Oberon Academy Book Four: The Queen

by Wendi Wilson

  “Can’t sleep?” she murmured. When I shook my head, she said, “Me neither.”

  “What do you know about that faery prison Alwyn mentioned?” I asked, my curiosity getting the better of me.

  “Oberon Faery Reformatory? Not a lot,” she admitted. “It was established over a hundred years ago by Echo Oberon.”

  “Was he related to Finn?” I asked, my mind perking up a bit.

  “He is,” she said meaningfully. “But just barely. Finn’s father and Echo’s grandfather were second cousins or something like that.”

  “Weird,” I said, realizing I’d never really thought about Easton having extended family past his parents and grandfather.

  “I overheard my parents once when they didn’t know I was listening,” she continued, a sassy smirk lighting up her features. “They were talking about the reformatory and how awful it is. Apparently, Echo wanted in on building this academy, but Finn rejected him. Something about a lack of character.”

  “He’s a bad guy?” I asked.

  “I don’t know,” she answered, shrugging one shoulder. “Maybe. Anyway, Echo went off to build his own school. But it didn’t work out how he’d hoped. Sylphs wanted their kids to go to the school of the king, not his derelict second cousin, once removed.”

  “You obviously know a lot more than you were letting on,” I chuckled.

  “Shut up,” she said, laughing. “I know the history, that’s it. When Echo realized his dream of being the headmaster of a superior academy was lost, he renovated the whole place, turning it into a reformatory for young faeries. It’s supposed to be like an academy, but from what my parents said, it’s more like a prison.”

  “You said it’s for young faeries?” I asked. At her nod, I asked, “Then why did Alwyn threaten to send my parents there, too?”

  She laughed. “You’re still thinking like a human, D. For the Fae, anything under a hundred and fifty years old is considered young.”

  “Huh,” I said, then fell silent.

  After several moments, Shaela’s voice rang out again.

  “I think you’re right, though. From what I’ve heard, the reformatory is reserved for troublesome Fae under the age of thirty. Which means…”

  “Which means,” I said, picking up her sentence, “either Alwyn is making idle threats to scare us, or he thinks he can send us to this reformatory and get rid of my parents some other way.”

  While I didn’t say the words, my meaning was clear. He’d have them killed. Murdered.

  The thought of losing Cris and Ellie shot a spear of panic through my chest. A chill crept up my spine, making me shiver and burrow further under the covers. I closed my eyes and thought about my choices.

  I could go after Easton and die by Sebille’s hand.

  I could rescue Easton and come back, only to have Alwyn toss us in prison and kill my parents.

  In both of those scenarios, Freya dies and Easton blames me forever.

  Or, I could do nothing. My parents live. Freya lives. And Easton is lost to me forever while we all suffer under the rule of Alwyn as king.

  All of my options were bleak, dragging me further into my pit of despair. I didn’t want to make the decision. I didn’t even want to think about it anymore. I just wanted to bury my head in my pillow and sleep.

  Eventually, my thoughts became fuzzy, and I dozed off. My brain still churned, even in sleep, as I dreamed of Easton’s hatred and disappointment, the deaths of those I love, and the cold steel of prison bars.

  CHAPTER 29

  I woke up the next morning, but didn’t really wake up. I got up, showered, put on a fresh uniform, and prepared for class in a fog of confusion and misery. Shaela tried to get me to go to breakfast with her, but I wasn’t hungry. I felt…dead inside.

  I packed up and headed straight to history class. The halls were crowded, but I didn’t really see anyone. My mind was trapped, images of the ones I loved being hurt or killed rolling through it on repeat.

  Easton, Shaela, Mom, Dad, Charles, me. Injuries, blood, broken wings, prison bars, and funeral pyres.

  I heard none of Professor Alfred’s lecture, and I didn’t really care. It was the same in science. I stared unseeingly through the classroom windows, where not even the spring blooms could draw me out of the bad dream I was living in.

  It wasn’t until the start of sociology that I really woke up. I was sitting in my chair, obsessing over the emptiness of the desk behind me, when the door swung open and Bushy-Mustache walked in.

