up. I’d almost made myself sick with worry.
“Sorry,” Shaela said, sounding tired. “I was with my grandfather, trying to find out what the hell is going on and why he…did what he did.”
That last part was mumbled under her breath, like she was embarrassed by his actions. She might as well have called a spade a spade—he blew up my life.
“Hey,” I said, my voice softer, “I’m sorry I jumped down your throat. I was worried. Robin has proven himself to be a wild card, and you were gone for what felt like forever.”
“He would never hurt me,” she said in a clipped tone. “He’s my grandfather.”
“Okay,” I backpedaled, holding up my palms in supplication, “sorry.”
Her body deflated, and she plopped down on her bed. She scrubbed a hand across her eyes before refocusing on me.
“No, I’m sorry. I think I’m just tired, and it’s making me bitchy. I’ve been arguing with Grandfather all night, and it’s exhausting. That man can outwit and out-talk anyone.”
“What did he say?” I asked, almost afraid to know the answer.
She sighed, a long, drawn-out sound that lasted several seconds.
“He was doing what he thought was right. The students and their parents needed to know that the heir to the Zephyr throne was in their midst, molding their young minds, influencing them unduly.”