First Infraction

by Wendi L. Wilson

  I release the magic and watch her expression as my appearance morphs back to reality. She looks like she might be having a heart attack, so I back up and gesture toward the bed. She moves toward me, her eyes locked on my wings.

  “What. Is. Happening,” she says, inserting a dramatic pause between each word. “And how are you even using Glamour right now?”

  She grabs my wrist and toys with the gold bracelet. I wrap my fingers around hers, pulling her down onto the bed with me. We face each other for a moment, matching earnest expressions.

  “What I’m about to tell you can never be repeated,” I say.

  “I promise,” she swears. “I said you can trust me, and I meant it, Rory. I mean…Finley.”

  I shake my head and say, “Just keep calling me Rory so there’s no confusion.”

  “Okay,” she says, nodding impatiently.

  “Okay,” I repeat, then stare at her for a few beats. “I don’t know where to start.”

  “Just start at the beginning,” she says, waving a hand for me to get on with it.

  “Alright. So, my mom is December Thorne Oberon, the Zephyr queen, and my dad is Easton Oberon, king of the Sylphs. They’ve spent their entire adult lives trying to bring the two races together to live in peace and harmony with the humans.”

  “Right,” she says. “They’ve done amazing work.”

  “When I was born like this,” I say, waving a hand around my face, “my parents were afraid of the backlash. Back then, their efforts were met with a lot of resistance—from both sides. My blonde hair and blue eyes mark me as a Sylph, and they were concerned that the Zephyrs would protest me being the heir to the throne.”

  “So they used Glamour to make you look like a Zephyr?” she cuts in, and I nod.

  “It worked. The Zephyrs celebrated the new heir, hardly batting an eye at my two-tone wings. Those are what they really look like, by the way.”

  “They’re so cool,” she gushes, then clears her throat. “So, how did you end up here? And why haven’t your parents pulled you out? And how are you using magic?”

  I hold up a palm to stop her barrage of questions.

  “I’m supposed to be in Europe,” I say. “It’s kind of a long story, but I Glamoured my chaperone to think I’m still with him and to tell my parents I’m mad and refuse to get on the phone with them.”

  “Wait. Wait. Wait,” she trills, cutting me off. “That explains how you got away from him, but surely the Glamour has worn off and he’s called your mom and dad by now, right?”

  I shake my head. “No one knows this, Lark. Not even my parents.”

  “What?”

  “My sister, Robbie, and I are…different from other Fae. Even regular hybrids. We think it’s because of our strong bloodlines, coming from two royal families.” I pause for a moment, letting her soak that in before adding, “Our Glamour doesn’t fade. It doesn’t disappear until we decide to end it.”

  “Seriously?” she asks, her eyes wide.

  “Yeah. So Sawyer—my chaperone—is touring Europe right now by himself, but he thinks I’m with him.”

  Then Lark does something totally unexpected. She laughs.

  “Sorry,” she says, swiping a tear from her cheek, “I was just imagining this Sawyer guy, at restaurants and museums, talking to you and ordering you food and stuff. People probably think he’s crazy.”

  “Yeah, he’s going to kill me when he gets home. But hopefully it hasn’t been too bad, since imaginary me isn’t speaking to him either.”

  We share a smile. I tell her about the hotel, being bored, and deciding to go to the club.

  “You know what happened there,” I say, my eyes burning with the memory. I lift my wrist, showing her the bracelet, and say, “When I got here, I realized this magical handcuff doesn’t affect me. I can leave whenever I want, and no one will find me because Rory Finley doesn’t exist.”

  “So why haven’t you?”

  “This is why,” I reply, handing her the first note. “This was slipped through my door my first night here.”

  Her eyes widen as she reads the short sentence, then she looks up at me. “This could be from anyone. I mean, Asher calls you Princess.”

  “Yeah, I know,” I respond with a laugh. “He thinks he’s insulting me, when actually, he’s paying his respect with my official title.”

  Lark’s smile blooms across her face. “Oh, he’d hate that if he knew.”