  “Good morning,” he said as he strode toward the desk. “My name is Councilman Seamus Bransson, and I will be teaching this class for the foreseeable future.”

  I shot upright, my spine turning to steel as my fingers curled around the edges of my desktop, gripping so hard my knuckles turned white.

  “What happened to Ellie?” someone called out from across the room.

  Seamus smiled, but his eyes remained cold and devoid of any warmth.

  “Ellie Goodman is no longer employed by this academy,” he said, his beady eyes landing on me for a moment as one side of his lip curled in disgust. “Now, get out your books and turn to page fifty-seven.”

  “Page fifty-seven?” someone else called out. “Excuse me, sir, but we’re nearing the end of term and have been studying chapter thirty-two. That’s page two-hundred-and-seventy-five.”

  “You’ve had a string of questionable Fae teaching this class since the death of Rowan Dobbs,” he said. “A Zephyr, a traitor, and the daughter of said traitor cannot instill the proper views a Sylph should have of human-Zephyr relations. So, we’ll start again.”

  My eyes floated around the room to see if the other students were as shocked by this turn of events as I was, and it seemed most were. They all had either the wide eyes of disbelief or the sagging shoulders of defeat. I caught Shaela’s eye and she fell into the former category.

  Her green eyes were large and round as she mouthed, “Where’s your mom?”

  “I don’t know,” I mouthed back, worry pressing down on my shoulders.

  A loud crack made me jump in my seat and my eyes flew toward the sound. Seamus held up a wooden pointer, which he’d obviously just rapped against his desk. His eyes were narrowed on me and his voice was a little bit growly when he spoke.

  “Anything you’d like to share with the rest of the class, Miss Thorne?”

  Yeah, I’d like to know what possessed you to appoint Alwyn Jameson as king and why you’re kowtowing to him now, I thought.

  “No, sir,” is what I said aloud.

  “Then I would appreciate it if you keep your mouth closed and your eyes on me.”

  I wanted nothing more than to tell him to go to hell and stomp from the room in a blaze of glory, but I resisted the urge. The last thing I needed was to do something to get myself sent to Alwyn’s office. There was no telling what he’d do to me.

  Or I, to him.

  No, I needed to stay as far away from the king as possible. Even if it meant suffering through what would no doubt be a heavily swayed, Zephyr-hating lecture from this jerk.

  So I kept my eyes on him and let my mind drift…and the current took me straight to memories of Easton. His ice-blue eyes, bright with humor. Those same orbs, darkened with desire. His thoughtfulness, his protective stance, even his arrogance—I missed everything about him.

  Tears pricked my eyes as I imagined never seeing him again. I didn’t even know if he was still alive. Sebille had made no attempt to contact me. She made no outlandish demands or heavy-handed threats. It was like she got what she wanted and no longer had her sights set on me.

  I ended up rushing from the class after all. But I left with tears streaming down my cheeks instead of in a haze of righteous anger. If Bushy-Mustache-Seamus had anything to say about my hasty departure, I didn’t hear it.

  And I was sure I’d face the consequences later.

  THE SUMMONS I expected from Alwyn never came, even though I skipped math to hide out in a bathroom stall.
By the time lunchtime rolled around, my tears had all dried up and my stomach was grumbling with displeasure. After skipping breakfast, I was starving.

  When I entered the dining hall, my eyes landed on Tiana first. She was sitting on a tabletop, preening as students crowded around her, smiling and fawning all over her. Apparently, word had gotten out about how the new king favored her.

  Gag.

  And I was pretty sure I knew how the word had been spread so quickly. By Tiana’s own lips, no doubt. Thinking about her lips made me think about what she might have used them for with Alwyn, and I suddenly lost my appetite.

  Double gag.

  I found Shaela and Charles, sitting alone at our normal table. My heart stalled as I glanced at Easton’s usual chair, but I ignored the feeling and slid into my seat across the table from them.

  “Are you okay?” Shaela asked.

