A laugh escapes my lips as they rear back. “I’m kidding,” I roll my eyes as I push from my seat, holding my jacket in my hands. “I just like to curse people.” I cackle as I walk away.
Lore sighs. “You shouldn’t joke about things like that.”
“Is she being serious?” Rory asks, and the worry laced in his voice brings joy to my dark little heart.
Chapter 5
I turn to the mirror with my shirt in my hands. My healing scars shine, pink and tender. The rest sit raised and white. The sun catches my skin, highlighting the shadows where my bones protrude, sharp and angular, at my ribs and collar bone. I turn away and pull my shirt on. The stiff, white fabric rubs against my back where another secret lies, and I button it up slowly before I turn back to the mirror.
“How am I meant to fight in this?” I tug at my plaid skirt in front of my bedroom mirror.
“Maybe you could ask for a longer one? Something armored, perhaps?” Lore suggests from her perch on top of the mirror. I hum, not hating the suggestion. It would look pretty badass.
“Maybe I can ask the brownie to do it? Do they sew?” I ask as I tug on my skirt again, willing it to be just an inch or two longer where it sits just above my knees.
“I do not know. Would you mind if I spent the day in the library?” Her voice picks up at the prospect of scouring through the dusty tomes, and I shrug, taking my blazer from my vanity and pulling it on.
“Go for it.” I sling my bag over my shoulders next and immediately want to hurl. “I look like a Light student.”
A snicker comes through my open bedroom door, and I look past my reflection to see Declan stood in the hallway. “You’re supposed to,” he says. His eyes trail over my outfit, and he nods in approval. “Hurry up. We’re going to be late as it is.”
He shoves away from the door frame, and I wait until the sound of his footsteps grows light before releasing the breath burning in my lungs. “It’s going to take some getting used to living here.” My eyes trail over my brown braid, the only part of my outfit that resembles me—well, aside from my chunky, leather Dr. Martens boots. Dress code? What dress code?
Lore opens her wings and flaps twice to land on my shoulder. “As will everything else. And what are you going to do with the devil cat?”
“I have no idea.” I turn to stare at the cat watching me from the end of my bed, its wide green eyes looking right back at me as they always do. When I left the table last night, I’d picked up my bags in search of the best room with a view, and the creature had tagged along, making itself at home on the end of my bed as if it belonged there.
“We should sacrifice it. It might be useful then.” Disdain colors Lore’s voice. I tut at her and bend down to scratch the cat on its head. The velvet of its ear is soft under my fingers, and she watches me inquisitively as I scan her little face, from her tiny black nose to the white crescent on her forehead.
“Huh…” I say. “She has a moon marking on her face.”
“Yes, I’m aware.”
I turn to raise an eyebrow at the owl doing her best to ignore the cat in front of me. “And you didn’t think you’d like to mention it to me?”
She ruffles her feathers and turns to face the window. “I want nothing to do with that creature.”
“I think she’s a guardian sent by Nyx,” I say quietly. The vibrations of the cat’s purr rumble under my hand, and she buries her face into my palm. Giving her a final scratch, I rise and turn to leave. As we do, the cat leaps from my bed and swerves between my feet and into the hall.
“We’re going to have to think of a cute name for you,” I say as I watch it disappear down the hall.
“How about Rodent?”
I narrow my eyes on Lore as she lands on my shoulder. “Come on, don’t be mean. I’m sure she didn’t mean to pounce—”
“Oh, please. That little monstrosity knew exactly what she was doing,” Lore huffs as we descend the stairs.
“She may be small, but she’s deadly,” I whisper. “I think I’m going to call her Keaira… It means the little and dark one.”
The guys stand in a huddle, waiting for me at the front door. They look pressed and immaculate in their uniforms; it suits them not just in looks, but in the way they carry themselves, whereas I couldn’t feel more like a fraud.
Dane’s eyes lift to meet mine, his lips twitching at the flurry of emotions swirling in my stomach. I stop a step from the bottom and point my finger at him menacingly. “Say a word, Dane, and I will end you.”
