Rebel Academy: Crave: A Paranormal Academy Romance Series (Wickedly Charmed Book 1)

by Rosemary A Johns

  Just like she was taking Robin from me.

  With deliberate care, I kissed the tips of my gloves — I love you — before I dragged them on, imprisoning my fingers again. Robin’s troubled look lifted, as he smiled.

  When Robin’s lips grazed mine, he tasted of blackberries. “Always.”

  Henrietta stared down at me imperiously. She was already dressed in her ball gown, which was a confection of black lace; feathers fluttered around her with a wide skirt and a high neck like she was part crow. Her blonde hair was pinned in perfect coils on her head that shamed the loose tumble of my own, beneath a hat of woven robin skins.

  “Let’s battle this ugly, feathered fuck, boss, and make her regret ever taking on Magenta and her familiars.” Flair hopped menacingly towards Henrietta.

  “Bones and blood, I shan’t let this phony bird harm you,” Echo added.

  “I can hear you,” Henrietta said coolly, “since I’m the one who transformed you. I’m no false bird, rather (at the risk of repeating myself), I’m the Principal. Clearly, I need to sign you up to Familiar Training. You have the most appalling language and manners, although your loyalty to my daughter is encouraging.”

  The familiars hesitated.

  “Thank you…?” Echo ventured.

  “Don’t forget,” Robin whispered, low and urgent.

  All of a sudden, Henrietta snatched Robin by his hair, dragging him away from me.

  “Please, no…” I begged, but Henrietta burst a wall of flame down the corridor, separating Robin from me.

  My magic sparkled across the fire, but I hissed at the searing pain that scorched through me to the bone at the touch.

  “Hold your peace,” Henrietta snapped. “Haven’t I always taught you that to be Blessed is to hold responsibility? Do you forget all duty to your House and the Oxford covens?”

  How could I forget? I’d been locked in the Bird Turret and taught nothing else for twenty-one years. All I’d wanted was one moment with Robin, before I was married. But had that been despicably selfish? Had I condemned him through my craving for his love?

  Would my weakness lead to his destruction?

  When Henrietta’s hand tightened in Robin’s hair, and he yelped, I winced.

  “Then let me take responsibility.” I pushed myself to my feet, before straightening my shoulders. “I chose to kiss Robin. You make the point with eloquence. I’m the Principal’s daughter. As a mage, sentenced Rebel, and whipping boy, he had no choice but to…”

  “Allow his lips to be forced open…?” Henrietta laughed, but I’d never seen such darkness dancing in her eyes, or perhaps, it’d always been there but simply not directed at me before. “You’re no liar, daughter, and I’m no fool.”

  She waved her hand over the gallery’s wall, and I gasped. High up, a portrait materialized…of me.

  It was an identical copy of how I looked right now as if I’d been caught in amber: long hair flowing around my shoulders, velvet dress with tulle like cobwebs, and a black pearl choker necklace.

  Instantly, my hand raised to my own neck at the ghost memory of Robin’s touch. I hungered to feel Robin again, even in the innocent way that he’d hold my hand when the summer storms would come. Yet I shivered at the sensation flowing through my magic that I’d never be able to hold his hand again. I swallowed a sob with difficulty. I hated to give in to mother, but there was no way out of the academy. Hecate had been my last hope, and if she’d sided with the covens on my marriage, then I’d be wed to Titus. If I could save Robin first, then any sacrifice was worth it.

  I clenched my hands at my sides. “If you don’t punish Robin, then I shall marry the prince with good grace tonight.”

  I couldn’t meet Robin’s eye. I didn’t know how I kept standing, when I was shattered inside.

  I didn’t expect the way that Henrietta flared the fire higher. “Do you think that after your display in the Dead Wood, I’d give you any other choice?” She yanked Robin closer to the portrait by his hair, and he gritted his teeth. “Now, what do you see?”

  “A beautiful, powerful, and kind woman who I love,” Robin whispered.

  I couldn’t help the smile, even through the tears that now streaked my cheeks. How long had I been desperate to hear those words? How long had I thought beautiful, powerful, and kind about him?

  Henrietta’s nostrils flared like he’d described me as a vile and infernal whore (knowing Flair had done wonders for my vocabulary).

