Faerie Marked (Fae Academy for Halflings Book 1)

by Brea Viragh

  “This is just a feeling I’ve had, Tavi,” Melia clarified without blinking, her honey-brown eyes round. “And I want to make sure you don’t repeat this to anyone.”

  “Not a chance. My lips are sealed.”

  But something about her statement struck me as truth, and feelings among the Fae are often a lot more truthful and insightful than commonly accepted facts. If anything, I’d learned to trust my gut more and more since coming to the academy.

  Lunch came and Melia and I took up our normal seats across from Mike and Roman.

  “Hey there, you,” I said immediately, flashing a smile toward Mike.

  He responded with a grunt and pushed his fork around his plate.

  “Okay, someone is in a bad mood today,” Melia joked. She and Roman made eye contact, and he shrugged. “What’s the matter with you guys?”

  Mike didn’t want to answer. He kept his gaze trained on his tray as though it held the secrets of the universe.

  I sat down across from him with my plate filled with greens and fruit. Swallowing my distaste at the monotonous salad, I said, “I didn’t see you at the assembly today. I looked for you.”

  Mike didn’t want to answer either, and soon Roman had to speak for him. “We were in the back. We came in a little late,” he said. “We got caught up elsewhere and came right at the tail end of Leaves’ speech about the top five.”

  I waited for the congratulations I almost expected at this point. These were two of my best friends, after all, and we’d helped each other get this far, boosted each other with our study sessions.

  But I recalled a saying about expectations leading to disappointment, and soon the feeling settled on me hard.

  “I guess we’ve all had a rough week,” I said. “We are going to need more than a week of vacation when this is done—”

  “I can’t believe you got the top spot.”

  I jumped at the harsh sound of Mike’s voice. He still wouldn’t look at me. “What? Why?”

  “It should have been me at the top.” His grip tightened on his fork until his knuckles turned white. “I’m not sure how you managed to work up to number one but I don’t think it’s fair.”

  I gasped, though it sounded more like a huff. “Mike, it’s not fair you’re saying these things to me,” I told him. He raised his gaze to meet mine briefly, long enough for me to take note of the puffiness, the rims of red around his eyes. The way it looked like he hadn’t slept for days. Had he been pushing himself too hard? Disappointment warred with guilt. Both cut deeply.

  He ran a hand through his hair, his gaze in the distance. “I’m sorry, Tavi. I’m really sorry, but I think you beating me for a spot in the top is ridiculous. I’m not even in the top ten.”

  Jealousy didn’t sit well on him. It colored his cheeks and the tops of his ears a blush-pink but turned his knuckles white. I never would have expected such a reaction from him. Sitting here with him day after day, it was easy to forget about his royal status, and how we sat in the middle of the room surrounded by other students doing their best to politely ignore us. As if we weren’t even there.

  Yet I knew they were listening to every word.

  “Jeez, I didn’t realize you really thought so little of me you’d be jealous I out-scored you.” I pushed away from the table. “I don’t have to listen to you rant and rave about the unfairness.”

  I still didn’t feel I’d earned my spot, still felt it was some kind of fluke, but I didn’t need to let Mike know. At least not right now. That would only compound the hurtfulness.

  Mike grimaced as though this were the most painful conversation he’d had in a while. My heart stirred and I dropped my gaze to the floor so he didn’t notice the change. No weakness, I reminded myself, because if he saw weakness it would give him an opening to hurt me more.

  “Don’t bother leaving, Tavi,” he stated, rising at the same time. He left his tray on the table and gestured for Roman to follow him. “I’m the one who should go. I’ve stayed long enough.”

  Melia and I watched them walk away, Roman shooting us a small, sad smile over his shoulder before moving faster to follow his friend out. He didn’t offer an apology.

  “Wow.” Melia stressed the word and drew the vowel out. “I didn’t expect him to be bitter about his place in the ranking.”

