Oberon Academy Book Three: The Sylph

by Wendi Wilson

  “Things are going really well,” she replied. “Even better than I expected. I thought things would be weird between us but we just seem to click.”

  “That’s great, Shaela.”

  I couldn’t help it. There was no mistaking the disappointment in my voice, and Shaela gave me a look that told me she hadn’t missed it.

  “What’s your problem?”

  My head reared back at the venom in her voice. That was the first time she’d ever spoken to me that way.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, backtracking. “But Shaela, how can you forget what he did? He wasn’t here five minutes before he destroyed my life.”

  “Don’t you think you’re exaggerating just a little bit? He didn’t destroy your life. He thought he was helping everyone, bringing everything out into the open so there would be no more secrets.”

  I laughed, the sound bitter and annoyed. “Helping? You don’t seriously believe that, do you? That doesn’t even make sense.”

  I didn’t know what was happening. We were both getting angry, so angry that Shaela’s face was red and I could feel my own blood pressure rising, pounding in my veins. She was my best friend, and she always had my back. Until now. I knew Puck was her grandfather, but he’d been missing her entire life and what? He got to just waltz in and take his place as a beloved family member with no questions asked?

  “You don’t know him,” she gritted out between clenched teeth.

  “Neither do you,” I shouted back. “You don’t know what his motives are. You don’t know why he came back here, at this moment in time, and decided to suddenly be the doting grandfather. To me, it looks like he’s up to his old tricks.”

  As soon as the words passed my lips, I regretted them. Shaela had been persecuted for her grandfather’s choices her entire life, and I swore that I would never do that. While I wasn’t exactly holding his past sins against her, I was holding them against him. Letting his mistakes color my judgment of his current actions.

  While I felt justified in my suspicions, that didn’t mean I should have voiced them in a fit of anger.

  “Shaela—”

  “No,” she said, her voice dead and her eyes vacant, “you said everything you need to say.”

  She stood then, turning to pick her bag up from the bed where she’d dropped it. She headed for the door, swinging it open. Just before she walked through, she stopped and turned back to face me.

  “I’ll find somewhere else to sleep tonight.”

  I opened my mouth to respond, to beg her to stay and work things out with me, but she was gone before I could even get a word out. What had just happened? Did I just lose my best friend?

  Even if I hadn’t lost her, something between us was broken. I just hoped, eventually, we would be able to mend it.

  THE NEXT MORNING, I woke up alone in my room. I don’t know how many hours I waited, hoping Shaela would come back and tell me she wanted to talk things through with me. To bridge the gap between us. But that never happened.

  I sat up and hopped to my feet. I couldn’t let things continue on the way they were between me and Shaela. I had to fix it. Even if it meant swallowing my pride, my anger with Puck and my suspicions about his motives, I’d do whatever it took to get my relationship with her back on track. It was too important, too precious to lose.

  Grabbing a fresh uniform, I ran to the bathroom to shower and change. After combing the tangles from my wet hair and brushing my teeth, I stared into the mirror for a few moments, mentally building myself up.

  Somehow, I’d get Shaela to listen to me. I refused to lie about my feelings for Puck, but maybe we could just agree to disagree when it came to him. We could make some sort of pact to avoid discussing him, or something.

  I knew that sort of avoidance would never work in the long run, but it would appease my friend and buy me some time. Once Puck’s true agenda was revealed, I was sure whatever it was would get him ousted from Oberon Academy, just like before. Shaela would be disappointed, but she’d also realize she was better off without his sneaky, manipulative presence in her life.

  At least, I hoped that’s how it would all play out.

  A small niggle of fear inside whispered that if I were the one to prove his deceit and get him banished, Shaela would hate me forever. I stiffened my spine against that fear. If that happened, so be it. At least I’d have the comfort of knowing that I’d protected the ones I love against his damaging influence.

  I practically ran back to my bedroom, eager to drop off my pajamas and toiletries so I could start the hunt for Shaela. I rushed inside, only to freeze in my tracks.

