by Wendi Wilson
“But—”
“Nope,” I interrupted, leaning back down onto his chest. “No buts. Besides, you have me behind you, and I’m about as badass as they come.”
My joke made him laugh, and I felt some of the tension ease out of his body. I had to get through to him, because in my eyes, there was no one better to take over for Finn…whether temporarily or permanently. No one. Especially not Alwyn Jameson.
“Thank you, December,” he mumbled after several moments of silence.
His voice was groggy, like he was on the verge of dozing off. I wrapped my arm around him and pressed my ear against his chest. I listened to his heartbeat as it slowed and his breathing softened into a steady rhythm.
“I love you,” he murmured.
“I love you, too,” I whispered back. “So much.”
My own eyelids grew heavy and I gave myself up to the insistent pull of sleep. I dreamed of feathers and crowns and the feel of Easton’s lips on my skin.
Wrapped in his arms, it was the best sleep I’d had since the morning I found out Finn was unconscious and this whole ordeal began. I woke up alone, but it was okay. I knew Easton had things to attend to.
I just hoped he slept as well as I did and got some much-needed rest.
And I hoped I got through to him. That he realized he was not only qualified to serve as king, he deserved it. He’d been training for it his whole life and would be a fair and just king. He just needed to believe in himself.
Because if he didn’t and decided to pass the crown to his father…
Finn needed to wake up. Soon.
Chapter One Hundred Twelve
14
“So, if Sebille were to attack today, bringing thousands of Zephyrs with her to dominate us and take this place, what would you do?”
Ms. Jeannie had the entire gym class gathered around her as she posed the question. It was Monday, and the weekend had dragged on after my night with Easton. I was ready to expend some energy, so this lecture or conversation or whatever it was had me dancing from foot to foot in agitation.
My other classes were for talking. This was gym. I was ready to hit something.
“We’d step back and let December Thorne kick her ass,” someone called out.
My head swiveled in the direction of the voice, but with all eyes now trained on me, I couldn’t figure out who’d spoken. I felt my face heat up with embarrassment. I wasn’t used to being liked by my classmates, much less considered some kind of hero.
In that moment, I missed having Easton beside me more than ever.
“While Miss Thorne is truly a force to be reckoned with, we cannot depend solely on her to win an entire war for us. We need to be ready. And with that, I need you to move to the mats and partner up. Today, we’ll be fighting with magic as well as our hands. Keep it nonlethal, people. December, you’re with me.”
Relief warred with panic inside me. Relief that Ms. Jeannie took it upon herself to partner up with me since Easton wasn’t there. Panic that she was going to spar with me, because she was an unknown. Though she’d been my teacher for months, she usually only instructed and rarely demonstrated. I had no idea what she was capable of.
And that made me nervous.
I walked to an open area in the far corner and turned to find her right behind me. She was smiling, and the expression seemed genuine, so I smiled back. We stretched our limbs and rolled our shoulders, then took up position several feet from each other.
“I almost paired you up with Miss Avery,” she said, her smile turning mischievous, “but you looked antsy, like you really needed to work out some tension, and decided against it. While I believe that princess needs to be taken down a notch or two, I don’t want her seriously hurt. Not in my class.”
I chuckled, finding myself suddenly really liking my instructor. I’d never disliked her, but she’d always just kind of been there in the background. Plus, my focus had been entirely on besting Easton Oberon in this class.
“So, let’s see what you’ve got,” she called out, crouching into a defensive stance.
I thought about the ice spear I’d made the week before with Grandfather, but decided against it. If it took too long or I couldn’t do it, Ms. Jeannie would be all over me before I could defend myself. I needed something to take her down, and quickly.
An idea formed in my mind and I ran with it, hoping it would be enough.
I called to fire, forming a blue-green ball of flames in my palm. I saw Ms. Jeannie smirk as she stalked forward, keeping her knees bent and her hands out in front of her. I steadied my breathing, keeping my face blank until she was close enough for my plan to work.
She took another step forward and I conjured water, making the fireball in my hand hiss. The result was a large poof of steam, which I quickly directed toward her face with a gust of wind. Her eyes closed against the hot steam and she took a step back.
Using her momentary blindness, I popped out my wings and zoomed toward her, landing a kick to her chest before her eyes even opened. She stumbled back a few more steps and, as the steam dissipated, I saw her smile. It was full of pride.
“Very good, December. I see teaming you up with Mr. Oberon was not a mistake, after all.”
“You thought it might be?” I asked, flapping my wings to circle around her.
She shrugged. “When you two became an item, I was a little worried you’d be more concerned with making out with each other than sparring.”
I blushed at her candid words and a split-second later she was right in front of me, a smile of satisfaction on her face. I bolted up toward the ceiling, silently chastising myself for letting her distract me, which was the point of all that talk of “making out.” I zoomed to the right, circling around until we were back to facing each other. My feet touched the floor and I popped my wings back in as I widened my stance.
I called to wind, swirling it around me until one of my signature tornadoes formed. I built up the energy higher and higher, sending it away from me and toward my teacher.
Ms. Jeannie yawned. She actually yawned, patting her hand against her mouth for good measure.
