Fae Trials: A Paranormal Academy Bully Romance (Royal Fae Academy Book 1)

by Sofia Daniel

  “Did you ever find out the identity of your faerie parent?” I asked.

  He shook his head. “I don’t want to know.”

  I turned to Helen. “Why do faeries do this to their own offspring?”

  “Inheritance.” She rubbed the back of her neck and cringed.

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “Fae brides are supposed to be chaste before marriage, but grooms are expected to sow their wild oats. If their first-borns are half-bloods, they stand to inherit the wealth.”

  Helen glanced between Mr. Whittaker and me as though checking that we understood her words. I gave her a blank stare. Faeries could curse humans with infertility. If a faerie was cruel enough to erase a child’s memory, they could use their magic to make sure it was never born. It also made no sense that their laws would allow illegitimate half-bloods inheritance rights.

  When neither of us indicated that we understood, she blew out a breath. “Replacing their memories stops that child from knowing their birthright, and the inheritance can go to the full-blooded heir.”

  Mr. Whittaker’s lips tightened, and his eyes drooped. My chest clenched in sympathy for him. At least my memories weren’t false. According to the searches the guards made, my parents had existed and Mrs. Yates was real. This was proof that Sicily was also real and out there somewhere, needing my help.

  “Try rubbing salt on your wings,” he said in a low voice. “It might calm the magic enough for your muscles to take control.”

  “Thanks,” I murmured.

  Our teacher walked away, his shoulders slumped. Helen and I watched him in silence. What could anyone say to someone whose identity had been stolen so ruthlessly?

  “Does that happen a lot?” I asked.

  “Only among certain noble houses,” she replied. “It’s cruel, but back in the days of Queen Maeve, fae noblemen often killed human women pregnant with their half-bloods.”

  A shudder ran down my spine at her implication. Only the existence of King Oberon’s pact with the UN was keeping them from committing further murders.

  “Be careful with Prince Caulden.” Helen levitated her hula hoop and made it glow with weak magic. “You caused him to look foolish in front of the remedial class. Slights like that are never forgotten.”

  “Thanks.” I threw my yellow hoop toward the pool, but it flew five feet and rolled onto the ground.

  Mr. Whittaker blew a whistle and gathered us back to the classroom. We sat back at our seats, and when he was assured of our attention, he stood in front of his desk and clasped his hands.

  “One of our students is about to die,” he said.

  Shocked gasps echoed through the classroom, and every ounce of blood drained from my face and rushed toward my heart. My breaths became labored, and sweat gathered on my brow. He was right, and there wasn’t a thing I could do to change my destiny.

  Helen placed a comforting hand on my wrist, but I couldn’t feel her touch.

  “I’m sorry for putting things bluntly, but it’s the truth.” He swept his arm in my direction. “Someone already made one attempt at assassination, and it won’t be the last. Because of a terrible circumstance of magic, Unity Quayle will die horribly.”

  Mr. Whittaker walked around the desks, fixing everyone with a penetrating stare. Nobody spoke. Nobody even took a breath. From what little I knew of the male, his statement seemed unexpectedly cruel.

  After he reached the final student, he returned to the front of the desk and spread his arms wide. “There is a way to save Unity.”

  I sucked a breath through my teeth, waiting for a miracle.

  “Between the entire class, each of you has enough knowledge, power, and skills to help Unity survive.” He balled his fists. “If we rally together, we might even end up with a half-blood occupying an elevated position within the Fae Courts.”

  Excited chatter broke out, and my breaths became ragged. Everyone in this room came from a powerful family, and those who hadn’t had their memories replaced had to know something that might help me survive these trials.

  “My final word before we break for the day is to please set aside your differences, delve deep, and offer Unity Quayle a hand.”

  Mr. Whittaker dismissed the class and walked out, leaving everyone staring at me. I sat stiffly in my seat, my heart thudding so hard, I felt its reverberations in the tips of my toes. Who would be the first to come forward and help?

  A hand landed on my arm, sending a jolt of panic through my already frantic heart. “Unity?”

