Academy of Falling Kingdoms Box Set

by Marisa Mills

  Gareth gave an approving nod.

  “But,” Tatiana continued, “Reverie has no fault lines or plates. This means that we shouldn’t have quakes. So my father—”

  “Who is clearly crazy,” the girl beside me muttered.

  “—has done calculations to look at where the force of these quakes is coming from, and he’s determined that mathematically the quakes are occurring because we’re slowly slipping downwards,” Tatiana said. “It isn’t a conspiracy theory. It’s physics.”

  “I disagree with your father,” Gareth said, “As does the rest of the Council. However, we don’t presently have an explanation for the quakes. Therefore, we should encourage theories—no matter how outlandish they may seem. If we begin dismissing theories, we’re narrowing our potential avenues both for research and for solutions. That being said, Tatiana, Reverie always floats up or down every few centuries. When I was a child, the Council said we were rising too close to the sun.”

  Sure. But my professors also said that I hadn’t seen sigils on a demon, and I knew I had. What else were they covering up? If a mage was controlling the demon attacks, could they be behind the earthquakes as well? It was so hard to piece things together.

  “Right,” Tatiana said, clearly disagreeing.

  “Students,” Gareth said, smiling gently. “I realize that you’re all worried about the demon attacks. I am, also. However, this lecture isn’t about demons, and I’m afraid I can’t offer much information. I’m not an expert on demons.”

  “Are there experts on demons?” I asked suddenly. “I mean, people who can understand them?”

  Another smattering of laughter. I flinched.

  Not in Reverie. Demons are experts on demons, Lucian said, chuckling to himself.

  “Didn’t one almost kill you?” Kris asked. “What more do you need to know?”

  “Class,” Gareth said, more sternly. “Let’s keep in mind that not everyone comes from Reverie. Yes, Wynter, there are experts in demonology, although I’ll admit it’s a field beyond my expertise. I’m very much a sigil man.”

  “Thank you,” I said.

  Gareth smiled, then returned to his lecture on Reverie’s history.

  “Following this separation, some early aristocrats weren’t happy with the Council consolidating magic in the Academy, so an agreement was reached between the Council and the aristocracy. The king designated five noble houses to safeguard stores of magical objects, so magical depositories would be spread throughout the kingdom.”

  I leaned my hand against my cheek as Professor Gareth kept talking. I still didn’t entirely understand why Reverie needed an aristocracy and a Council. While members of the aristocracy inherited their positions, members of the Council were only accepted after passing rigorous tests involving magic. It seemed like it would have been easier just to have members of the Council learn politics alongside magic, but maybe I just didn’t understand how things worked.

  After class, Alexander turned around and met my eyes. I thought he was waiting for me, so I joined him at the door.

  “Library tonight?” I asked quietly.

  “With you?” he asked with a sneer. “I think not.”

  What was his problem?

  I crossed my arms and stormed out of the class. Whatever. I didn’t need prince charming. If he didn’t want to help, I’d just have to go by myself.

  Twenty-One

  THAT NIGHT, I WAITED UNTIL everyone was asleep before trying the archives again. I rolled up my sleeve and looked at the scars I’d received from Gabriel, searching for a place where I could draw enough blood to use Lucian’s sigil. Had I really been brought to this? It felt like I was punishing myself now. And I was still so sore and tired from the demon attack. I stared at the library and considered whether or not I had the energy to go through with this venture. I thought Reverie was a paradise, but it was darker and more dangerous than the Scraps had ever been, and the people were far meaner. I just needed to find the journal, then I could go back where I belonged.

  I made a small cut near my elbow to draw blood, and carefully sketched the sigil across the main door. It burned with blue light before fading, and I stepped through the thick wooden door. I took a deep breath when I’d reached the other side, before heading upstairs to the restricted archives. Once inside, I flicked on the device, so I could sort through the large trunks in the light of the blue flame.