  “What you see,” Henrietta repeated with the faked patience of the principal of an academy for bad boys, “is my Blessedly Charmed daughter who is too good to have her feet kissed by an orphaned mage such as you.” I bristled, shooting a glance at Robin and hoping he understood on all the witching stars that wasn’t true. But he still had his face pressed to my portrait, as his eyes glistened with tears. He gazed at the false me with an adoration that made me shudder because it was like he’d already lost the real…living…me. “Tonight, she’ll become a princess. Do you think you’ll deserve to be in her company then?” Be silent, be silent, be silent… “Why, I ask, did you ever imagine that you could compete with the prince who’s patron to the entire academy? By his generosity—”

  “By Titus’ money, the Princes wallow in luxury, whilst the Immortals and whipping boys starve and suffer,” Robin growled. My eyes widened. I’d never heard anyone talk back to Henrietta before. By the way that she gaped at him, letting out a choked sound, neither had she. It was magnificent. “Now, Titus’ bribery has even won him your own daughter’s hand. Tell me, Principal Crow, how much does a Blessed witch cost nowadays?”

  Henrietta shrieked, curling her hand from Robin’s hair to the scruff of his neck and tightening until he yelped. “Shall I teach you what your kiss cost?”

  I shivered at the resigned melancholy to Robin’s voice, even though it was also threaded with a steely determination, “I already know the answer to that, and if the cost was a thousand times higher, then I’d pay it gladly.”

  My heart hammered in my chest, and all of a sudden, my throat was too tight.

  What did he mean?

  Henrietta smirked. “Senseless mage, I hardly think a mere caning will be sufficient discipline to train you to be obedient and my daughter to sing small enough for her future husband.”

  “Sing small, sing small, sing small,” Echo mimicked, singing at the top of his tone-deaf lungs.

  Henrietta cringed.

  “Get on with it.” Robin’s voice was hard. His eyes blazed. “But do not hide behind the lie of discipline. It is you who are wicked, and not your daughter. Horn and hoof, Great Pan, remember what’s done today.”

  For the first time, Henrietta shifted, sniffing. I’d never seen her appear unsettled before. Robin’s words had sounded…almost…like a curse.

  Or a prayer to his god, Pan.

  I blanched, filled with the knowledge that if Robin had risked praying to the forbidden god Pan in front of Henrietta, then he didn’t expect to survive. How long had he known that kissing me would mean his death?

  Had he always known?

  I couldn’t let him die.

  I wished that I’d allowed myself to be the same as other young witches, even though I’d only ever met the professors here at the academy. Mother told me that they’d have been dizzy with excitement for their first ball, and twice as excited to be courted by a prince. Only Robin and father had ever understood that I dreamed of actual excitement, relishing adventures in the grounds and learning to fight with my magic. I was my own Prince Charming. But mother didn’t see me, unlike Robin.

  Flair and Echo flew to settle on my shoulders. Their weight was reassuring, steadying my magic. I thrust my hands against the flames but then howled as my gloves burned.

  My whole body trembled, shutting down. But still, I wouldn’t move back from the wall of flames.

  “Stop it! Please, for me…” Robin’s anguished pleading reached through my agonized haze.

  I fell back, landing on my behi
nd. Flair and Echo flapped around me in agitation, and I cradled my scorched hands to my chest. When I looked up, I realized that Robin was silently crying and not for himself…for me.

  “What in the name of Pan’s balls is going on?” My father’s voice rang through the corridor, along with the click clack of his boots.

  When I glanced up through vision that was blurred with tears, I’d never been so glad to see him.

  Father, Bryon Crow, was handsome in his outfit for the ball: a glossy peacock green dress coat and waistcoat with gold buttons. He looked like he was about to fight a war.

  Bryon’s ice-blue eyes matched mine, and when he crouched down to catch my hands between his own, before glancing over at Robin, I knew that he understood the situation without me saying a word. He always did. Byron had raised me in the Bird Turret; I’d wondered if he was as trapped there as me.

  Byron’s gaze caught Robin’s for a long moment as if they were sharing a secret code, before Byron paled and looked away. Then he squeezed my hands between his.