He stretches a hand toward me, holding a giant blueberry muffin. “Fine. But promise me you’ll eat the muffin.”
I sniff and take it from him, nodding my thanks as I descend the final step.
We leave the sanctuary of our white picket fence and continue right along the street toward the main academy building. I shield my eyes from the sun shining over it and turn around, walking backwards, to look down the opposite end of the street, abutted by a portion of the forest. Over the rooftops of a few more houses, the temple glints under the direct sunlight. It looks like it’s glowing in comparison to the looming school building.
I face the direction we’re going again when we reach the courtyard. Across the grass, students mill in small groups similar to ours, but their conversations die off when their eyes land on me and the guys. Fear mingles in the expressions of those whose gaze falls on me, and I can’t resist giving them a wave, wiggling my fingers.
Declan glances back and rolls his eyes. “Do you have to be so—?”
“Charming? A bright spark in your otherwise boring day? Yes. Yes, I do,” I grin before taking a bite of the muffin. “And I’m going to kiss whoever made this, it’s so good.”
Dane’s cheeks take on a light pink shade. “Ah… that’s not necessary, Serena. Just eat more, okay? I noticed you didn’t eat a whole lot yesterday.”
And just like that, the muffin feels like stones in my stomach, the sugar no longer having any appeal.
“He’s right, Mistress. You need to eat. You haven’t had a proper meal since—”
“I know, Lore. And you know…” I glance at the others before muttering, “You know why it’s hard.”
Faces. Ghostly pale. My friends, no longer flush with life.
The thought of eating meat again makes my stomach churn. Just like every other piece of food that’s put in front of me. When I look up, Paxton’s knowing eyes find mine, and it’s as if he can see into my soul as a sad edge softens them.
“I know, Mistress. But you need to try,” Lore says softly, and I nod. Pulling a small piece off the muffin off, I place it in my mouth, but all I can taste is mush.
I remain silent as we trudge into the building, picking at my muffin, and feeding some to Lore. When my stomach begins to protest, I hide the final chunk in the wrapper as I crumple it up and throw it in a nearby bin.
Brushing the crumbs from my hands, I stare at the signs around us. “Do you want to head off to the library now, Lore?”
She hoots but hesitates. I nudge her softly and nod toward the library. “Go. I’ll be fine.”
Giving me a once over, she dips her head before flying off down the hall, swooping between the students.
“Where’s she going?” Rory asks.
“The library.” I shrug, not meeting his eyes as I say, “There are supposed to be some rare books hidden away in there that she wants to read. Owls like knowledge.”
Rory pouts and nods. I move the conversation on before he has a chance to think about it too hard. “So, what class do we have first?” I ask as I glance around; it’s Dane who answers.
“History and then Magical Applications, then you and I have Advanced Combat, followed by First Aid.” His eyes twinkle, the irony not lost on me.
“Cool, so we get to beat the shit out of each other and then learn to heal ourselves? Mighty thoughtful of them to do it that way.” I grin as we follow a stream of students up a set of stairs.
Dane chuckles, shooting me a
smile that sends tingles across my skin. “Remind me to stay away from you.”
I smile in return as we enter a packed classroom. A sea of chairs fills the center, all facing a blackboard, and rows of books and objects in glass cases are scattered along the walls.
“Is anyone else with us?” I ask as I take the last seat in the row next to Dane. He shoots me an apologetic look when I look down to see his bulky frame takes up most of my desk space.
“We’re all doing Advanced Combat,” he replies, motioning for me to stand up, and I do. He moves back into the aisle and gestures for me to take his space. Sighing, he sits in my old spot and stretches his legs out into the aisle, angling to give us both more room. Then he finally continues, “But only you and I are in First Aid. The others have Political Navigation, Advanced Enchantments, and Bladesmithing.”
I can guess who will be studying Political Navigation, but Bladesmithing?
My eyes fall on Paxton by my side, who grins, his eyes brighter than I’ve seen so far. I guess it’s something special for him—or is it based on his hidden ability?