  I nodded, swallowing thickly against the bile rising up my throat. I was feeling some sensory overload. Tiana, the noise of the dining hall, Easton’s empty chair—it was overwhelming.

  “Tiana’s telling everyone that Seamus Bransson made you cry and run from sociology,” Charles said, and Shaela punched him on the arm while making a shushing noise.

  “Is she, now?” I asked, letting my eyes roam back to her.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” Shaela asked again, pulling my attention from Tiana and back to her.

  “Yeah,” I murmured. “I just started thinking about Easton and got emotional. So I left and spent fourth period in the restroom. I’m okay now, though. I promise.”

  “You don’t look okay,” Shaela said, arching a brow at me. “When is the last time you ate?”

  “I don’t know. Yesterday?”

  “Here,” she said, sliding a plate piled high with fries toward me. “Have some of these. The greasy goodness does wonders for a hurting heart.”

  I plucked one fry from the top of the pile and bit off the end, chewing thoughtfully. I didn’t really taste it, because my mind was already drifting somewhere else.

  “Why do you think Sebille hasn’t made any demands? It’s been days since she took him, and we haven’t heard anything,” I said, plucking another fry from the plate as my stomach growled with renewed hunger.

  “Who knows what goes through her mind? She’s probably getting some sick and twisted pleasure from making us wait and wonder,” Shaela answered.

  “What if she killed him?”

  “You can’t think like that, D.”

  “Yeah, you have to stay positive,” Charles added.

  I knew they meant well, that they were just trying to support me and keep me from falling into the dregs of a deep depression, but I was in no headspace to hear it. So I snapped.

  “Stay positive?” I snarled. “What is there to be positive about? Easton is gone, Finn in dead, and our new king is a greedy, evil asshole who is doing everything in his power to make sure his own son doesn’t get rescued.”

  My voice rose in pitch and volume with every word, and by then end, I was out of my seat and shouting down at them. The heaviness of pure silence broke through my anger, and I looked around the room. Widened eyes of every shade from light blue to dark green were trained on me.

  Tiana watched me with an evil smirk, like she couldn’t wait to tell her new lover what I’d said. Let her. I didn’t care anymore.

  I spared a quick glance at Shaela and Charles, mumbled out an apology and rushed from the room. I ran through the hall, up the stairs, and didn’t stop until I was safe behind the doors of my bedroom. Ignoring Blossom’s thumping, I stumbled to my bed and buried myself under the covers once more.

  Maybe it was better if I just stayed there. Forever.

  CHAPTER 30

  “Wake up! Get out of bed, December.”

  The demanding tone in my father’s voice made me flip the blanket off my face and give him my best death-stare. I felt like I’d just fallen asleep, and there he was, barging into my room and yelling at me like I was a child.

  “Go away,” I mumbled, pulling the cover back over my head.

  The blanket was snatched away, and I sat up with huff and prepared to blast him with the full force of my ire. My eyes widened as I realized we weren’t the only people in the room. Mom, Shaela, and Charles stood just behind him, all wearing matching expressions of stubborn determination.

  “What is this, an ambush?” I accused.

  “It’s an intervention,” Mom corrected.

  “Because we love you,” Shaela added quickly.

  “If you loved me, you’d let me sleep,” I groused, laying back against my pillow.

  “You’ve been in bed for three days, December. I’d say you’ve slept long enough,” Dad said, his voice stern.

  “Three days?”

  I flew back into a sitting position, looking at each of their faces with wide eyes. No way had I been in bed for three days. I would know if that much time had passed. Right?

  “What day is it?” I asked, my voice much softer than before.

  “It’s Friday,” Charles offered.

  “Friday?” I repeated in a soft whisper.

  How the hell was it Friday? I’d had my outburst in the dining hall on Tuesday, and it felt like only a handful of hours had passed since then.

  “Are you sure?” I asked.

  Shaela rolled her eyes. “Of course, we’re sure. We’ve been existing in the land of the living. You’re the one who’s been out of it. Don’t you remember me trying to wake you up the last three mornings to go to class?”

