Feral (The Irisbourn Chronicles Book 1)

by Victoria Thorne

  “Sometimes, at night, he would sneak into the forest and find me, just to make sure I was alive and healthy. During one of our meetings, Adrian told me he may have discovered a way for us to escape. For years we had both dreamed of leaving that wretched place, but it had always been impossible. The problem wasn’t breaking out of the palace – it was what we would do after we broke out. Even if we had managed to escape, we would have nowhere to go, and no one in all of Fallyre would have been willing to harbor a fugitive Bloodbourn and his disgraced sister.

  “But, that night, something changed. Adrian told me that one of the prisoners knew of a sanctuary that would be willing to hide us from the Bloodbourn. However, the prisoner would only be willing to disclose the location of the sanctuary on two conditions. First and most obvious, we would free the prisoner, who we would then protect while we were led to the sanctuary. The second, Adrian never told me.”

  “Why not?” I inquired. “I mean, you’re his sister. Why wouldn’t he tell you?”

  “My brother likes his privacy,” Arisella guessed weakly. “He still won’t say anything about the second condition, and I’ve asked him plenty of times. All I know is that after that meeting, I didn’t see him for a week. When he came back, he told me he had made preparations for us to leave immediately.” Arisella stopped in thought, and I indicated for her to continue.

  “We waited for nightfall, and then the three of us slipped out of the palace, cloaked in darkness. With the prisoner’s extensive knowledge of the geography, we didn’t have any trouble fleeing the Bloodbourn territories. After many days, we finally reached an underground asylum founded by insurgent Beastbourn called the Praetus.

  “But, not long after arriving, we were already preparing to leave. We could only stay long enough to rest and replenish our supplies. After the Blood War, the Blood King’s influence knew no bounds. Nowhere in Fallyre was safe for us, and we couldn’t afford to stay in one place for too long.

  “After hearing of our intentions, the prisoner we had brought to safety offered us a pons. The prisoner had somehow managed to conceal it after over a decade in captivity. The prisoner knew that Earth would be safer for us, that the Bloodbourn wouldn’t even be thinking to look for us here. Adrian and I accepted the pons, and we used it to get out of Fallyre and come here.”

  “You still haven’t explained how you integrated into the human world – and how you found all of this,” I gestured largely to the property around me.

  Arisella sighed. “Only a handful of Divinbloods walk amongst humans, and even fewer mortals know we exist. Even so, we have our ways of worming into your community. The Praetus have established many connections throughout the human world, through which we were able to obtain our identities, our food, even this house.”

  “But why this house?” I persisted.

  “This house is one of many safe havens that had been designated solely for Irisbourn who wish to travel to the mortal world,” Arisella answered. “That’s why an Irisbourn pons can open the locks, and why this house is so large and always furnished. Weapons are hidden here, too, if you know where to look. It’s no coincidence that we happened to move in beside one another. Your house is a safe haven as well – that’s why our houses are identical to one another.”

  Arisella’s steady blue eyes reflected the question mark on my face. She took a deep breath and continued to explain.

  “Like I said – few mortals know Divinbloods exist. Those who do, own safe havens such as ours and are willing to cooperate with Divinbloods by allowing us to live here. Since your parents owned a safe haven, they must have been privy to the existence of Divinbloods.”

  “And then it makes sense why they would have adopted me,” I realized. “Who’s the human who owns your house?”

  “We’ve never met them.” Arisella got up and began to pace around a nearby pile of blades. “Contact with the owner is unnecessary, although Adrian and I have even been assigned an Earthbound Divinblood guardian by the Praetus, who stops by every so often to check on us and bring us anything we might need, from brown contacts to soup.”

  “Will I ever get to meet your guardian?”

  “I should say not,” Arisella said adamantly. “Just because Adrian and I can trust her with our safety doesn’t necessarily mean we can trust her with yours.”

  In a flash of movement, Arisella seized another knife and threw it at me. I swerved to the side, but the blade grazed my shirt, tearing it at the shoulder.