“Good morning, class!” a musical voice calls out, and we fall silent as the most enchanting woman I’ve ever seen enters the room wearing an emerald-green robe covered in golden scripture and swirls, her gray hair flowing around her as if caught in a permanent breeze. I’m instantly awed by her aura. “I am Professor Illya, and I will be teaching you all about the wonders contained in our history.”
She smiles as she looks over the classroom. When her eyes land on me, she shows no semblance of surprise, which, ironically, surprises me.
She continues, “In order to understand ourselves now, we need to understand how we were in the past. And in order to make good decisions, we need to learn about the bad ones. In this class, there will be no Light and Dark. We will be learning of our history as it was, remaining impartial and factual.”
Professor Illya nods to me before turning back to the board to write a series of dates, and I breathe a sigh of relief. “Knowledge of our history is essential for progress. Currently, we are in the midst of great change for both Light and Dark. The Alliance seeks to solidify the shaky peace between our factions that was developed millennia ago.”
When Illya turns back, her eyes fall on me. My stomach drops as I expect her to single me out, label me as evidence of that progress. But to my relief—for the second time—she moves on.
“Who can tell me when the Alliance was founded?”
Declan’s hand shoots right up. “1066.”
“Correct, thank you, Declan.” Professor Illya says. “And can someone tell me the motto of the Alliance? How about you?”
“Wha… I…” I stutter under the professor’s stare. “Me?”
She nods, as if her request is quite simple. Although, to be fair, it is.
“Er…” I swallow. Is this karma? Divine retribution to play on my guilt for being here? “The Alliance serves to maintain the equilibrium of our world; to mend the past, to nurture the present, and to protect the future.”
She holds my gaze. “Exactly.”
I dip my head, blending back into the monotony of the class for the next half hour, jotting down notes when others do, but not especially paying attention. Until I hear two simple words.
“Godly objects which are kept safely in the academy’s own vaults,” Professor Illya says with her back to the class.
“What?” I sit up straight, taking my hand away from my face. Declan squints down at me, and I shrug. “Sorry, zoned out.”
He rolls his eyes and slides his notes toward me. I copy them down eagerly.
Rory hands me a tray as we wait in the lunch line. Students bustle around us, the noise almost deafening as they laugh and chatter. A frown contorts my face when I don’t spot a single unhappy expression, argument, or table on fire. What the hell is wrong with these people?
I shake my head and adjust the straps of my bag, the damn thing weighing a ton.
“How is it that it’s the first day and there’re already assignments and homework?” I ask. “And you guys think I’m evil.”
Declan chuckles behind me, and we shuffle forward. “I’m guessing you didn’t get assignments on the first day?”
I pause as we shuffle forward, and I don’t say a word. Our assignments were more… practical… in nature. Instead of paper assignments, we were made to test poisons out on each other. Instead of theory classes, we were locked in warehouses, forced to survive tournaments and trials—but sometimes just surviving wasn’t enough.
A hand touches my shoulder, and I jump, my heart in my throat and my fingers itching to strike, but a wave of peace washes over me and my entire body melts. I glance over my shoulder, and Dane nods for me to choose my lunch.
Everything looks so colorful and inviting, but I have no idea what any of these dishes are. Scooping up some leafy green salads and what I’m hoping are steamed vegetables, I hover over the rest of the food, not sure what to pick. Rory points to one of the colorful dishes and grins. “You should try that. It’s my favorite.”
Pursing my lips, I take a scoop of it, and Rory grins at the tiny portion. “Chicken?”
I narrow my eyes on him and take an even bigger scoop, and the guys chuckle.
Trays loaded, we make our way to an empty table. Declan, Rory, and Dane take their seats, and I do too, but not before asking, “Wait, where’s Paxton?”
A hand shakes my arm from behind, and I look over my shoulder to see Paxton holding a giant takeaway coffee cup out to me, a warm and encouraging smile on his lips. My jaw hangs open as the bitter aroma reaches my nose. “You are my favorite human,” I whisper as I take it.
