Alex and Azalea_Prequel to the Underground Series

by Melody Robinette

  “Did you hear about the little girl they found this morning?” Penelope asked Alex in a subdued tone.

  He sat up at this, his hand pausing in midair as he reached for another slice. “What? No… What happened?”

  Penelope looked to John to explain. He ran a hand through his straw-colored hair, shaking his head sadly. “A little girl—Edwin Timm’s daughter—was found just past the forest line near the little elf school.”

  “She was found…alive?”

  John and the others shook their heads. “She was dead.”

  Mouth falling open, Alex said, “What happened to her?”

  “No one is sure,” Atticus answered first. “She had streaks of burns all over her body like she’d been electrocuted. Her eyes were open and staring. It must have happened it a matter of minutes because the magisters who were monitoring the area said they’d just seen her sitting by herself, playing with her doll. The next minute, she was gone. They spread out to look for her, but when they found her, it was too late.”

  John said, “The weird thing was, they couldn’t find her doll anywhere. Looks like the killer likes to collect mementos of his victims.”

  Alex moved his head slowly back and forth. “That’s terrible. And no one has any idea who may have been responsible?”

  “What do you think it was?" John said darkly. "A filthy Atrum, of course. Likely a retaliation from our raid yesterday.”

  “Really?” Alex said. “I thought they had ceased attacks on elves, focusing on the warlocks instead. That’s what they said in the meeting this morning.”

  “You’re not supposed to tell us that, remember?” Atticus murmured.

  Alex slapped a palm to his forehead. “God, I suck. Forget I said that.”

  “That may be what the Atrums want us to think so we will leave them alone,” John said. What Alex had let slip didn’t seem like news to him. “In the meantime, the Warriors are all being assigned more hours in the Watch-Tree. Security is heightening for the time being. Until we know who was responsible for the young girl’s death.”

  “Speaking of the Watch-Tree,” Atticus said through a mouthful of pizza, checking his watch, “Our duty starts in ten minutes.”

  John nodded, inhaling another two slices in thirty seconds time before he dragged a napkin across his mouth, kissed Penelope on the forehead, and swept from the pizza place.

  Alex ate the rest of his food in a daze, watching as the Warriors trickled out of the shop to train or sleep or shoot arrows. Alex’s mind was occupied with memories of Azalea, flashing electric blue eyes, and silky brown hair the color of drinking chocolate.

  “Are you okay, Al?” Penelope asked. “You’ve seemed distracted lately.”

  “Hmm?” Alex turned to face her with a confused look on his face. “Sorry, what?”

  “Never mind,” Penelope said with a chuckle. “See you later, okay?”

  “Oh. Yeah. See you.”

  Alex was the last person left in the pizza shop. He wandered out into City Circle, standing alone beside the massive marble fountain in the center. His eyes drug up to the cliff, upon which sat the waterfall boundary. The gateway to the Outside.

  He needed to see if what he was feeling was real, or just a passing obsession. He needed to clear his head.

  And he knew exactly how he was going to do that.

  13

  Family Business

  “Azalea!” Zariah called through the door. “Get up and get ready, dude! We’re going downtown, and the next bus leaves in an hour.”

  Stretching her arms out, Azalea emitted a high-pitched yawn as she forced herself to sit up in her twin-sized bed. She’d been sleeping for a few hours, but it felt like days. Or maybe minutes? She couldn’t decide which. Either way, she didn’t have time to dwell on this because she definitely needed to shower.

  Though she wanted to spend much more time standing beneath the hot water, she showered quickly so she’d have enough time to get ready, half-blow-drying her hair that lay in soft waves. Of all the things she could have inherited from her mother, she was glad this particular asset was it. There was nothing worse than wavy hair that was also frizzy and couldn’t be tamed. A pain twisted through her stomach. She hadn't thought of her mother in a while. It made her sick to think of her, so she tried to avoid it. Azalea shook all thoughts of her mother away as she rifled through her cramped closet for something to wear. That woman had stolen enough away from her. She didn't need to take her fun in Ireland too.