  My smile drops as I reach under my pillow and pull out the second note. “Last night, I got this one.”

  “Aurora,” she reads aloud, “Keep your identity a secret. Should anyone discover the truth, the consequences will be unfortunate…particularly for your family.” There’s a pregnant pause while she looks up at me with widened eyes. “Is this a threat?”

  I shrug, saying, “It seems like it.”

  “Then why did you tell me?!” she exclaims. “It says right here not to tell anyone.”

  She’s panting now, and her panic actually makes me feel better about telling her the truth. She doesn’t seem to feel differently about me now that she knows the truth—and secretly, that was my biggest fear.

  That knowing my true identity would make her see me in a new light and that things would get weird.

  “I know I can trust you,” I say, and her face relaxes the tiniest bit. “Besides, you didn’t give me much of a choice.”

  Her dark eyes narrow for a moment, then she smiles, replying “Valid point. So what’s your plan?”

  “You walked in on it,” I answer. “I decided to sit and wait and try to catch the culprit red-handed.”

  “Great plan,” she quips, and I prop my hands on my hips and shoot her a glare.

  “And what would you do?”

  “I don’t know,” she says, “but if I was a half-Oberon hybrid with access to my awesome magic, I wouldn’t be sitting on the floor in the dark, twiddling my thumbs.”

  “How do you know my magic is awesome?” I challenge, arching a brow at her.

  “Oh, come on, Your Royal Highness,” she smirks. “Everyone knows what December Thorne can do. She took down Sebille, healed the planet, and never even broke a nail! Add to that the power of the Oberons—oh my God! You’re related to Headmaster, aren’t you?”

  Frowning, I nod. “He’s my great-grandfather’s distant cousin.”

  “Could you use that to gain some favor? If not outright release, maybe he could offer you some protection.”

  I’m shaking my head before she even finishes.

  “No way. He apparently hated my great-grandfather and started this place as an academy to compete with him. When it failed, he turned it into a prison.”

  “Right,” she says, “I knew that. So, no help there. He’d probably pee his pants with excitement if he knew he had you here, huh?”

  “Probably,” I agree, forcing the image of Echo with wet pants from my mind. “Besides, the notes could be from him, for all we know.”

  “I can’t really see Headmaster slinking down the halls at night, slipping notes to prisoners,” she says.

  “I agree. He’d more likely parade me through the mess hall as his crowning achievement—the incarceration of the hybrid princess.”

  “Okay,” she says, jumping to her feet, “your plan sucks, but I can’t think straight on an empty stomach. Let’s go to dinner, then we’ll figure this out…together.”

  My eyes burn, but I blink away the emotion. “Thanks, Lark.”

  She wraps her arm through mine and pulls me to the door. “Don’t go getting all sappy on me, now.”

  I catch the hitch in her voice and smile. Having a real friend is…gratifying. Heart-warming. Amazing.

  I’m totally taking her with me when I bust out of here.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  The rest of the weekend was uneventful. Lark and I kept our eyes peeled, looking for anyone who may be watching me. And the only person I caught staring was Asher York.

  But I pretended I didn’t notice
.

  Now we’re in Discipline of Magic, and Mollie has once again instructed us to group up and insult each other. Lark rolls her eyes dramatically and I grin. This exercise really is getting old.

  As usual, Asher slides his desk toward us, but keeps his focus on the drawing in front of him. I peek over to see a rosebush full of detailed flowers that span from fully bloomed to perfect buds. He’s so talented, the sketch makes my breath hitch.

  His eyes snap up to meet mine, and I look away, feeling my face heat with a blush. I’m sure he’ll mock me for the dreamy look I had on my face.

  “Okay, I want maximum effort today,” Mollie says. “Really dig in and try to get a reaction.”

  I look at Lark. “Your hair is too…straight.”

  She chuckles and flips the long, glossy strands over her shoulder. “Jealous.”

  “Don’t you mean it’s too black?” Asher says, shocking both me and Lark.

  He is usually silent and sullen in this class.

