Enemy Tyes: Great Falls Academy, Episode 7

by Alex Lidell

“Aren’t you going in?” Katita asks innocently, her father, Tye, and the king’s bodyguards all closing around me. ”Arriving late is an automatic fail.”

  Mouth dry, I walk around to one of the arena’s several entrances without bidding the group goodbye and start toward the dais set up in the center. The sand crunches under my feet, the sun shimmering off it in waves. Cadets and groups of chatting visitors cover the benches in patches of color and slowly quieting conversation, glancing at me with mild interest. In the distance, another familiar trumpet call announces a new arrival at the gates.

  Yes, after months of work, I’m about to get kicked out of the Academy without anyone even noticing. A sideshow to entertain the early arrivals. To ensure I’m off the Prowess team before the opening ceremonies even start.

  I take the stairs toward the platform in the center of the arena on shaking legs, a surreal haze over my eyes.

  “Lady Leralynn, you are running late.” River’s voice comes to me hollowly from the dais, as if sounding through a tunnel. Looking up, I find the male standing beside a large slate just like the one we practiced on in Master Briar’s room. His face is somber, his gray eyes unreadable steel as he points to the table laden with questions that have the power to end me. “Over here, please. Select your question and let us get the exam started, please. We’ve over two hundred students to hear from still.”

  Somehow, I make my way toward River, my gaze begging his for an explanation and finding none. It’s all I can do to keep my hands from shaking as I reach to draw my question.

  The paper crinkles beneath my fingers, the ink swimming before me as I stare at the neat handwriting outlining the question. Mathematics. Something about baking supplies that could be in a different language for how much I understand of it. I may as well forfeit now.

  Taking the paper from my hands, River clears his throat and announces the problem to the watching audience. There is a catapult, he tells them. A wall. A required calculation.

  The very question I pulled in Briar’s class, the numbers changed slightly. The question that River worked through with me in excruciating detail after the disastrous practice exam.

  And one that has nothing to do with the words penned on the slip of paper I pulled.

  My gaze lifts, traveling up from River’s chest to his chiseled chin and penetrating eyes, and somehow, without his saying a word, I understand. Without the ability to delay my exam time, he’s taken a different route to help me stay with my mission. One that may get us both thrown out of the Academy, but not yet. Not when such dirty laundry would tarnish Great Falls’ reputation.

  The gratitude and relief rushing through me is nearly enough to rattle my balance.

  Taking the allotted time, I make notes on the offered sheet, ensuring my calculations will seem smooth when I go up to the large slate and show my work to the predatory eyes watching from the stands. Eyes that, for once, are about to see a competent girl striding across the stage.

  16

  Lera

  As the last grains of sand on the large hourglass mark the end of my preparation time, I square my shoulders and walk to the center of the platform, turning to bow my salute to the audience.

  The arena has gone silent but for the whistle of wind through the bleachers and a whispering rustle of conversation. The half-empty stands suddenly feeling crowded for the scrutiny they exude. The cadets—all two hundred of them—crowd the top benches, chalks and slates poised on their laps to practice along with the show. In the front row, Katita sits primly beside her father, Tye lounging with his long legs extended on the princess’s other side. Behind them, most of the rest of the Prowess team is gathered as well, a space forming between the sea of red-and-gold uniforms and a gathering of Fothom Kingdom athletes clad in blue silks farther up. Even here, the swarm of servants is ever present, rushing between the benches to refill wine goblets before disappearing back out the far exits, the large head servant I saw earlier berating them as they pass.

  As before, my stomach clenches at the sight of that wiry dark hair and towering body, even though my logical mind knows that the man who once tormented me cannot possibly be here at the Academy. Then the servant turns, the light catching the scar crossing his face, and my heart stops beating altogether.

  Zake.

  My breath quickens, my feet taking an instinctive step away from the dais even as my hands clutch my work slate. Images flash before my eyes at once. A stable. The scent of hay and wine and ripe sweat. The whoosh of a belt cutting the air. No. With desperate gasps, I focus on the here and now. On the wood floor beneath my feet and the Academy’s flapping flag waving above the keep. I have to be here. Have to think.