  “Calm, Magenta,” he murmured, although I could tell that he decidedly wasn’t by the way that his heel tapped on the floor.

  It was his tell, just like his fingers would always tighten on my shoulder when mother bothered to inspect my lessons in the Bird Turret. Yet it hadn’t been me who’d suffered for my shortcomings. It’d always been father.

  “See how calm you are when you’re a eunuch and my beak is decorated with two pretty new baubles.” Flair narrowed his eyes.

  I winced, and father looked at me questioningly.

  I bit my lip. “Papa, I know it’s not your place, but if someone’s to be punished, at least allow it to be me.”

  Flair shifted on my shoulder. “Robin looks like his blood would taste so sweet I’d vomit, but I know you love him boss, so…”

  “Save him,” Echo begged.

  Byron’s mouth tightened, before he leaned closer and whispered into my ear, “Let me deal with this.”

  When Byron stood and strode to the fire, I hoped that Henrietta would allow it to die down. Then I’d have been able to break through. I trusted Byron, but this was still my problem. Instead, she let it waver, and Byron marched through the flames without them singing him.

  I hissed in frustration, before gasping at the crisp smack, as Henrietta slapped Byron across the face. He didn’t even move his head, as the crimson hand print formed, like he’d been expecting it.

  “Deal with?” Henrietta mocked. “I’m sorry, does it hurt? To be reminded of the true place of non-magical men? I admit that the fault lies with me as well. I’ve been so busy with the Academy Project that perhaps, I’ve been remiss at my Husband Management. In turn, you’ve spoiled our daughter and her toy.”

  Byron met Robin’s wide eyes, as Henrietta pressed him against the wall by the neck.

  Byron’s lips quirked. “Perhaps, I have. Yet she’s never been anything but good.”

  Henrietta sniffed. “Your weakness has led to her corruption, where she believes that pleasure and lust are no longer vices.”

  “Dearest, they’re both young.” Byron tipped up Henrietta’s chin. “Were we not once as they are?”

  “Watch what you say, or I’ll wash out your mouth with soap,” Henrietta hissed. Yet had her expression gentled? She glanced at me. “You must put away these childish fancies and face the real world. I should never have allowed you to live in your daydreams and fairy tales for so long. Your father shielded you from witch tradition and law, which I learned from the cradle. He imagined that it’d grant you a freedom of sorts. But it would’ve been better if I’d taken the whip to him, until he dropped the foolish notion.”

  I struggled to my feet.

  Byron had fought for a childhood with such freedom for me, yet all I’d ever considered was my imprisonment. I’d been jealous of the beautiful boys of the academy.

  Yet I’d been so woefully wrong. My guts roiled with guilt.

  I shook with fear for Byron, who’d stiffened at the mention of the whip.

  “I shall not allow you to touch papa.” I didn’t recognize my voice: it was dangerous and low.

  Henrietta’s eyes gleamed. “See! Why do you shudder at a simple whipping? Men are eager to be taught how to please their wives. It’s how witches have long created happy marriages.”

  “I’m certain that Prince Titus will be eager for such lessons,” Robin scoffed. “Do you truly imagine that by marrying him into your House, you’ll control him through your daughter?” Robin’s gaze shot to mine; it ached with such flayed desperation that I stepped closer to the wavering heat of the flames, as my magic sparked out like it could touch him.

  “Silence,” Byron commanded with more harshness than I’d ever heard him address Robin, “it’s not your place, remember?”

  “Oh, but don’t you find it sweet, husband?” I stiffened at Henrietta’s affected amusement, as her thumb brushed over the pulse point on Robin’s neck. Was it wicked of me to wish to burn her hands for touching him like that? “The infatuated mage wishes to remain with my daughter. Am I right?”

  The question was gentle. Yet it was a trap. By Byron’s indrawn breath, I knew that he’d realized it too.

  Yet Robin had already answered, “Always.”

  Robin’s gaze didn’t leave mine, and his lips curled into a smile. At the same time, a single tear traced down from the corner of his eye, as if he knew what would come next.

  Hexes and curses, he knew what Henrietta was about to do to him.

  My scream was like a feral animal’s, but it was too late.