  “What?” I respond, though I know perfectly well what he said.

  My obtuse response gets the reaction I hoped for as his eyes narrow and he straightens a little in his chair.

  “I said, did you mean to say her hair was too black,” he grits out. “That’s what you were thinking, wasn’t it?”

  I cock my head at him. “For someone whose dad is a Sylph, you sure do hate them, don’t you?”

  His eyes widen the tiniest bit, and he murmurs, “How did you know my dad is a Sylph?”

  His eyes flash from me to Lark and back again. Oops.

  “Good guess?” I stammer out.

  “Oh my God, Lark. You told her?” he hisses under his breath.

  Fear strikes through me as I turn to Lark with apologetic eyes. I hope she’s not mad at me for my blunder. No one is supposed to know they’re cousins. But in typical Lark-fashion, she just shrugs.

  “Yeah, I told her.”

  “Why would you do that?”

  Her eyes light with mischief as she shoots a glance at me, saying “That, you’ll have to ask Rory.”

  His bright blue eyes land on me and I stutter out some unintelligible sounds that aren’t really words. Then I clear my throat and give Lark my best glare before looking back at Asher.

  “I thought, maybe, the two of you were…attracted to each other, and she was setting me straight.”

  Lark nods her head, her expression screaming how impressed she is that I told the truth. Asher’s eyes widen with horror as he looks from me to Lark and back again.

  “That’s ridiculous,” he says.

  “Not so,” Lark cuts in. “I’ll have you know, I’m totally hot.”

  She flips her hair again for good measure, and I chuckle. When I look back at Asher, he’s staring at Lark with fondness in his eyes.

  “That,” I say, pointing at him.

  “What?” he asks, his face going blank.

  “The way you were just looking at her.” I lean forward so I can whisper. “There’s so much affection, someone who doesn’t know the family connection would think you like her. Romantically.”

  He leans back in his seat, his blue eyes gleaming at me from beneath those dark brows. My heart thumps an irregular beat inside my chest as I stare back.

  “What do you care?” he asks.

  “I don’t.” Lie. “I just made an observation.” Another lie. “Lark wanted to set me straight, so she told me the truth.”

  He stares at me in silence, like he’s trying to figure out whether or not I’m being honest. And since I’m not—not entirely—and I don’t want him to know the reason Lark told me the truth was because I was jealous, I do something I would normally never dream of doing.

  Panic can be a terrible motivator.

  “I just wondered if she’d ever consider dating someone like you.”

  The words sit like rotting garbage on my tongue, because I know exactly how he’s going to interpret them. Just how I wanted him to.

  I can see Lark shaking her head in my periphery, the disappointment rolling off of her in waves. Shame eats at me as Asher’s face turns to granite. I took the coward’s way out, but I have never been a coward. And I’m not going to start now.

  “Asher, I—”

  “Don’t bother,” he says, cutting me off. “Someone like me isn’t worth it.”

  “Stop saying that.”

  Something in my voice must have cut through his anger, because the scowl drops from his face and he stares at me in confusion. I swallow against the lump forming in my throat. I know what I have to do. I have to make this right, or I’ll never be able to live with myself.

  “I didn’t mean that,” I whisper.

  I look around the room, making sure none of the other inmates are looking our way. I don’t catch anyone’s eye, and I push my senses out, searching for any Glamour in the room. I can feel magic emanating from the wall by the door, so I peel it back and see one of Echo’s hidden cameras.

  It’s trained right on the three of us.

  “What are you looking at?” Lark asks.

  “Nothing,” I say, enunciating clearly.

  Her eyebrows shoot up as she glances from me to the wall and back again. I pull my hair around to block my face and mouth, “Camera.”

  “How do you—”

  Lark cuts off Asher’s question with a swift kick to the shin, and he grunts. When he finishes shooting daggers at her with his eyes and looks back at me, I take a deep breath and send up a quick prayer that I’m doing the right thing. That my instinct to trust him is not misplaced.

