First Infraction

by Wendi L. Wilson

  There are at least fifteen lenses pointed at different sections of the room, and it looks like they are mostly focused on the couches and chairs. My eyes dart away from the one pointed at me and Lark.

  I hope Echo isn’t watching right now. I think it’s pretty obvious what I was seeing, and him realizing I can see through his Glamour—particularly with this bracelet on—would be bad. Really bad.

  “Earth to Rory.”

  My head snaps toward Lark, who’s waving a hand in front of my face. I offer her a small smile, but the gesture only makes her frown deepen.

  “You sure you’re okay?” she asks, leaning in closer. “You seem pretty out of it.”

  I need to give her something, so I decide to go with the truth. At least, part of it.

  “Headmaster offered to tutor me. Privately.”

  “Ew! Gross.”

  I bark out a laugh at her reaction, then smack the back of my hand against her shoulder.

  “Not like that,” I admonish. “He thinks he can help me hone my control and increase my powers.”

  “I thought you said he was watching you through the cameras,” she muses. “Why would he think you need help when you obviously threw Ash right on his pompous butt?”

  Oops. I have to be more careful. Keeping secrets is a slippery slope.

  “I may have suggested that Asher was faking to make it look like I won,” I admit, my voice low.

  “What?” she exclaims, then lowers her voice. “Why would you say that?”

  “Because I’m trying to stay under the radar, Lark. If Echo Oberon thinks I’m powerful enough to take down a hybrid, he’s going to keep his eye on me. So I tried to convince him Asher let me win so he could humiliate me with it later.”

  Lark tilts her head, studying me with those black eyes. “How did you beat him?”

  Those five whispered words strike a spear through my chest, hollowing me out. I can’t tell her the truth. I want to trust her, but it’s too soon and there’s too much at stake.

  But I also don’t want to lie to her. She’s been a good friend to me in the short time we’ve known each other.

  I grab her hand and pull her up from the couch, whispering, “Not here.”

  She follows me without a word of complaint. I lead her to my cell, then pull the door closed behind us. She opens her mouth to say something, but I silence her with a finger to my lips. I do what I did in the common room, mentally peeling back any magic in the room to see if there are cameras or recording devices inside.

  There aren’t any, thank God. Just thinking about Echo watching me while I sleep or use the bathroom makes me shiver with revulsion.

  I refocus on Lark, who’s staring at me like I’ve lost my mind.

  “Sorry,” I say. “Just making sure we’re alone.”

  “What do you mean? There’s obviously no one else here.”

  I start to speak, but my eyes land on the open slot in the door. Shoot. I’m going to have to use magic to shield our voices. Hopefully Lark won’t feel the power shooting from me.

  “I can see past Glamour,” I whisper once I’m sure the room is soundproof.

  “What? How?” Lark stutters.

  “Listen Lark,” I say, “there’s a lot I want to tell you, but I can’t. It’s so much bigger than just me. I hope you understand.”

  “Like how you can see past Glamour and beat a hybrid?” she asks, and I can see the wheels turning in her head.

  “Yeah,” I say, taking a deep breath. “I can tell you some of it, but you have to swear not to tell anyone. Not a single soul other than you can know.”

  “Of course,” she says, like my words are totally unnecessary. “You can trust me, Rory.”

  “I know,” I say, then taking a deep breath, I add “I’m not a Sylph. At least, not entirely.”

  Confusion races across her features as she digests my words. When it all clicks together, her eyes widen so much it looks like they might pop right out of her head.

  “You’re a hybrid?” she asks, her voice barely a whisper.

  I nod, keeping my eyes locked on her face to gauge her reaction. The response I get is completely unexpected.

  Great peals of laughter erupt from her chest as she throws herself backward to land on my bed with a bounce. My face scrunches up with disbelief as she guffaws, wiping the tears from her eyes with the back of her hand.

  “Why is that so funny?” I ask once she finally winds down and sits up to face me.

