Three Kinds of Lost: A Reverse Harem Academy Romance (The True and the Crown Book 3)

by May Dawson

  “I hope I’m invited too,” Stelly says.

  “You’re really confident this isn’t a hanging, huh?” I ask.

  “For the love of God.” Cax rubs one long-fingered hand across his face in exasperation, tousling his blond bangs in the process. “Just open the envelope, Tera.”

  I shake my head. I’m both desperately curious and full of dread, and I’d rather stall a minute or two more. “I’m taking this upstairs.”

  A translucent silver bubble floats across the table and hovers in front of Mycroft.

  Mycroft groans, but holds out his hand. The bubble settles into his palm and then pops, splattering me with magic that dries before I can lean close to Mycroft.

  There’s a faint sparkle in the air between his outstretched hand and his ear. He raises his hand, holding me at a distance, as he leans away. Rude. You should let the-woman-that-you-maybe-love eavesdrop.

  Whenever Croft kisses me, his touch is full of passion, full of need. But most of the time, he’s cool and distant. I want to slap him when I don’t want to kiss him.

  When his lips set grimly, I know we’ve been summoned, even before he says flatly, “Radner wants to see us.”

  “Nothing good ever comes out of that office,” Cax mutters.

  Things were already weird, but that officially chills the mood.

  The last time she wanted to see us, she launched us on a collision course with the True and with Raila. After all that drama, my relationship with Cax still feels uncertain. And yet, every time he pushes his hair out of his green eyes in his distracted way, or flashes me that quick, rakish grin, or sees me and his eyes brighten as if my presence lights him up, I’m struck by a pleasant, affectionate nervousness that rises through my chest on gossamer wings.

  After the Raila situation, I know that every one of these men is an ass in their own way. I used to think Cax was innocent, but they’re all capable of being selfish and stupid and arrogant.

  But they’re mine, nonetheless.

  These four people at my table are the only people in Avalon who are on my side. They might hurt me because of their broken edges, and I might hurt them because of mine, but in the end, we’re a family. We can trust each other.

  As if she’s a mind-reader, Stelly reaches out and squeezes my elbow. The guys are getting up from the table, distracted as they talk amongst themselves, and her deep blue eyes widen as she cocks her head.

  I’m okay, I nod back to her.

  I haven’t had a family in a long time, and no matter how much anxiety flutters in my stomach right now, I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else but with them. The two of us push back our chairs and stand. The men wait for us pass ahead of them to the door.

  “Radner’s not that bad,” Airren’s voice is low and sexy behind my shoulder. He rests his hand possessively on my hip as we head for the exit, and I don’t mind one bit. “She’s all bark.”

  “You mean she’s not going to throw me out of Avalon on my ass?” I ask.

  He shakes his head.

  “Even though she threatens it every time I’m face-to-face with her?”

  “She’d never do that,” he says confidently.

  “Because it would be wrong?”

  “Nah, she’s old-school Intel, her sense of right-and-wrong can be fuzzy. But she likes me.”

  I roll my eyes. “Of course. Who doesn’t?”

  “And I like you.” Airren starts to say something else—maybe it’s a promise that everything is going to be all right—but then he gives up and squeezes me tighter.

  His words remind me of Stelly’s recent promise that if worse came to worst, if I was banished again, this time someone would come to find me. My men and my best friend wouldn’t leave me lost in another realm.

  I can imagine my return to that city back in Primus so vividly that it feels like a memory: going back to the boarding house that smelled of dry rot and bleach, back to my job kneeling in front of grocery shelves to stock cans for hours.

  Then Airren or Cax or Mycroft would come through the doors of the grocery store, looking big and mysterious and not-quite-of-this-world with their fine, fitted clothes over their muscular bodies. They’d sweep me off my feet—probably literally, knowing Mycroft—and carry me back to the world of magic.

  It’s a nice thought, but I don’t much want to test it. Stelly still sees the world in an innocent way, where the good guys win and love triumphs in the end.

  Spoiler alert: that’s not the world we live in.

