Alfheim Academy (Alfheim Academy

by S. T. Bende

  “The checks are a little bit Picasso-y,” I tried. “In a, um, geometric kind of way?”

  “They pick out our shoes for us, too?” Elin pushed her head into the wardrobe. “Are these nude pumps?”

  “The school provides a selection of heeled footwear for those who prefer consistency, but you do get to choose your shoes. The headmistress encourages individuality in moderation. She just doesn’t want ‘outward appearance to interfere with inner transformation.’” Finna used her fingers to make quotes around the last words.

  “Is that from the mission statement?” I joked.

  “Verbatim,” Finna confirmed. Oh. “But you do get to change for certain classes. The Verge obviously have athletic clothing for combat classes, and the Musa get to wear work clothes so they don’t get their uniforms dirty. Look in the back, Elin. You probably have painting clothes in there too.”

  “I’d better,” Elin muttered.

  “Before I forget, your communication devices are on your desks. Every student gets a wrist com and a data pad.”

  I picked up the watch-like device that resembled Signy’s and pressed the button on its side. The screen lit up, revealing a keypad not unlike those on smart-watches.

  “Come on, get changed. I’ll get ready and we can walk down together.” Finna headed into the large bathroom and stood in front of one of two sinks. She picked up a makeup brush and dusted it over her cheeks.

  “Do we have to wear makeup to dinner, too?” Unlike my artsy best friend, I’d never had any interest in the stuff.

  “It’s not required.” Finna looked over her shoulder. “But I heard there was a boy enrolling with your Key group, so some of the girls are going to be pretty done up.”

  I crossed to my wardrobe, selected a blazer, and slipped into the requisite dining attire. The letters A.A. scrolled in swirling script were stitched to the left side of my jacket, beneath an emblem I assumed was the schools crest. Gods, this was preppy.

  “Why are girls getting made up for the boy Key?” I asked. “I saw plenty of guys on our tour.”

  “Female enrollment at the academy is higher than male enrollment . . . which mirrors Alfheim’s population breakdown. Since we’re a matriarchal realm, we need more females than males to fill our governing roles.” Finna slicked gloss over her lips. “It works out numbers wise, since the elves going into peacekeeping professions—warriors, diplomats, and Protektors—aren’t supposed to take partners anyway.”

  “Right.” We’d learned that much in Alfheim lessons. “But what’s the big deal about a boy Key?”

  “There have only been a handful of male Keys in the entire history of Alfheim.” Finna’s voice rose in excitement. “And every single one of them has gone on to do great things for the realm. Whoever this guy is, he’s destined to be really powerful. Who knows, he might even be our future king consort!”

  A lump lodged in my throat and I coughed hard until I’d freed it. I’d been through enough for one day; I was not meeting my future husband at dinner.

  “Aura?” Elin stopped buttoning her blouse to shoot me a worried look.

  “Are you all right?” Finna lowered her lip gloss.

  “I’m fine.” I waved a hand. “Let’s just go.”

  “I’m dressed.” Elin glared at her blazer, khaki skirt . . . and hand-painted canvas shoes. At my bemused grin, she lifted her chin in defiance. “Finna said we could wear our own shoes.”

  “That I did.” Finna went back to perfecting her makeup, and I walked over to the window. Just beyond the quad stood a massive forest—a boundless, green sentinel protecting the school from the darkness facing the rest of the realm. The tree tops stretched for miles, before climbing a massive white-capped mountain range. It was breathtakingly beautiful . . . and completely and totally unfamiliar.

  How long would it take until this place felt like home?

  “What’s that?” I pointed to a plume of black smoke rising from the base of the mountain.

  “What’s what?” Finna emerged from the bathroom. Her gaze followed my pointed finger. “Oh.”

  The syllable was laced with desolation.

  “There was a fire in the town of Meina,” Finna said. “Their monument was torched.”

  “What happened?” I asked.

  “Minister Narrik burned it down.”

  “What?” Elin and I squawked in unison.