  Through the haze of rushing blood and rising bile, I focus on the facts. Zake knows me from before the Academy, from before I put the amulet around my neck. Which means the amulet’s magic will not work on him. One quick glance, one twist of Zake’s head toward the stage, and he will know me at once.

  And then the bastard can call a whole mob to descend upon me. Given that Zake believes I stole his chance at immortality, he’d do it from pure spite.

  Quickly as I can, I step back off the dais, returning to the shadow of the preparation space.

  “Lady Leralynn,” River says with a tone suggesting this isn’t the first time he’s calling my name. “It is time to present your answer.”

  Performance anxiety? Tye mouths to me from the front row, his cutting smile fading when I just stare back at him, eyes wide.

  Stars, the males. Zake met them only briefly a year ago, when the quint magic called River, Tye, Shade, and Coal to cross the Mystwood forest to collect me. How much does Zake remember of them?

  “Lady Leralynn, your answer, please.” River raises his voice, a tinge of worry behind the frustration.

  River. Zake must have seen River by now. That he’s not raised a fuss about it must mean Zake failed to recognize River on sight, letting the amulet’s magic spin its veil. Not surprising, given that Coal and Tye played the most prominent roles in the initial encounter. Still, would Zake’s recollection change if he saw River and me together, the combination spurring his memory? Fear pulsates through me—for myself, for the mortal realm, for my males, whose veiled minds Zake could rip apart if he said the right words. The sounds of Shade’s and Coal’s agonizing screams when I’d tried to tell them the truth echo through my mind again and again. Truth that Zake can throw at them by accident, even if he doesn’t get it into his head to sic a fae-hating mob after us before we know it.

  Stars. My thoughts race, desperately seeking options. But there are none. If I go up on that stage, Zake will find me. See me. Expose me. And then—

  I can’t defend the mortals from a gallows. More to the truth of it, I can’t let him harm my males, the mortal world be damned.

  “Cadet. Now,” River’s voice snaps in warning, but I’ve not even time to mouth an apology.

  Clamping my hands over my face as if holding in bile, I turn my back to the spectators and race for the nearest exit, the chuckles echoing from the stands whispering at my heels. I little care. I need to get away from the arena. Out of sight before Zake’s gaze touches my face.

  17

  Tye

  Performance anxiety? Tye mouthed to Lera as she stood clutching her exam ticket, her wide brown eyes and anxious scent giving him a grim satisfaction. A few more moments, and the lass would choke under pressure. And then she would be gone from Tye’s Academy. From Tye’s team. From Tye’s soul.

  She had to be, because Tye had woken up in a cold sweat every night since he’d watched Lera fall from the bleachers. Since he’d lost his last chance with the lass.

  Leralynn isn’t Tiga. Leralynn isn’t Tiga.

  The words Tye had been repeating to himself over and over still did nothing to ease the tight band around his chest. The heart-shredding pain that ripped through Tye every time his gaze strayed to the lass was as alive as ever. Which was cosmically unjust.

  At least Lera r
efused to speak to him now, after the night encounter with Han’s wrath. Tye shook his head—now that was a stupid reason to get upset, showing just how little the lass understood of competitive athletics. What exactly had she expected that day with Han? The man was a bastard, but he was a bastard who tuned the Prowess Team’s performance to scalpel-sharp precision. Training under Han was an agreement—put up with his cruelty for a competitive advantage, or don’t.

  Everyone on the team understood that. Except Leralynn. Which was her problem, not his.

  So why did Tye feel like he’d made the greatest mistake of his life in letting her walk away from him?

  “The wench is making a fool of herself,” Katita purred into Tye’s ear, watching Lera’s jerking motions with the interest of a house cat following a stray rodent.

  “Dinna call her that.” The ire in Tye’s voice made his accent thicker, but the intent of the words was clear enough to make Katita clamp her mouth shut with a frown. Tye refused to look at her, to answer the confusion lining her coldly pretty face. Because he couldn’t explain it to himself either. Lera didn’t matter. Or, more accurately, Lera needed to stop mattering. And quickly.

