My fantasy of Professor Succubus exploded. Why did that hurt so much? I’d hoped that she was different. I should’ve known that I could only trust my two friends.
Oh, and my sacred swan shifter, of course. I’d better not forget the sacred.
Apollo bustled over to join our cuddle pile, forcing his head on its long neck between Radley and me.
I laughed, and Radley snarled but allowed Apollo to lay over me in a feathery blanket.
“No fair, you always sneak your sexy times when I can’t join in. I hate being trapped like this. Couldn’t you at least have waited until you took my collar off tonight?” He grumbled.
I ran my finger over Apollo’s collar that stopped him shifting back into our lover; I wished that I could remove it now. “We’ll just have to make tonight special then, won’t we?”
“If you’re lucky,” Felix winked.
Even now, however, the memory of Professor Succubus ached through me like she’d been etched into my bones. The way that she’d shared the intense moment, when I’d believed I was about to die, had bonded us but in a way I’d never imagined possible. It wasn’t a planned bond, but one that called to something deep inside me.
How could I pretend that I wasn’t desperate to see her again?
Perhaps, this was the first lie that I’d ever told my mates. All our lives, we’d feared bonding. How could I tell them that I might’ve found mine?
Despite that, however, in the shade of the All Spells Apple Tree in the bright spring morning, with my lovers and friends in my arms, it was possible to forget that this was a prison and we were under order of execution.
Yet when I caught sight of the three bruised apples in the basket (which should’ve been full by now but failing Horticulture wasn’t high on my regrets list…okay, maybe I should get on with writing that list), I knew that I had as little time left as those apples.
I assure you, that was a sobering thought.
All of a sudden, a buzzing grew above my head, louder than the bees. I stiffened, squinting up through the light, which shafted through the branches.
Wings glittered in between the blossoms, along with the tips of spears.
We were being hunted.
Radley twisted around to cover me, and Apollo hissed, but it was too late.
There were other deadly paranormals, who lived on these lands that’d been stolen. The woods had belonged to the myrmidons for centuries before the Wicked Reform School had even been built. The myrmidons were fierce warriors with many different tribes just like the fae, and as we’d encroached on their territory, they wanted it back.
Honor dictated that they fought with the Fae Lords. No matter how I’d tried to broker peace, ever since we’d arrived a decade ago, we’d been at war with them.
At least this tribe had honor. The ones who lived deeper into the woods were used in general classes, which at least Wells helped us avoid as much as possible, to murder students. I shuddered at the number of shifters and vampires who’d been flayed.
Then my eyes widened, as the myrmidons attacked.
CHAPTER THREE
Wicked Reform School, House of Fae, Orchard
Monday 26th April
The myrmidons with transparent wings that glistened in the sun, like a wave of armed insects, dived out of the All Spells Apple Tree. The leader, who glittered purple and orange, narrowed his oval eyes and shook his floppy ears.
The tiny bastard was calling me out.
Perhaps, I shouldn’t have pranked him by hosting a rave in his section of the wood last weekend.
Okay, I now had Number One on my Regrets List.
Felix rolled over, sheltering behind his book, as the creatures landed on top of him, battering at the cover. Apollo reared back, flaring his wings and hissing. The myrmidons circled him with sneers but they didn’t dare to attack.
Don’t let them work out that my swan shifter was bluffing…
Apollo would lose in a fight against a kitten. In fact, he had.
“When you’re ready, guys, I’m over here.” I waved, stretching with a sensual wriggle. “This is all really exciting. What are you going to do with me now that you’ve caught me? I mean, it’s not like I haven’t been taken hostage before. Come on, make it interesting.”
When the Chief Myrmidon launched his spear at me, I yelped (breaking Court Dictate 707: never show emotion in the face of danger). I twisted to the side, and the spear whistled past my ear, twanging into the grass. A new spear magically grew out of his hand like a vine.
My pulse pounded, and my breath hitched.
There was interesting, and then there was simple ill-manners.
