Oscar swallowed, glancing around at his gang, who were watching avidly. “Students are banned from attacking the Paranormal Prefect Patrol.”
“Well, look at that, I don’t care.”
Oscar shoved the bear shifter forward, although he was such a mass of muscle that he hardly moved. “I nominate Barley to be my champion.”
My eyes narrowed. “Coward.”
Oscar shrugged. “But just watch. I’ll survive this week, and you won’t.”
When Barley rolled his shoulders and then shifted into a huge grizzly bear with brown fur that looked like it’d been torn out in places, I shivered.
After dragons, grizzly shifters were rumored to be the fiercest.
My hand was sweaty around the hilt of the sword, but my magic rushed through it, ready for the fight. Oscar hadn’t been lying about the ban on fighting with Prefects, but I was already in enough trouble, what was a little bit more?
That was the type of philosophy that branded me irredeemable by the other Houses.
I’d have smirked, if Barley hadn’t reared onto his back legs and roared.
Instantly, Radley stormed in front of me, in full-blown protective mode. I caught him by the shoulder, however, before he could launch himself on the bear.
“Wicked Bucket List Number Five.” I grinned. “Fight a bear.”
Radley bowed, sheathing his sword. “Be my guest.”
Then he and Felix, along with the vampire gang leaned against the trees to watch the fight. I should’ve added become a gladiator to my list, but then, I was enough of a slave already.
I danced around Barley, as he slashed at me with his claws. He snarled, tossing his head, and spittle flew out of the corners of his mouth.
Yuck.
I slashed down one of his haunches, and a clump of fur fell into the undergrowth, then I slashed the other side, and another clump went flying.
Barley roared again, launching himself at me. I stumbled back at his sheer weight. He caught me in his paws, pulling me off the ground. I became pallid, struggling to hold in the cry. His claws raked my side, and his mouth looked like a yawning cave this close.
Don’t eat my face off… How would Emerald love me without a face…? Idiot brain, you’re about to be eaten by a bear shifter, thoughts of sexy succubi won’t help…
I raised my sword under the bear’s chin; the runes flared. “Checkmate.”
“Why don’t you kill him?” The Nephilim asked, nonchalantly.
Did he mean me or the bear?
“I said fight a bear and not get myself a bearskin rug,” I rasped. The shifter transformed back into his human form. I squirmed in his sweaty hold. “Do you mind letting me go now? This is rather intimate.”
The shifter growled, dropping me.
Felix and Radley prowled forwards with their wings outstretched menacingly.
“Fighting a Prefect, using a weapon without permission, resisting being taken into our custody, and of course, being caught outside your dormitory.” Oscar counted off each offense with great relish. “My, what trouble you’re in.”
“But at least we’ll always have our secret love.” I blew Oscar a kiss.
Oscar spluttered in disgust.
The Nephilim turned on his heel. “Lord Spring is more badass than I believed.”
I gaped at him. A compliment from Mr Arrogance? “Thanks.”
“And marginally less of a jerk than everyone says.”
Ah, there it was…
I inclined my head. “Thanks again…I think.”
The Nephilim glanced over his shoulder at Oscar. “He entertained me. Let them go.”
“What?” Oscar snarled. “Nothing could compel me to do so, and that includes your compulsion party trick. If you even try to force me, then I’ll rat on you. How severe do you think the punishment will be for a Prefect who’s caught abusing his position?”
The Nephilim pulled the do I look bothered? Face, for which his kind were well known. “I said, we’re letting him go.”
Oscar nodded, mechanically.
There were many kinds of slavery and ways to turn someone into a doll like the siren’s song that enthralled humans. The Court of Fae had theirs, and the Nephilim’s power was just another version.
If it meant that we escaped at least some of those charges, then just this once, I’d be happy that Nephilim were controlling assholes.
My shoulders relaxed, and I sheathed my scimitar. My chest burned, and my breathing was ragged. Tonight had been invigorating, but I’d pushed myself too hard. I needed to sleep. Perhaps then, I wouldn’t feel so dizzy and light-headed.
