Traces of Sulfur: A Young Adult Urban Fantasy Academy Series (Blade Keeper Academy Book 1)

by Madeline Freeman

  Every once in a while, I would glimpse Clio, Thor, and Bridger as they greeted the evening’s guests. But they weren’t the only cadets working the room. While most seemed to zero in on either the politicians or the members of the Guard, Shonda gave equal time to each group. What was worse, she seemed at ease among them, often eliciting laughter during her stops. And every time she caught my eye, she smirked in a way that made my skin crawl.

  At some point, the tone of the evening shifted. The music changed slightly and increasing numbers of people headed to the dance floor—including many of the academy’s students. And then the requests started coming in.

  First, it was a barrel-chested senator. Senator Burgess’s cheeks were red and his breath reeked slightly of something vaguely fruity—masek, maybe. Although why they would serve a spiced alcoholic beverage at an academy was a mystery to me.

  When he suggested a spin around the dance floor to test how light I was on my feet, Nate took the liberty of declining for me. Although Burgess seemed disappointed, he waved us off with a smile when Nate insisted we had more people to greet.

  The next potential dance partner wasn’t so easily put off.

  “I’m sure you can spare Miss Jensen for a few minutes,” insisted Senator O’Connell, a tall, thin man with white-blond hair and a deeply lined face. He captured my hand, holding it with an unnecessary firmness. “I’d love to get to know our new Keeper.”

  Something in the way he said it made my skin crawl. I didn’t want to be alone with this man—even on a crowded dance floor.

  Nate stepped between me and the senator. The move wasn’t aggressive, but something about it was protectively possessive. “Maybe later, senator. Miss Jensen still has several people to meet.”

  O’Connell’s face pinched, reminding me of a child denied a toy. “Surely the world won’t end over one song.”

  Nate’s smile didn’t falter, but there was an edge of steel to his voice when he spoke again. “The band will be here all night. Besides, our new Keeper has promised her first dance tonight to me.”

  Although O’Connell didn’t appear to like the arrangement, he waved us off after that.

  “Thank you,” I murmured as soon as we were out of earshot.

  “No problem,” Nate said, leading me to the next group of people. “O’Connell… Well, he’s mostly harmless, but his views are a little… extreme.”

  My back straightened. “What kind of views?”

  Nate sighed, shaking his head. “Just stuff about the role of the Keepers and the strength of the Guard. Nothing crazy, but not something you want to spend the night chatting about.”

  Although my unease didn’t evaporate entirely, I relaxed by degrees. “Then thank you for saving me.”

  His easy smile returned. “Any time.”

  I chewed on my bottom lip, considering how I could ask Nate about what made the senator’s views so extreme, but two words pinged against my ear, derailing my thoughts.

  Clinic. Summerhill.

  I stopped walking, eliciting a confused glance from Nate. “Everything okay?”

  I groped for an explanation for my behavior. “Fine. I’m just… really thirsty all of a sudden.” I flashed my brightest smile. “Do you think you could grab me some water?”

  His brow furrowed. “You sure you want me to leave you here alone? Who knows who might swoop in to talk to you while you’re all alone.”

  I stepped toward the nearest table. Everyone who had been sitting there was long gone. “I’ll just stay here until you come back.”

  Nate still looked uncertain, but he nodded. “Back in a flash.”

  I kept my smile pinned on my face as he disappeared into the crowd. As soon as I lost sight of him, I sifted through the voices of the people surrounding me, hoping I could catch more of the conversation I’d overheard. My heart squeezed. Maybe the woman had moved to a different location, or perhaps she had already changed topics. I peered around as surreptitiously as possible, searching for the owner of the voice. As I turned my head, another speaker drew my attention.

  “Summerhill? Are you sure?” The man’s tone made it clear he harbored some doubts. “Don’t you think residents there would notice if that sort of thing were going on in their city? We don’t have any reports of demons walking the streets.”

  “It’s a credible lead,” the woman insisted.