  Shaela stood in the middle of the room, biting her bottom lip and shifting her weight from foot to foot. I opened my mouth to speak, but before a single word could pass my lips, she launched herself toward me. My clothes and shower caddy dropped to the floor as Shaela collided into my chest. I wrapped my arms around her, returning her embrace.

  “I’m so sorry,” she mumbled, the catch in her voice making my own eyes burn with emotion. “I don’t know what came over me.”

  “No, I’m sorry,” I argued, the tears flowing down my cheeks. “I should have been more understanding. Less judgmental.”

  She grabbed my shoulders and pushed me back, just far enough so that she could make eye contact.

  “It was my fault,” she said. “I was being defensive and I overreacted. I honestly don’t know what came over me. While I’m happy Grandad is back and I have a chance to get to know him, I can’t just brush off what he did to you and expect you to do the same. I’m sorry, D.”

  I shot her a watery smile, saying, “How about this? I’ll try to keep my negative thoughts to myself from now on. Just don’t pull away from me, okay? I don’t know if I can take it.”

  “You’ll never be rid of me, December Thorne,” she said, her own lips turning up despite her tears.

  She pulled me back in, squeezing me tight against her. I returned her embrace, relief flooding through me. Everything was going to be okay. Shaela and I could make this work. Nothing would come between us. We’d make sure of it.

  “Where were you all night?” I asked once we finally broke apart.

  I squatted down to pick up my toiletries scattered across the floor. Shaela bent over to help, and I noticed her cheeks were a little pink.

  “I stayed with Charles,” she mumbled.

  I thanked her for her help and stood to put my things away. Then I sat down and eyed her expectantly, one brow arched, as I waited for her to elaborate. Staying in her boyfriend’s room was nothing to blush about—we’d both done it plenty of times.

  When she refused to speak or make eye contact, I crossed my arms over my chest and cleared my throat. Shaela’s face turned upward as her eyes drifted shut, and she groaned. She threw herself down on the bed next to me, falling to her back and draping an arm across her eyes.

  “Charles told me he loved me.”

  “What?” I squealed, nudging her with my foot. “Tell me everything.”

  She lifted her arm and peeked over at me, a smile lifting the corners of her mouth. Pulling herself up, she sat cross-legged and spun toward me. I mirrored her position and waited for her to begin.

  “I went straight to his room after leaving here,” she started, her eyes glistening with apology. I shook it off, and she continued, “Charles let me vent, not saying a single word, until I ran out of steam and things started to look a little clearer. I felt terrible about how we left things and I told him I was coming back here to fix it.”

  “I waited,” I murmured, and she nodded.

  “Before I could leave, he convinced me that you needed more time to cool off. That if I tried to come right back, it would make things worse than they already were.”

  I wanted to disagree, but deep down I knew he was right. But she was back, we’d made up, and that was all that mattered.

  “We cuddled and talked for hours,” she continued, “but nothing sexy happened.” She tilted her head and gav
e me a pointed stare, telling me she knew that’s what I’d been thinking. “It was all warmth and comfort and just as I started to doze off, he said it.”

  “What did you say?” I asked.

  Her face fell into a frown of regret. “Nothing. I pretended to already be asleep.”

  “What? Shaela,” I said, her name dripping with disappointment.

  “I panicked, okay?” she said, her tone defensive. “I didn’t know what to say.”

  “Well, do you love him?”

  She shrugged. “I have no idea.”

  “Oh. Well, I guess it’s good you didn’t say it back if you’re not sure.” Then another though struck me. “Do you think he only said it because he thought you were already asleep?”

  “Maybe,” she said, biting her lip. “What would you do?”

  “I wouldn’t bring it up until I was sure of my own feelings. If he says it again, you just have to be honest with him. Don’t say it back unless it’s really true.”

  She nodded, and silence fell between us. A few minutes later, I checked the time on my tablet.