“No one is letting the fae go.” Wells stalked out of the trees; his eyes blazed with fury. I jumped. No, no, no… “This is my House, and these are my wicked boys, who are in more trouble than they can imagine.”
I groaned, finally sinking to my knees with exhaustion.
It’d always been inevitable that Wells would catch us, but I’d at least hoped to catch a couple of hours break to recover and that he wouldn’t know the worst of our offenses against the Prefects.
Instead, Wells had heard everything, and since I could imagine a lot of trouble, I shook with dread.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Wicked Reform School, House of Fae Grounds
Tuesday 27th April
I knelt on the stone step in front of the turret with my wings held outstretched. The sun was high in the sky. Other fae passed me with sneers that I knew I’d patented and taught them. My thighs burned, my wings quivered, and I swayed with exhaustion.
Yet this Kneel of Shame was familiar in a way that would’ve been comforting if my knees didn’t feel like they were bruised to the bone, I could hardly gasp in each aching breath, and the rain wasn’t drizzling down the back of my neck.
Then my stomach rumbled.
Brilliant. I’d also missed breakfast and lunch. How long did Wells plan to keep us kneeling here?
When Felix’s stomach growled in sympathy, I couldn’t hold back my smile. Felix and Radley kneeling either side of me was just as familiar.
My brothers in the wing had never allowed me to kneel in shame by myself.
Once, I’d been sentenced to kneel in the central courtyard of the Queen’s Court as a teenager because the Countess had said that I’d failed Dictate 77: Be as graceful as a swan.
She’d obviously never seen a swan in a fight.
All morning, the Court Fae who were my age had gathered to hurl insults at me. Back then, when I’d still cared what they’d thought about me, their words had hurt more than my bruised knees.
Then Radley and Felix had quietly entered the courtyard and knelt either side of me.
Felix had stared ahead of him, opening his wings. “We’ll be your kneeling partners.”
“I’m not asking you to be,” I’d hissed.
Radley had shrugged. “You’ll never need to.”
We’d glanced at each other with small smiles that had been shields against anything that the Court Fae could humiliate me with because it’d felt like we’d been merely choosing to kneel there, rather than being shamed.
By the time that I’d been allowed to stand up, I’d swayed and had to lean on both my mates. But that was okay because I hadn’t needed to ask.
I struggled to hold onto that feeling now.
Except, why had Wells only dealt out this punishment, rather than handing us to the Dean of Discipline? Oscar had tried to insist that the Dean should deal with us, before he’d shrunk back from Wells’ frosty anger.
I had the feeling that we’d only been put in timeout on this step, rather than this being the punishment itself.
Apollo squirmed next to Felix, honking sadly.
“What are you moaning about?” I muttered. “Swans can’t kneel. You’re just sunning yourself on your feathery ass.”
Apollo shook his tail at me. “It was a sympathetic honk, My Lord.”
I attempted, no matter how tired I was, to snicker.
�
��Behind the daffodils,” Felix motioned with a lift of his chin, “kicking up the dirt. The little rascal is trying to burrow under them. That’s seven to me.”
Radley groaned. “I think you’re in league with the skvaders.”
Felix grinned. “Just lucky, guys.”
Strictly speaking, when put in the Kneel of Shame, a fae was meant to reflect on his wrongdoing and how he’d brought disgrace on the Court. By being a public punishment, other fae could witness the humiliation and attempt not to be so dishonored.
Strictly speaking, it was not the time to play Spot the Skvader.
Also, strictly speaking, I didn’t care.
“The game’s not over yet.” I gritted my teeth, struggling to ease some of the pressure off my sorest kneecap. “Check out the student with the face that looks like he’s sucking a lemon.”
“He stopped to take a swig of coffee in front of us this morning,” Radley growled. “He’s going to be waking up drenched in the stuff tomorrow.”