I immediately go for my first sip, grimacing as the scalding hot liquid coats my tongue. “Oh, that hurts so good…”
“You’re so weird.”
I turn around to see Declan staring up at me, a forkful of food raised halfway to his mouth. I shrug and pull out a chair to sit beside him.
“So, what’s this?” I ask, my gaze moving around the guys who are devouring food faster than a garbage disposal. I force what appears to be chicken and pineapple onto my fork. Strange combination… It drips with a red sauce that makes my mouth water. I place the morsel in my mouth and am pleasantly surprised by the flavors that spread over my tongue.
“It’s sweet and sour chicken. It’s good, right?” Rory says through a mouthful.
I nod and take a bite and then another until my stomach clenches, signaling that it’s done with food for now. Dropping my fork onto the tray, I take another sip of coffee, languishing in the energizing effect it has on my body as I scan the dining hall. My eyes land on the loudest table, where Sabrina sits with her henchwomen and a few other guys I don’t recognize. Her eyes scan the dining hall from her perch on top of the table (unsanitary, much?) like a lion admiring her pride. Her eyes stop when they get to our table and zone in on me. She glares, and I smile and wave.
“Are you excited for Advanced Combat?” Rory asks, bringing my attention back to my team. His plate is empty, and he wipes orange smears from around his mouth with a paper napkin.
I tap on my chin as if I’m thinking about it really hard. “Hmm, am I excited about kicking ass and taking names? Humph. I don’t know.”
Dane and Rory snicker at my response, and Paxton smiles. Declan just rolls his eyes.
“How much combat training have you had?” he asks.
“Ah… enough,” I say. I look down to my tray, the red of the sauce pulling at dark memories.
A loud hoot echoes through the hall, and Lore’s calming energy flows through me, drawing me away from the chasm I’d been teetering over.
“I just ask because it will help us to determine who you should be paired with…” Declan clarifies. But my attention isn’t on him anymore.
She flutters down in front of me and hops on her feet between our trays, excitement filling every ounce of our bond. “Find what you need?” I ask her.
“Yes, we’re set.
But you wouldn’t believe how many books are in there. I could read a new thing every day for the rest of my life,” Lore gushes, her eyes flicking between the leftover food on my plate and me, her interest switching as rapidly as her feet tap the tabletop. “Are you going to eat that?”
I shake my head, and she hops onto the tray, nibbling at the leftover pieces of meat. Dane raises an eyebrow at the sight. “Isn’t that like… cannibalism?”
I level a stare at him. “She’s an owl, not a chicken.”
Declan pushes his empty tray into the middle of the table, then looks at Dane. “Owls are predators.”
“Ah.” Dane purses his lips.
I scratch Lore’s head. “We were just about to discuss my combat skills and how much training I’ve had.”
Lore looks up at me slowly, dropping a chunk of half-eaten chicken onto the tray without concern. “And what did you tell them?”
“I was going to say I’ve already chosen my sparring partner.” I glance up at the boys. “If we can choose, anyway.”
They all look at me, but the bell rings, saving me from questions I don’t want to answer—or can’t answer. Lore hops onto my shoulder as I pick up my tray and bag and clear up.
The rays of the bright afternoon sun sink into my skin as we continue along the marble path toward our next class in the academy’s arena. As much as I hate to admit it, the warmth is a wonderful change from the darkness I’m usually lost in.
Out here in the afternoon sun, it’s nice to be away from the confines of the school and the dark and fearful looks I’m constantly subject to from the other students. At least out here, it’s just me, the guys, and nature.
“Declan! Baby, wait up,” a grating voice calls out, and my jaw pops as Sabrina runs toward us, shooting a glare in my direction before smiling at Declan. I can’t help the snicker that escapes my mouth at the horrified look on his face, and I hurry forward, not willing to be a part of that awkward exchange. The others hurry after me as we walk through the arena’s entrance and onto the field.
Cursed Magic: A Paranormal Academy Romance (Daughter of Nyx Series Book 1) Page 5