  I forced my shoulders to relax, not wanting to draw any attention to myself. But inside, my mind was spinning at a mile a minute. If the Guard had finally tracked down the location of the clinic, it would spell disaster for demons all over the kis. Doc, as she insisted everyone call her, provided medical care without question. Although by law health care to ethereals in the kis was a right, demons and nephilim ran into considerable trouble obtaining it because so few of them had the appropriate verification credentials. While lawmakers insisted the credentials were necessary to coordinate care given across cities and from different doctors, the truth had little to do with public health. Verification credentials allowed the Guard to track movement of those they saw as potential threats—namely demons and nephilim. It also made it easier for them to keep better records of marks against the citizens they were more likely to send to societal rehab for reasons that never seemed to apply to angels. A lot of the work Liza did went to funneling medical supplies to Doc’s clinic.

  “It makes far more sense for the clinic to be in a more demon-heavy city,” the man said. “Old Greatdale, maybe. Or Amberg. I heard someone mention they might be set up in Cameron Heights.”

  “I’ve heard those rumors, too,” the woman admitted. “But we’re checking out the Summerhill claim first.”

  I held my breath, afraid my own inhales and exhales might drown out the sound of their voices. When were they making their move?

  “Told you—back in a flash.” Nate dropped onto the chair beside me, grinning as he held out a glass of ice water. “Ready to get back out there?”

  I jumped. I’d almost forgotten Nate was coming back. His smile faltered as his arm remained suspended between us.

  After a beat too long, I relieved him of the glass, taking a long sip for good measure. I attempted to catch more bits of conversation about Summerhill, but the speakers’ voices faded amid the chatter of the other party-goers. “Thanks for this,” I said, trying to keep the disappointment out of my tone. I hadn’t gotten all the details, but hopefully I overheard enough.

  He beamed as I took another sip. “You ready to get back out there?”

  The last thing I wanted was to head back into the party, but maybe I could overhear another useful tidbit. Draining the glass, I stood. “Let’s go.”

  Nate introduced me to about a dozen more people. It seemed like every other time we stopped to talk to someone, a new senator would ask me for a dance. We used the same excuse we had with O’Connell, and no one pushed back the way he did, which eased my nerves considerably. But as we stepped away from General Welland, who might have been the oldest person in attendance at the party, Nate stopped, his expression suddenly serious.

  “What is it?” I glanced around self-consciously before looking down to make sure my boots weren’t showing.

  “We should probably do it. Dance, I mean,” he added quickly, his dimple making a brief appearance. “We’ve been telling enough people we’re going to. It’ll look weird soon if we don’t follow through.”

  Panic flooded my system. “What? I thought that was a lie? I told you, I can’t dance.”

  He picked up both of my hands and gave them a reassuring squeeze. “And I told you the girl has the easy job. All you have to do is follow my lead. And try not to break my toes.”

  With a wink, he dropped one of my hands, keeping hold of the other to pull me toward the dance floor. I wanted nothing more than to yank away, but I didn’t want to make a scene—or, worse, for one of my other would-be dance partners to intercept me.

  Nate led me in toward the center of the floor. Dozens of couples surrounded us, stepping
in time with the music from the stage. When we reached an empty spot, he pulled me in front of him. Taking my right hand, he placed it on his shoulder before putting his left hand on my waist. He linked our free hands and held my gaze. “Just relax and follow my lead.”

  “I’m going to step on you,” I warned.

  His half-smile returned. “I can take it.”

  Then, without warning, we were moving. I stumbled a bit at first over the long skirt of my dress, but Nate kept me from tripping. His movements on the dance floor were as powerful and sure as they had been in the training ring. After a few beats, I relaxed my muscles, giving in to his advice to follow his lead. Warmth from his palm seeped through the fabric of my dress onto my waist as he gently guided me where to go next.

