Azalea laughed.
Just then, the other girl in the group approached the two of them. “We should probably go soon, Zay. We have orientation in the morning. In Dublin.”
“Dublin?” Alex asked.
“We’re studying at DCU for the month,” Azalea explained. “We actually took a cab all the way here. Big time adventurers.” She wagged her thumb between her and her friend.
“Oh yeah,” the other girl said, placing a hand on her forehead. “With a big time hangover tomorrow.”
Wesley was scribbling down some places on a napkin he insisted the others had to visit. Azalea looked from her friends to Alex.
“Well, it was nice meeting you,” she said, holding her left arm with her right hand. “Thanks for playing guitar for me. We’re a good musical team.”
“Yeah, we are.” He didn’t want her to go. The idea of never seeing her again terrified him more than any horrors waiting in the Underground. “Will we be making music again soon?”
Her eyes sparkled, and the corners of her mouth turned up. “I’d like that.” Grabbing a napkin and a plastic writing utensil off the bar, Azalea scribbled out an address and handed it to him. “That’s where I’m staying. Maybe I’ll see you there sometime?”
Alex took the napkin, looking at the swirling script. “Yeah. Yeah, definitely.”
“Okay. Well… Bye, Alex.”
Reaching up, she kissed him lightly on the side of his cheek. Sparks of electricity sizzled from the place her lips brushed, sending chills down his face and neck. When the rest of her party made it through the door, she paused, turning to look at him one last time with those electric blue eyes…and then she was gone.
9
Dragon Eggs and Tension
Alex returned to the Underground as the morning light peeked over the horizon. And it wasn’t until he was halfway to Arbor Castle that he remembered he was supposed to meet with his father and the leader of the Warriors to listen to a briefing on the Atrum raid.
It was a breakfast meeting. Glancing at his watch, Alex cursed, turning his tired walk into a sprint, cursing with every other leaping step. The guards at the front doors exchanged amused glances as Alex came crashing up to them.
“Out all night, Your Majesty?”
“Just open the door, Jason.”
A chuckle rumbled between them as they opened the doors to permit him. He sprinted all the way to the royal dining room, slamming to a stop in the doorway. His father and the Head Warrior, Ryker Reynolds, looked up from their full plates.
“Alexander,” Olympus said. “You’re late.”
“Yeah, I’m—I’m sorry.”
“I sent someone up to wake you an hour ago.”
Alex moved awkwardly around the table to the empty seat. The air in the Underground was lighter, the gravity less, and he found it difficult to maneuver through.
“Sorry. I was, er…temporarily detained.”
Olympus’s right brow rose slowly as he ran a hand through his red beard. Fire of frustration crackled in his eyes. Alex pretended nothing was amiss as he piled his plate with scrambled dragon eggs and breakfast breads.
“So,” he said. “What did I miss?”
Ryker’s back straightened as he spoke. “I was just telling your father about the raid.”
“Ah, yes,” Alex said in a falsely proper tone. “And how did that go?”
“Rather well,” Ryker answered. “The Atrums were cleared out of their tree homes and sent to Alder Island. Their tree houses were burned down.” He chuckled then. “Some of the Atrums still hiding in their home were smoked out pretty quickly.”
Alex frowned at the image. He’d accompanied his father on an Atrum raid before when he was a few years younger. At the time, he hadn’t understood why the Atrums couldn’t be left alone, to live in their section of the forest. Olympus had told him that the residents of Arbor Falls wouldn’t feel safe with them so close. And they hadn’t shown any desire to improve or change their evil ways. So, they drove them away.
But they kept coming back.
“We believe they have changed their targets to the warlocks. They’ve been spotted lurking around Onyx Forest.”
“Indeed,” Olympus said. “The warlock army has been dispatched and sent to guard the area.”