  I plopped back down in my chair, still stunned. “Yeah. Neither did I.” I took a slow breath, my nostrils flaring, and rubbed my arms. Worries bit at me repeatedly, and no matter how hard I tried to calm down I had no success.

  “You didn’t deserve him going off on you.” Melia placed a hand on my knee and squeezed. “Don’t pay any attention to him. He’ll come to his senses soon enough.”

  I stared at the door until well after the boys had gone, wondering if I could have said something, done something to ascertain what was really bothering him. I couldn’t get a read off of Mike. I thought maybe he was angry, or even a little guilty, but neither made sense to me. Perhaps he feared disappointing his parents. It seemed plausible, but not enough to justify his emotional outburst. The only thing fitting his reaction—

  My stomach froze in a flash of cold. Could Mike have had something to do with the murders of the other two top contenders, and that’s why he didn’t want me at the top?

  No, that…that was absolutely ridiculous.

  Utterly. Ridiculous. Wasn’t it?

  23

  Michael Thornwood might be a full Fae, true. His blood didn’t make him better than me, and it certainly didn’t entitle him to treat me like I didn’t matter, like I was a piece of trash.

  I knew everyone in the first year was my competition. I didn’t need a reminder. Not from him.

  He ignored me for the rest of the day. Then the next. Eventually, a week later, I’d had enough. I definitely didn’t need him blowing hot and cold with me. We’d been through too much together for him to act in such a petty way.

  And yet even with all the bitterness and jealousy smeared across his face, he was still handsome. He still stirred my heart.

  Boys! What could you do about them? They were impossible to understand on a good day and even more impossible on a bad one. Mike must be having several bad ones in a row, deciding to take his stress out on me. On the one person who wanted nothing more than to stand beside him as a partner.

  Yeah, wishful thinking there.

  I stalked to the library after my last class of the day, still fuming a week later from what he’d said to me. Well, fine. If Mike wanted to act like a jerk and ignore me because I’d done better than he had on our tests, then he could be a jerk. I was better off without him, especially if he continued to act like an envious asshole.

  Studying alone didn’t make a difference to me and I definitely didn’t want to see Mike right now. Not after his behavior. I slammed my books down hard at my usual table, loud enough to earn a glare from the librarian. She raised a spindly green finger to her lips, wings fluttering behind her.

  Sorry, I mouthed to the librarian before I turned my back on her.

  Melia’s story about the royals had stuck in my head as well, playing on a looped repeat. I couldn’t stop thinking about the king’s odd behavior, the way no one had seen the queen in public, and Mike’s unexpected enrollment at the Halflings Academy despite his full Fae blood.

  Did Mike’s reaction have something to do with how he’d been raised in the palace surrounded by servants ready to bow to his every whim and desire? Was he just a spoiled brat? He’d been given everything he wanted his entire life.

  Jealous much?

  I shook my head. It wasn’t my problem either way. His reaction belonged to him and deep down probably had nothing to do with me.

  Try telling my subconscious.

  None of it added up, because I’d seen how sweet Mike was with me and with others in our class. He was a good guy deep down no matter what happened with his father. Or with me in this current situation.

  I’d grown up surrounded by wolves. I knew shifter cultu
re inside and out because I’d been hiding among them since my father’s murder. Yet what did I really know about the Fae? Enough to fudge my way into this school and enough to pass my exams, apparently, but not enough to make a concise judgment call about one of their kind.

  Enough to earn the top spot grade-wise, a snarky voice said inside my head, and slaughter the competition.

  About the intricacies of Fae culture, I was ignorant. It was a huge piece of me left to shrivel and die and no amount of memorization for tests could take the place of cultural immersion. Uncle Will and I had needed me to tamp down everything about my Fae nature in order to fit in with the pack. In order to survive, get them used to my unique scent so they wouldn’t ask questions. Weird enough I’d showed up at age six and no one mentioned my parents.