  “Can you stop that?!” I shouted, jumping to my feet. I quickly bent over to pick up the blade she had just thrown, so that I would feel a little less vulnerable. “I can’t believe I’m even trusting you with my safety.”

  Arisella scowled. “A Bloodbourn blade strikes hard and true. If you don’t learn how to avoid one, you won’t need to worry about trusting your safety to anyone.” She picked up six fresh blades and positioned them between her fingers, pointing them upwards from her knuckles.

  “You, uh, aren’t planning on throwing all those at me,” I gulped. “Right?”

  “You’re behind in your training, Amber. And we’re losing daylight. How about we speed things up?” Arisella’s lips curled upwards.

  “How about we not?” I said, inching away from her. As soon as Arisella had a weapon in her hand, it was like she became a completely different person.

  “Let’s begin.” Arisella drew her hands to her sides and eyed me wildly.

  “No, Arisella, are you crazy? DON’T!”

  But it was too late. She was already throwing them at me, one at a time, watching me in amusement as I danced around the knives, while I simultaneously distanced myself from her.

  “ARISELLA! STOP!” I cried. I darted away like a frightened rabbit to the back of the yard.

  As if on command, Arisella actually stopped. I heard muffled grunts and then a massive thump, and then just the sound of my pulse pounding in my ears.

  When I turned around, Adrian was on top of Arisella, furiously pinning her to the ground with one of his black needle-like blades at the base of her throat.

  “What the hell is this?!” Adrian demanded. He was covered in sweat, and it was obvious he had been running for quite a while. “Aris, I told you to train her, not kill her!”

  “I was training her,” Arisella spat, “the same way we were trained.”

  “Do you remember how many students died during that training?!”

  Arisella managed a shrug. “I was hoping for the best.”

  Adrian scowled and got off his sister. He turned toward me. “Did she hurt you?” he asked with unease.

  “No,” I answered bitterly. “Although I wouldn’t be surprised if I developed post-traumatic stress disorder.”

  “Aris, no more weapons training with Amber from now on. Ever.” Adrian glared at Arisella. “Leave that to me. You’ll help her with the change.”

  My heart beat faster in light of my new training arrangements, and Arisella scowled at my bright expression.

  “Fine,” Arisella muttered, clearly disappointed. “Have it your way.”

  That was the moment I actually began to look forward to my weapons training.

  Chapter Eighteen

  I got through school without paying very much attention to anything I was doing. Hell, I may have even handed in blank tests without noticing. My physical training had been cutting into my sleeping and studying hours, and my grades were barely salvageable at this point.

  What with the overwhelming stress of knowing that someone wanted me dead, my crappy grades carried the importance of unwatered plants. I had a lot more important problems to worry about. For example, Dylan had started asking too many questions about all the time I spent with Adrian and Arisella. The last night, he had caught me trying to stealthily slip into my room after I had finished training. When he asked me what I had been up to, I told him I had been tutoring Adrian and Arisella (if only I were – they really could have used the help), but Dylan didn’t believe me, and I wasn’t sur
prised. I was covered in dirt and my shirt was torn. He didn’t have to be a rocket scientist to know that wasn’t how people usually left tutoring sessions.

  In fact, he had just begun to revisit the subject as we walked into our cold, unwelcoming math class. As usual, we were the first ones there.

  “You know, Amber, aren’t you supposed to be tutoring me?” Dylan brought up casually. “Our teachers think you are.”

  “I never actually agreed to do that.” On my desk I placed the paper I had prepared the prior night. Gray, penciled numbers ran across the entire page in neat lines. It looked like I had put a damn lot of effort into it.

  “Maybe you might be able to tutor me with Adrian and Arisella,” Dylan suggested. Subtle.

  “I don’t really think that would be a good idea. Adrian and Arisella aren’t in the same classes we’re in.” Honestly, I had no idea what classes Adrian and Arisella were in. I strongly suspected they may have been at a first grade level in history, though.