  “Want to go get breakfast?” I asked. “We still have a little time before classes start.”

  “You go ahead,” she said. “I still need to shower. See you in sociology?”

  “Sure,” I replied.

  Again, she lunged forward and hugged me. I tightened my arms around her as she whispered something about being glad we were okay. I felt the same way.

  I shuddered to think of losing her as a friend. I loved her like I imagined a girl would love her sister. She was irreplaceable, in my life and in my heart. If I were to lose her, I wasn’t sure I’d survive it.

  CHAPTER 11

  “How were your classes today?”

  I knew what my father was really asking. He wanted to know what Professor Goodman taught us in sociology. I’d told Cris about his previous lesson and how he’d casted blame on the Sylphs for the predicament the humans now found themselves in.

  We were sequestered in his office, away from prying eyes and ears, readying ourselves for our daily training sessions. I hated that this was the only time I got to see him anymore, but it was better than not seeing him at all.

  “Same as usual,” I said, answering his question. “Sylphids should have intervened before things got out of hand. The humans should not have been allowed to make their own decisions. Oh, and if he were still on the council, this would never have happened.”

  “Wow.”

  “Yeah,” I said, then my shoulders drooped. “I miss you.”

  “You see me every day,” he answered.

  “I know, but it’s not the same.”

  He nodded, commiserating, then tilted his head to the side.

  “You know, it wasn’t that long ago that you were dead-set against me teaching that class,” he observed, his eyes twinkling with humor.

  “I remember,” I said, “but that was different.”

  “Different, how? You missed your old teacher, felt like no one, especially some stranger you’d never laid eyes on before, could or should take his place.”

  “Yeah, but that’s where the similarities end. You didn’t come here and expose every secret I had the second you stepped foot on campus. You had Finn’s approval and support, and you didn’t try to sway the student body into believing the Zephyrs have it right.”

  “Do you think that’s really what he’s doing?” At my nod, he asked, “To what end?”

  “That, I don’t know. But Easton and I are going to find out.”

  “Just be careful, okay? I don’t like that I can’t roam freely and keep an eye on you.”

  “I’ll be careful. I promise. And you are preparing me, which is the best kind of protection.”

  “In that case, we should get to it,” he said, smiling.

  But he wasn’t fooling me. That smile didn’t even come close to reaching his eyes. He was worried, like any father would be. Warmth spread through me, but I tamped it down. We could hug it out later. I needed to train.

  “Fire,” he called out, taking a few steps back.

  I opened my palm, face up, and a bluish-green flame appeared above it. I waggled my fingers, and the small flame began to spin until it formed a miniature tornado. I fed a small amount of wind into it, causing it to grow and stretch toward the ceiling.

  Before it touched, I pulled all the air away, starving the flames until nothing but a spark remained. I closed my hand into a fist, and when I reopened it, the spark was gone. I caught my dad’s eye with a grin on my face.

  “Very good,” he said, pride evident in his voice. “Your control is getting better. Have you had any more…uh…incidents?”

  Lustnados. He was asking if I’d had any out of control fire tornados erupt from thin air while making out with Easton. My cheeks heated, but I couldn’t help but smirk at the sight of Cris’s own blush. He was just as embarrassed by the topic as I was.

  “No,” I said. “No more incidents. I think I have that under control.”

  “Very good,” he said, clearing his throat and giving me his back to tidy something on his desk.

  When he turned back to me, the blush was gone. “What about anger? Have you got that under control, too?”

  “Honestly? I don’t know.”

  My magic tended to unleash itself dramatically when I lost my temper. And while I’d been feeling a constant stream of the emotion since Puck’s arrival at Oberon Academy, I hadn’t had a real outburst of rage to test my control.

  “You didn’t lose it at the dance,” Cris pointed out.

  “I think I felt shock more than anything at that point. And when I got angry and ready to attack, Shaela begged me not to. I reined it in, for her, and it’s just been simmering ever since.”