“Revenge aside, notice the bunny ears behind his head.” Many skvaders were playful and liked to play tricks as much as me. This one was amusing himself by giving the asshole fae bunny ears or sprouting wings out of the top of his head. Felix chuckled. “And a point to me, pulls me up equal to Felix.”
I looked down, even in my triumph. I’d had time this morning to think about Emerald. I didn’t want to be like this skvader, playing tricks for the sake of it, and I couldn’t become like the Court Fae who plotted schemes.
I needed any bond with Emerald to be real, and for her to help because saving my people was right. The Nephilim compelled people, but the Forest Fae didn’t. If I lost the beliefs of my people in how I rescued them, then shouldn’t I just reform now and let us become Court Fae?
We couldn’t die for something that’d already become corrupted.
I shook, as the rain slid down my face. I wouldn’t be the one who broke my own people.
Clack — clack — clack.
Wells’ polished boots stepped in front of me, and his shadow swallowed me.
I sighed. How many times must I look at his boots from kneel?
Lincoln stood next to Wells, imperiously glaring at Apollo.
“I hope you’ve had time to reflect on your shameful actions, Lord Spring.” Wells arched his brow.
“I’ve done nothing but reflect and wallow in shame, Your Grace.” Sad, serious face should do it.
“Eight!” Felix yelled, pointing at the skvader who was gnawing at the scabbard of Wells’ scimitar.
Wells twirled around in shock, before turning back to us with narrowed eyes.
“Do you know why I didn’t hand you over to the Dean?” Wells demanded.
“Demon prejudice…?” Radley suggested.
“A romantic but troubled history between you two that didn’t end well with hushed up conspiracies and broken hearts…?” Felix offered, looking hopeful.
“Because he’s a bastard…?” I cocked my head.
Wells clenched his jaw. “Because I’m Head of this House, and no demon shall control my wicked boys or murder them and call it punishment.”
“Good for you. Except for on the Day of the Wicked, of course, and then you’re just ecstatic to see us all killed, right?” My eyes blazed.
“My only joy will be if you survive. When will you understand that you’re the one who has to fight for that?” Wells gripped my chin, wrenching up my head. I bit back a cry. “Have you heard the story of the Ugly Duckling?”
“It’s f-from the human world. D-doesn’t learning that break your precious Court Dictates?” Felix forced out.
Wow, go Felix.
“Like many fairy tales, it was from our world first,” Wells replied. “When you were a child, Lord Spring, you reminded me of the ugly duckling.”
“Thanks a lot.”
“Everybody dismissed you as an uncouth, inelegant child, whereas Quinn and Prince Lysander were always beautiful, shining swans.” Why did that hurt? I’d never craved Wells’ approval, had I? “They thought that they were invincible because they were so perfect, swanning around, gaining all the attention and followers from the weak cygnets who followed in their wake to be drowned.” His fingers tightened hard enough to bruise, and I winced. “But I saw your potential and beauty, duckling, even when others didn’t. And look at you now. You’re the swan who survived.”
My throat was suddenly too thick to swallow, and my eyes smarted with tears.
Wells was wrong, but I couldn’t tell him. Surviving my parents and then those executed after the rebellion hadn’t been anything to celebrate. And I hadn’t escaped, he just thought that I had.
I tried to shake my head, but he held me still.
“It’s true,” Wells insisted. “Except, I’m a swan as well, just like you, and I own this pond.”
When he gently stroked my hair, I flinched.
“Remove your hand from him,” Radley growled, “or I’ll…”
“Glare at me some more?” Wells’ eyes were ice-cold. “After last night, Lord Spring, it’s clear that you need one-to-one Emotions Counseling as a priority. Professor Emerald is already the most feared staff member on our books. Her therapy room is on the top floor of the tower. Don’t keep her waiting.”
I fought to hold in the grin that threatened to bloom across my face because at last, I’d meet Emerald and not in an apple induced spell or across an audience of thousands of bloodthirsty students.
My magic danced over my fluttering wings in anticipation. My prick thickened and hardened in my pants. Would she want me as much as I wanted her?