  Dylan’s face fell, and I immediately felt a punch of guilt. “But,” I continued, “I promise to help you more from now on, until you catch up.”

  From the corner of my eye, I spotted Spencer trying to flag me down like I was an airplane. He had just entered on the opposite side of the room, and was gesturing for me to join him.

  “One sec, Dylan,” I said quickly before going over to Spencer to see what he wanted.

  Spencer was gripping a teal, striped paper square in his hand. He waggled it enticingly in front of my face as if he expected me to eagerly reach out and grab it. Printed on one side was the outline of an overly enthusiastic panther dribbling a basketball.

  “Your ticket,” Spencer practically sang. He was genuinely delighted to see me. The guilt that pooled in my stomach made me feel like a criminal.

  “Thanks, Spencer.” I accepted the ticket and directed an excessive amount of effort into inspecting the ten words that had been printed on it. “It was really nice of you to get it for me.”

  “It was no trouble, really,” Spencer reassured me. I sighed in relief. Hopefully he was telling the truth. “So, pick you up at six?”

  “Uh,” I stammered. “Don’t you have to ride to the stadium with your team?”

  “Nah, I’ll just pick you up after practice. I actually prefer driving up alone – you would too, if you spent two hours every week crammed into a tiny bus with an entire team of basketball players. Although, if you have a thing for basketball players, you may actually enjoy that.” Spencer winked at me suggestively.

  I felt the heat rise to my face. “Don’t worry, I don’t,” I reassured him, and mentally groaned when I realized who I was talking to. “I mean, I don’t even like sports, so that wouldn’t really affect me,” I said quickly, before I could hurt his feelings.

  “Nice save,” Spencer laughed, but the laugh was awkward.

  “I should really go back to my seat. Ms. Garner will be back any minute. Thanks for this.” I held up the ticket and smiled at him appreciatively before turning and making my way back to Dylan.

  “So, what did he want?” Dylan demanded.

  “He was giving me a ticket to his game. He was just being polite,” I sighed.

  “I cannot believe you are still doing this,” Dylan grumbled. “You don’t even like him.”

  “Who knows? Maybe I’ll have fun.”

  Dylan scoffed. “Fun, at a basketball game? Amber, you hate sports.”

  “Please, Dylan-” I began just as Ms. Garner entered the room.

  “Homework out, pens in hand,” Ms. Garner said curtly as she took her place at the front of the class, immediately silencing me. She was wearing a long, dark maxi dress today that billowed with every step she took, making her seem darker and more sinister than usual.

  From across the room, I caught Cecelia shamelessly giving me the stink eye, and I realized she had probably witnessed the exchange that had gone on between Spencer and me. But today, rather than ignore her like I did every other day, I smiled back at her wickedly, and I couldn’t help but feel pleased as she seemed to be taken aback.

  “Your work, Miss Tesse,” Ms. Garner snapped impatiently, interrupting my nonverbal conversation with Cecelia.

  “Right here,” I said. I fluidly drew the sheet of homework from my bag and placed it on my bare desk.

  Ms. Garner’s face fell slightly, and she ran one of her long, thin fingers over my work, whispering the numbers to herself as she went through the paper.

  After two minutes, she must have deemed my work adequate, because she mumbled, “acceptable” and left.

  When she reached Cecelia’s desk, her brow furrowed while she alternated her attention between Cecelia’s paper and Cecelia’s face.

  “Ms. Garner, is something wrong?” Cecelia asked confusedly.

  Ms. Garner only shook her head. “Cecelia Stone, you must put more effort into your work than this. This is not even the correct assignment. This is a fifth grade level math assignment, and even then, all your answers are incorrect.”

  “That can’t be right,” Cecelia stammered.

  “Seven hundred divided by seven equals seventy-seven? I’m very disappointed in you, Miss Stone. I never want to see this happen again.”

  Damn, Ms. Garner was definitely letting Cecelia off way too easily.

  Cecelia frowned, mortified. “Yes ma’am.”

  When Ms. Garner moved on, Cecelia glared at me accusatorily, and I tried to hide my mirth.