  “Wish granted,” Henrietta whispered with the satisfaction of having caught Robin within her claws.

  The wall beneath my portrait opened, and Robin fell into the gaping darkness behind. Bryon grabbed for his arm, but Henrietta slammed Bryon back. My burst of magenta magic sprayed out, touching the tips of Robin’s grasping fingers. I wailed, as my gaze locked one last time with his frightened one like just for a moment, he thought that I could save him.

  Then the gallery wall sealed.

  No, no, no…

  There was nothing but silence in the corridor, apart from my sobbing, and Byron’s harsh breathing.

  “Let him out.” I was numb. I couldn’t feel my body or even my burned fingers anymore. The way that Robin had fallen, his terrified eyes, and my magic curling around him replayed in my mind. Was my magic all that he had now in the dark? I craved to see Robin one more time. “In the name of Hecate, if you don’t let him out, then every Blessing that my magic bestows upon this academy, I shall turn into a curse.”

  “Your witchy backside is about to get spanked, bitch.” Flair’s eyes glittered.

  Henrietta’s smug expression fell, breaking into sudden fear. She looked at me like she’d never seen me before. I thought it was perfectly obvious that she hadn’t.

  “You know the power of both our daughter’s magic and his. Why would you risk something like this? Free the boy,” Byron urged, clutching his wife’s sleeve.

  Regaining her composure, Henrietta batted him away. “Do I need to cast a Lips Sewn Shut spell to ensure your silence?”

  “When did you grow so cold and heartless?” Byron stared at Henrietta, and she shifted uncomfortably.

  “Even were I to reconsider…” Henrietta cast a nervous glance at me. My magic was vibrating in a haze; I couldn’t control it. “This spell cannot be undone. It’s an ancient punishment for prisoners caught in our war with the mages: to be walled up alive in the walls of this castle. Once they’re trapped, there’s no way to remove them alive.”

  “Then there’s no way to stop my curse.” I didn’t recognize my own voice, which resonated with an ancient power that was drawn from grief, nature, and my Blessed magic. Only, was if even Blessed anymore…?

  Robin was gone because I’d dared to love a mage for the sake of pleasure and lust. There was a hollowness in my chest, and the whole world appeared to have slowed. My cheeks were wet, but I didn’t notice my t
ears. What did freedom matter if Robin was lost?

  How long would he have to suffer alone in the dark before he…?

  Cold flooded through me. My magic sparked to twinkling pink snow-flakes. I’d never be warm again.

  Why was the corridor darkening? I stared outside the arched windows at the snow clouds gathering over the summer day.

  “In the name of Hecate, stop this madness.” Henrietta shivered, vanishing the flames.

  But I couldn’t. My magic had twisted with loss. Its roots spread throughout the entire academy, and now it raged.

  When Byron ripped the peacock amulet from his throat, which he’d always worn, dashing it to the floor, I didn’t understand his pained gasp or the way that Henrietta cradled him with sudden tenderness.

  “What have you done?” She murmured.

  “What I should’ve had the courage to do long before.” Byron pressed his hand to the wall where Robin had been walled up, before he chanted the invocation, “By the branches of the tree, save your children, blessed be.”

  I held my breath, hoping (please, please, Hecate), that Robin would burst free. After a long moment, however, nothing happened. Except, Bryon collapsed, held up only by the circle of Henrietta’s arms like whatever he’d tried had taken all his energy.

  As a non-magical man, how had he even been able to attempt magic?

  Then in a wave of certainty, I knew: Robin would die, and I’d be trapped forever.

  I howled, levitating off the floor in a cloud of frozen magic. Flair and Echo flew off my shoulders to flank me. The windows blasted out under the pressure of the snowstorm that now raged outside, cursing the Rebel Academy. Shards of glass nicked me, slicing into my skin and destroying what would once have been my wedding dress and now was the dress that I wore to mourn Robin, but I barely felt them or anything but a consuming coldness.

  Henrietta’s gaze met mine; was she truly terrified of me? “I was wrong. All these years, I was fooled by my husband that you were Blessedly Charmed, but instead, you’re Wickedly Charmed.”

  It should’ve hurt. When you’re frozen to ice, however, nothing can hurt you any longer.