Academy of Falling Kingdoms Box Set

by Marisa Mills

  When Francisca placed the tray on his desk, Dorian’s eyes flicked towards her. Then, to me, still lingering in the doorway. For the first time, he didn’t look happy to see me.

  “Why are you here?” Dorian asked.

  I’d wandered into something terrible, and I didn’t know what to do. I’d seen them fight before, but this wasn’t playful banter. I wanted to tell them about Du Lac being poisoned, but Eleanor was shouting about executions.

  “And what about her, Dorian?” Eleanor asked. “Are you going to just cast her aside the way Mother—”

  “It isn’t the same,” Dorian said. “I’m going to war. I’m not—”

  “War?” I asked.

  “Put a tablespoon of honey in mine, Fran,” Eleanor said. “Here, Wynter, have a seat. You came so far to speak to Dorian, after all.”

  “I—I came to talk about Du Lac being poisoned,” I said.

  “Is he alive?” Dorian asked, his eyes suddenly studying my face. He relaxed a fraction when I nodded.

  “Markus can wait!” Eleanor snapped. “I don’t care if the entire Council has been poisoned! Good riddance for all the good they’ve done us. If he’s already been poisoned, it doesn’t matter if Wynter shares the details with you now or three hours from now. Tell her what you’ve done, Dorian, or I will.”

  “Would you like me to pay Markus a visit, Your Lordship?” Francisca interrupted.

  “Yes, we’ll learn more that way, and you might actually be able to help him. Go and leave me to the she-wolf,” Dorian replied dryly.

  “Better one wolf than two, Your Lordship,” Francisca said with a small grin.

  I bit my lip as Francisca slipped out of the room. Francisca might be able to tell what kind of poison had been used, but that didn’t mean she could help Du Lac. It didn’t mean she could help the rest of us protect ourselves. But I breathed easier, knowing that at least she was doing something.

  “If I was really a wolf,” Eleanor muttered, sinking heavily into the couch by the window, “I’d rip your throat out.”

  Dorian sighed, seemingly resigned to his fate.

  “I didn’t want to involve you in this, Wynter,” he said.

  Just let him tell you about whatever this mess is, Lucian said. If you can’t get rid of his sister, he’s never going to talk to you about your professor.

  I swallowed past the lump in my throat.

  “What’s going on?” I asked. “I didn’t think we were going to war yet.”

  “And we still aren’t, officially. The king is having difficulty in finding nobles—particularly battle-mages, because we’re so few—willing to abandon their estates and fight for him. The Council is dragging their feet; for all we know, Celeste was a rogue agent, and there were no witnesses to what happened in the demon chamber, apart from a handful of first year students.”

  “They don’t believe us?” I asked.

  “They don’t want to believe you,” Dorian said, rubbing his jaw. It looked like he hadn’t shaved for several days, and the stubble, along with his injured eye, made him look more like one of my uncle’s brutes than a wealthy mage.

  “The Nobles are also reluctant to get involved, so for the moment, an official declaration to mobilize the kingdom’s army has been halted. In the meantime, the Crown has asked the nobles to return the royal artifacts they’d been safekeeping, so we can do a full inventory, in case the situation does lead to an outright war.”

  Dorian let his gaze drift towards me and warned me with his eyes. I blinked, biting my lip. Only he and I knew that the Rosewood vaults were half empty. The king was forcing him to return the artefacts that Gwen and Nick had destroyed, putting Dorian in an impossible situation. My stomach twisted painfully. I wasn’t directly responsible, but I was pretty sure the king overheard Lucian mention them before I knew he could understand demons.

  “He’s also having difficulty in finding mages with any familiarity with the Lower Realms, beyond the nicer parts of Argent,” Dorian said, “and because of this, he’s asked me to join an advanced brigade to gather information on Aubade’s forces. He’s even offered a sizeable incentive, along with allowing me to keep my head, of course.”

  “So the king says,” Eleanor cut in. “His offer is far too generous. You may have had your adventures, but you’re a seasoned gentleman now,” she sniffed, ruffling his gray hair. “What does he expect you to do, sleep in the woods and shit in the streams?”

  “At best, King Gregory wants to keep me out of the way,” Dorian said. “At worst, he’s trying to get me killed.”

  “You’ll be gone for a whole year?” I asked. My legs trembled, and I sat in a soft leather chair near a shelf of books.

  “It’s murder,” Eleanor said flatly. “If he only wanted to keep an eye on you, he’d have you followed.”

  “You should be happy,” Dorian said. “All you’ve worried about these past few years was ensuring Viviane would get the Rosewood inheritance and. You should be—”

  Eleanor slammed her hands onto the desk. “What, Dorian? Grateful that my brother is willing to kill himself because of our mother’s debts?”

  A chill ran down my spine, and my blood seemed to have been replaced by ice.

  “If I don’t repay them, they’ll fall upon Viviane,” Dorian said, “and Wynter if I name her my heir.”