  So. Clothes. Think about clothes, Azalea scolded herself.

  Black was always good. She chose a black sleeveless turtleneck paired with white jeans stuffed into black boots. The only splash of color was the blue of her eyes.

  A knock reverberated on the door. “Ready, Zay?” Zariah called. “We’re heading out.”

  Stringing her small purse across her body, Azalea emerged from her room. “Ready.”

  “Damn, girl. You look hooooott.”

  Azalea laughed, rolling her eyes at Zariah.

  Shayn pressed a hand to his sternum. “What? I don’t get a compliment?”

  “You look hot too, Shayn,” Joe said, patting him on the shoulder.

  “Knew I’d convert one of you boys,” Shayn said with a wink.

  The four of them laughed as they left their dorm. Azalea’s breath hitched in her chest as her eyes landed on a pair of rather familiar faces. She felt Zariah nudge her in the ribs, which wasn’t necessary.

  “Wesley! Alex!” Zariah squealed. “What are you guys doing here?”

  “Thought you could use a local tour guide,” Wesley said with a confident grin.

  Wesley’s gaze slid over the group. But Alex’s eyes were fixed on Azalea, his mouth turning up in a lopsided smile. His hazel eyes looked greener in the setting sunlight.

  “Shall we?” Wesley said.

  The rest of the group enthusiastically agreed, walking side by side with the curly-haired Irish boy. Azalea, however, hung back enough for Alex to fall into step beside her.

  “Where’s your guitar?” she asked him, trying with difficulty to master the muscles in her face. She couldn’t let her nerves show.

  “In my back pocket. I’ll pull it out later. We can serenade the patrons of the pub. Maybe wait ’til most of them are drunk, though.”

  Azalea laughed, biting her lip to keep herself from smiling too widely.

  * * *

  Alex had been sure he’d built Azalea’s beauty up in his mind. No one could be that beautiful. It was impossible. Yet, when she stepped out of the door, he realized she was even more beautiful than he’d remembered.

  And, as the two of them talked on the bus into town (a mind-blowing experience for someone who’d only ever traveled by pegasus), he realized she wasn’t just beautiful. She was also funny and witty and brave. He learned more about her family. Her father, mostly. When he asked about her mother, she tensed up and changed the topic. She told him what it was like growing up in a small town in Texas (wherever that was).

  She was incredible.

  This was a good thing. And, at the same time, it wasn’t. He’d returned to the Outside to convince himself that he was just being ridiculous. To show himself Azalea wasn’t everything his brain had built her up to be. He’d planned on this being the last time he would see her. To get it out of his system so he could focus on becoming the kind of king his father expected him to be. Never mind the fact that he didn’t want to be king. If he had a choice. But he didn’t.

  They reached the center of the city and Alex had to keep from giving himself away. The bus alone blew his mind, but the lights and signs sizzling with electricity filled his veins with a humming excitement. This was what he’d been missing. This was the opposite of Arbor Falls. People filling the streets and sidewalks, music pouring out of each establishment, laughter rising up as people held up glasses of ale and spirits. This was the opposite of boring.

  Earlier, Alex had wished for a longer nap. Now, he realized that wasn’t what he n
eeded. He needed this. The excitement of a buzzing city at the height of the night. And, even if all of that went away, the electric blue of Azalea’s eyes was enough to jolt him awake for days.

  The group made their way through several bars and pubs, most of which were packed, settling finally at a place called the Stag’s Head in Temple Bar where they’d arrived just in time to nab a corner of brown leather seats situated around three small tables. Azalea and Alex ended up squished together in the corner, sitting so close their legs were pressed against each other.

  This pub wasn’t quite as loud as the others, but Alex and Azalea still had to put their heads close to hear any of the words the other was saying.

  “So, we’ve talked a lot about me,” Azalea said. “But I know almost nothing about you.”