By my wing, this meant war.
The tips of the myrmidons’ spears were dipped in hallucinogenic poison. The myrmidons weren’t messing around.
It was lucky that we’d been allowed to hold onto our scimitars within the school because it was such strong tradition not to part a fae from their weapon. It hurt to know that the fae prince who’d tried to help me at Court was suffering in the English reform school, Rebel Academy. Yet it’d crushed me, when I’d heard that in Rebel Academy they were even crueler and had taken Prince Lysander’s sword away from him.
It would’ve wrecked him.
Radley, on the other hand, never needed his scimitar either in a fight or to wreck somebody.
Radley launched himself up; I forgot how hot he was when he blazed into protective mode. “You’re dead, bug-face.” When he crooked his finger at the leader, the warrior paled. I didn’t even know that myrmidons could do that. “If you’re brave enough to ambush us, why not come over here?”
The Chief Myrmidon shook his head.
Radley’s dark grin grew. “Why not? I only want to be friends…with your insides.”
There was the psycho who I loved.
The Chief Myrmidon squeaked.
“You shall not defeat Shakespeare,” Felix proclaimed, whacking the divebombing myrmidons with his book.
Radley winked at Felix, before they both transformed in a spray of glitter into their fae form: large white butterflies with wings that glistened like polished metal.
My breath caught, and I pushed myself to my knees.
On my feathers, they were dazzling. They looked like white apple blossom amongst the pink.
Why couldn’t I…just once…transform alongside them?
The familiar burning built in my chest, until I struggled for breath, as I fought to transform.
Just once…if this was my last week…just this once…
I hated being marked out as different to every other fae. If I ever managed to become a true fae, would it kill me?
Radley and Felix fluttered between the myrmidons, nipping at them with their sharp teeth. The myrmidons scattered with terrified squeaks.
My lungs closed up, and I gasped.
Bright Belenus, I couldn’t breathe…
I slammed my fist against the ground in frustration. What kind of leader (or even fae) was I, when I couldn’t transform and fight wing by wing?
Apollo nudged his head against mine. “My Lord, stop it. Why do you always push yourself like this? Being different, doesn’t make you weak. Will you leave off trying to kill yourself for one hour at least? Please, for me?” If he’d been in his human form, he’d have been weeping. “Right, like I don’t know what it is not to be able to shift as I please. Should I break both my wings to show you how little I care that you can’t fly the same as the others? For your sake, I’ll never fly again.”
Brilliant. I’d incited a swan to grand acts of martyrdom.
I gripped Apollo by the wing like that’d stop him running into the tree and cracking his own wing bones (okay, I was never imagining that again), and gave up trying to transform. The burning died down inside me, until my breathing steadied. I slumped over Apollo, resting my head on his feathery back.
“Wing breaking may be romantic in the swan world,” I whispered into his feathers because it was easier than saying the
words to his beak (and how much did I wish that he was in his human form right now), “but firstly, I adore your flying. You should never clip your wings for anyone’s sake (even mine). And secondly, I’d rather that you simply said I love you.”
Above my head, I heard Radley and Felix’s tiny war cries as they battled the myrmidons. A battered insect warrior tumbled out of the air to land by my nose, and I flicked him away with malicious joy.
“I love your daft self.” Apollo’s words were soft and careful. “Just as you are.”
Court Dictate 18: Tears are nothing but drops of shame.
My lips curled into a smile. “That’ll work.”
Then something pricked me in the ass.
I glanced over my shoulder in shock to see the Chief Myrmidon perched on the hollow of my lower back with his spear balanced dangerously on my ass.
For the first time in the spring heat, I was glad for the thickness of my coat and trousers, which protected my skin from the poison.
Felix and Radley hovered mid-air, fluttering their wings in agitation.
I arched my brow. “Well played, my buggy nemesis, but this isn’t over.”
The Chief Myrmidon twirled his spear with a smug smile (he was just showing off now), before flicking me off.