  “Meina is a . . . progressive colony,” Finna explained. “Lots of artists and philosophers and activists live there—individuals who believe Alfheim should return to the inclusive realm it once was. Their protests are peaceful, and within the bounds of the law, but they make no secret of their displeasure with the current regime. And Minister Narrik, well . . . he doesn’t welcome opposition.”

  “I gather,” I muttered.

  “A rally was scheduled for yesterday. Narrik said that if it went forward there would be consequences.” Finna lifted her hand to the window. “He kept his word.”

  “Was anyone hurt?” I asked.

  Finna only nodded.

  “That’s terrible,” Elin whispered.

  I blinked at the thick, black plume. Its tendrils snaked all the way to the clouds.

  “This school is a sanctuary.” Finna turned away from the window. She crossed to her wardrobe and removed a blazer. “But the darkness will reach us eventually. Today’s Alfheim is filled with intolerance, bigotry, and hatred. We can’t hide forever.”

  Elin met my anxious gaze. “What’s going to happen?”

  “I don’t honestly know. Unless someone stops the queen and her cabinet, the Kongelig will continue to gain power.” Finna smiled sadly. “For now, just be thankful that you’re here—and not on the outside, where things are, well . . .”

  My stomach churned as I stared at the plume of smoke. As crown princess, I could push for the change Alfheim desperately needed. But I was underage, untrained, and unprepared. How could I possibly stand up to a government that would hurt its own citizens?

  “We should go.” Finna’s soft voice rang from the entry. “We don’t want to be late. Are you ready?”

  No. I’m not ready for any of this.

  But instead of voicing my fear, I reached out to grasp Elin’s hand. I plastered a smile on my face, I tried to project a confidence I didn’t feel—and might not ever feel again.

  “Ready as we’ll ever be.” I exhaled. “Let’s go.”

  Chapter 7

  WE FOLLOWED FINNA AS she sashayed through the well-lit, neutrally decorated hallways. Ivory walls and cream-colored draperies were offset by narrow tables bearing vases of pastel blooms. Finna called out to an indigo-haired girl as she scurried back toward the dorms. “Study session in the library after the strategy meeting, Parys! Remind Elowyn!” The girl spun around with a friendly smile but didn’t break her stride—nor did she trip while practically sprinting backwards.

  They’d been wrong about the pointy ears, but the humans were spot on about elves and grace.

  “Hei hei, Jande!” Finna raised a ring-laden hand. The large crystals on her fingers glinted in the light, the perfect complement to her sparkling nails.

  “Finna.” A tall boy with sun-kissed skin held out his arms in welcome. “These must be your new roommates. I told you Renwyn wouldn’t let you keep that single.”

  Finna hugged Jande lightly before pulling away with a smile. “Aura, Elin, I’d like you to meet one of my oldest friends. Jande and I grew up together in Skang—a farming region south of Alfheim’s tallest waterfall.”

  “And this one’s been trailing me across the realm ever since.” Jande pointed one finger at Finna, his own crystal rings glinting in the light of the sconces. “Primary school, summer excursions, now here at the academy. I don’t know how many times I have to tell you to stop following me, love. You are not my type.”

  “Jande!” Finna’s laughter had the same tinkling tone as Evensong’s. It echoed down the hallway with a joyful peal.

  “Anyway, I hear there’s a ne
w bo-oy—” Jande managed to stretch the word over two syllables, “—showing up soon. As I am currently under-accessorized, I’ll catch you in a few.”

  Finna grabbed Jande’s hand and studied his rings. “Rose quartz, malachite, that’s good. But you’re looking for a harmonious match, Jande. Where’s your green jade?”

  “Back in the dorm.” Jande snatched his hand back. “Which is why I’m walking away from where my soulmate will be.”

  “The new guy might not be into guys.” Finna’s eyes filled with warmth.

  “Everyone’s into this.” Jande swept his hand from his broad shoulders to the muscular legs that strained against his regulation khakis. “And I’ve catalogued all my marks, so I’ll tell you the minute I confirm Key Boy’s my mate.”

  “Your marks?” I asked curiously. “What do you mean?”

  “My marks.” Jande shrugged. “Freckles, beauty spots, the whole nine.”

  Elin angled her head to Finna and muttered out of the corner of her mouth. “What’s he talking about?”