  “But don’t you see, December? You just proved you do have control over it. You were angry and your magic tried to take over. A few words spoken, and you tamped it down. That’s amazing control.”

  “I guess,” I said, not totally convinced.

  If Shaela hadn’t stopped me, things would have gotten out of hand. I was sure of it. My anger was palpable, and the magic inside me had bucked against my tenuous restraint. Had I let it loose…things would’ve gotten ugly. Especially if Puck had decided to fight back.

  “Okay, let’s get back to work,” Cris said, pulling me back into the present. “I want you to form the fire in both hands this time. Once you have a steady burn, concentrate and try to shape the flames into a weapon.”

  “What do you mean? The fire, itself, is a weapon.”

  “That’s true, but it can be a bit unwieldy. Remember your battle with Sebille?”

  “How could I forget?” I mumbled, thoughts of the queen raising my ire.

  She wanted to kill everyone I loved, then kill me.

  “You twisted and coiled the flames toward her, lashing it out like a whip,” he reminded, bringing my attention back to him.

  “Yeah, but your power was boosting mine,” I said, remembering the burst of energy that intensified my own power when we held hands.

  “That’s true,” he admitted. “Our connection did seem to merge our powers, enhancing them and making them stronger. But December, the control of the fire was all you. You formed the flames. You molded them into a whip and sent it flying toward the dark queen.”

  “I did? I mean, the fire obviously came from my hands, but I thought…I don’t know…”

  “It wasn’t me,” he reiterated. “It was all you. I just added a fuel to the flames.”

  His expression was encouraging as he motioned for me to get on with it. Like he didn’t have a doubt in his mind that I could do whatever I set my mind to. I wish I had half his faith. I was certain it wasn’t going to work. Cyclones, I could do. Magical fire whips?

  Impossible.

  Only, it wasn’t exactly impossible, was it? I’d done it before. Sort of. I’d had my dad fueling the flames, as he described it, and I hadn’t planned it. I hadn’t been thinking at all. I just
reacted, intent on saving Cris and my friends. And myself.

  “I don’t really know where to start,” I said.

  “Start with what you know.” Dad circled me as he spoke. “Create the flames. Feel their power. Mold them with your mind.”

  I gulped in some air and held it deep in my lungs. My eyes drifted shut as I steeled my spine and resolved to try my best. I visualized any negativity flowing out with the breath I released, and opened my eyes as I held both hands out in front of me.

  Bluish-green fire sprouted from my palms. It started as a small flicker before growing into an apple-sized ball of flames suspended in the air above each of my hands. Electricity crackled across my skin, making the hair on my arms stand on end.

  “That’s it,” my father’s voice whispered near my ear. “Now imagine the fire as long, thin streams sprouting from your fingers. Use the magic inside you to extend it. To shape it into the form you desire.”

  I listened to his words, forming the long fire-whips in my mind and pushing the image toward the flames hovering over my hands. The balls of fire elongated, growing higher and thinning out as they stretched to take form.

  Just as the flames started to look like short ropes, they snapped back toward me, reshaping into their previous round form.

  “Again,” Cris commanded, his tone brooking no argument.

  I tried again, and the streams of fire got a little longer, a little thinner, before snapping back just like before. I opened my mouth to lament my failure, but Cris cut me off.

  “One more time, December.”

  I huffed an impatient breath. I couldn’t do it. It was too hard. But if I knew anything about my father, it was that he refused to give up on me. And he wouldn’t let me give up on myself, either.

  I clenched my jaw, gritting my teeth together, as the flames twitched and flickered higher. I focused on the image in my mind, twin ropes of flame snapping out at my command. The fires stretched further, growing longer and thinner than before.

  “Think of your enemies,” Cris whispered, his mouth close to my ear as he stood behind me. “Think of my mother, ripping us apart, punishing me for my traitorous actions while ordering your death. Think of Robin Goodman, waltzing into the Valentine’s dance and exposing every last one of our secrets.”