  “Sorry,” she says, another giggle escaping her. “All I can think about is Asher, and how stupid he would feel if he knew the truth. He judged you on sight, convicted you as a stuck up, elitist Sylphid, assuming that you were judging him the same way for being a hybrid. Ahh, this is so classic.”

  “He can’t know,” I say, my voice stern.

  She sobers instantly, nodding as she says “Of course. He’s not going to hear it from me.”

  “Thanks, Lark,” I say, my tone softening.

  “You don’t look like you have an ounce of Zephyr in you,” she points out, cocking her head to observe me from head to toe. “How is that possible? And how do you know you’re a hybrid if you don’t know who your parents are and you don’t have any Zephyr traits?”

  I hold up a hand to stop her questions.

  “Most of that falls into the I can’t tell you category,” I say, shooting her an apologetic look.

  “Boo!” she calls out, and I chuckle.

  “Sorry,” I say, “but I will tell you this—I know who I am. I know what I am.” I breathe in deeply, hoping this isn’t a mistake. “And I know exactly who my parents are.”

  I can see her mind processing this information and more questions pushing at the tip of her tongue, but she doesn’t ask them. She just nods before hopping up to her feet.

  “Your secrets are safe with me,” she swears.

  “Thanks, Lark,” I reply.

  “Of course,” she says, smiling. “What are friends for?”

  I wouldn’t know. I’ve only ever been close to my sister and the rest of my family. Becoming friends with Lark is a whole new experience, one I’m lucky to be having.

  Who knew I’d find my best friend in prison?

  Chapter Twenty

  “Maybe you should agree to let him mentor you.”

  Food spews from my mouth at Lark’s words, and she rears back with a grimace. I grab my napkin and scrub it across my face while staring across the table at her with an incredulous look on my face.

  “Geez, say it, don’t spray it,” she laughs, scooching her chair back in. “Why don’t you tell me how you really feel about it?”

  I narrow my eyes at her mocking tone. “You’ve got to be joking.”

  She leans in and lowers her voice, saying, “Just consider it. You ask him for help, and he teaches you how to excel.”

  “I already excel,” I hiss. “I don’t need his kind of help.”

  “I know that, and you know that. But he doesn’t. Think about it, Rory. You suck up to him and get in his good graces. You could earn more freedoms, or even an early release. Especially if he sees you’re totally reformed.”

  Maybe she’s right. Maybe I could get out of here with some well-timed butt kissing. Not that I really know how to do that. I’m sure he’d spot my insincerity a mile away.

  While being a princess has taught me diplomacy, I don’t think I have it in me to suck up to someone for whom I have absolutely no respect. Not to mention, the closer I am to him, the more likely he is to discover just who I am. I shake my head.

  “It would never work. I couldn’t keep up the façade for any extended period of time.”

  I look around us, peeling back the Glamour layer by layer to see where the video cameras are in here. I have a feeling there are more than a few, since a lot of conversations happen over meals and Echo probably wants to be privy to most of them.

  I spot one in each corner of the mess hall, plus a few hanging from the ceiling. There are none pointed at our
table, so hopefully our conversation has remained private.

  “What are you looking at?” Lark asks, her eyes following mine to the ceiling.

  “Nothing,” I say, and when she glances back at my face, I mouth, “He could be listening.”

  Her face tightens and she nods, looking back down at her plate. I do the same, grinding my back teeth together in frustration.

  I know I’m in prison and that I have limited freedom, but not being able to even have a private conversation for fear of being recorded? This really blows.

  “Don’t look now, but Asher is burning a hole in the back of your head with his eyes.”

  Somehow, I refrain from turning to confirm her statement. I see her smile at something behind me before she starts to laugh.

  “What is it?”

  “Oh, nothing. My cousin is just giving me the stink-eye because I caught him staring at you. Again.”

  “He’s probably trying to kill me with his mind,” I say. I lean forward and quietly add, “Aren’t you scared Headmaster will overhear you calling him your cousin?”