  Alex hated that his stomach clenched with worry. There was only so much he could reveal to an Outsider without sounding like a complete lunatic. But, as king, he was expected to think on his feet. So, maybe this was just practice.

  “What do you want to know?” he said.

  “What do you do? Are you going to school? Do you work? Do you like it?”

  “That’s more than one thing.”

  “I know,” Azalea said with a lilting laugh. “Answer all of them.”

  He let out a whoosh of a breath and said, “Well. I am finished with school, and I’m currently training to take my father’s place in the, uh, family business. I…do not like it.”

  “What’s the family business?”

  “Er…politics? It’s complicated. And I’m not supposed to say much about it. It’s classified.”

  This was the truth.

  Thankfully, Azalea accepted this answer. “And you don’t like it?”

  “No, not really.”

  “Why not?”

  Alex’s gaze moved from Azalea’s to his lap. He regularly joked about how bad of a king he was with his friends, but, in reality, he was sort of ashamed about his royal shortcomings. “I’m no good at it. Believe it or not, I’m not the best with public speaking. And I am terrible at keeping secrets. Which is basically half of my job.”

  “What would you want to do? If you could choose.”

  His eyes moved back up to Azalea, locking on. No one had ever asked him this before.

  “I’d want to play music,” he answered. “I’d want to write it and play it and share it with everyone.”

  “Have you told your father? Maybe he would be understanding.”

  Alex shook his head. “He wouldn’t be. I’m the only one who can take over the business.”

  “What about Wesley?”

  “Wesley?”

  “Yeah… He’s your brother, isn’t he?”

  Alex mentally cursed himself. Why did he have to make up that lie?

  “Oh. Right. Uh, actually he’s just my half-brother. We have different fathers.”

  “Oh.”

  A live Irish band began to play then, and according to Wesley, the locals got really pissed if tourists talked over the music. As a musician, Alex understood. And was grateful. He was afraid to say any more to Azalea about his father or their supposed ‘business’.

  He’d already dug himself a rather sizeable hole as it was.

  14

  Chocolate Bridge

  Azalea had to refrain from giggling as she watched Alex struggle through his speech when he answered her questions for him. It was adorable, to be sure. And it made laughs bubble up in her throat, which she held back. So the laughs moved up to her eyes, sparkling like champagne.

  The Irish band made the city feel even more removed from everything she was used to back home. It made it feel like magic. Like a fairytale. Or maybe it was the way Alex looked at her. Like she was a sunset.

  The music was lovely, yes, but Alex was lovelier. And she wanted to hear more of him. Feel more of him. So she grabbed ahold of his hand, whispered a quick explanation in Zariah’s ear, and tugged him out of his seat.

  “Where are we going?” he asked with a laugh.

  “For a walk,” she answered coyly.

  When they made it outside of the building, Alex looked around and then down at her. “Where are we walking?”

  It was strange, she thought, that his accent didn’t sound quite as “Irish” as some of the other locals. It was more of a mixture of Irish and British and Scottish and something else.

  Azalea kept a tight hold of his hand, still clasped in hers, and walked forward. “This way.” He followed easily, falling into step beside her. “I’m feeling like some hot chocolate.”

  “Ah,” he said, his lips curling up. “And where is this hot chocolate?”

  “This way,” she repeated.

  He looked uncertainly at her but followed her lead anyway. Though Alex was now walking beside her, rather than being pulled, Azalea kept ahold of his hand. She’d been waiting for him to let go first, and when he never did, she just kept her fingers entwined with his.

  Never before in her life had she been so acutely aware of how many nerve endings a hand contained. And this wasn’t the first time she’d held a boy’s hand. She was eighteen, after all. And her small Texas town had rather little to do there. Hand holding was always the very first step…before everything else.

  But this. This was like trying to hold static electricity in her palm. Sparks and tingling sensations sizzled everywhere his skin touched hers. It almost left her breathless.

  “I thought you weren’t from here,” Alex said eventually.