There was a reason that we’d been at war for a decade.
When I spun to grab him, he snickered, whizzing back into the air.
“Have you forgotten that this is Horticulture class and not Exterminating Insects for Idiots?” Wells’ cold voice boomed across the farm.
I flinched, pushing myself to my feet. Felix and Radley transformed back in a spray of gold.
“Shoo,” I hissed at the myrmidons, who’d frozen in fear; they knew by now that us Forest Fae were only playfighting, but the Court Fae would wipe them out like the other tribes who they’d conquered, “unless you want Wells to serve Myrm Soup for supper.”
The myrmidons were our enemy, but no one deserved to be Wells’ target.
The Chief Myrmidon waved his spear defiantly, before retreating with his warriors into the branches. I wished that I could follow their glittering path between the apples.
But I couldn’t even fly.
I glanced across at Wells, who sat frozen in his chair. Behind him, towered the golden turret of the House of Fae. Our prison for the last decade appeared to have been modeled on our burnished wings. It was as pretty as the rest of the grounds. The Queen’s crest of two swans bowing their heads in a courtship dance, which would mate them for life, was hung above the arched gateway. Its thatched eaves were a quaint joke, when if you looked closely enough, the turret had no windows.
The House of Fae wore a glamour of serenity. But underneath, torrents raged.
Wells was no different.
Wells pretended to find the depths of his coffee fascinating. “Lord Spring, would you hazard a guess at how many Dictates you’ve so far broken this afternoon.”
He’d been watching us…? Of course he had.
In turn, I pretended to count on my fingers. “Four…five…does the rude limerick that I thought up about the Queen and the skunk shifter count because that was only in my head…?”
Crack — Wells’ hand tightened so hard around his cup that he broke it.
Coolly, Wells threw the cup to the side. When Lincoln hissed at me, Apollo hissed back in a swan off.
I swallowed.
So, insulting the Queen was traitor territory and would’ve probably led to my execution inside the Court. Yet Wells hadn’t raised to the bait. He’d worked out how to hurt me, and I still didn’t know what truly hurt him.
Was there even a way to wreck him like he intended to wreck us?
Unexpectedly, I met the haughty gaze of the fae, Beau, who’d paused in his fanning of Wells. I flushed, as warmth coiled through me. Beau was ethereal, pale, and the hottest fae that I’d ever seen. He was also a mystery. He was the only Court Fae who wasn’t a staff member. Sometimes, he visited the House of Fae and then, he was treated just the same as if he was a Forest Fae and a student.
Yet he never spoke to or touched any of us.
Beau was emotionless, poised, and perfectly behaved. In fact, the snooty bastard was everything that the Forest Fae weren’t.
What crime was so bad that he’d been sent here?
Yet it didn’t matter because like the rest of us, Beau was trapped now, and sweat plastered his hair to his forehead. He was ashen and swaying. My brow furrowed with concern. Fae weren’t meant to live in the cold or the hot. All the seasons here were too harsh for us compared to the mildness of England.
Exile was crueler than merely losing our home.
Wells elbowed Beau, and he started fanning the Head of House again. “Twenty-nine Dictates,” Wells answered like I hadn’t made the crack about the Queen, and he hadn’t had to dispose of a corpse cup. “I taught most of them to you myself, along with the Countess. I don’t think you appreciate how enlightened I am. All of you,” the other fae glanced up from their work nervously, “should be grateful that I employ such gentle methods compared to the other professors. Hard work in the fresh air will teach you to act like proper fae. If you can manage that in this false court, then I’ll know that my flock of hundred are ready to be allowed to fly into the real one.”
“But by my feathers, we won’t be real,” I insisted.
Wells waved his hand like that was a small matter. “Do you know what the Queen asked when she approached the Wicked Reform School to establish our House here?”
My guts clenched. “Let me think…”
“Don’t try too hard will you now, hmm? It’d be a terrible shame if your brain exploded, before I had a chance to try out my new methods of reform this week.”