  Even as Tye waited to savor Lera’s failure, he couldn’t look away from her. Couldn’t stop himself from watching each and every one of her movements. The nervousness with which she’d chosen her ticket had given way to a relief that had made Tye growl unhappily—until the anxiety returned and all was well with the world. Lera deserved the coming humiliation and failure for betraying his trust, for forcing her way onto a team she felt no loyalty to. She—

  A shiver raced down Tye’s spine as the breeze carrying the girl’s scent suddenly became heavy, laden with a terror that was absent only moments ago. On the stage before him, Lera was backing away, her eyes wide and heart beating so quickly that Tye could see it pulsing on the side of her neck.

  Twisting around, he followed Lera’s gaze toward one of the arena’s exits, where a large mustached man spoke with a pair of serving maids. Wiry brown hair, a scar down his face, and a familiar cruel set to his shoulders. Even without being able to place the man, Tye knew he wanted to kill him.

  No, hurt him first, then kill him. Because… A small burning along his chest and neck disrupted his thoughts. Tye was a cadet and a competitor in the Prowess Trials. He wasn’t here to start fights with strangers.

  That man hurt Tiga. The ridiculous thought fought its way through the burning, filling Tye’s being with a protective instinct that made him want to tear the world to pieces. Except the notion was absurd. How could Tye think that bastard had hurt Tiga if he didn’t know who the man was at all?

  The man shifted his weight slightly, and Lera’s fear morphed to a primal terror that punched Tye’s chest.

  Lera was cowering away from the dais now, clamping her hands over her face as if trying to keep her breakfast contained. Except she wasn’t. She was running for her life.

  “Where are you going?” Katita’s hand closed on Tye’s wrist, her gaze a mix of annoyance and genuine concern. Which made Tye realize that he was on his feet, his hands clenched into fists.

  Katita pouted at him. The princess was pretty, but her looks did nothing for Tye. Never had. Just as her touch meant nothing now.

  “Sit down,” Katita hissed, her grip on him tightening. “The schedule is shifting. They can call your name any time, Tye, and if you aren’t here, your scores will be forfeited.”

  Tye yanked away his hand, the exchange with the princess having cost him the sight of the man and Lera both. For the first time in his life, he couldn’t have cared less about the Prowess Trials.

  18

  Lera

  Rushing out of the arena, I see the keep rising before me and set a course for the grand structure, its thick stone walls beckoning with the promise of safety. My heart races, the courtyard streaking by in blurs of color. If Zake sees me, he’ll hurt me. He’ll hurt my males. Somewhere around me, a bell is tolling the time while a flock of birds exchanges news across the sky. But all I truly hear is my own panting breath, the soft pounding of my boots on the grassy earth.

  The library door swings open with a familiar ring of bells that sounds too loud as I rush by the bookcases, barely registering Gavriel’s surprised frown before I’m out the back door. Into the next corridor, then another. Not stopping until I’m in the wide hallway somewhere deep within the keep, only torchlight lighting the carpeted floor. My heaving shoulders press against the stone wall. As I catch my breath, my gaze lands on the slightly open door of a large utility closet. Even better. Slipping into the shelf-lined darkness, I finally sink to the floor amid buckets and brooms and stacks of candles and cradle my head in my arms, the scent of dust and wax filling my nose.

  My body trembles, the mere memory of Zake’s image having the power to reduce me to a shaking puddle.

  Safe. You are safe.

  Forcing my breath to slow, I push what wits I still have to focus. To catalog the facts and dangers. Somehow, Zake is here, posing as a head servant. And while he may have failed to recognize River, whom he only met briefly, and wouldn’t mark Shade, whom he only met in wolf form, Tye and Coal he’d remember.

  Tye, whom I left sitting there on the front bench of the arena.

  Looking around at the brooms and shelves and candlesticks, I curse myself. At the very least, I should have stayed in the library with Gavriel and worked out a way to get messages to Coal and Arisha. To find a way to protect Tye.

  And instead, I fell right into the trap Coal warned me about, my terrified mind making all the wrong choices. Which I need to start correcting quickly. I try to swallow, though my mouth is too dry for it, my heart pounding against my ribs.