  I lift a hand and rub my temple, in effect blocking my mouth from view of the camera. Then I very slowly and succinctly mouth words that I can never take back. Words that I know are going to lead to a whole new set of questions. Questions that may lead him directly to the entire truth.

  “I…am…a…hybrid.”

  Asher arches a brow like that’s the biggest load of crap he’s ever heard. He looks at Lark, probably for some kind of sign that this is an elaborate scheme, but she only gives him a single nod.

  When he looks back at me, I can see dozens of questions floating behind his eyes. I shake my head as his mouth opens to start asking them, and he snaps it closed. Understanding fills his eyes as he obviously remembers what I said about the camera watching us.

  “We can meet in my room later,” I whisper. “I’ll answer all your questions, I promise.”

  I hope I haven’t just made a colossal mistake. I hope Asher York proves to be as trustworthy as his cousin.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  “I believe you.”

  Asher blurts those words as he walks through my door after classes are over, Lark scampering in behind him. I look at her with question in my eyes, but she just shakes her head.

  “I haven’t talked to him at all about it,” she says, shrugging.

  I close the door behind her and lean back against it. As Asher looks around the room, I quickly place a shield over the door to make sure no one in the hall can hear our conversation. When he looks back at me, I plaster a look of pure innocence on my face. He cocks his head to the side, but doesn’t say anything.

  We’ve avoided talking to each other since this morning. It’s a good thing, too, because I’ve detected cameras trained on me all day. I don’t know what Echo, or whoever is manning the controls saw or heard, but something has spiked their interest in me. Not good.

  I shake my head to snap myself back into the present. “You believe me.”

  He nods. “I knew you were hiding something after that day in Elemental Practice.”

  “Oh, you mean the day she knocked you on your butt?” Lark chimes in helpfully.

  “Yes,” he says, narrowing his eyes at her. She chuckles, and he shakes his head before looking back at me. “Disregarding the pure strength you exhibited, I could feel something…familiar in your magic. I couldn’t figure out what it was, so I assumed I imagined it.”

  “The magic of hybrids is stronger than mo
st,” I say.

  He tilts his head, studying me. “You really can’t tell from looking at you. There’s no indication that you’re anything but a pure Sylphid. Your wings don’t even have black in them.”

  Lark looks at me with wide eyes and a tentative smile that says you can trust him.

  “I’d like to apologize.”

  My gaze snaps back to Asher as he says those words. They’re full and strong, not timid or forced in the least.

  “I know you have no reason to forgive me,” he says, his cheeks brightening with a slight blush. “I’ve been awful to you, and though I thought I had my reasons, it wasn’t fair.”

  “It’s okay,” I say, shaking my head.

  “Don’t,” he says. “Don’t let me off the hook so easily. I don’t deserve it.” He pauses to stare at the floor for a few moments before meeting my eyes again. “I’ve had a decent life. Parents who love me, an extended family, even some friends I thought I could count on. And I let one girl destroy everything.”

  I have a feeling I know where this is going, but I hold my tongue and let him talk. His baritone voice rumbles with the emotion I can see all over his face. Regret. Shame.

  “She was a Sylph. Blonde hair, green eyes. Beautiful beyond words...just like you.”

  My heart gallops in my chest and my mouth is suddenly parched. Asher thinks I’m beautiful? I shake my head. Focus, Finley.

  “She led me to believe that she was interested, so I pursued her. She toyed with my emotions, made me think we were falling in love.”

  “She’s a cruel person with an ugly soul,” Lark murmurs.

  “Yeah,” Asher agrees. “Anyway, long story short, she lured me out to a field filled with vengeful Sylphs. My hybrid bloodline makes me stronger than most, but I was no match for them. There were just too many of them. Before they took me down and beat me senseless, I managed to summon a lightning storm. One of the guys got hit by a stray bolt and died.”

  “That’s why you’re here?”

  The words whisper past my lips with a choked sob. I don’t know why I’m getting so emotional over it. Maybe it’s because of my mom, and everything she went through. Or because this situation is proof that my parents’ work hasn’t been as effective as they’d hoped.