  Chapter 2

  “You can’t leave me with this mystery.” Stelly reaches playfully for the envelope. Mycroft snatches it out of my hand, holding it aloft over his head, as we all file out of the dining hall and into the lobby of our dorm.

  It’s the most playful I’ve seen him in weeks even though his handsome, hard-angled face is as stoic and expressionless as ever. “Waiting won’t kill you, Stelly Roman. Developing some patience would be good for you.”

  “And developing a sense of humor would be good for you.” She pokes his wide bicep with one finger.

  “Give me back my letter, Mycroft. I’m pretty sure it’s a federal offense to tamper with the royal mail.” When I hold out my hand, his lips purse to one side, but he hands it over. “Radner can wait two minutes.”

  “I’m sure she would agree,” Cax says, false-brightly.

  I slide my fingernail under the edge of the envelope like I usually do to open mail, but this paper is so thick that I struggle with it for a second—with four gazes fixed on me impatiently—before it finally rips. When I finally pull the paper out, my heart is hammering for no good reason. I stare at an elaborate red-and-gold seal at the top of the paper and the neat black calligraphy underneath.

  The pleasure of your company

  is requested to celebrate the Prince’s birthday

  “It’s an invitation to a ball,” I say flatly. “Because historically, those work out so well for me.”

  Stelly peers over my shoulder, so close that her rose-scented blond hair brushes against my cheek. “Oh, can I be your plus-one?”

  There’s a chorus of grumbled no’s from my men.

  “Maybe we all can go. If I must, then I need a friend.” I flash a smile at Stelly, who beams back at me.

  “What are we?” Airren demands, crossing his arms. I can’t tell if he’s being playful or if he’s genuinely put out; he can be hard to read.

  “You’re many charming, wonderful things, Airren—” Like the man I’m sleeping with, “but you aren’t my friend.”

  He frowns, but Stelly says, “We’ve got to argue about this later. And go shopping too, later! You’ve got a date with the angry professor right now.”

  I groan, but it’s true. I thrust the envelope at Stelly. “I should be back soon, would you look after this and Penny until I’m back?”

  I’ve left Penny, my copper dragon, sleeping on a towel on the radiator. She can’t get warm enough now that fall is upon us.

  I want to be taken seriously, but I’m also really tempted to knit a sweater and booties for my cold-blooded dragon.

  It’s chilly when we step out the doors of Rawl House. Although it’s a damp, windy day, even gray skies don’t ruin the campus’ beauty. The last of the flowers have fallen, and the trees themselves are afire with gold and orange leaves. Every stiff breeze shakes the limbs overhead so that leaves rattle together in a soft symphony. The faint scent of decay mingles with wood smoke from the chimneys and the sweet, pungent scent of ozone from the lazy rain sprinkles that polka-dot the stone walkway.

  “So, are we all going to the prince’s birthday?” Cax asks innocently, his hands in his pockets.

  Mycroft groans.

  “Why wouldn’t we?” Airren asks.

  “Because we have better things to do?” Mycroft grumbles.

  “Something better to do than attend a party?” Airren asks lightly. His lips nuzzle my hair as he settles his arm over my shoulders. “It’s like you don’t know nobles at all.”
r />   “Just a miner’s son, sorry,” Mycroft says shortly.

  “Like you’re just an anything,” Cax says. “Are you fishing for someone to remind you of your genius again?”

  Mycroft’s lips twist—a flash of emotion that’s rare for him—and then his face shifts to neutral again. I glance at Airren, then Cax, wondering if they caught that, but it seems no one else happened to catch that split-second flash of emotion.

  There’s something wrong with Mycroft. Well, there’s always something wrong with Mycroft, but now it’s in a new and unusual form.

  “I hope the Fox shows up again,” Mycroft says, which is just retaliatory towards Airren. Airren must know that because he shakes his head, his eyes crinkling at the corners in amusement. It’s not that easy to get under Airren’s skin.

  At least, it’s not that easy for anyone except the Fox himself.

