The Academy Volume One

by Maxine Mansfield

  Uthiel hung his head. “I’m not in love with her, I tell you. I can’t be. You know as well as I do that I swore after what happened to Deleny I’d never love again. Briar’s simply my Healing the Soul partner. I feel responsible for her.” Uthiel’s eyes were bleak when he looked up. “Yeah, that’s what it is, not love. It’s responsibility.”

  Sarco shook his head and walked away. This was hopeless…but he couldn’t give up. When he was out of range of Uthiel’s quick reflexes, he turned back for one last attempt. “Say what you will, but you’re in love with the girl, that’s for certain. You might want to keep your barrier up when you tell her how much you ‘don’t’ love her, though, just to be on the safe side. And to protect those cute little eyebrows of yours that are just now growing back.”

  It took less than two strides for Uthiel to reach Sarco, and when he did, the paladin swung a big meaty fist at him.

  Sarco ducked, hiding his grin. So, he’d finally broken through at least the first layer of Uthiel’s armor and given his friend something to think about. “Hit me if it’ll make you feel any better. Just tell Briar the same bullshit you’ve been telling me, about how all you feel is responsible. Or call it whatever makes it easier for you to live with. She’ll still know you’re lying.”

  Uthiel doubled his fists again, but Sarco only chuckled. He had gotten through. He could see it in Uthiel’s eyes. His friend may not like it, and he certainly wouldn’t admit it, but at least he was now considering the possibility.

  Sarco spread his arms wide. “Go ahead. Beat me to a pulp if it’ll make you feel better, because I’m here for you. But you, my friend, are in love with the girl. Deal with it or not, it’s up to you.”

  ****

  After Sarco left, Uthiel stood in the arena, staring at the ground. His heart pounded in his chest, and his lungs burned as if he’d just run a race.

  He didn’t want to deal with his feelings. Not today, not tomorrow, not ever. He was a man, not some poetry-spouting, la-la sissy like Sarco had called him.

  Anyway, even if he did love her, what did he have to offer a woman, especially Briar?

  Children? Nope, that was out of the question. No shooting your wad, no children.

  Pleasure in bed? Well, yes, he could still accomplish that for her, anyway. But how long would it be before she came to resent the fact she couldn’t reciprocate? And could he stand the torture of it himself?

  He could offer protection and safety from the evils of the world. Uthiel shook his head. No, he couldn’t even guarantee that. He certainly hadn’t been able to protect Deleny.

  There was no choice. He would end it today, before his heart really was involved. Before he didn’t have the strength to walk away. It was for the best.

  He left the arena and wandered the halls of The Academy, not caring where he roamed. It didn’t matter. He had time to kill. At least until Healing the Soul class, and he’d have to implement the decision he’d finally made. After today, she wouldn’t be his problem anymore.

  “Mr. Stoutheart! Oh, Mr. Stoutheart, hold up there a second, please.”

  Uthiel wrenched himself from his musings and was surprised to see Mr. Ohmni, the assistant administrator. “Yes sir, is there something you require?”

  The human with the too-thin face pursed his lips and stared down his overly long nose. “Would you be so kind as to give Miss Tumbleweed a message from Headmistress Seychelle? Your friend is in her Potions class, but I would prefer to not interrupt it.” Mr. Ohmni pointed one thin-boned white finger at the door directly in front of them.

  Uthiel nodded, since he couldn’t come up with a good reason to refuse.

  “Thank you. Please pass along to her that Headmistress Seychelle may be late today. Last-minute business with the Board that simply must take precedence, you know.”

  The assistant administrator walked away.

  Wonder filled Uthiel. Briar was in the class directly in front of him, and he hadn’t even known. Yet it was as if her spirit called to his, had guided his feet to her door, and he’d been powerless to resist.

  He almost turned and walked away. One look, that’s all he wanted.

  Uthiel peeked through the small window of the door to the Potions classroom. His heartbeat doubled its rhythm and did a flip-flop in his chest.

  There she was, in the very front row, her dark auburn hair tied back in a long braid. For a second he wished she’d fashioned it that way yesterday. Her hair probably wouldn’t have caught on fire, and life would still be much simpler.