  I wave my hand toward the walls and ceiling to indicate the hidden cameras. I can see where they are and whether or not they’re focused on us, but Lark can’t. If her relationship with Asher is supposed to be a secret, then she should be more careful.

  Her cheeks turn a pretty shade of pink as she presses her lips together before replying, “You’re right. I need to be more careful.”

  Then her eyes drop back to her plate and remain there for the next several moments. I resume eating my own food until I hear my name fall softly from her lips.

  When I look up, she smiles, saying, “Thanks for being my friend. And thanks for trusting me.”

  The tone of her words is weighted, so I refrain from making any jokes or sarcastic comments. She’s being dead-serious, for once, so I just smile and nod.

  “You’re welcome, and right back at ya.”

  She sighs happily and shovels a bite of macaroni and cheese into her mouth. I chuckle and do the same. We may still have our secrets from each other, but we’re growing closer every hour we spend together.

  For just a moment, I forget where we are and what put us here. I close my eyes and pretend we’re at the academy—just two schoolgirls having dinner in the dining hall before going back to our dorm room to watch movies and gossip about boys.

  Maybe if I’d had Lark, I wouldn’t have been so eager to graduate early, angry when my parents refused to allow it, or rebellious enough to sneak away for the summer. I never would have been in the city. I never would have visited that club.

  I never would have killed that human.

  I wouldn’t be here, trying to keep my real identity hidden while someone threatens me with the truth. And though the words weren’t explicit, I can read between the lines.

  I know who you are, Princess.

  They might as well have added, And I am going to use that knowledge to make you do whatever I want.

  I’ve got to get to the bottom of this.

  “OH.”

  That’s my reaction when we walk into the common area after dinner to see our fellow inmates lounging around…with their wings out.

  Blue, green, yellow, purple, and every color in between stand out amongst all the Zephyrs with their black wings on display. Some inmates are hovering in the air, others keep their feet firmly on the ground, while their wings flap in slow, measured movements.

  Lark sighs with relief as she releases her own black wings and flutters them a few times.

  “Ah, yeah,” she groans before noticing my questioning stare. “It’s Thursday.”

  “And that means…” I say, letting my words trail off like a question.

  “Every Thursday after dinner, we’re given the ability to let our wings out for an hour. Whatever is in this,” she says, tapping her bracelet, “that prohibits us from using them is turned off so we can relax and stretch them out.”

  Oh. My. God. The bracelet stops us from releasing our wings? I had no idea. I’ve been purposefully hiding mine because they are so recognizable, but it never even occurred to me to wonder why I never saw anyone else with their wings out.

  I really need to fish for more information before I accidentally do something to reveal that my bracelet is useless and doesn’t affect me at all.

  But first, I need to blend in here tonight, so I imagine my father’s beautiful, ice-blue wings. I focus on creating the Glamour, then release my wings. Lark’s eyes move over my shoulder, and she smiles.

  “Pretty,” she says, following their movement.

  “I like yours,” I say truthfully. “It’s hard to look tough with baby-blue wings.”

  She laughs, then leans in close. “I’m surprised they don’t have at least a little black in them, considering.”

  Considering my claim to being a hybrid, she means. There aren’t a lot of us, but the ones that do exist have wings like my mom—black with shimmering streaks of color in them. Or, if the Sylph side is more dominant, they’re a solid color with black streaks.

  Robbie and I, being the only three-quarter Sylph hybrids in existence so far, are the only two with wings like ours—solid blue with black around the edges. That’s why I can’t show my wings’ true form. Everyone here would suspect who I am.

  And they’d figure out the Zephyr appearance I’ve always adopted has been a façade.

  “Hey, Lark. Rory. How are you guys?”

  My head turns toward the voice and I see Acadia, Jolene, and Cedric approaching us. I recognize them from our classes, but I haven’t actually talked to them yet. I look at Lark, deciding to follow her lead since she’s known them longer.