A shadow of disgust covered Ryker’s face at the mention of the warlock army. The Underground War hadn’t been over long enough for him to drop the hard feelings, apparently. Alex had never understood why the Underground remained so harshly segregated. Then again, he didn’t understand a lot of things about the Underground.
At this point in the conversation, he’d zoned out, exhaustion weighing on him like an iron bar resting across his shoulders. He wasn’t hungry. Just tired. So, he listened to his father and Ryker talk as he stabbed at his eggs and fought to stay awake.
Azalea’s face floated to the forefront of his mind. He couldn’t quite wrap his brain around the fact that it had only been a handful of hours since he’d last seen her. Now he was back in the Underground, it felt like weeks had passed. It had a way of messing with the time.
The scraping of chairs jolted Alex out of his daydream, and he sat up, looking around to see Olympus warmly shaking Ryker’s hand. Taking his cue, he mimicked his father, standing and offering his hand out to the Head Warrior.
Ryder nodded his head at Alex, clapping him on the shoulder before breezing out of the room, leaving the father and son duo alone. The air suddenly felt much heavier. Glancing guiltily up at his father, he was met with a discontent gaze.
“Alexander,” Olympus said. “I’m not quite sure what has been going on with you as of late, but I suggest you pull yourself together. As the future king, you are expected to represent the kingdom with dignity and poise. Today, you showed neither of those. You could barely keep your eyes open.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I didn’t sleep well last night. I’ll…I’ll try harder.”
“Indeed you will,” Olympus stated curtly. “Remember we have another meeting tonight during dinner with the Head Elf of Maplewood. It’s of the utmost importance. Don’t forget, and don’t be late.”
“Yes, sir. Of course. I won’t.”
Olympus nodded, a stern look in his hazel eyes. The same color as Alex’s own. The only similarity he could find at the moment. Too bad elves couldn’t inherit the ability to be a competent royal. If they could, that particular gene had evidently skipped right over Alex.
10
Surprise
Vyra Vaun moved like a ghost through the dim passageways of her brand new home. Bluff Bastion. A castle within a cliff. Tucked away like ants in a hill. Just as dark. Just as cramped. Just as hidden.
She hated it.
Her parents waited for her in the dining room where all the other power-hungry Atrums dined. Vyra’s father, Vex, was the self-proclaimed leader. She wasn’t sure how. He never did anything to protect them from the Warriors. He was all talk and zero action. But he had a deep, scary voice, and the Atrums listened to him for some reason.
Settling into the chair beside her mother, Vyra scowled down at the sad contents on her plate. A small piece of stale bread, a minuscule mound of the meat from some sort of bird, and approximately five pieces of potatoes. Picking up her fork, she stabbed through the meat and pushed it around the plate.
Her mother frowned at this. “Vyra, honey, please don’t play with your food.”
“When are we fighting back?” Vyra asked.
A few other Atrums stopped eating, looking, wide-eyed towards Vyra’s father, who sat at the head of the table.
He ignored her question. “Eat your food, Vyra.”
“Why haven’t we done anything?” Vyra said. “The Warriors killed Ollie. They killed tons of our people. They burned down our tree homes. Why haven’t we killed any of them?”
“Our numbers are depleted, sweetie,” Vyra’s mother said. “We don’t have enough people to risk—”
“We don’t have enough people becaus
e the elves keep killing us,” Vyra stated heatedly.
“I know, honey, but—”
“Don’t fight with her, Elizabeth,” Vex warned. “She’s a six-year-old child. She doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”
Slamming her fork down on her plate, Vyra pushed back from the table.
“Vyra.” Her mother looked towards her with pleading eyes.
Turning on her heel, Vyra stomped out of the dining room. She moved through the dark passageways until she was out of the cliff, descending to flat ground in search of her unicorn. He stood, solitary, in a field full of clover. She approached him without speaking, tugging at his mane until he kneeled to let her on his back.
“Go to Arbor Falls,” she murmured.
