I know these are kids we’re talking about—teenagers with raging hormones that influence bad decisions. But they weren’t born with that hate inside them. It was learned from the adults around them.
“They couldn’t even prove the storm was conjured by him,” Lark says, breaking the silence, “or that the lightning bolt was intentionally aimed at that boy. The Sylph courts took one look at him and declared him guilty.”
A ripple of shock zips down my spine as I stare at her with my mouth hanging open. I don’t know why I assumed it was humans that sent Asher here on such shoddy charges…maybe because that’s what happened to me.
But there were no humans involved in his situation. And if high-level Sylphs are sending kids to prison based on race, my dad needs to know. He is their king, after all.
Which means, I’ll have to tell my parents everything.
“What’s going on up there?” Asher asks, pulling me out of the fog of dread.
When I look at him, he taps his temple before pointing at my head. Oh. He’s asking what I’m thinking about.
My eyes chase to Lark and she presses her lips together tightly. She won’t say a word. It’s my decision—I can be honest and tell Asher everything, or I can lie and keep my secrets.
Once again, I decide to go with my gut.
“My name isn’t Rory Finley,” I say. “It’s Aurora Finley Oberon.”
His mouth falls open, and before he can spew denials and disbelief, I use my Glamour and wrap myself in my familiar Zephyr appearance. My wings pop out in their natural state, and I flap them lazily as I stare at Asher.
“This is the Glamour my parents cast over me as a child to make the Zephyr community feel more comfortable with me as their heir.” I drop the Glamour, but leave my wings out. “This is my true appearance.”
I wait with bated breath for his response. I expect angry accusations about my lies and deceit. Fear and confusion that I’d just used Glamour with the gold bracelet firmly attached to my wrist. At the very least, assertions of hurt directed at Lark for keeping secrets from him.
None of that happens.
Laughter bellows from him, loud and deep, shaking his entire body as he slumps down onto my bed. I turn to Lark with wide eyes, and she shrugs, rolling her eyes at his strange behavior.
“So you mean,” he chokes out between chuckles, “this whole time I’ve been calling you Princess, I was right?”
The tension drains out of me and I smirk. “Yep. You scared me to death the first time you said it. I thought I was busted, for sure.”
He immediately sobers, and his expression grows serious. “Why are you hiding who you are? In fact, why haven’t you called your parents to get you out of here?”
I move over and sit down on the bed beside him, and he doesn’t shy away. “How much time do you have?”
Lark makes herself comfortable on the floor as I start to talk, telling him everything that’s happened and explaining my fears. He listens intently and doesn’t interrupt, letting me get it all out in one go.
When I finish, he stares at me in silence for several moments. I shift uncomfortably next to him, feeling uneasy under his gaze. I wonder what he sees.
“You’re not scared of anything, are you?” he finally says.
“Haven’t you been listening?” I ask, disbelief coloring my words. “I’m scared of everything. The consequences of all this, my parents’ reactions to my deceit…I could destroy everything they’ve worked so hard to achieve.”
He’s shaking his head before I even finish. We lock gazes for a few seconds, his blue eyes delving straight into my soul.
“You’ve stayed here, despite the threats against you. I’m assuming by that show of Glamour that you have full use of your magic?” He pauses and looks pointedly at my bracelet. I nod. “That’s what I thought. You could leave this place in a snap, couldn’t you? Yet you stay to protect your family and their legacy. You put up with these degrading classes and poor treatment by the jerks around you, without complaint.”
“Yeah, jerks being you,” Lark calls out, interrupting him.
The corners of his mouth lift up and he nods. “She’s right. I’ve been a real jerk, and I’m sorry. I could see myself from the outside, judging you by your looks just the way people have done to me. I knew I was wrong, but I couldn’t stop myself from seeing her every time I looked at you. By the time I realized you were different, it was too late and we were already locked in this battle of wills.”
“And he hates to lose,” Lark chimes in with a grin.
“So do I,” I respond, smiling at her before turning it toward Asher. “I forgive you.”
And just like that, everything shifts. Sharing my secrets and bringing Asher into our circle takes a weight off my shoulders that I didn’t even realize was sitting there.
“Thank you,” he says. “And I forgive you for lying to me and cheating, using your awesome royal-hybrid powers to knock me on my butt.”
I return his grin, saying “You totally deserved that.”
“You’re right,” he says. “I did deserve it.” He holds out a hand toward me. “Friends?”
I slip my hand into his, ignoring the pang of disappointment in my heart that is begging me to demand more. “Friends.”
Lark snorts as she stands up and walks over to place her hand on top of ours.
“Yeah. Right. Friends,” she says, putting a breath of intentional space between each word.
I ignore her obvious jibe at me and thankfully, Asher seems oblivious to it. I can be his friend, no problem. No problem at all.
Because I’m definitely not here to meet a boy.
Chapter Twenty-Five
As I walk into the mess hall later, my steps stutter and I nearly trip when I see Asher sitting with Lark at our table. I mentally order my galloping heart to slow its roll. Friends sit together at dinner. The fact that he’s sitting right next to my usual chair means nothing.