Less than a week to the ceremony, and Wells was finally getting creative.
Beau’s gaze darted to mine again, before he staggered. I took a step forward, but then he straightened, tightening his hold around the swan-feather fan.
My jaw clenched. “Did she ask if they’d cut the prices and throw in some spa days if we did our own gardening?”
Wells smiled. “As the swan swims, we should’ve had you as lead negotiator. In fact, the Queen asked the Dean if he thought that an all-male House, something that had never been done before, could be tamed. Despite what you still appear to think, she doesn’t want you broken. She has fae who are experts in that beneath her own Court.” I shivered, remembering the screams. The Fae Court was a place of nightmares. “Instead, she desires me to train your emotions, until there’s no rebellion left in you. Does it shock you that all she hungers for is your undying love?”
I wanted to hurl…
All of a sudden, Beau’s fan clattered to the grass, and he swayed. He grasped onto Wells, but Wells batted Beau away in disgust.
Beau passed out with heat stroke, hitting the ground hard.
Radley growled, and Felix looped his arm around my waist in distress.
I tried to launch myself forward to help Beau because Court Fae or not, he was still hurt. Wells smartly pushed himself up, however, straightening out his uniform. Lincoln swooped off his lap, landing on the grass. To my shock, Wells snatched Beau by the hair and dragged him to the water trough.
“You’re a disgrace, boy,” Wells sneered, dunking Beau beneath the grimy water.
What in the winged heavens was Wells doing?
Our Head had disciplined fae over the last decade, but he’d always done it with military precision, rather than this brutality.
It wasn’t Beau’s fault that he’d been overworked in the heat.
At last, Beau spluttered awake, choking and coughing on the water. His wings beat weakly. Wells yanked him out casually by the scruff of the neck and then shoved him back under again.
Would Beau drown?
CHAPTER FOUR
Wicked Reform School, House of Fae, Orchard
Monday 26th April
My eyes narrowed, as I watched Wells hold Beau’s head under the water again.
Beau’s hands clawed at the grass, and his wings flapped. The sun beat against the two Court Fae, lighting them up, so that I didn’t miss a single struggle or choked convulsion.
“I have to stop this. He’s drowning him,” I hissed.
My hand slid to the hilt of my scimitar, and Felix’s hold on me tightened
“It’s a punishment for making Court Fae look weak.” Radley’s voice was tight.
“Really great job Wells is doing on proving the non-emotion rule because right now, it’s Wells who’s lit up with a thousand ugly emotions.” My lips thinned. “It’s fascinating that the Court want to suppress the good but are okay with the bad. After all, they sent away their own prince to the Rebel Academy because he wouldn’t execute our brothers as rebels, and that’s about the only school that’s more deadly than this one.”
The morning that the Queen had ordered my family to be murdered, the only thing that’d stopped me from hating all Court Fae (and honestly, allowed me to have compassion for Beau), was Prince Lysander. He’d refused to prove himself to his Guardian and Queen by wielding the executioner’s sword.
That’d taken balls, especially as I knew how brainwashed Court Fae were.
In turn, the Prince had been deposed and sent away to the Rebel Academy as punishment.
Court Fae could be rebels as well.
I hoped that Prince Lysander was okay. If we both survived, one day I’d thank him. It was strange to be in debt to a Court Fae prince. It made me all squirmy inside.
Wells raised Beau’s head out of the water again. Beau was soaked and shivered. His eyes were glassy.
“Please, my apologies,” Beau gasped.
When Wells prepared to duck Beau back under again, Felix whispered, “Let’s see if we’re lucky…”
I blinked. “What…?”
Suddenly, a banshee wailing broke out from the opposite side of the farm. I winced, slamming my hands over my ears. The fae groaned, dropping to their knees.
“Blasted magical carrots. You need to be gentle with them. Who’s been upsetting them again?” Wells demanded, dropping Beau in a crumpled puddle.
Rebel: House of Fae: A Dark Fae Paranormal Romance Page 4