“I wouldn’t dream of keeping an esteemed member of staff waiting.” I tried to jump to my feet, but my legs were too numb from all the kneeling, and I stumbled.
To my shock, Wells caught me in his arms. Why hadn’t he let me crash onto my face? He’d batted Beau away, allowing him to collapse.
Where was Beau?
My heart twisted at the thought that Beau was still missing. I’d kept an eye out for him all morning, hoping that he’d pass us with his haughty nose in the air and a snide comment about how we’d deserved at least an atomic wedgie for the break out.
But there’d been no sign of him.
What had Wells done to Beau for daring to disgrace the name of Court Fae?
Radley and Felix staggered to their feet, flexing their limbs to regain circulation. Apollo flapped his wings. Then Radley stormed to Wells, snatching me from the Court Fae like his touch would contaminate me. My thighs ached, and my knees buckled again.
There was no way that I was walking to the top of the tower.
Yet it was Emerald on the top floor. Perhaps, she’d find it romantic if I crawled all the way up to her?
Then Radley swung me into a bridal carry, and I broke at least three Dictates by yelping and clutching onto his shoulders.
The Kneel of Shame hadn’t humiliated me, but the way that Radley marched with me held in is arms into the House of Fae past the milling students flushed my cheeks pink.
I squirmed, hiding my face on his shoulder.
“Stop worrying,” Radley commanded. “You’re the Marquess of Spring. You deserve to be carried.”
Well, put like that…
I emerged from the safe wood and rich leather scent of Radley’s coat and turned my head back to stare down the gawking students imperiously. “I’ll imagine that I’m merely too lazy to walk, and you’re my personal slave.”
Radley huffed. “Imagine what you like. We both know that tonight, you’ll be my slave.”
I shivered. To be fair, that sounded more likely.
When Radley carried me up the spiral staircase that wound through the center of the turret like I was no heavier than a bag of feathers, I realized that I took his strength for granted.
At last, we emerged at the top floor, which was the most feared in the House of Fae: The Discipline Floor.
Only a single strip light illuminated the implements that were tied to the walls. W
hips of various lengths were ranked next to canes of differing thicknesses. The paddles were decorated like they were works of art, rather than pain. Yet the room was dusty because despite the Countess’ frequent attempts to get fae sentenced to the top floor, Wells had at least controlled her.
It was disturbing to be under a Head of House who was as complex as Wells. He didn’t want us hurt, and yet if we couldn’t be shaped and reformed as he wished, then he’d kill us. Other Heads of Houses were straightforward sadistic bastards. At least I could simply hate them, without the confusion of trying to understand them.
In some ways, I could’ve become Wells, if I’d been raised alone at Court, and that was an even more disturbing thought.
I flinched, as Radley carried me past the leather straps. Those were the Countess’ favorite to use on my wings.
Yeah, that was the unfortunate thing. Wells had been able to protect the fae apart from me because if I was to be bonded to the Countess, then I needed to learn her discipline.
When Radley dropped me on an ivory couch that I knew hadn’t been there the last time that I’d been dragged into the room, I noticed the new sign on the wall: Emotions Counseling Waiting Area.
I lifted my eyebrow, as my gaze rested on the curled bullwhip just beneath the sign. Either this was the worst possible placement of a waiting room for therapy, or the best.
It all depended on the true nature of the therapy.
I glanced at a door on the far side, which was black and didn’t even have a door knob. I’d always assumed that it was a closet and I hadn’t wanted to think about what could’ve been hidden inside. But now, it had COUNSELOR EMERALD in gleaming letters across it.
Why did my breath hitch at that?
I rubbed my sweating palms on my pants, before easing my legs to swing back and forth. This time, the kneeling truly had done a number on my knees.
“You’d better leave me now, Rads,” I said. “By my wing, I haven’t forgotten the plan. Bucket List Number One is experiencing a true bond, but my duty is to save our people. This might be my last week, but I won’t let it be my people’s.”
Radley snatched me by the collar of my coat. “Stop talking like you’re already dead.”
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