  I flinched. “Huh?”

  Helen drew back, her hand over her mouth. “Did I startle you?”

  “Sorry.” I tried shaking off thoughts of my impending death, but they jumped back into my mind like persistent fleas.

  She frowned. “I don’t have much in the way of protective magic, but I can share my knowledge with you.”

  “Thanks.”

  The other students filed out of the classroom and Helen wrapped a hand around my arm. “We’d better leave with the crowd. No one is going to assassinate you if there’s a chance someone else might get hurt.”

  “Good point.” I scrambled to my feet, tamping down the twinge of guilt at potentially endangering my classmates.

  We stepped out of the classroom into the white courtyard. The sun hung low in a cloudless, indigo sky, half obscured by the distant mountains, bathing the palace and its surroundings in orange light.

  I inhaled lungfuls of jasmine-scented air and sighed, letting out some of the tension from Mr. Whittaker’s announcement. “It smells so good up here.”

  “Of course, it does.” She looped her arm through mine. “Only the very best plants are reserved for the Prudence district.”

  I frowned down at our joined arms. “Are you sure it’s safe for us to be so close?”

  “Not even the Fated would dare shoot at the Duke of Medietas’ offspring.”

  My brows drew together. From what Helen had told me earlier, it looked like her father had abandoned her to the academy. But what did I know about faerie parents?

  We followed the rest of the class across the courtyard to the nearest tower, where that creepy, metal effigy of the goddess Danu stared out at us from a wooden door.

  “Is she alive?” I asked.

  “Danu?” asked Helen. “Gods are the only truly immortal beings. She watches over the island, ensuring our survival in the modern world.”

  We walked through the doorway into a marble hall lined with faerie statues that were so realistically carved, I expected them to blink. A few passing students gave me knowing smirks, and I wondered if one of the Fated had shared their plans on how they would knock me out of the upcoming trial.

  A fire pit crackled and popped in the dining hall, filling the room with soft, atmospheric light and the sweet scent of burning resin. Students sat at candle-lit tables, chatting over bowls of soup ladled out by pixies with glowing, transparent wings.

  My steps faltered. If it wasn’t for the arrogant princes, furious Fated, and the impending death match, this place could be paradise.

  Helen guided me toward the side of the room with the floor-to-ceiling windows. “This is where the remedial students sit.”

  The seats all had their backs to the spectacular mountain vista but offered a view of the fire pit and the blossoms climbing the walls. “Where are the teachers?”

  “In their staffroom,” she replied.

  “So much for student safety,” I muttered.

  We took a left around the huge circle of tables and sat at one that seated eight.

  The black-haired girl from the remedial class plonked herself at my side. “I’m Florensis of Nemain, another half-blood like you, but you can call me Flora.”

  “Um…” I shot Helen a nervous glance. Didn’t those two dislike each other? “Hi.”

  She shot Helen a withering glare. “I should warn you that the faerie you’re associating with grew up with the Fated and used to sit with them until she lost her magic
. She might not be on your side.”

  Helen blew out a breath. “It’s true.”

  “What?” I turned to my new friend.

  “I know most people in the Royal Court through my family.”

  “See?” Folding her arms across her chest, Flora gave me a smug grin. “She doesn’t even deny it.”

  “But I’m not spying for the Fated or helping them in any way,” said Helen.

  Flora sniffed. “Just be careful. Backstabbing is commonplace both in the Fae Courts and here at the Royal Fae Academy.”

  I shifted on my seat, glancing from Helen to Flora. My ingrained dislike of royal faeries made me imagine Helen with colorful wings, acting as arrogant and cruel as Lady Gala, but common sense pushed those thoughts aside. So far, Helen had been nothing but helpful and kind.

  “It’s good advice.” Helen unfolded her napkin and set it on her lap. “You shouldn’t trust anyone.”

  A pair of pixies flew around the fire pit carrying a crystal bowl filled with steaming, white-as-milk liquid. I sat straighter, watching them place the bowl on our table.