  “What’s he . . . what am I . . . do you not know about marks?” Jande blinked at us. “What is wrong with you?”

  “They’re new,” Finna reminded Jande. She turned to me and Elin. “Mate marks are an old wives’ tale—a silly myth for romantics.”

  “Oh, like you don’t believe.” Jande raised a brow.

  “I kind of believe,” Finna admitted. “The myth is that mates have a mirrored mark hidden somewhere on their bodies, placed there by the Norns to identify them as perfekt matches.”

  “The Norns, as in the prophets?” Elin balked. “So, what, you just know if somebody’s for you if they have the same mole? That’s weird.”

  “It’s efficient,” Finna countered. “And it’s just a myth, anyway.”

  “You keep telling yourself that.” Jande crossed his arms.

  “What if you don’t like your mate?” Elin ventured.

  “You’ll like your mate.” Finna smiled. “The Norns don’t make mistakes.”

  “What if you don’t want a mate?” I blurted.

  Jande crossed his arms, so his taut shoulders strained against his blazer. He looked really strong—he must have been a Verge. “Who doesn’t want a mate? Especially a hot Key?”

  “You don’t know if he’s hot,” Finna reminded Jande. “You’ve never seen him.”

  “I don’t have to. He’s a boy Key.” Jande spoke as if we were all slightly slow. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a lucky ring to find.”

  He spun around and sauntered toward the dorm.

  “Nice to meet you!” I called.

  “Ditto!” he yelled over his shoulder.

  Finna smiled fondly as she led us to the dining room. “Jande’s the best. We were so excited when we got into the Elementär program together.”

  There went my Verge theory. “That buff guy is a science geek?”

  “Bigtime.” Finna’s smile faltered. “But his little sister’s not entering secondary school until next year. And since their mom was born off-world, and the full-blood admissions policy will be in effect then . . . she’ll have to go to one of the lower rated schools. Those have a significantly smaller placement rate in top government jobs.”

  Fear for the future fluttered in my stomach. Darkness clawed at the academy doors . . . a darkness that was directly traceable to my grandmother. Once everyone figured out I was related to her, they’d expect me to fix things. But I didn’t know the first thing about challenging a corrupt government. I didn’t even know how to navigate my own school. If I was going to make any kind of a difference, I had a lot of catching up to do.

  I drew back my shoulders and smoothed the front of my blazer. “Teach me everything there is to know about this place. If we’re going to fix what’s broken, we’ll need to know where to start. Right?”

  Elin held out her fist and rapped my knuckles. “I’m in.”

  The fear fluttered again, but I pushed it back down. There was no time for nerves. If we were going to stand up to a legion of bigoted politicians, we’d need every possible advantage.

  It was time to study up.

  Minutes later, the three of us sat at a white-linen-clad table in the Great Hall. Finna chose one of the four-tops nestled between their long, rectangular counterparts, and she’d sat with her back to the enormous windows that made up the western-facing wall. This gave me and Elin a prime view of the majestic forest sitting a hundred yards behind the castle. Though the sun was now low, I easily made out the enormous, ancient-looking trees providing the rich green and plum backdrop outside. As the sun dipped below the horizon, the needles of the trees emitted a dim glow—one that illuminated the forest in a silvery purple luminescence. Pulses of color ebbed from one tree to the next, in a natural light show unlike anything I’d ever seen . . . or even imagined.

  Inside the Hall, whites, creams, and silver dominated the color scheme that glinted in the light of dimmed chandeliers and softly glowing taper candles. The silverware sparkled as if it had been freshly polished, and ornate plates of varying sizes were nestled three high at each seat. The academy cafeteria was the fanciest restaurant I’d ever been in.

  Too bad I was too stressed to appreciate it.

  “Okay, fill us in.” I scanned the students sitting around the dining hall. “How do we stay above water here?”

  “First thing to know—steer clear of the Styra.” Finna smoothed her napkin over her lap, and Elin and I did the same. “They’re predisposed to control, and they see the Kongelig as a means to an end—a regime they can manipulate to shape the realm to their advantage.”

  I frowned. “So, the Styra are bad?”