As the tornado neared her, she pushed her hands toward me with a loud growl. A gale-force wind followed the direction of her hands, and my twister changed direction and headed back toward me. I sucked my bottom lip between my teeth and tried to redirect it back to her, but it was no use.
Her control of air was impressive.
I let go of air, and the cyclone vanished. Ms. Jeannie smirked at me, pulling her blonde hair into a high ponytail and tying it with a ribbon.
“Let’s see what you do with this,” she said, moving her hands like she was conducting a symphony.
Air rushed past me, but not in a steady gust and not in a single direction. It swished over my right shoulder, down my back, and around my waist. Round and round, it circled, cinching tighter and tighter until the pressure on my ribs was nearly unbearable.
I stared at Ms. Jeannie with wide eyes as she jerked one hand back over her shoulder. The tug around my waist was instantaneous, and I stumbled forward.
“What the…” I muttered, my hand searching for some way to relieve the pressure.
But I couldn’t. Nothing held me but air.
“Think, December,” I whispered when I was jerked forward again.
I dug my heels in and leaned back. I eyed Ms. Jeannie and the motion of her hands, moving back and forth over each other like she was pulling on an invisible rope.
Air feeds fire.
The words tickled my brain, an idea quickly forming. Without thinking about it too hard, I called to the flames, which sparked to life in my open palm. My lips curved upward at the sight, and I locked eyes with my opponent.
Knowing she’d expect me to throw it at her, and that she’d be prepared for that, I cocked back my arm as if that was exactly what I planned to do. She threw up an arm, so only one hand still held her lasso of air.
I brought the fire forward and held it in the
stream of air flowing from my torso to her hand. The flames soared toward her faster than she could react, and she released her rope of air as the fire singed her hand. The pressure around me evaporated, and I bent at the waist to catch my breath.
Once I’d recovered, I looked up at Ms. Jeannie, who was nodding in satisfaction as she shook her hand to relieve the sting.
“Good thinking,” she said.
“You have to teach me that trick,” I replied, grinning at her.
Her smile made the skin around her eyes crinkle as she nodded. Settling back into a wide-legged stance, she stretched out an arm and motioned me forward. The excitement in her eyes said come and get me as much as the movement of her fingers.
I got the distinct feeling she missed this. That teaching gym class didn’t even compare to the thrill of magical combat.
My choices in elemental weapons scrolled through my mind—wind, fire, earth, water—but it kept coming back to that ice spear I’d made with Grandfather. If I wanted to impress Ms. Jeannie, I had a feeling that would do it.
I’d only created it once, and I was seriously pissed at the time. I wasn’t angry now and I doubted I could manifest it, but it was worth a shot to see the look on my instructor’s face. I took a few deep breaths, then held my hand out to my side.
As I called to water, I remembered my conjuring lessons with my Dad. At the time, I’d created things like chocolate bars and notebook paper…this couldn’t be that different, could it?
It has to be easier than conjuring a chair. It’s just frozen water.
I willed the water to freeze as I imagined a short spear with a dull edge. If it worked, I didn’t want to actually kill Ms. Jeannie.
Just scare her.
My lips turned up at the corners as I imagined her shock. My fingers began to sting and I looked from her face to my hand, my own eyes widening. Water, so cold it burned, twisted and turned and swirled over my palm.
The speed of the churning water slowed to a stop, becoming a frozen spike with a dull tip, just as I’d imagined. The heat of pleasure rushed through me at my accomplishment.
My eyes flicked up to Ms. Jeannie, who just stared at my weapon with her mouth hanging open. Not wasting another moment, I reared back and flung it in her direction. It spun end over end as she watched it fly toward her, shock making her reflexes evaporate.
I opened my mouth to shout at her to move, but she seemed to come to her senses and ducked out of the way at the last second. My ice spear shattered against the wall behind her. Ms. Jeannie watched the shards fall to the floor before whirling back around and stalking toward me.
“Who taught you how to do that?”
She didn’t sound angry, exactly. Her expression was a mixture of disbelief and awe and maybe a little irritation.
“Puck,” I answered. “Are you mad at me? You told me to show you what I could do.”
“No, I’m not mad,” she said, smoothing out her expression. “That was amazing. I guess I’m just a little jealous that I can’t do it.”
She chuckled, making the tension drain out of me. I’d thought for the briefest of moments that my grandfather had taught some kind of forbidden magic that could get me in deep trouble.
I wouldn’t put it past the old trickster.
I smiled at Ms. Jeannie and asked “Have you ever tried?”
She shook her head, then gave me an enthusiastic yes when I offered to show her how I did it. We spent the rest of the hour working on it, and while she couldn’t quite make it happen, it got easier for me every time I demonstrated.
Easier and faster.
By the end of class, I was conjuring a solid spear within ten seconds. And I knew if I kept practicing, I could shave that time down.
“Thanks, Grandpa,” I mumbled as I made my way to the locker room, my confidence at an all-time high.
I couldn’t wait to see him again, to show him how I’d progressed. He was going to be so proud of me. I smiled until my cheeks hurt, imagining his reaction.
It was going to be awesome.