  Now, it seemed, the tables had turned.

  Instead of studying, as I knew I needed to do to keep my top spot, I grabbed as many books as I could carry about the royal family and the history of Faerie, those I hadn’t tapped during the first round of examinations. These books were older, heavier. Like the amount of knowledge inside added to their weight.

  I blew the dust off of a few and wondered if I should be handling these without gloves.

  After a few hours, my eyes blurred and burned to the point where it felt like I’d rubbed salt in them. I hadn’t been able to find much on the family beyond the perfunctory information I already knew. Names and some dates and awards the king had doled out to loyal subjects. I found nothing about the politics governing the court and nothing about the odd public disappearance of the queen at events she would be expected to attend.

  When I asked the librarian about any updated texts, she sent me a withering glare before hissing out how we had one of the finest selections of books on the royals in the country.

  Strike two for me today.

  I sighed, stretching my arms out across the table, fingertips brushing against the last volume I’d grabbed.

  Myths and Legends of Ancient Faerie.

  It might be worth a try. Why not? One last book then I’d call it a day.

  My fingers flipped through the leather-bound volume without really settling on a page. There were old drawings done in black-and-white ink, most of the pages faded around the edges. Monsters and creatures. What were the Fae afraid of…clearly some kind of demon, if the illustrations were any indication, demons with fangs and fur and death in their eyes?

  I scooted closer and leaned until my nose nearly touched the page. The knowledge knocked around in my brain before settling with a clang. My stomach surged once before dropping hard.

  Not demons, no. Wolves. Beasts walking on two legs and donning the skin of humans. Skinwalkers or shifters, I wasn’t sure. It didn’t matter. These were the evils, the terrors stalking innocent Fae for no good reason.

  I flipped to the next chapter and stopped at the scrawled script next to a woodcut of a wolf howling at the moon.

  “The Faerie Prophecy.” Author unknown; first published by Oxana the Sightless during the Age of the Red Dawn.

  Hmm, interesting. I’d read somewhere how King Ty’s reign began around the same era, though no one knew for certain, the date merely an approximation. The Age of the Red Dawn, jeez. Who came up with these names?

  I leaned closer still to make out the fading words and mouthed along with them.

  At breaking light of black moon morn

  A shifter child shall be born

  An innocent and pure of heart

  Born to rip the Fae apart

  Born to rip the Fae apart

  A wicked end, downfall’s start

  And falling into endless night

  Shall bathe the blood with sweet delight

  There was more to the text, but goose bumps rose on my skin and I slammed the book shut, my eyes burning from squinting too long. I focused on getting my breathing in check. A shifter child…

  Now I understood, in part, why the Fae hated shifters. If any of them put stock in this “prophecy,” then they believed a shifter child would tear apart their cozy world. They were skeptical of all shifters because of it, and generations of fear had bred a deep hatred of my kind.

  Fairy tales, the same snarky voice said loudly in my head. I couldn’t get her to shut up. It would be ridiculous to hate an entire people because Oxana the Sightless had a vision thousands of years ago.

  Still, the reading rocked me. My fingers trembled as I put the book back on the shelf where I had found it. Flashing a weak smile to the librarian on my way out, I made my way down the hallway and into the dim hush of night.

  I needed air.

  I should have left the book alone instead of trying to find information. It’s not like I didn’t have anything else going on, more important and pressing issues to tackle.

  But what did it mean, a “black moon morn”? I wondered as I walked. The words stuck with me. Could it have meant an eclipse? Didn’t most prophecies reference an eclipse? It seemed to be a common element in all cultures.

  The whole thing just left a bad taste in my mouth and I wanted to forget everything I’d read. It was stupid to worry about, really. I’d found the poem in the middle of a book on myths and legends. It wasn’t real.

  It’s not real.