  “I don’t suppose,” I said, pulling out a thick stack of documents and folders, “there’s some magical way for you to find what I’m looking for?”

  Even if I was tired, using a magical solution sounded more manageable than spending hours sorting through books, papers, and heavy boxes to find the journal Dorian wanted.

  Not really, Lucian replied. At least, not with the information you’ve been given. Maybe if you had some of Armenia’s blood, you could do it.

  “I somehow doubt Dorian has a man’s blood just…laying around his house,” I said.

  You never know. I wouldn’t put it past him.

  “What is the deal with blood magic, anyway?” I asked. “I’m not a mage, so why does the sigil need my blood?”

  Magic requires a sacrifice, Lucian said, as if that explained anything.

  “So what makes blood magic so much worse than the others?” I asked.

  Lucian seemed to consider the question for a moment. I don’t know. When demons use blood magic, it doesn’t hurt us as badly as it does you. There’s something about mages or the way they’re using our magic that isn’t working.

  The answer felt only half-true. I wondered what Lucian was leaving out.

  “So you’re having me use a type of magic that’s hurting me more than it should, a type of magic that you don’t even understand,” I said slowly.

  You haven’t died yet, Lucian pointed out.

  I flipped through the materials, sorting them into different piles, and then carefully stacked them back into the leather trunk before moving on to the next.

  “I just wish there was a way I could help,” I sighed. “The school is under attack and I’m sneaking around. We got lucky this time, but people could have died.”

  It’s not your fight. You’re only here to steal for a haughty nobleman, Lucian said.

  “I know that,” I replied, “But…if it was Briar or Sterling, I would do all I could. If it was their lives at risk, I’d do whatever it took. That’s why I’m still here. Because if I fail, my uncle will take it out on them, and I—I couldn’t live like that.”

  But it isn’t Briar or Sterling.

  “That doesn’t make it fine for me to do nothing,” I said, “And Viviane, Alexander, and Tatiana have people who care about them. I wouldn’t want them to get hurt, either.”

  Why do you care? Viviane has been nothing but awful to you, and Alexander isn’t much better. And they’re mages! They’re all disloyal and treacherous, self-serving monsters. Let them die. You can’t save everyone.

  I shook my head. “If I can save them, I should. It’s the right thing to do, and that’s got to be enough.”

  It won’t be, Lucian said. That will never be enough for someone like you.

  “Is that a bad thing?”

  Yes.

  I sighed, digging through the materials in the second box and finding nothing. I’d barely made a dent in the uncategorized section of files, but my eyes were already glazing over. I couldn’t do this tonight. Maybe Dorian would understand. He’d seemed sympathetic when I was injured. At least, more than Gabriel always was.

  Congratulations, Lucian said dryly. The nobleman doesn’t maim you. Truly, a high standard.

  I tried to be as quiet as possible as I headed down the steps and out the front entrance. I remembered what Alexander said about professors patrolling the floors at night. Those patrols were likely on a schedule; I wondered how hard it would be to find it. If I could, it would be much easier to time these trips out.

  As I continued dow
n the corridors heading back to my room, I kept to the shadows. Already, the sun was rising; its light drifted in through the windows and cast slats of light upon the walls. I heard someone approaching and darted down another hallway, fleeing the footsteps as quickly as I could. This route took me further from my dormitories, but the longer route was worth not being caught. I rounded a corner, and there was Professor Du Lac. I was so startled that I gasped.

  “You’re out early,” Du Lac said.

  I silently swore. “I—I wasn’t—”

  “Follow me,” he said, setting a brisk pace.

  I considered running, but it wasn’t as if Du Lac wouldn’t find me. And I didn’t know if I actually could run. Instead, I followed him, struggling to keep up with his fast pace. My muscles were ridiculously sore, and I began to feel light-headed. “Where are we going?” I asked.

  “To my office.”