  Eleanor bent her head, so her glossy curls fell over her face and spilled onto the polished wood beneath her. “You should just give him back the Crown’s property and let the debt collectors handle the rest. They might seize the manor, but you can move in with Frederick and me,” she said. “He can’t make you do this.”

  “A death on the battlefield is far better than being executed at home. You know the sort of pageantry King Gregory enjoys.” Dorian said this nodding to me, and I blushed as I remembered the gleam in the king’s eyes as he had Alexander strip my frozen flesh away piece by piece.

  “If he’s so threatened by me, I should be grateful he’s giving me the opportunity to die a war hero instead of a traitor. Surely that’s better for what’s left of the Rosewood family honor. Besides, I’m sure living with you and Frederick would be far worse than torture.”

  Eleanor tore away from Dorian as if she’d been burned. When she raised her head, tears streamed down her lovely face. “If you do die, or if the king kills you, either way it’s your own stubborn fault,” Eleanor said. “Either way it’s on you. I won’t shed a tear for you, Dorian.”

  “I wouldn’t expect you to,” Dorian replied.

  Eleanor stormed away. Dorian stood like he meant to follow her, but she turned abruptly around. “Don’t!” she snapped, jabbing a finger in his face. “I don’t want to look at you. I don’t want to talk to you!”

  Dorian returned to his place behind his desk as Eleanor slammed the door so hard it seemed to shake the entire room. All my questions and fears about poison had vanished, now that I’d heard this. And what was I supposed to say?

  “Does she even know about the missing artifacts?” I asked. “That’s why you’re really doing this, isn’t it?”

  “Bankruptcy is an embarrassment, but losing priceless wartime reserves, freeing demons, that’s treason. If my debts are gone, you’ll have an inheritance,” Dorian said, clearing his throat. “But if the truth got out, the crown would seize all our assets. At least this way you’ll be cared for. Viviane can have Rosewood, unless you object, and you can have my properties in Argent. You can take Briar and Sterling there with you. That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?”

  That was what I wanted. Exactly what I’d wanted.

  But I didn’t want Dorian to die. Why couldn’t—why did people have to keep getting hurt? Life had been so much simpler when I’d lived in the Scraps, and Gabriel was the only threat. My world had been so small, then. Just Gabriel, Briar, Sterling, and Claribel. One abuser and three people to try and keep safe. Now I felt like I was trying to keep the entire kingdom from crashing down.

>   “But I’d rather have you,” I said quietly. “Viviane would rather have you. Even without the titles, the fancy clothes. I never wanted any of it.”

  “You don’t mean that,” Dorian said. “And comfort has a way of growing on you. Just a few days ago, you said I was no better than Gabriel, remember? What was that phrase you used?”

  “But I—”

  “I’m genteel with my violence, you said. I thought that was such a beautiful phrase, so elegant,” Dorian said.

  “If you remember that, you should also remember that I said I wanted you to be my uncle. I just wanted you to be—”

  “Less selfish,” Dorian said. “Surely, you realize I can’t offer more than my life? Have I not exceeded your expectations?”

  Dorian was the worst person to argue with. He was too good with words, and any time I tried to match him, he always made me feel foolish and tongue-tied.

  “But you’re still only thinking of Rosewood,” I countered. “Du Lac was poisoned, as was the queen. Rebels are hounding us on the streets of Reverie, and the earthquakes are getting worse. Do you really think going away will solve any of that?”

  “It’s a gamble, Wynter,” Dorian said, taking his teacup and saucer in hand once more, “Just like you were. I suspect Eleanor’s right, and the king is maneuvering me into a trap. It probably is a glorified execution. But the king wouldn’t be foolish enough to murder me the instant I set foot in Argent. He’s more likely to send me on a few suicide missions first, and if I survive those, then, he might do something more drastic.”

  “Then, you shouldn’t go. Those are—those are high risks.”

  “And I wouldn’t take them, without a palpable reward,” Dorian replied. “Imagine if I do survive. I’ve spent my life in the shadow of Mother’s debts and the shame of Guinevere’s deed. Shackled down, as it were. Without those limitations, I could be very formidable, indeed.”

  As if he wasn’t already formidable.

  I frowned, but I knew I wouldn’t change his mind. He was going off to fight and die for a kingdom that was doomed anyway, in a war that officially hadn’t even started yet.

  “Enough about me,” Dorian said suddenly. “Were you just here to tell me about Markus, or was there something else on your mind?”

  I hesitated, feeling awkward about asking him for anything now, and for how panicked I’d been when I first arrived. “I’m afraid of Alexander being poisoned,” I said after a few seconds of heavy silence. “And I thought you’d…you might know who is doing this or something. I overhead you and Eleanor talking the other night.” My eyes flicked to his wrist, but I couldn’t bring myself to ask about his tattoo. The king was sending Dorian to his death, and I was asking him to save the king’s son.