  “That was the paper on your desk at the beginning of class, wasn’t it,” Dylan whispered from over my shoulder.

  “Yes,” I affirmed, impressed that he had caught on so quickly.

  “She’s been taking your homework, hasn’t she?”

  “Yes.”

  “I don’t think she’ll be doing that again.” Dylan sounded proud of me.

  “I don’t think so either.”

  I really just spent the rest of the day counting down the minutes until the dismissal bell rang. The moment we were released, I flew out of class and into the hallway, where I brusquely forced my way through the disorderly waves of warm, chattering bodies.

  “Christ, Amber – hold on!” Dylan called. He gawkily slammed into the students behind me.

  Oh crap, I had forgotten about him again.

  I slowed my pace and led him to a less crowded area where we wouldn’t feel so much like claustrophobic sardines.

  “Why are you in such a hurry? I was thinking we might be able to get some burgers on the way home,” Dylan huffed. He hurried to match his stride with mine.

  “Sorry, can’t.” I looked at him apologetically.

  Dylan visibly deflated. “Oh. Why?”

  “I’m supposed to meet Adrian and Arisella again. They really need help with… history,” I lied.

  Dylan scowled. “It’s a Friday. They’ll manage.”

  “Dylan,” I pled, willing him to understand. “I promised them.”

  “I know, but you’ve been seeing them every day. I just thought you could use a break.” Dylan shuffled his feet uncomfortably.

  “Thank you, Dylan, but they really need the help.” The lie tasted terrible in my mouth.

  “So do I, you know.”

  My eyes widened in realization. All those extra appointments he had been having with his teachers – could he have been failing some of his classes? Even I was having trouble with my schoolwork, and I had been attending classes longer than he had been.

  “Crap, Dylan, I –“

  “Don’t worry about it,” Dylan said dismissively, although I definitely would keep worrying about it. I mentally filed this conversation away for revisitation later that night. “Anyway, it’s a Friday. I’m going to get burgers. Do you want anything?”

  “Uh, no, I’m good.” I was slightly surprised that he didn’t plan on walking home with me.

  “Alright, I’ll see you later.” He abruptly took off, leaving me behind.

  “See you later,” I said softly, even though I knew he wou
ldn’t be able to hear me.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “You hold the blade like this,” Adrian explained, as he expertly showed me how he wrapped his fingers around the hilt.

  “Like this?” I tested, trying to force my hands to mimic his movements. Apparently I wasn’t doing it very successfully, because I caught him trying to suppress a smile.

  “You’re holding the blade like you’d hold a fork. It needs to be more firm, like this.” He put his hand over mine and guided my fingers to the proper places. I inadvertently tensed when he took a step closer. I was sure he noticed, because he immediately backed away. Damn it.

  “That’s right,” Adrian said with satisfaction. “Now you’re going to need to throw it. I’ll show you how first, and then you’ll try, okay?”

  “Okay.” I definitely liked throwing knives better than having them thrown at me.

  He drew his hand back and thrust the blade into the closest tree. It sank into the wood with a thud. Something about the way he moved gave me chills. It all seemed so familiarly dangerous.

  He rolled up his sleeves and looked at the tree with satisfaction. “Your turn.”

  “Okay.” I gripped the knife tighter. The cold metal bit into my skin, and for a second I glimpsed my reflection in the blade. Just holding the knife left a dull, sick feeling in my stomach. I didn’t want it in my hands anymore, so I tried to throw it at the tree, the way I had seen Adrian do it, but it just bounced off the bark and hit the ground.

  “That was a good start. Let’s try it again, but this time with more force,” Adrian commented.

  I grunted in response and picked up another knife from the ground. I drew my arm up to strike, but just as I was about to throw the knife, dreams of my mother with a blade at her neck flooded my mind, and I dropped the knife with a startled gasp.

  “What’s wrong?” Adrian moved toward me in alarm.

  “Nothing, sorry. The blade slipped. I’ll try again.” Get it together, Amber.