  Pixies hardly ever visited human settlements during the day. They were gorgeous creatures with huge, half-moon-shaped eyes and massive, amber pupils. The rest of their features were human, with high cheekbones, full lips, and cute, pointed chins.

  They were about the size of five-year-old children, but there was nothing child-like about them. If captured or attacked, a pixie could use one of its lives to increase its bulk and fight its way out of trouble. Some people said that ogres were pixies who had run out of lives, but I really couldn’t see the resemblance.

  “Boer Ford soup?” asked the one on the left with a voice that sounded like jingling bells.

  “What?” I frowned at what looked like bleached gruel.

  “It’s a form of pumpkin,” said Helen.

  “Oh! Yes, please.”

  Helen and Flora also asked for a portion, and a third pixie flew over, holding a crystal ladle.

  A loud drum roll sent a jolt of panic through my chest. I turned to the doorway, where Prince August strolled in with his buttercup-yellow wings outstretched. White magic gleamed around the edges, making my wings flutter and my traitorous heart skip a beat.

  I balled my fists, trying to keep my breathing under control. I wanted my normal life back, not a faerie prince.

  Flora gasped out loud. “Something important is about to happen!”

  I turned to Helen and gulped. “Do you know what this is?”

  Her shoulders rose to her ears, and she shrank in her seat, as though trying to minimize what she was about to say next. “Sorry.”

  “What?”

  “It’s a Royal Pronouncement,” she whispered.

  Flora leaned into my side and snarled, “Speak up. This might make a difference to Unity’s survival.”

  All the muscles in my chest constricted around my lungs, cutting off my air. “Please, if there’s anything I need to know—”

  “Queen Maeve made pronouncements before making her subjects battle to the death to gain her favor.” She turned to me, her chestnut-brown eyes etched with pain. “The princes are about to start the death trial!”

  Chapter 12

  I glanced around the dining table for something to defend myself if a fight broke out. More silverware than I could count lay on both sides of my china plate, and I grabbed a steak knife and held it like a shield.

  The pixie pouring the pumpkin soup squeaked and dropped the ladle into the bowl, splashing droplets of white liquid over the table.

  Ignoring her, I glanced around the room, where Lady Aster’s crimson wings glowed in unison with Prince August’s. Her figure was more curvaceous than mine, and her wings more delicate, making me wonder what on earth Prince Caulden had been complaining about when he disparaged my body in the gymnasium.

  “Prince August is the oldest,” Helen whispered. “If anything happens to King Oberon, it’s August who will take the throne.

  “Oh.” I gave the golden-haired prince a second look. Hopefully, our current monarch would stay in power for a millennia.

  The Summer Court prince stood to one side, allowing Prince Rory to make his appearance. With another invisible drum roll, Prince Rory shook his burnt orange hair as though he was in a shampoo commercial. My stupid wings fluttered so hard, they created a gust of wind that blew my hair across my face.

  “They’re just so handsome,” Flora said with a sigh.

  “No.” I shook my head for emphasis, and my wings glowed bright enough to light up the entire table.

  Prince Rory blew a kiss to the watchers, making me snarl. He was enjoying every minute of the attention.

  Helen leaned into my side. “Watch out for that one. Everyone thinks he’s the quietest and the most unassuming, but beneath that relaxed exterior is a calculating mind.”

  “Yeah.” Ten minutes with that guy, and I already knew he was the worst of the quartet. While the others probably wanted to get rid of me, Prince Rory was forcing me to stay.

  The drumroll started again, and Prince Bradwell walked in with a blank expression, looking like his brothers had coerced him into this ridiculous display.

  Now that I was sitting and not blinded by panic, I leaned forward for a better look at the Spring Court Prince. On most men, long cerise hair would look effeminate, but not Prince Bradwell. Steel-colored highlights broke up the pinkish shade, giving his hair the look of a sword that had been stained with the blood of his enemies.

  The pulse between my legs pounded at the magnificent sight, and I squeezed my legs together, reminding my body that we were in the worst trouble of our lives. Prince Bradwell’s wings were also cerise but divided by masculine, indigo lines with brilliant white spots glowing at the edges.