  The bustle of the surrounding party faded away. All that existed was Nate and me, twirling on the lofty notes surrounding us. Although Nate glanced to the left and the right as we stepped in time with the music, my gaze stayed locked on his face—on the gentle curve of his jaw and his ridiculously long eyelashes. I’d never been one to harbor fantasies of being a fairytale princess—Cinderella at the ball or Belle waltzing to a tune as old as song—but as we danced, I couldn’t help feeling that’s exactly what I was. Two days ago, I was living beneath an old library where the air was always stale and the food tasted like salted paper mush. But now I was wearing the most beautiful dress I could imagine while dancing with the handsomest guy I’d ever seen in real life. It felt like a dream—too removed from reality to be real.

  When we finally slowed, the room around me came back into focus. Nate and I were no longer the only people in the world; other dancing couples populated the space around us, and dozens upon dozens more drink and engaged in small talk around the edges of the room.

  I smiled, ready to make a joke about the state of Nate’s feet, but his expression was hard and tight. Without making eye contact, he urged me to walk with the gentle pressure of his hand on the small of my back. But unlike our earlier trips around the room, once I was in motion, he put distance between the two of us, heading directly for someone standing just off the dance floor.

  Chancellor Kingston.

  The chancellor locked his eyes on Nate as he made his way around the last of the dancers. As soon as Nate reached him, the chancellor turned and stalked toward the back wall opposite the stage. There were fewer people there, and although I got the sense he had words for Nate, I couldn’t help following the two of them. Nate hadn’t left me alone when I was facing a billion senators and generals. It was my turn to stand by him.

  “Exactly what do you think you’re doing?” the chancellor said as soon as he was out of earshot of the nearest group of people. He rounded on Nate, his eyes flashing for an instant when he glimpsed me.

  “Dancing, sir,” Nate said, his tone neutral. “I didn’t think there was any harm in it.” He raised his chin toward the dance floor. “Bridger is out there now with one of the academy students.”

  Chancellor Kingston waved his hand. “Your situation differs from that of your teammate. Consider the optics.”

  Nate’s head drooped. “I’ll be more mindful in the future, sir.”

  “See that you are.” The chancellor’s eyes flicked to me for a split second before he swept back into the thick of the party.

  I stepped closer to Nate. “What was that all about?”

  He shook his head. “Nothing. Just… Politics.”

  I tried to decipher more meaning beyond his general answer. “Is it because of me? Because I’m…”

  He leaned in closer, dropping his voice. “Fallen?” Color rose in his cheeks. “I saw the color the Blade flashed when you touched it. And, no. I mean, probably not.”

  The lie about my lineage hit too close for comfort, so I forced a smile. “I was going to say wearing boots, but…”

  Nate attempted to smile at my joke, but it didn’t stick. “I, uh… I think maybe Thor or Bridger should take the next meet-and-greet shift.”

  My stomach clenched. Although the guys had joked about shifts earlier, and even Clio had assured me they wouldn’t leave me on my own, once we started making the rounds, I assumed I would be with Nate all night. And although I wasn’t opposed to walking around with Bridger or Clio, I couldn’t ignore the disappointment rising in me.

  But I forced a smile anyway. “Sure. I bet you could use a break after all the work you’ve put in so far tonight.”

  The corners of his mouth twitched, but he couldn’t make whatever expression he was going for stick. “Okay. You stay here. I’ll try to pry Bridger out of his dance partner’s hands.”

  Before I could respond, Nate turned and disappeared onto the dance floor. And no matter how much I tried to convince myself I didn’t mind the switch, I couldn’t make myself believe it.

  Chapter Twenty

  The banquet wore on for hours. I spent the rest of the night with Bridger as my guide, although Thor dropped in on the two of us occasionally. I gave up trying to keep track of all the names and faces, focusing instead on memorizing those of strategic importance. Colonels tasked with “keeping peace” in the cities. Senators who sat on committees related to public health. Even still, by the time Headmaster Kemp announced from the stage that all cadets needed to return to their dorms, my brain was mush.

  Before we could leave the ballroom, a swarm of photographers begged for one last set of pictures. I stood with the Keepers, pinning a smile to my face that I hoped didn’t look too forced, as a seemingly interminable number of flashes burst before my eyes. It was the headmaster who finally shooed away the photographers and secured our exit.