  She turned sideways and Uthiel could see her more clearly. Innocence radiated from her face. She glowed with it…and with something else Uthiel couldn’t quite put his finger on. He smiled despite his melancholy mood. She was beautiful, of that there was no doubt.

  His smile faded a moment later. The oddest sensation hit him square in the gut. She was as much if not more troubled than he was. Somehow, he knew this to be true.

  It wasn’t evident in her face, for she looked completely serene. Uncomfortable prickles of heat shot through his spine and produced depths of sadness so intense they brought tears to his eyes. Though not seen on the outside, the sadness flowed from her, toward him, with a life force all its own. She needed him, he just knew it.

  He didn’t want to open the door, but his heart took control of his hands. His mind fought a losing battle to not turn the knob. He had already come to the conclusion they weren’t meant for each other. She’d be better off if he simply left. Still…

  He knew he shouldn’t do it and cursed himself for his weakness, but before he could stop them, his fingers gripped the doorknob and turned it the rest of the way.

  Uthiel slipped into the room and took a seat at the very back of the class. What could it hurt to just watch her for a few minutes?

  “All right, class. Who can tell me how to prepare a potion of minor healing?”

  Uthiel recognized the Potions instructor, Druid Leguvane Tangleroot, from a class he’d taken a few semesters back. Her students and friends called her Leggs, and legs were the one thing she had in abundance.

  Tall and willowy for a human―seven foot if she was an inch―she moved with a grace that surprised most people. Though not a classic beauty, Leggs radiated warmth that enveloped everyone around her. It was natural to smile in her presence, to feel at home, comfortable.

  What Uthiel didn’t recognize, though, was this Briar, this confident young woman who raised her hand when Leggs asked the class a question. He was even more surprised when the druid called on her to answer. He’d always considered Briar shy.

  “For a minor heal potion, you combine essence of heart, agrimony, sphagnum moss, and white willow.”

  Leggs nodded. “Yes, good. Very good, Briar. And for a superior heal and a complete heal?”

  Uthiel was captivated as Briar didn’t hesitate to answer.

  “For a superior heal, you would add lavender and mugwort to your base, and for a complete heal you would also add nettle, spider web from an Alarian Mountain spider, and, of course, a drop of your own blood. Mix it thoroughly and say a healing incantation over it and, voila, you have your heal.”

  Leggs smiled widely. “Excellent, Briar, simply excellent.”

  The longer the class went on, the more impressed Uthiel grew with this side of Briar he’d never seen. In this Potions class, she was self-assured and knowledgeable.

  Despite this, there was something not quite right about her today. Uthiel felt it in his soul. Her smile didn’t extend to her eyes, and even though she was in a room full of people, he could have sworn she was all alone.

  He was apparently the only one who noticed something was amiss with Briar today. Her fellow classmates certainly didn’t. They vied for her attention with looks and slight touches, and sought her help with mixing their own potions.

  He wanted to take her away from here, to rescue her. He wanted to wrap his arms around her, cradle her against him, and tell her everything would be right in the end.

&n
bsp; He couldn’t, though. He wasn’t sure himself if the mess he’d gotten into could ever be fixed. What he was sure of, however, was this wasn’t the right time and not the right place to play hero. It wouldn’t be appropriate. Perhaps later. Perhaps when the red dragon was dead, but not now.

  He slipped from the classroom as quietly as he could. He had a lot on his mind and needed a place to think.

  ****

  Would this day never end?

  Briar gathered her books and the bulky pillowcase with its assorted leather contents, and slowly walked to her next class.

  Her head pounded, and she wished she’d remembered to make herself a pain tonic before leaving Potions class. Not that any known mixture of ingredients could possibly heal what ailed her today.

  She sighed as she made her way to Spirits and Spells. Even though it was one of her favorite classes, today she dreaded it. Each class brought her that much closer to facing Uthiel in Healing the Soul, and then to Headmistress Seychelle and the Dominatrix studies. She shuddered.

  Perhaps she’d go to the infirmary and tell them she was ill. She could spend the remainder of the day tucked into a sick bed with kind people catering to her every need.