  I shook my head. I vaguely remembered her nudging me, but I’d just brushed her off and gone back to sleep. Had someone drugged me?

  “No one drugged you, December,” Mom said, making me realize I had asked the question out loud. “You’re depressed.”

  “And now it’s time to put your big girl panties on and get back to living,” Shaela added, propping her fists on her hips.

  Ouch. Talk about tough love.

  The sound of my stomach growling echoed through the room, and my face heated with embarrassment. I was hungry. And not just regular it’s-been-too-long-since-I-last-ate hunger. My gut felt cavernously empty…like I hadn’t eaten in three days.

  I also had to use the restroom. Bad.

  I swung my legs over the edge of the bed and stood, only to fall right back on my butt. My vision swam in and out of focus, and I gripped my head in an attempt to stop the spinning.

  “Here, let me help you,” Mom said, stepping forward and linking an arm under one of mine.

  She slowly helped me stand, then led me to the restroom. Once I finished up and washed my hands, I looked in the mirror and flinched. I looked like hell warmed over. Tangled, bushy hair, dark bags under my eyes, and a sallow complexion met my stare.

  “I need a shower,” I said.

  “Food first,” Mom replied, linking her arm back through mine.

  “You really scared us,” she whispered as we made our way back down the hall. “We thought we’d lost you for a while there.”

  “I’m sorry,” I murmured. “I didn’t mean to worry you. I just…”

  “I know,” she said when my words trailed off. “I felt the same way when my father told me the lies about Cris. I didn’t want to believe he’d used and abandoned me. When it sank it that he wasn’t coming back, I fell into the darkness, too.”

  “What brought you out of it?” I asked.

  “You did,” she said, giving me a wink. “When I found out I was pregnant, I was over the moon. I couldn’t have Cris, but I had a piece of him growing inside me. I decided you would be the new love of my life.”

  We reached the bedroom before I could form a response, so I just returned her soft smile. The scent of fried chicken hit my nostrils and I groaned with pleasure. Stepping inside, I saw a small table and chair had been conjured up. A large plate of chicken, mashed potatoes and green vegetables sat in front of the chair, which my father was holding out for me.

  “Thank you,” I sai
d as I slipped into the chair.

  I really did appreciate that they cared about me enough to give me some much-needed tough love, but it was going to take a lot more than a wake-up call and some fried food to pull me out of the deep well of depression I was floating in.

  I ate a few bites of chicken and some potatoes, my stomach clenching after being empty for so long. But it seemed to satisfy my parents enough to leave me be for the moment. They said their goodbyes after making me promise to meet them in the gym later. I swore I would just to get them to leave so I could talk to Shaela. Charles took the hint and left right behind them.

  “So, three days, huh?” I mumbled as she plopped onto her bed.

  “It was scary, D. I felt like I was watching you slip away, and when I couldn’t get you to respond in any way, I had to call in the big guns.”

  “You told on me to my parents,” I said, giving her a soft smile.

  “Damned straight, I did,” she shot back, smirking.

  “Thank you.”

  “Any time, bestie,” she said. “Are you going to be okay, now?”

  “I don’t know, Shae. I mean, I’m not in danger of starving to death anymore,” I said, motioning toward the plate of food, “but I’m still in a dark place. Easton is still gone, and we still can’t go after him. Unless that’s changed?”

  She flinched at the hope in my voice before gently shaking her head. Nothing had changed. I felt the urge to climb back into bed, but fought it, taking another bite from my chicken instead. Silence fell between us as I finished eating.

  When I couldn’t take another bite, I pushed the plate away. Shaela jumped up and went to my chest of clothes, rummaging through my stuff before coming out with a fresh pair of black leggings and a form-fitting t-shirt.

  She prattled on about classes being over for the day and having the whole weekend to catch me up on what I’d missed during my “nap,” as she called it, air-quotes and all. She helped me back to the bathroom since I was still feeling a bit weak, then sat outside the shower and waited until I’d washed everything from my hair to my toes.