  As we made our way down the corridor, I looked around, half-hoping that someone would swoop in and somehow help me from having to face Du Lac alone. But it was just after sunrise. There wasn’t anyone to see us, except the marble busts and oil portraits of long-dead mages. We halted by a door, which Du Lac opened with far more force than necessary. “Inside,” he said.

  I stepped tentatively into his office. It was small and dark, appropriate for him, really. Books were crammed everywhere—into shelves, on floors, spilling over onto his desk. He sat and waved me into the chair opposite him. Rather than remaining behind his desk, he pulled his chair over and set it directly before mine. His eyes were intense, so sharp that I felt like he could look right into me and see every terrible thing I’d ever done.

  “I can explain,” I said.

  “You don’t need to,” Du Lac said. “Quite frankly, I don’t care what you were doing. Maybe surviving the demon attacks has made you think you’re invincible, but I assure you that isn’t the case. It isn’t safe to be wandering around the school at night.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said.

  Du Lac smiled thinly. “Really, I’m surprised you’ve survived this long. It isn’t easy learning to be a mage. I’ve seen students pulled through magical portals never to be seen again. I’ve seen students burned alive because they lost control of their powers. I’ve even seen students possessed by demons, and that is always messy business. It’s very difficult to force a demon from someone.”

  He’s just trying to scare you, Lucian muttered.

  I swallowed. “I—”

  “I had a student once,” Du Lac continued. “She was a very gifted young lady. I’d never seen anyone so naturally gifted in sigils. She was from one of the noble families, but I was certain she deserved a spot on the Council.”

  “Why would she want one?” I asked. “She was already a noblewoman.”

  Du Lac looked at me like I’d just said the stupidest thing he’d heard in his life. “And do you think that’s something to be proud of? Getting power because you’re just born into it? The nobility knows politics, but that’s all they know. It’s the Council that truly holds the power and the knowledge, which made this student all the more remarkable. If she’d have earned her spot in the Council, she would have been far more of an asset to Reverie than those petty nobles. Something like that very rarely happens, but anything less would have been a waste of her exceptional talents. But she chose her friends poorly. She was head over heels in love with some student from the Lower Realms.”

  The Lower Realms?

  “And he was a piece of work,” Du Lac said, “Always sneaking around, getting into trouble.”

  “What happened to her?”

  “Why, together they began exploring all manner of forbidden magic. Eventually, it drove her mad, and she leaped to her death,” Du Lac said. “I’ve heard she didn’t die immediately. Instead, she lay there on the ground and slowly bled out.”

  This story sounded like another version of the one I’d heard from Viviane, but which one was true? Did she kill herself, or was it murder? In the Scraps, we’d had little rhymes about a mage-lady going mad with magic and falling to her death. She’d been as pale as death with eyes as black as night. Broken bones bleached in the morning light. Some said she killed girls who looked like her, to spare them from a similar fate.

  My pulse raced, as I suddenly realized I knew a noblewoman who’d killed herself. Potentially. Was Du Lac talking about Dorian’s sister? In the forum, he said the last time demons were loosed was seventeen years ago, by a rogue mage… was this rogue mage the same as the student from the lower realms?

  “So if you were involved in any dark magic or knew anyone involved with it, you would tell me, wouldn’t you?” Du Lac asked.

  I thought about Alexander in the archives and about the potions Viviane kept drinking. But I didn’t want Alexander to get in trouble, and I wasn’t even sure if Viviane was doing anything wrong. I was the one talking with demons, but I couldn’t tell him that.

  “I—I was just out of my room past light’s out,” I said. “That—that has nothing to do with dark magic.”

  Du Lac rummaged on his desk and grabbed a stack of papers, covered in sigils. I didn’t recognize them. “I found these among your things,” Du Lac said. He smiled triumphantly, as if catching me in a lie.

  “These aren’t mine,” I said, flipping through the stack. “I—I don’t know how they ended up in my things. I would never—I can’t even manage regular magic.”

  Why was he looking through my stuff?

  They might just check periodically, Lucian said.

  “You seem to have mastered fire fairly well.”