  “I received another letter from him,” I say lightly.

  Airren’s body stiffens next to mine, his fingers curling tighter against my hip before he relaxes. “Oh?”

  “Not that it counts as a letter when it lacks a return address,” I add. “He’s quite the mysterious man.”

  “He’s quite the attention-seeking fool,” Airren mutters.

  “I think he’s kind of charming.”

  Myroft’s eyes crinkle at the corners. He glances toward Airren, as if he’s curious how Airren will react to this small revelation.

  Airren pats my hip and starts to release it, and I grab his hand, swinging it between us. “I’m just playing. No one’s quite as charming as the three of you.”

  “Now I know you’re lying,” Cax teases, gentle warmth in his voice.

  “I know you’re talking about me,” Mycroft says to Cax, “and I don’t appreciate it.”

  “Mycroft was always at the top of his class in intel school,” Cax confides to me, “except when they had to study the art of seduction.”

  “You’re not going to survive long enough to make it to intel school,” Mycroft warns.

  “That is the one class you failed, wasn’t it?” Airren muses out loud.

  The teasing banter between them—and the flirtation between me and each of them—makes my unease fall away during our walk. As soon as we reach the steps of the Arts building, the sense of disquiet tightens my stomach again.

  Cax reaches out and takes my other hand, his strong, warm fingers knitting around mine. When I glance up at him, he winks. “Remember, she’s outnumbered.”

  “We’re the ones who are outnumbered,” I say. “No one thinks I belong here.”

  No one except for the three of them and me, and the handful of friends I’ve gathered recently.

  “But there’s a we,” he says. “And we’re not half bad.”

  My guys are definitely better than half bad.

  It’s nice to have a we after I went years on my own.

  Mycroft knocks on Radner’s door, which is always closed even though she knows we’re coming.

  “I wonder what she does in there,” I mutter, which makes Cax snort before he covers his mouth with his hand.

  Airren shoots us both a dark look. Behave.

  “Come in,” Radner calls.

  As we file in, she says, “The answer, Tera, is grading. Always grading.”

  I stick my hands into the pockets of my pea coat and try to look innocent, ignoring that I’ve been caught gossiping about the scary professor.

  “We have a problem,” Radner says.

  As if there’s any other reason she would have interrupted our dinner, or any other reason she’d be here in her office at seven o’clock at night.

  I wonder where she goes when she isn’t here. It’s hard to imagine her getting her mail from the mailbox at the edge of her garden, cooing hello to her dog, kissing a husband. I stare at her, imagining for the first time this terrifying woman’s inner life. Does she light honeysuckle candles in her living room or read before bed or feed stray cats? Or is she just always here, sarcastic and angry, sleeping under her desk? Even though logically I know that can’t be the case, it feels like it makes the most sense. In fact, there’s a couch in the corner under the window, and I twist toward it, suddenly remembering that it has quite a few throw pillows…

  “The prince’s request?” Cax asks. “How do you know about that already?”

  Her eyebrows arch, and Airren sighs under his breath.

  “The prince invited me to his birthday ball,” I say since now this seems to require explanation. “What is his name, anyway? I can’t keep saying the prince.”

  “You don’t know the prince’s name?” Radner’s mood brightens slightly as she has the opportunity to be condescending.

  “Sorry, I was banished for five years,” I say. “Wait, no, I’m not the one who should be sorry.”

  “Anyway,” Airren says, “that event is on Saturday. Short notice. But I imagine we’ll make it work.”

  “Yes, you will.” She rakes her hand over her hair, which is pulled back into a tight bun. Some of her shellacked-smooth hair feathers up at a strange angle before she realizes and folds her hands on her desk. “Then you’ll take the rest of your fall break to restore Tera’s magic. She’s getting far too much attention, and her secret won’t hold much longer.”

  “I thought her bond with the dragon convinced the True she was the real deal,” Airren says.

  “The True aren’t our only problem.” Her voice is irritated. “Some enterprising student journalist realized that Tera is incredibly inept at magic. I’ve squashed their story for now, but it can’t be depended upon.”