Few elves knew the magic a unicorn possessed. They were evil beings, just like Atrums. They only responded to those with hearts as dark as theirs. They always responded to Vyra. The unicorn closed its eyes, and Vyra followed suit. Then they were traveling through time and space, blinking out and winking back in next to the boundary of the elf kingdom.
Leaving the unicorn in a lush meadow, content to eat fresh food he never typically ate, Vyra moved stealthily through the forest until she made it to the place she knew they kept the children, a young elf school filled with kids her age.
They were outside playing in a patch of sand covered in thick tree roots that looped in and out of the ground, creating a natural jungle gym. Darting forward, moving in the shadows, Vrya made it to the edge of the playground, scanning the area for a child who looked lonely or friendless.
A small blonde elf with ringlets tied into pigtails with bows sat alone with a doll in her hands. She seemed content to be playing on her own. Vyra was about to change that.
“Hi,” she said, staying in the shadows as she approached the little girl. “What’s your name?”
Blinking a pair of big, brown eyes, the girl looked up at Vyra. “I’m Tensley.”
“Wanna come play with me, Tensley?”
Shrugging, the girl stood up. “Sure.”
Well, she was agreeable. Stupid elf.
“I found this really fun place right through the trees there.” Vyra pointed at the thick forest line.
“Through the trees?” Tensley leaned around to peer past Vyra.
“Yep.”
Tensley rocked forward and back like a metronome. “But we aren’t supposed to leave the sand area.”
“I know, but it’s not far. It’s just right there. We’ll still be able to see the sand. Come on, it’s fun. It’s a secret place. Besides. I have a surprise for you in there.”
Tensley readjusted her doll in her arms and looked back to the two magister elves who were supposed to be watching the children. Their eyes were on each other as they talked and laughed without a worry or care that something dangerous might be lurking nearby. Foolish, trusting elves.
“Okay," Tensley said, standing up, "but just for a little bit.”
“Okay.”
A little bit was all the time Vyra needed. She led the way, letting Tensley follow her. Electricity sizzled across Vyra’s fingertips as she stepped through the trees.
“Where’s the surprise?” Tensley asked.
A sly grin spread over Vyra’s face as she held her hand up, purple sparks dripping from her fingers.
“Right here.”
11
Lovesick Larks
Azalea had received approximately two hours of sleep before her alarm went off. She pressed the snooze button twice and was finally jolted awake by Zariah, banging on her door, asking if she was ready.
Looked like she was skipping a morning shower.
“One second!” Azalea shouted.
Throwing on a pair of jeans and a solid red tee-shirt paired with black Converse, Azalea pulled her hair into a ponytail and brushed her teeth all in the span of two minutes.
Their group met with Peter in the center of campus. He greeted them brightly, ignoring the fact that they were all squinty-eyed and clearly not well-rested in the slightest. Except for Raina, who hadn’t traveled with them to Blarney.
In addition to the five of them, there were also two other groups of five who’d arrived later than them and were staying in other dorms. Everyone was introduced before Peter began to speak.
“Welcome to Dublin City University, everyone,” he said, spreading his arms wide. “For Orientation today, we will be traveling into the city for a little walking tour. So, without boring you further, let’s get going.”
They followed after him to the bus stop at the corner. Azalea had always thought of double-deckers being native to London for some reason, but Dublin had them too. Only they weren’t candy-apple-red; they were blue and yellow.
Azalea climbed up to the top, sitting in the frontmost seat next to Zariah.
“God, I’m so tired,” Zariah said, pressing a flat hand to her forehead. “But it was worth it. Last night was so fun. And that Irish boy, Wesley? He was a-freaking-dorable, wasn’t he?”
Azalea shrugged. “I didn’t really notice, to be honest.”
Zariah giggled. “Oh, right. Of course you didn’t. You were too busy talking to the redhead with the insane guitar skills. What was his name again?”
“Alex,” Azalea said quietly, looking out the window at the blurred buildings passing. “His name was Alex.”