  The night air had transformed from chilly to frigid, but the cold felt good against my sweat-slicked skin. I hadn’t realized how hot and stifling the air inside had been until I inhaled a breath outdoors. Stars glittered overhead—so many the sheer volume boggled my mind.

  “So, how was it?”

  Nate’s voice so close made me jump. Clio, Thor, and Bridger were already heading down the stairs, and I had assumed Nate was with them. I chastised myself for not being more mindful of my surroundings. Liza would be disappointed.

  “Um,” I said, trying to put together my thoughts about the night. The entire experience had been surreal. I couldn’t remember a time when I’d eaten so much my stomach felt like it would burst. The instruments played by the musicians each probably cost more money than the demons in Cameron Heights made in a year. The dresses had been dazzling, and it boggled my mind to think many of the women had closets full of such beautiful gowns—which, according to what Clio had said earlier, they could only wear once. I had no coherent words for what I’d witnessed tonight.

  “It was all right, I guess,” I finally said.

  Nate rewarded the response with another of his lopsided smiles. “Your first one is always the worst. Next time they throw one of these things, you’ll be a pro.”

  Next time. Although I knew he was trying to be encouraging, the idea that I would be around here long enough for there to be a next time sent a shiver down my spine.

  “Are you cold?” Nate asked, concern creasing his brow. “You can borrow my jacket.”

  “I’m okay.” I started down the stairs to put space between the two of us. Although I was cold and the thought of wrapping up in a warm suit coat was more than a little appealing, wearing Nate’s seemed too personal. If I wanted to make sure no one found out who I really was, I couldn’t allow anyone to get too close.

  Nate hurried down the steps to catch up. “It’s really not a problem,” he pressed.

  “How many of these things have you been to?” I asked, trying to change the subject.

  He stopped easing his jacket off his shoulders and gave a soft snort of laughter. “Well, the Aura Blade picked me when I was seven, so I’ve been at this for ten years. Let’s just say I’ve been to a lot.”

  “Wow.” I turned around the corner of Kalmin Hall and started toward the girls’ dorm. Ahead, I glimpsed Clio heading up the si
dewalk in that direction, but Thor and Bridger were walking down a different path. I assumed Nate would spit off to follow them, but he kept pace beside me. “You don’t have to walk with me. I know I’m new, but I can see the dorm from here.”

  “Yeah, I know,” he insisted. “I just… I wanted to apologize.”

  His words made me stop in my tracks. “Apologize? For what?”

  “I’m sorry for how my…” He stopped short, his lips pressing into a tight line. “For how the chancellor was acting. I was the one who upset him. You weren’t doing anything wrong.”

  I offered a small shrug. “It hadn’t even crossed my mind that I might have been. But why was he mad at you?”

  Nate’s shoulders sagged and he shook his head. “Well…”

  Before he could get any further, the click of high heels against the brick walkway drew both of our attention. Headmaster Kemp waved her arm as she speed-walked toward us.

  “Oh, good. I was hoping to catch you, Miss Jensen.” She nodded at Nate. “Mr. Kouri.”

  “Ma’am,” he said, ducking his head deferentially.

  Kemp pulled her gauzy shawl tighter around her arms as she turned to me. “I wanted to apologize to you.”

  I couldn’t help glancing at Nate. “That seems to be going around.”

  The corner of Nate’s mouth quirked, but the headmaster ignored the exchange. “Miss Brooks informed me that your dress for tonight wasn’t delivered to your room. It’s an error I assure you won’t be repeated. I checked with your floor director, and she said she never received notification of your dress’s arrival. As this is the first time she’s had a Keeper on her floor, it’s understandable that handling your gown wasn’t even on her radar.”

  Now Shonda’s look of irritation at the banquet made sense. I was willing to bet she had received the notification and not fulfilled her duty on purpose. Making me show up to a banquet in my uniform or the clothes I’d brought with me seemed like just the kind of petty thing someone like her might do.

  But it wasn’t as if I could hurl an accusation at the girl when the headmaster had already given her a pass for the mistake. Instead, I forced a smile. “It’s lucky for me Clio and I are about the same size.”