Chapter One Hundred Thirteen
15
“I have to leave.”
My mouth snapped shut at those four little words. I’d been about to tell Grandfather about gym class, but all thoughts of wind lassos and ice spears flew from my head as the implication of his words hit me.
“Sebille?” I asked, clearing my throat after my voice cracked on the word.
“I’ve been summoned,” he confirmed.
We were in his suite, alone for the moment as we waited for the others to arrive. I lunged for him, wrapping my arms around his middle and squeezing tight.
“You’ll be careful, won’t you?” I mumbled against his chest.
He returned my hug for a brief moment before moving his hands to my shoulders and pushing me back so I could see his face.
“I’ll be fine,” he promised. “I’ve survived life with Sebille for many, many years, and as far as she’s concerned, nothing has changed. I’m her inside man. She needs me, especially now that that little guttersnipe Aubrey has been exposed and ousted.”
A knock on the door interrupted us and I took a step back, allowing him to pass by to go answer it. I swiped at my eyes, clearing away the beginnings of tears that tried to form there. Puck swung open the door and my family filed inside.
Mom was first, kissing his cheek as she passed, followed by Dad, who simply nodded in greeting. Shaela was next, then Charles. Puck started to close the door and I swallowed my disappointment. Someone was missing. Someone important.
A hand slapped against the wood and the door stopped, remaining slightly ajar. Easton slipped through the opening, and just the sight of him made my heart race.
“Sorry I’m late,” he huffed, and I realized he was breathing hard. “I had to lose Alwyn. He’s a wily bastard, and I ended up having to literally run away from him.”
He ended his explanation with a grin, which made me laugh. My humor was quickly smothered by shame as I remembered why we were all gathered there.
My grandfather was headed back into the city where no Sylph was safe. Particularly a double agent who must lie to the queen every time he opened his mouth.
I remained silent, watching the others’ expressions as Puck caught them up to speed. Mom protested, arguing that she’d just got him back after so many years and wasn’t ready to lose him again.
I knew the feeling.
Dad looked like he wanted to argue, then snapped his mouth shut. I could practically see the wheels turning in his head as a muscle ticked in his jaw. It was obvious he didn’t want to risk Puck by sending him back into the belly of the beast, but at the same time, he knew his mother.
If Robin Goodman did not return at her beckoned call, she would know he’d switched sides. She’d want him dead.
“If he doesn’t go back,” Dad said, “she’ll come here looking for him. And she won’t come alone. Her army will bring the war to us now, and we’re just not ready, with Finn being ill. No offense, Easton.”
“None taken,” Easton replied. “And he’s right. It’s better for us all if we don’t give her a reason to attack. We need my grandfather, and we need to be the ones who dictate the pace and location of this war.”
“Ellie,” Puck said, his voice low and soft, “I know you’re scared, my darling. All I can do is promise you I will return.”
“How can you know for sure?” she asked, her voice cracking with emotion as she swiped her fingers under her eyes to clear away the moisture.
“Because I am the notorious Puck,” he said with a wide grin and an eloquent bow. “No one bests me and I always get my revenge.”
I could feel some of the tension in the room lessen at his teasing words, but something about them rubbed me the wrong way. He was being arrogant, and arrogance was the way of fools.
If I knew one thing for sure, it was that Robin Goodman was no fool. So, was he lying to us? Or to himself?
“Easton, I need to speak with you.
Alone.”
That last word was spoken with a sneer in my direction, but I didn’t react. Alwyn Jameson knew the tightrope he walked when it came to me, and that all it would take was one strong gust of wind to knock him right off.
So I just gave him a bland smile and turned my attention to Easton. I’d leave, but only if he asked me to.
We were standing in the middle of the dining hall, where we’d headed to grab some food after my grandfather’s departure. Shaela and Charles still sat at the table behind us, and my parents had gone back to Mom’s room to rest.
“Whatever you need to say to me, Father,” Easton snarled, “you can say in front of December. I trust her.”
“A fact you’ll live to regret, I’m sure,” Alwyn grumbled, but then spun around and motioned for us to follow him.
I shrugged at Easton and he rolled his eyes, but we followed his father through the entrance and out into the hallway. I was actually quite interested in what he had to say. Not because any of his ideas held any weight as far as I was concerned, but because Easton had been extremely tight-lipped whenever I asked what his dad was always whispering to him about. He always asked to change the subject and kissed me instead.
And since I rarely got the chance to kiss him anymore, I always let him get away with it.
Alwyn led us to Finn’s office, and I flinched a little when the door slammed into the wall as he stormed inside.
“Have a little respect,” I said, following in behind him and pointing in the direction of Finn’s bedroom. “The king is sick and you’re slamming around here like you own the place.”
“Do not speak to me, hybrid.”
“Father,” Easton growled, but I placed a palm to his chest to hold him back.
I had this.
“Did you forget who you’re speaking to, Alwyn?” I asked, keeping my tone light and conversational. “Or perhaps you need a reminder.”
I lifted my hands into the air and he flinched, turning his face and upper body to the side. I lowered my hands with a satisfied smirk, and he straightened, clearing his throat and adjusting his tie after tightening his blonde ponytail.