By the time I grab some food and get back, Acadia, Cedric, and Jolene have crowded in around them, and my normal seat is the only one left. I’m equal parts mortified and eager—mortified because my friends obviously left that chair open for me, right next to Asher. Eager…well, for the same reason.
I set my tray down and slide into the seat like it’s no big deal, ordering myself to act natural. But any thoughts of playing it cool fly right out of my ears when Asher smiles at me in greeting.
A real smile, devoid of any malice, that lights up his blue eyes and tells me he’s happy I’m here.
It knocks me senseless and I’m pretty sure I may be drooling a little, but all I can do is gaze at him and soak it in. Then someone at the table clears their throat and the moment is shattered. I shake my head to clear the fuzz and turn my attention to my food.
How embarrassing.
Of course, I can’t really be held accountable for my reactions when Asher is acting so out of character. If his shift in personality is meant to keep me on my toes, he’s succeeding with flying colors. Something in my expression must give away my mixed emotions, because Asher’s smile drops into something infinitely sadder.
He leans in, so close I can feel his breath on my ear when he speaks. The feeling sends a shiver down my spine.
“I’m really sorry, Princess,” he whispers, and this time, the nickname gives me all kinds of feelings…and not the negative kind.
“For what?” I mumble.
“For being such a dick to you that you can’t seem to accept the real me.”
I lean back a little so I can look into his eyes. “And who is the real you?”
Oh my God, am I flirting with him? Stop it, Finley. This is prison, not high school.
There’s a glint of determination in his eyes that tells me he thinks I’m flirting. And he likes it. Maybe he does want to be more than just friends.
“Before I let anger and betrayal cloud my judgment, I’d like to think I was pretty charming.”
“Too bad,” I say, snatching a fr
y off my tray and taking a bite as I stare at him thoughtfully. “I don’t like charming guys.”
Ugh. I am flirting. Not here to meet a boy. Not here to meet a boy.
“What kind of guys do you like?”
Nope. Nuh-uh. Not answering that.
“Dark and mysterious…powerful with a bad-boy edge.”
Word vomit. Word vomit all over the place and I can’t seem to stop it. It’s not even true. I like charming, good boys. At least, I think I do.
I’ve never really liked a guy before.
I can feel the others’ stares as they look back and forth between us, watching the volley of flirtatious remarks like it’s a national sport. But I don’t look at them. I keep my eyes on Asher.
He nods, and his smile can only be described as devilish. Challenge thrown—challenge accepted.
I’m in so much trouble.
“Anyway…”
Lark’s long, drawn out word breaks whatever spell Asher cast over me with his…whatever that was. I feel my face flush as I meet her knowing gaze. She cups her hands around her mouth so only I can see and mouths the words you love him. Then she shoots me an exaggerated wink.
I narrow my eyes and mouth back I hate you, and she laughs. She looks from me to her cousin and back again, then waggles her eyebrows. I beg her to stop with my eyes, then glance over at Asher to see if he’s noticed her antics.
He’s looking down at his tray, but the smile on his face tells me he’d seen every bit of our exchange. I’m going to strangle Lark.
She must see the murder in my eyes, because she chuckles and shakes her head. She’s done teasing me—for now.
“I THINK we should tell the others.”
I managed to survive the rest of that strange dinner, and dragged Lark back to my room afterward to take care of some strangling that needed doing. But her statement gives me pause, and I forget all about killing her.
“Are you crazy? No,” I retort. “I mean, I like them, but that doesn’t mean we can totally trust them, Lark.”
“We’re going to need help, Rory. You heard their stories. They’re here for the dumbest reasons ever, things that can’t possibly be classified as crimes. Something is going on inside this place. Something even bigger than you.”
“I agree,” I admit. “But that doesn’t mean we should trust every faery that seems to be on our side. Too much is at stake.”
“Okay,” she says holding up her palms in supplication. “We won’t tell anyone else until you’re ready.”
I nod and she returns the gesture. Then her shoulders slump as she sighs.
“Okay, give it to me.”
“What do you mean?”
“I saw the murder in your eyes when I was teasing you and Asher. Go ahead. Hit me with your best shot. Stab me, or whatever murder fantasy I saw unfolding behind your eyes.”
She smiles, and I smile back, showing lots of teeth. “It was strangulation.”
“Oh, come on, Rory. You know you loved every second of it.”
I drop to the floor, folding my legs in front of me and Lark copies the position across from me. She remains silent as I gather my thoughts—or at least, try to. My head is a jumbled mess.
“I’m so confused,” I finally admit.
“What’s there to be confused about? My cousin only flipped a total one-eighty, changed his personality completely, and started treating you like a real person. A real person he likes, that is.”
I shake my head. “I’m glad he wants to be friends. I really am.”
She gives me what’s fast becoming her signature snort and rolls her eyes at me.
“Stop fishing for info. You know he’s into you. You don’t need me to confirm it for you.”
“And I thought I liked your brand of brutal honesty.” I arch a brow at her, and she chuckles before shining her fingernails against her shirt. “Seriously, Lark, I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel about this. How I’m supposed to react. I mean, we both know I’m attracted to him. That much is obvious.”