  “Hey guys,” she says, her tone friendly, but guarded. “You know Rory.”

  “Hey,” Cedric says and the two girls repeat the greeting.

  Cedric’s shoulders are squared, his stance rigid as he watches me with his dark eyes. His black wings flutter lazily behind him like he’s waiting for something. I’m just not sure what.

  My eyes dart to the girls, one dark like Cedric and the other blonde and blue-eyed like me. Seeing the Zephyrs and the Sylph hang out together as friends warms my heart. That never would have happened in the time before my parents’ rule.

  “So, this is awkward,” Lark sing-songs, breaking the tension. “What’s got your undies in a twist, Cedric?”

  Laughter titters out of the two girls, and I can’t help but smile. My new friend does have a way with words.

  “Just waiting to see how the new girl reacts to us,” he says, his face still impassive.

  “What do you mean?” I ask, speaking for the first time.

  “Most of the blondies here snub Acadia for hanging out with us. What do you think about it, new girl?”

  “My name is Rory,” I grit out.

  “Are you stupid?” Lark asks at the same time, waving her hand between us. “You’ve seen her with me. What makes you think she’d shun Acadia?”

  Cedric stares at me for a moment more before his shoulders droop and the tension drains from his body.

  “Sorry,” he mumbles before looking me in the eye. “Some of the girls here have tricked us, pretending to accept us as friends just to get close enough to humiliate Acadia.”

  My eyes soften as I turn my gaze to the girl in question. She’s obviously shy, her cheeks stained with a pretty pink blush that matches her wings as she twirls a blonde curl between her fingers. I didn’t really notice before, but she looks like she can’t be more than fourteen.

  She’s just a child. What could she have possibly done to be sent here?

  “Acadia,” I say, waiting for her blue eyes to meet mine before continuing, “it’s nice to meet you.”

  I give her a smile before turning my attention to Jolene. I greet her with the same warmth I did the Sylph, then hold out a hand for her to shake. She looks a little startled, then places her hand in mine. Then I turn back to Cedric.

  He has the grace to blush before giving me
an apologetic smile. “Good to meet you. Rory,” he says, emphasizing my name as he shakes my hand.

  “Well, now that that epic weirdness is over, why don’t we find somewhere to sit,” Lark says, and the two girls giggle again.

  All the couches appear to be occupied, so she heads for an open area where no one is standing. Tittering giggles catch my attention as we weave through the room, and I see Angelina and her cronies smirking in our direction.

  I’m guessing they’re the girls who tried to trick Acadia and her friends. Typical.

  Lark plops onto the floor and crosses her long legs in front of her. The rest of us follow suit until we’re sitting in a tight circle.

  “So, what’re you in for?” Jolene asks. “Cedric supposedly stole some shoes—”

  “They weren’t stolen. I paid the human for them, then he lied and had me arrested,” he interjects.

  “Acadia set a house on fire—” Jolene tries to continue, but gets interrupted by Cedric again.

  “It was an accident.”

  He’s very protective of her. Interesting.

  “And I conjured a wolf to protect me from a human gang—”

  “I’m sorry. You what?”

  This time it was me who interrupted. I can’t mask the shock on my face and I’m too shook up to try. Conjuring is a high-level power in and of itself. Conjuring a living animal? Nearly impossible.

  And highly frowned upon. For those with the ability, the body of a living being can be created from magic. But you can’t conjure a soul. Any animal brought into being by Fae magic would be a soulless creature with no emotion. No personality. No self-awareness.

  Cedric opens his mouth to defend her, but she places a hand on his shoulder, saying, “It’s okay. I’m used to that reaction. I would never do such a thing under normal circumstances. But those people…they were threatening to pin me to a wall, cut my wings off, and do…other terrible things.”

  Her eyes cut to Acadia like she doesn’t want to elaborate on what those things are in front of her, but I get the gist. I nod to let her know I understand.