  Despite my nerves, I spare a thought for that student who has experienced Radner’s squashing. That cannot possibly be a good time.

  “Fortunately for our borderline-useless young friend here,” Radner looks to me, “we’ve tracked down the man who used a corpse’s identity to get through the portal.”

  “You found the man from Avalon?” My voice sounds hollow. The man from Avalon. I’ve called him that in my head for years, but it doesn’t make sense now that I’m home.

  He’s the one who followed me into my foster family’s house dirtside, who put a knife to my throat, who took my magic and almost took more.

  There’s a flash of sympathy in Radner’s eyes, so quick that I might have imagined it. Her gaze shifts to Airren. “The man who stole Tera’s magic is named Moirus Neal. Find him and break the spell. Kill him if you must.”

  “No.” The word slips out too quickly, and four gazes swivel to me. My heart races at the thought of killing Moirus Neal.

  I used to daydream about beating him to death with a shovel. Now, I’ve come close to forgiving him. I’ve spent a long time healing from what he did to me, and I don’t want his blood on my hands. I deserve to be rid of him—and that means justice, not vengeance and guilt.

  “As usual, protect Tera Donovan from herself,” Radner goes on, as if I haven’t spoken, and yet her barbed voice makes it clear that she’s answering me. Airren rests his hand on my shoulder, massaging my stiff muscles gently. “Without her magic, she won’t fool the True for long, and the Crown’s patience will eventually give way.”

  “We’ll figure it out.” Airren gives me an encouraging smile. His words are a promise to her and to me.

  Radner claps her hands together. “So, your task list: attend the prince’s ball, make her not-useless anymore, and be back here by a week from Monday. Good luck to you all.”

  We’ve been dismissed, but Airren lingers in her office when the rest of us have filed out.

  Mycroft glances back, then squeezes my elbow. “Walk back with Cax. We need to talk about logistics with Radner.”

  Logistics. Sure. I give him a long look. “Don’t keep secrets from me.”

  “Of course not,” he says, his face blank and neutral, pretending he’s never done such a thing in his life.

  Then he closes the door in my face.

  Right. Like I was thinking earlier: my guys are assholes.

 
Chapter 3

  Airren

  “We’ve got a situation,” I tell Radner.

  Mycroft glances away but says nothing. His face in profile is as unreadable as ever—to most people, anyway—as he studies Radner’s bookshelves.

  “Of course we do.” Radner’s tone is clipped. “Is that little girl of yours getting unruly?”

  “Always,” I answer drily. “But we couldn’t have asked for a better ally to bring down the True.”

  Mycroft snorts. Radner’s lips part slightly, as if she agrees with his skepticism. But his perspective is quite different than hers. He doesn’t think we should call Tera an ally when she doesn’t know one-hundred-percent of the truth.

  Who ever knows one-hundred-percent of the truth, anyway? I’ve served my country without always knowing all the details. There’s something to be said for following orders, not that you can convince Mycroft.

  “But Tera’s not our problem.” I can feel Mycroft prickling from here, and I tense too. I’m betraying him by telling a secret he doesn’t want told, but he doesn’t have any right to privacy right now. Not when it could get him killed. “Mycroft is.”

  Radner sits back in her chair, crossing her legs at the knee with her usual difficulty, then smoothing her skirt. “What is it?”

  “You should explain,” I tell Mycroft now that the confession is unavoidable.

  Mycroft crosses his arms. “When I attempted to spark Tera’s magic back to life, I transferred some of my own to her.”

  “Yes, I’m aware,” Radner says.

  “And it didn’t come back.” Mycroft’s tone is flat.

  But deep down, he has to feel anything but flat. He’s a dangerous man with or without his magic, but his sheer power was part of his identity. It had been his ticket out of the mines and to the commission waiting for him when we graduated.

  Radner’s brows draw together—she recognizes the severity of the problem—but her voice is cool and business-like. “How much ability are you missing?”