  “I’m not.”

  “Then how do you know where this hot cocoa place is?”

  “I’m magical.”

  Alex looked at her a little strangely a moment before he said, “Are you…?” As if he actually almost believed her.

  She laughed. “No, dummy. We went on a tour of the city earlier today and passed by it. Peter—our teacher—told us it was the best hot chocolate in Ireland. But we didn’t have time to stop.”

  “So, you’re not magical then?” he said.

  Azalea’s eyes moved to his, narrowing slyly. “I could be.”

  The corners of Alex’s mouth twitched up slightly as he said, “So could I.”

  “Maybe that’s why you can play guitar so well.”

  He actually threw his head back in a laugh at this. “That’s probably it.”

  * * *

  It was strange talking about magic with Azalea, even though he knew they weren’t actually talking about magic. He wondered how she’d feel if she knew how close she was to being right. It was all well and good to joke about it, but he had a feeling she wouldn’t think it was so funny if she knew the truth.

  “Here it is,” Azalea chimed, jumping forward and making a grand gesture towards a hole-in-the-wall building with a window covered with green letters that said simply: Chocolate.

  Alex snorted. “Clever name.”

  “I like it,” Azalea said. “It’s simple. And not pretentious. It tells you exactly what to expect.”

  “You mean this isn’t a shoe store?” Alex said, feigning shock.

  Rolling her eyes, Azalea pulled him inside. The shop was a quaint establishment that looked like a house with a counter plopped in the center. And it was absolutely packed full of people.

  Alex and Azalea battled their way to the end of the line of patrons, watching and waiting for a table to open up. By the time they ordered and received their steaming cups of hot chocolate, the place had acquired even more patrons.

  “Let’s just take it to go,” Azalea suggested. “Explore the city some more. You can show me around.”

  Alex laughed nervously, taking a sip of his hot chocolate and scalding the tip of his tongue. “I don’t actually come here all that much,” he said. “You probably know the city better than I do now.”

  “Well, let’s just walk then. I feel like I barely know you.”

  You have no clue, he thought.

  “There’s not a lot to know.”

  “Sure there is,” Azalea said, stringing her arm
through his, holding her cup of thick, melted chocolate in the other. “Tell me about your family. Your father, your mother, your brother. Tell me about growing up in Blarney. About your job, your dreams, your fears.”

  “You want to know all that about me?” he said.

  Azalea bit her lip, restraining a smile as she looked forward down the deserted sidewalk. “Of course I do.”

  “I don’t even know all that about me.” He said it in a joking way, but there was quite a bit of truth to it.

  Growing up, part of him knew he wasn’t the perfect little prince his father was trying to raise. He was aware he would be an eventual disappointment, not only to his dad but to the entire kingdom. He’d hated wearing his crown, he hated formal functions, he hated meetings and dressing up and walking tall with his shoulders back. He hated all of that.

  He liked reading Outsider books and playing music. He liked hanging out with his friends and going on adventures. He didn’t like fighting, and he didn’t like violence. But he actually was an excellent physical fighter and had taught kids like Atticus how to defend themselves from bullies. Because, when you had a Power like Music—or detecting others' Powers like Atticus—you kind of had to get good at throwing a punch. He liked helping people. In short, he was a strange little boy who’d grown into a strange young man.

  “I don’t even know where to begin,” he admitted.

  “Well, if you were meeting someone for the first time and they said, ‘tell me about yourself,’ what would you say?”

  Alex shook his head slowly back and forth in thought. “I…like to play music,” he said lamely. “And I like to read books. I don’t like boring meetings or dressing up. I love my friends and my family, but I don’t feel tied to them like most people seem to. Honestly? Let’s be honest here. You want to know about me? Well, I feel like I am this shell of a person, and I’m not sure how I got here. I’m like an animal that’s been separated from its herd but doesn’t want to come back. It’s scary and dangerous away from the herd, and I know I’ll probably die if I leave. But I want to. More than anything.”