Peter had their group get off at Trinity College where he led them through the grounds, spouting off historical facts about the institution as well as the Book of Kells. Azalea tried really hard to remain focused and listen to him, but every time anyone with red hair passed by—which wasn’t quite as frequently as one might think given the assumption that most of the Irish sported red hair—her head would swivel in their direction, expecting to see Alex’s smiling face.
But it was never him. Of course. Because he lived in Blarney. What did she expect? For him to stalk their group so he could see her again?
After Trinity College, they walked through St. Stephen’s Green, a massive park filled with performers stationed every so often. Again, each time Azalea heard a guitar, her head swirled around, hoping to see him. It was never him. Truly, she was being pathetic.
They then took a bus to Kilmainham Gaol, a former prison built in 1796. This place, at least, caught and captured her attention. The number of old buildings and castles in Ireland fascinated Azalea. Texas had only one or two cathedrals that could even compete.
The inside of the Gaol was creepy, to say the least. Their tour guide said many believed it to be haunted and even claimed they’d seen apparitions in some of the darker rooms. Disembodied voices and forces pushing people had also been reported.
When they reemerged in the dull sunlight, Azalea was thoroughly spooked and famished. Their group walked to the nearest pub called The Patriots Inn. A large section of tables waited for them, covered in cardboard coasters with the names of various beers on them. Everyone ordered a drink. Azalea got Bulmers. It was her new favorite thing. And would likely lead to a five-pound weight gain by the end of the month.
But she didn’t care. It was delicious.
Irish food wasn’t super different from American food in Azalea’s opinion. Fried things with meats and bread, basically. And soups and stews. It needed more salt than American food, of course. Either way, it was exactly what they’d needed after walking miles that day.
Peter turned them loose for the rest of the afternoon, reminding them they had class early Monday morning.
“Oh,” he added. “And nearly everything is closed tomorrow. The Irish truly take the ‘don’t work on Sunday’ mantra to heart.”
“Meaning we can party all night tonight and sleep all day tomorrow,” Joe muttered to their group.
“Yeah, but if I don’t take a nap before we go out,” Zariah said, “I won’t make it all night.”
“Same,” Azalea agreed.
“Fine,” Joe conceded. “Nap first. Party later.”
* * *
Azalea practically c
ollapsed onto her bed, not even bothering to remove her shoes. After thinking of Alex all day, it was no surprise that he would be waiting for her in her dreams. He looked different, though. His skin was brighter, as if lit from within, and his ears were pointed ever so slightly at the top.
He held a guitar in his hands and grinned when she approached him. He began to play. With the music as their wings, the two of them floated into the air, swirling and twirling through the clouds. Like a pair of lovesick larks.
12
Dragon Pizza
After catching a few hours of sleep following his embarrassing breakfast meeting, Alex joined up with John, Atticus, Penelope, and a handful of other Warriors for lunch at the pizza shop in City Circle.
He knew, if he weren't the king-in-training, most of their group would be less likely to hang out with him. Warriors had a tendency of exclusively spending time with other Warriors. Mostly because they were the only ones who truly understood what each of them had to endure. Death, battles, loss, and crippling fear. Alex couldn’t imagine what they went through. He’d never wanted to. Which was why his decision not to take the Warrior Test had been an easy one.
If only he’d had the same flexibility in choosing whether or not he would train to be the next royal leader. He was his father’s only child. He had no choice in the matter. None at all.
Their group of Warriors and groupies filled the center of the pizza shop, ordering enough food for each elf to have at least half a large pizza to themself. With how much they trained, the Warriors always ate more than their fair share of food. Alex sat at the table with John, Penelope, and Atticus.
His short nap hadn’t been quite long enough to re-energize him. Maybe a slice of pizza or two would help. Picking up a slice piled with dragon meat, Alex tilted his head back and devoured it in three bites.
Alex and Azalea_Prequel to the Underground Series Page 4