  Get up. Do something, you coward.

  Forcing my legs to move, I climb to my feet. Grip the door handle. Take another breath. Finally, and much too slowly, I ease open the closet door, the headmasters of old watching me from their portraits along the candlelit corridor.

  “Pity the fae gave you immortality instead of brains.” Zake’s rough voice grabs me by the throat.

  Striding down the long hallway, the man looks as big as a mountain, his dark hair and weather-beaten face surreally familiar this close. The tap tap tap of his boots on the stone floor echoes through the hall, paralyzing my body and mind. A nightmare. Maybe this is a nightmare.

  But no—that scent of hay and acrid sweat, sharper now through my immortal senses, is too real. Unable to move, I shrink against the wall, my breath coming quickly enough to make me dizzy.

  “Did you imagine you could outrun me, Leralynn?” Zake demands, the high-necked brown servant’s uniform on him at utter odds with his commanding swagger. “Did you think there would be no price to pay for your betrayal?”

  “Touch me, and I’ll scream,” I whisper into the thick air. “I can yell loudly enough to summon the guards.”

  “Oh, I’m certain you can.” Zake’s lips pull back, showing yellow teeth. “You’ve always had a decent set of lungs on you. But you’ll call no one, lest I tell the blind idiots here they have a fae in their midst. Several, in fact.”

  Ice slides down my spine. Several. So Zake’s marked at least one of the males as well. And the lack of surprise on his face now, the casual satisfaction… Stars. The bastard didn’t just recognize me at the arena—he knows I’ve been at the Academy for some time now. Knows and has kept it quiet. Waiting for his chance to strike at me when I’m alone—and I just gave it to him on a platter.

  “What do you want?” I whisper. There has to be something if Zake has waited.

  Halting a pace away from me, Zake opens the door of the same utility closet I thought my sanctuary moments earlier. “Get in, wench.”

  I shake my head, the only thing I seem able to make my body do.

  Fae. You’re fae, my mind whispers. Stronger than him, faster than him. But it does no good. My limbs may as well be filled with sand.

  With an annoyed grunt, Zake snatches the front of my dress uni
form and shoves me into the small room. Taking a lit candle from one of the hallway’s many holders, he joins me a moment later, shutting the door behind him. The scents of wax and dust fill my lungs again, but only for a moment before morphing to something else entirely. Hay. A stable. A man’s stale breath.

  My whole body begins to shake, a faint ringing in my ears making Zake’s voice sound low and distant, coming at me from all directions at once. Every fiber in my body tenses with the knowledge that there is no escape. Not from his temper. Never.

  “I gave you everything, Leralynn.” Zake’s words hang thick with anger. “Home. Food. Protection. I indulged your wavering mind, waited for years and years for the maidenhead that I earned. I offered you a future so far beyond your sorry strain that you should have been begging to lick my boots and my cock. And what did you do instead?” Zake’s hand grips the nape of my neck, squeezing the muscles painfully. “You betrayed me. Stole from me.”

  “No.” The words come in a pitiful voice that feels like it belongs to someone else. Every breath brings hay and manure, the slow clomp of boots down the aisle, creaking stable hinges. I try to stop breathing altogether, but dizziness descends quickly. I’m alone, as I’ve always been. A worthless orphan who would have starved if not for Zake’s charity. Who might starve still. “I didn’t steal anything,” I breathe, desperate for the man to believe me. Not that truth is much of a defense. My hands rise toward my ears, shielding my head for all the good it will do. Zake is too strong to defend against, even if I was stupid enough to try. “I never steal.”

  “You fooled those fae messengers that I’d waited my whole life for into handing my birthright over to you.” Zake’s voice thunders, and he takes several calming breaths before speaking again. “I will punish you for that first. Take it quietly, and I shall grant you a second chance you don’t deserve. Explain how you did it—conning both the fae into thinking you were me and the dimwits here into believing you a human lady—and I’ll let you go. We’ll consider the books closed. The debts paid. A better deal than you deserve.”