  Briar shook her head. If she did manage to put off the inevitable today, it would still be waiting for her tomorrow. She didn’t have to like it though, and she wasn’t going to.

  By the time Wizard Neoseraph, the Spirits and Spells instructor, finished his lecture, her stomach was hopping in a rhythm that matched the pounding in her head. She wished desperately for that headache remedy, along with a dollop of mint thrown in for good measure.

  Lunchtime came and went, but Briar couldn’t force herself to swallow a single morsel of food. Her mouth was dry, and her stomach threatened to heave. She was capable only of shrugging and shaking her head when Alchemia shot her concerned looks and questions.

  Briar wanted badly to lie down and sleep without dreams, then wake only when this day was done. It wasn’t to be, though. There were still two classes to get through. And the nightmare that was Headmistress Seychelle.

  In Bandaging Wounds 101, she couldn’t concentrate. Tears stung her eyes as she looked down at the mess she’d made of the most simple of bandages.

  Shadowknight Genolas, her instructor, tsked her when he saw the pathetic attempt.

  “I’ve seen better bandaging by a blind man, Miss Tumbleweed. You should probably start over. There’s no way you could get it more wrong.”

  She cringed. “I’ll do better tomorrow, I promise.”

  Horribly itchy hives popped out on Briar’s neck and arms. Her head still pounded, and her heart ached. Her stomach threatened to empty itself any moment. The bell tolling her fate rang for all of Albrath to hear.

  With shaky legs and a heavy heart, she stood, took two deep breaths, and forced herself to put one foot in front of the other. As if they were the last steps she’d ever take, Briar slowly made her way to Healing the Soul class and her confrontation with Uthiel.

  ****

  He was going to do it. He’d made his mind up. He would be strong for both of them and end this now, before either really got hurt.

  Uthiel sat on the bed in the cubicle of Healing the Soul, waiting for Briar to arrive. This was the first class he had bothered to attend all day. His time had been spent coming to terms with what he must do.

  It had taken him hours to admit to himself that he might have stronger-than-like feelings for Briar. He wasn’t ready to call it love, but he did like her very much―perhaps too much.

  He had nothing to offer any woman, though, especially someone as special as Briar. When she looked back on this day years from now, she would thank him.

  The door of the cubicle swung open and Briar stepped inside. She gazed into Uthiel’s eyes, dropped her books and armload of stuff, and burst into tears.

  Uthiel’s mouth gaped. She looked horrible. Her face was splotchy, her eyes were red-rimmed, and she was babbling.

  “Pl…pl…please forgive me…me…me…Uthiel. I never meant for you to get hurt. I’m so, so sorry. I can’t do anything right. And now you hate me, and I have to go to Headmistress Seychelle after this, and she scares me. And I have these horrible things I have to wear, and I doh…doh…don’t know how to put them on or what they are even for, and I’m so sorry, I’ve made a mess out of ev…ev…everything!”

  Uthiel stood, gently lifted Briar into his arms, and cradled her close. He walked to the bed and tenderly laid her on it as he wrapped himself snugly around her.

  Out in the classroom, Mr. Chamman lectured, but Uthiel didn’t hear a word of it. He rocked Briar until her sobs became quiet hiccups, and he stroked her arms until her shivers subsided and her skin was once more warm to his touch. He whispered calming nonsense words against her ear as her heartbeat slowed and her body relaxed into his.

  She turned her head toward him. “Please don’t hate me, Uthiel. I couldn’t stand it if you did. I never meant to hurt you, ever. I would hurt myself before hurting you again, I swear.”

  Uthiel’s chest constricted and he fought to swallow a sob before it could escape.

  “I could never hate you, my sweet damsel in distress. I am your loyal servant and at your service, my lady, in any capacity, in all things. Whatever, whenever, wherever you may need.”

  Briar sobbed, “I do need you. I’m so afraid without you. Will you come with me, please, to the classes with Headmistress Seychelle? Even though she was horrible to you, I can’t do it alone.”

  He nodded as he leaned down and kissed her forehead. As her eyes drifted shut, Uthiel raised his own toward the heavens. “God Draka help us,” he prayed.