  Only because I’d cheated with the device and had Lucian helping me.

  “But I’m terrible at sigils. You know that,” I said. “I—I can’t even change the color of a gemstone. What good would these sigils even do me?”

  Du Lac frowned and placed the papers aside. “But if they aren’t yours, what were they doing in your dorm?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe someone put them there as a joke,” I said. “I—not many people here like me. Maybe someone is trying to get me expelled from the Academy. Do—do you think I was out tonight because I was trying to find information about dark magic? The only thing I was doing was, um…”

  “Was?”

  I fumbled for an excuse. “I wanted to practice my swordplay,” I said, “Since I couldn’t sleep anyway. After the demon attacks, I—”

  Oh, that’s good, Lucian said. Do you think you can make yourself cry?

  Probably not. But I could try.

  “I’ve just been so afraid!” I exclaimed. “I—I can’t defend myself well enough, and I’m worried that something terrible will happen! So I thought I would practice.”

  I forced a couple of sniffles. I almost felt guilty about manipulating Professor Du Lac, even if he was a huge jerk. “Because I really want to master battle magic,” I said. But I’m so awful at everything! I was lucky with the demon. It’s just unbelievable—”

  My eyes burned. I’d managed a couple of tears.

  “And I’m under so much pressure not being from here—”

  “Enough!” Du Lac snapped.

  I sniffled. “Sorry, Professor,” I said, trying to sound deeply upset.

  “So,” Du Lac said, “What am I going to do about your late-night escapades? I could have you expelled for this. If I can prove these are yours, I can ensure you’re sent right back to whatever hole you crawled out of in the Lower Realms. But I doubt you want that, do you?”

  Could he really do that? That punishment sounded excessive to me, but I didn’t know if it really was or not. What I did know was that I absolutely could not be expelled. Not yet.

  “I don’t want that,” I said.

  “Then you’re going to have to buy my silence with a favor,” Du Lac said, smiling wickedly. That didn’t sound good.

  “What do you want?” I asked.

  Du Lac stood and went behind his desk, sorting through papers. Finall
y, he retrieved a small, ink-drawn picture. It was a woman with dark hair, pulled back and tucked into a crown. She looked vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t place where I’d seen her before.

  “Do you see the tiara she’s wearing?” Du Lac asked.

  I remembered that tiara. This was the woman from the library.

  “Yes,” I said.

  “I need you to retrieve it for me.” I frowned. This woman was clearly an aristocrat, and stealing from an aristocrat sounded like a good way to get killed.

  “But how am I supposed to do that?” I asked. “I can’t just go to the palace and steal—”

  “You don’t have to go to the palace,” Du Lac replied. “This tiara has been in the Rosewood family for centuries, so—”

  “So Dorian has it,” I said.

  Would the punishment for being in the corridors at night really be worse than the punishment for stealing from Dorian?

  Not if you don’t get caught, Lucian said.

  No, but what were the odds I could steal an expensive, probably priceless family heirloom from his estate without anyone noticing?

  “I saw sigils on the demon,” I said quickly, hoping to gauge Du Lac’s reaction. Maybe I could use it as leverage somehow. He considered me for a long moment, before leaning back and crossing his fingers over his stomach.

  “You didn’t see anything,” he said.

  “All my professors keep saying that,” I said, “But what will Dorian say?”

  “Going against the word of the Academy’s faculty would be political suicide,” Du Lac said. “He’d either tell you you’d imagined it—which you did—or he’d ruin himself trying to prove you were right.”

  I say you steal this tiara, give it to Du Lac, and let that be the end of it, Lucian said. I seriously doubt Dorian is going to galivant around wearing a ladies’ tiara. He probably won’t even notice it’s missing.

  But it was still his, and I was working for him.

  Not because you wanted to!

  No, but maybe I sometimes thought a little…fondly of him. Job or no, he was nice to me.

  Because it benefits him, Lucian said. Why can’t you see that?