  Shuffling alone through the chilly night—thankfully there was no moon at all on this night, therefore no threat from moonlight—my mind turned back to thoughts of Mike. As usual. Mike and the prophecy, Mike and the dead students. Mike and the prophecy and dead students and a werewolf detective—

  Footsteps sounded behind me. My ears twitched, noticing the sound, and when I turned around to see who was walking, there was no one there.

  “Hello?” I called out.

  The wind picked up around me but there was nothing on the breeze to give me any information, no scent carried to me. Not that I could do anything with my senses dulled by the potion spell.

  Had I imagined it? I wondered if it was because of the potion or because I was finally losing my mind and seeing things. Or rather hearing things.

  If I still had my wolf senses, I would be able to know one way or the other. I’d be able to take care of myself if there truly were someone following me. Now, I couldn’t afford to take any chances.

  Something snapped behind me. I ran.

  The books I’d checked out were heavy in my arms and weighed me down to the point where I thought about ditching them. Then I heard the pounding of heavy boots gaining on me.

  Over my shoulder, I caught a glimpse of a man in black running after me. Real, very real! My fear skyrocketed until I could taste it, like licking the inside of a copper pipe. I made the split-second decision to duck into the nearest doorway. I didn’t realize until I was inside: I’d chosen the one hallway I’d tried to avoid my entire duration at the academy.

  The hallway lined with mirrors.

  Dammit!

  I had nothing to cover my face, nothing to hide my reflection. The spell broke the moment I glanced over and saw myself reflected in the mirror. Again, it was like being doused with icy water. The wraith staring back at me from the glass had my long auburn hair but her eyes were wide, dark. Terrified. Her skin looked bleached to the color of bone and her shirt stuck out at odd angles, hanging loose on her thin frame.

  At least I knew, as soon as the spell failed, I’d be able to use all of the resources available to my wolf half. Heightened senses, extra speed. I could let my wolf rise to the surface and do what she needed to do. No, not fight. Fighting would be a bad idea when I had so many books and clothes weighing me down, so many eyes ready to pop around a corner and see what I’d diligently hid these last few months.

  I had to protect my wolf half. We had to run. We had to get away to safety and only then could we figure out our next move.

  Despite the discomfort of having the spell break away, my muscles warmed, and when I widened my nostrils, I caught the scent at last.

  Male. Young male. And angry. Driven in a way I could not fathom.
<
br />   I had found the killer and he had me in his sights. Too bad he didn’t understand the person he now messed with. I might look small and innocent, but I packed a wallop.

  Courage surged through me.

  With the hour late and no one around to see me, with the man steadily gaining on me, I threw caution to the wind and ran, faster than a normal Fae. Faster than a normal human.

  Shifter speed.

  And my heart nearly stopped when my pursuer did the same.

  24

  The man following me was a shifter.

  I knew it the way some people knew when rain would come. No matter how fast I ran, he kept pace with me, down one hallway and up another. My breath came in short gasps and when I inhaled, I smelled wolf. Wolf and testosterone and a burning desire to catch me. To the point where my desire blotted out any other emotion including self-preservation.

  He didn’t care if anyone saw him.

  I had to do something, and fast, because I couldn’t keep running all night. Eventually someone would try to stop me. Eventually I would tire and the man behind me would catch up.

  I couldn’t think. Couldn’t draw air into my body.

  Run, run. Hurry!

  I pushed my legs as fast as they would go and listened to the heavy echo of my footsteps. Heard the way the man did the same. His footsteps approached closer yet, a slap of leather soles on stone.

  And glancing over I saw my salvation.

  A fairy sconce on the wall.

  I skidded to a stop beside the sconce, remembering what Melia had told me about the secret passages.

  Look for the fairies. They guide the way.

  I jumped up to reach the sconce, thinking to pull some kind of hidden lever and open the door. But there were no secret levers here. There were only words. Words of power to get me inside the tunnel.

  What were they? Oh my God. This was a terrible time for me to forget.

  I pressed my palm against the wall.