  Chapter Ten

  “Hold still, Briar, or it’s not going to fit,” Uthiel demanded.

  “It’s too tight, Uthiel. There’s no way you’re going to get that big thing into this small hole.”

  Uthiel sighed. “I could get it in the hole, no problem, if you would hold still and quit wiggling.”

  Briar gasped as Uthiel slipped the chain links through the holes in the front of the leather bustier and cinched it so tight she could hardly breathe.

  “Does it have to be that snug?”

  Uthiel nodded. “It does unless you want to be falling out of it, my lady. You are a little more, umm, well endowed than this top was meant to hold.”

  Briar glared at him. “Are you saying I’m fat?”

  “Oh, no, sweet Briar,” he laughed. “I very much like your breasts and the shape of the rest of you. You’re the right size everywhere for me. I was referring to the cut of the leather, as opposed to…” He gave up trying to explain and burst into a fit of very unmanly giggles at the sight of Briar’s pursed lips.

  “Take pity on a poor paladin, my lady. I beg of you.”

  Briar smiled. “All right, poor paladin, what’s next?”

  Uthiel stepped back and took in the sight before him: Briar wearing not a stitch in the world except the too-tight black leather bustier. God, she was beautiful―her skin the shade of blushed petals fresh from the first roses to bloom in the spring, and her dark auburn hair, free and wild, curling about her shoulders all the way to her luscious hips. Her soft, moss-green eyes were wide with wonder, her lips full and berry dark, ripe for the kissing, the tasting.

  His eyes roamed her body, over her flat belly to the apex of her essence. Her pussy beckoned to him, teased, tantalized, and enticed him. His cock grew hard.

  “Uthiel…Uthiel, what’s next?”

  He looked up, embarrassed at being caught staring. “Ah, yes, next. I’m not sure how all of this comes together, but I think we’d better have you put the leather thong on next, don’t you think? Or does the garter go on first? I can’t remember.”

  ****

  It took Briar almost a full turn of the hourglass to get the various pieces and parts of leather in the right places. The spiked collar around her neck itched, and the chains crisscrossing her body were cold against her skin. She adjusted the garters of h
er thigh-high black silk stockings one last time, and then laced and tied the stiletto boots snugly.

  Feeling unsure, Briar slowly twirled for Uthiel’s appraisal.

  He whistled, and his eyes gleamed with mischief. “Dress like that all the time, Briar, and you can have me submitting to just about anything you can think of. But I wouldn’t be bending over very far if I were you, my lady. That leather skirt barely covers your sweet, luscious ass, and those exquisite breasts of yours are in danger of springing free with the slightest of movements. Not that I would mind, however, if it were me you were bending over.”

  Briar blushed. “I can’t go out there like this. What am I going to do?”

  Uthiel picked up the discarded white healer’s tunic from the bed and tossed it to her. “Here, slip this over the leather and no one will be the wiser.”

  Briar did as he suggested. “Thank you for doing this with me, Uthiel. I really couldn’t get through it without you.”

  He took one of her hands and conveyed it to his lips. “It’s my pleasure to be of service to you, my lady, in any capacity you may need. Although, by the time Headmistress Seychelle finishes with us today, you may have to remind me of those words.” He winked and slowly grinned.

  Briar couldn’t help but return his smile, even though her heart wasn’t in it. He was simply too handsome to resist, especially when he teased as he did now. There was no putting it off any longer, though, and she knew it.

  Uthiel opened the cubicle door, stepped out, and beckoned her to follow. Briar took his hand in hers, and together they headed toward Headmistress Seychelle’s office, and whatever fate awaited them.

  ****

  The door to the Headmistress’s office swung open before they could even turn the knob. Seychelle’s face was a mask of fury.

  “You are late. I expressly ordered you not to be late, didn’t I? And what on Albrath are you wearing? Take that horrid thing off.”

  An apology was on the tip of Briar’s tongue, but she couldn’t force the words past her lips. She didn’t want to be here in the first place, and she wasn’t going to say something she didn’t mean. Not even to the Headmistress. Instead, she simply glared at the woman as she peeled off her tunic and stuffed it into the empty pillowcase.