  “Rumor has it that Prince Bradwell and Gazania have already consummated their mating bond,” whispered Flora.

  My gaze zipped across the room to Lady Gala’s table, where the faerie with the mahogany skin beamed at Prince Bradwell. Her wings looked like they were made of liquid flame, and they glowed brighter than all the others’.

  “If they’re already bonded, why did his wings glow for me?” I asked.

  “It could be the fates playing tricks,” Helen said, sounding hopeful.

  I narrowed my eyes. Did she also think I had carried out black magic?

  Prince Bradwell stood to the side, and before the drumroll could start up again, Prince Caulden strode in with his arms crossed, and his wings retracted.

  “Prince Caulden and Salix were best friends when we were all little,” said Helen. “He’s very protective of her, but I’m not sure their love is romantic.”

  My gaze darted back to the Fated’s table, where the green-haired faerie gave Prince Caulden a soft smile, making his cold expression melt. A heartbeat later, he turned a scowl at the other princes.

  I glanced at the Summer Prince, whose lips tightened with annoyance. Leaning forward, I rubbed my chin, wondering if I could take advantage of the brothers’ different personalities.

  Prince August spread his arms wide. “Fated mates, will you please rise.”

  Lady Gala and her cohort flapped their glowing wings and flew six feet above the table, looking like contestants for a supernatural beauty contest. My lips parted, and an awed breath escaped my lungs. Every one of the fated belonged on the arm of a faerie prince.

  “You too!” Helen elbowed me in the ribs and flicked her head toward the princes.

  Everyone in the dining room, including the princes and the Fated, stared in our direction. Heat rose to my cheeks. This entire display was because I had arrived and messed things up. I also had to stand.

  “Oh, right.” I scraped my chair back and stood.

  “The poor halfling can’t fly,” said Lady Gala.

  “She’s only good for show,” added Lady Aster.

  A few students around the tables giggled.

  I clenched my teeth. When would we get round to the killing part? My fists itche
d to punch their perfect noses out of joint.

  A semi-awkward silence stretched out. Perhaps they all wanted me to prove that I could fly, but that wasn’t going to happen. I folded my arms across my chest and shuffled on my feet, waiting for everyone to stop gaping.

  Prince August walked around the tables and past the doors that led to the kitchen. As his brothers followed his lead, Pokeweed stepped out. Behind him was a familiar figure, but his head was bowed.

  “Elijah?” His name left my lips like a whisper.

  “What was that?” asked Helen.

  “I know him.”

  “Pay attention,” said Flora. “The princes are about to say something.”

  Prince August flew up on a podium positioned by the wall to a loud fanfare of trumpets. “As you can see, there are only four eligible princes.”

  The smugness in Prince August’s voice carried across the room, making me suspect he secretly enjoyed the spectacle of girls fighting over him and his brothers. He held out his palm, spreading his fingers wide. “Four princes and five potential mates.”

  Prince Rory flew to Prince August’s side, his green eyes gleaming with delight. “To thin out the number of mates, Mistress Ellyllon has authorized a trial to the death.”

  The students sitting around the tables cheered. Some stood from their seats to wave their arms and stamp their feet. Fury surged through my veins. Since when was someone fighting to the death deemed entertainment? I glanced across the room to where I had found Elijah, and he stared straight into my eyes.

  My breath caught, my heart clenched, and my hand flew to my chest. He recognized me!

  Elijah’s lips curved into the kind of smile he gave me when I would complain about having been cheated by a hag or insulted by a faerie. Sympathetic. Understanding. As though he shared my frustration with the Isle of Fae, and that was what kept us connected.

  His smile broadened, and I couldn’t help but smile back.

  Flora clamped an arm around my wrist. “Pay attention! They’re about to announce the rules.”

  “According to the lore, whoever authorizes the challenge must also be its host,” said Prince August. “As such, no hostilities will take place outside the academy grounds. All violence must be conducted by the contestants themselves and not hired out to third parties for assassinations.”