“Totally obvious,” she smirks.
“But this isn’t some sweet high school romance. We’re in prison, for Christ’s sake, and once we get out of here…who knows what will happen?”
“You’ll go back to your high-rise penthouse and resume being princess, while we return to our humble homes and try to put this all behind us,” she murmurs, her tone suddenly morose. “That is, if Asher and I ever get out of here.”
“I’m not leaving without you.”
The words flow out of me, sounding like a solemn vow, before I even think about them. But I won’t take them back. I’d never be able to live with myself if I left Lark here to rot while I’m free. Asher, too.
Asher.
“I don’t know what the right choice is, Lark.”
Somehow, she knows I’m back to the subject of Asher and not still talking about our eventual release from this place.
“You’re attracted to him.”
“We already established that,” I blurt. “I mean, who wouldn’t be?”
“Ew,” she says, jabbing a thumb toward her chest.
“Except you,” I chuckle.
“Do you like him? I mean, as a person. Could you see yourself spending time with him and getting to know him better?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. But we’re from two different worlds. I’m going to be queen one day, for goodness’s sake.”
“So? Asher’s not good enough to sit beside you?”
I roll my eyes at her sarcastic tone. “You know very well that’s not what I meant.”
“I know,” she says. “But you won’t have to worry about that for what? Another three-hundred-and-fifty years? I’m not saying you should marry the guy, Rory. Just give him a chance.”
She’s right, of course. Fae live extremely long lives, and I won’t be expected to take over the throne for centuries. My parents became monarchs very young due to the untimely death of Finn Oberon, my great-grandfather, and Queen Sebille, my awful great-grandmother.
They also got married really young, because, well, love and hormones. I smile, thinking of them. Fae marry for life, and can die if they spend too much time away from their bonded mates. My parents got married when they were barely older than teenagers, vowing to spend the next several centuries loving each other.
Not everyone is so lucky in their choice. My grandma Freya is the perfect example. Her husband turned out to be a horrible person and basically tortured my dad growing up. He died before I was born, but apparently Grandma Freya is a completely different person now that she’s out of his oppressive shadow.
“Look at how he reacted to finding out who you really are,” Lark says, pulling me from my thoughts. “He made a joke about calling you a princess. The truth didn’t faze him at all. He accepts every part of you.”
“As friends,” I say.
She throws her hands up in the air. “Ugh. I give up. What do I know? I’ve just known the guy his entire life. That’s all.”
As she rambles on, an image of Asher smiling forms in my mind, and even in my imagination, he makes my breath catch. He’s so beautiful.
“I’ll make you a deal,” I say, locking eyes with Lark. “You stop trying to push us together, and I’ll promise to keep an open mind. We’ll let things progress naturally. Okay?”
Her bright smile lights up her face. “Deal.”
We shake hands to seal the pact, and though I’m smiling, a sense of fear settles in my stomach. I hope opening my mind and my heart to this boy I barely know, whom I met in prison, where I’m not even supposed to be, isn’t a huge mistake on top of all the other mistakes I’ve made.
I hope I don’t live to regret it.
Chapter Twenty-Six
The stress of yesterday must have worn me out, because I slept like the dead. Thankfully, Lark swung by to grab me for breakfast, or I’d probably still be sleeping.
Instead of at this table, trying to concentrate on what the others are talking about as Asher�
��s elbow casually brushes against mine.
Little sparks of electricity shoot from the point of contact, up my arm, and straight into my chest. It’s all I can do to keep from gasping at the shock, and after the third time, I’m pretty sure he’s doing it on purpose.
But knowing that doesn’t change my body’s reaction.
“What do you think, Rory?”
I snap to attention at the sound of my name, realizing I have no idea what Acadia was talking about, even though I’d been looking right at her. I shake my head to clear it, and send her an apologetic look.
“Sorry, I was zoning out. What were you talking about?”
Lark snickers and I slam my knee into hers below the table. Asher leans forward to look around me at his cousin, a confused expression on his face. He seems to have no idea how scatterbrained he’s made me, even though Lark obviously does.
Maybe the touches weren’t intentional after all. Am I overreacting? Am I reading too much into this?
“Rory?”
Acadia is saying my name again, and this time Lark doesn’t bother to try to hide her laughter. I drop my forehead to the table, banging it there a couple of times for good measure.
“I asked what you thought of Miss Avery,” Acadia clarifies.
My face scrunches up. “She’s awful, isn’t she?”
“She cornered me after class last week,” she says, her voice timid. “She tried to tell me that I was demeaning myself for hanging around Cedric and Jolene. That I should stick with my own kind.”
“That doesn’t surprise me,” I mumble under my breath. Then I look at Acadia and smile. “I’m glad you ignored her advice.”
I wish I could tell her about my mom, and all she had to endure at the hands of Tiana Avery when they were at the academy together. I wish I could describe how my mom lost her temper and nearly killed the intolerable wench more than once, or how Tiana had cozied up to my grandfather Alwyn—gross—after he helped the Zephyr queen kidnap my dad, his own son. There are several stories I could share that would make them all roll with laughter, but I can’t.
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