  “Not all of them. Alfheim needs Styra—their ability to influence outcomes helps us resolve dangerous conflicts.” Finna ran her fingers along the edge of her plate. “But many of them use their gift for selfish purposes, in which case they open themselves up to darkness and risk becoming Huldra.”

  “What?” Elin asked.

  “Master manipulators—beautiful women who lure men into the woods and steal their souls to extend their own lives.” Finna’s glossed lips pressed together in a line.

  I shuddered.

  “Oh, no.” Finna frowned. “There’s another one.”

  “Another what?” I swiveled in my chair, following Finna’s sightline until I caught Britney standing with a leggy brunette. She’d rolled her skirt so it ended a solid six inches above her knees, and she’d caked on a thick coat of makeup. She smiled beatifically at a platinum blond who sat at the head of one of the rectangular tables. She held out a hand, and Britney and her guide sat at the table of overly made-up girls. The seat in the center of their table remained empty.

  “You know Bitch-Face?” Elin stuck out her tongue.

  “Is that who that is?” Finna asked.

  “Yup.” I pulled a face. “We’ve spent the last sixteen years living with her, going to school with her, being tortured by her . . .”

  “Well, she’s off to an unfortunate start. She’s sitting with the Styra prefects.” A deep V formed between Finna’s brows.

  “You don’t like them,” I surmised.

  “Not at—"

  “What the Helheim?” Elin’s eyebrows shot to her hairline as a heaping bowl of lettuce, cucumber and croutons suddenly appeared in the center of our table. “Where’d that come from?”

  “The telepaths transport the food, too.” Finna picked up tongs and doled out salad.

  Of course they do.

  I wrenched my eyes away from Britney’s table to focus on Finna. “Okay, so the Styra suck. Who else should we know?”

  Finna took a bite of lettuce and chewed before tilting her head toward the front of the room. “Up there you have the Verge. Most of them are training to be warriors, which means they’re not allowed to date and therefore not going to fight the Styra for the new boy.”

  “Ooh, is Key Boy here yet?” Jande arrived and dropped into the fourth chair.

  Finna laugh
ed. “I was just telling Aura and Elin about the Verge, and how easygoing they are.”

  Sure enough, the Verge table was filled with a handful of reasonable-looking girls and two boys, all of whom laughed, passed food, and seemingly had a drama-free time.

  “Easygoing and hot. They make the best gym partners.” Jande beamed at one of the Verge boys, who looked up from his plate to shoot Jande a wink. Sweet.

  Finna handed Jande a lettuce-filled plate before resuming her tour.

  “Over there are the Empati.” Finna nodded at the back of the room, where a comparatively calm table hosted a quiet group. “Some of them can see into the future, so they tend to stress less than, say, the Musa. Some of our artists are a bit on the temperamental side.” Finna tilted her head to a long table by the window. The artsy-looking girls had accessorized their boring blazers with hand-made brooches and what looked like freshly woven flower crowns, while the guys had tied painted bandanas around their heads.

  “Me and Jande’s classmates are by the entrance. Elementär are pretty easy to get along with, so long as you don’t mess up our lab or break our Bunsen burners,” Finna joked.

  I tilted my fork toward a table of raven-haired elves, all of whom wore a thick layer of eyeliner—even the guys. “What about them?”

  Finna frowned. “Those are the Bridgers. They can communicate with spirits—bridge the worlds between the living and the dead.”

  Say what, now?

  “There are students who talk to the dead?” Elin squeaked.

  Finna nodded. “I’m not sure how they learn, but I prefer to keep my distance.”

  One of the Bridgers lifted her head and met my eyes. Behind her heavily lined lids and solemn expression was a look that bordered on sympathy. I shivered, before turning my attention back to Finna.

  “And in the center, you’ll see—”

  Jande rapped the back of his fork against Finna’s shoulder. “Key Boy’s here!”

  “What? Where?” Finna dabbed at the corners of her mouth with her napkin before drawing her shoulders back. A quick glance around the room revealed girls fluffing their hair, pinching their cheeks, and slicking on lip gloss. Even Elin sat up a little straighter, her salad long forgotten.