  “I don’t know who is behind the poisonings,” Dorian admitted. “Between Aubade’s agents and this brewing rebellion, it’s impossible to tell one foe from another. But if you’re worried,” he lifted his arm, baring his wrist, “this charm should protect you. Your mother designed it for me, though somehow I think you’ve guessed that already. She was always clever with sigils. It’s beyond my abilities, unfortunately, but I think Fran can replicate it closely enough to work. Alexander too, if he’ll allow it.”

  I nodded to acknowledge the words and placed the teacup and saucer on his desk. My hands didn’t feel steady enough to hold them anymore. It felt like my whole world was falling apart. Reverie was falling from the sky, my professors were being poisoned, and Dorian was riding to his death, because my father had stolen and destroyed his family’s royal heirlooms.

  I needed to find out if Aubade was even behind the attacks, or if it was all just Celeste’s vengeance and the king’s paranoia? Maybe if the kingdoms actually talked to each other, they could resolve this issue without bloodshed. And if they didn’t, the Lower Realms were fully exposed. If Aubade made the first move, they’d be destroyed while Reverie’s noble mages sipped tea and played politics.

  I didn’t know anyone from Aubade other than Jessa… but her parents were in town. Maybe they’d know something about this, or have news from their kingdom. Maybe I could still stop this. If I didn’t get poisoned first.

  Six

  I FURROWED MY BROW AT my sigils textbook, propped up on my legs. In one hand, I held my pen, poised above my forearm. The smear of blue ink vaguely resembled the anti-poison sigil Dorian had sketched in my notebook, but I hadn’t quite gotten the design down yet. Dorian said Fran could help give me a permanent mark like him, but it would take a few days to gather the right materials. In the meantime, tracing over the lines somehow made me feel productive, as if replicating my mother’s design would transfer hidden magical knowledge. Even I got it right, though, I wouldn’t know if it worked unless I got myself poisoned.

  I could try possessing you, Lucian said. It might be fun.

  “Let’s put a pin on that,” I said, trying to decide whether demonic possession would be better than poison. When Viviane walked in, I held out my arm for her inspection. She wasn’t great with sigils either; I wasn’t entirely sure she’d ever made them work. But she knew more about drawing them than I did, and even some stuff that wasn’t in our textbooks from her private lessons with Celeste.

  The question died in my throat, though, when I saw her face. Her eyes were rimmed with red, and splotches of black cosmetics smeared beneath her lashes.

  “Have you been crying?” I asked.

  Viviane nodded. She opened the trunk at the foot of her bed and grabbed a potion. Without a word, she downed the sparkling blue concoction, even licking the rim of the bottle for the last remaining drops.

  After what happened to Du Lac, morning classes had been suspended, while guards scrambled to investigate the crime and professors took measures to keep students safe. When I’d woken up, later than usual, most of the other girls had been gone, so I decided to stay in the dorm and practice sigils.

  “Dorian is leaving,” she said.

  “I heard,” I replied, leaning forward.

  “Mother is moving into his estate, so she can keep an eye on us.”

  “That might be for the best,” I said.

  Viviane sighed. “I guess,” she said. “It’s just…what if he doesn’t come back, Wynter?”

  Your life would be easier, Lucian murmured. No more schemes or lies.

  Maybe. But I’d only known Dorian for a handful of months. Viviane had known him her whole life. She’d played in his office as a child. He’d doted on her. I couldn’t imagine how she must feel about all this.

  “If any man could survive the king wanting his head, it would be Dorian,” I said. “He’s survived people wanting to kill him before.”

  “But not the king,” Viviane said. “I—I know Dorian did things he shouldn’t have, but…”

  It wasn’t fair. I couldn’t shake the sinking feeling that somehow I was responsible for all this. Dorian’s deceptions didn’t start with me, but if I hadn’t been speaking with Lucian about Nick and Gwen, the king wouldn’t have found out about the missing heirlooms; the absence of which he was using to force Dorian into his service. Worse, King Gregory had my mother’s charm, and I was one of a handful of people who knew that it allowed him to speak with demons as well. Eventually, he’d bury me like he was trying to do with Dorian. Maybe he was even moving Dorian out of the way so that I’d be more vulnerable.

  Viviane flung herself onto her bed and stared at the ceiling. “I don’t want him to go,” she said, “but I don’t think I can change his mind. I tried hard to change his mind.”

  I doubted anyone could change Dorian’s mind once he’d made it up.

  “Maybe we could persuade him to sell something?” I asked.

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know,” I replied vaguely. Dorian’s house was crammed with golden antiques that would have fetched a high price in the Scraps, but I had no idea what would be valuable enough to repay his debt to the crown. “He has… multiple proper
ties.”

  Viviane shook her head. “Nobles aren’t allowed to sell their estates on Reverie, and if Dorian sold his rental properties in Argent, he’d be cutting off his main source of income. It might clear his debts temporarily, but they’d accumulate again quickly. Uncle spends a fortune just maintaining Rosewood.”

  So he’s trapped in his debt, Lucian muttered. What an awful way to manage things.

  “The king hasn’t even declared war on Aubade yet,” I said. “So there’s still time, at least.”

  “Not much,” Viviane replied. “King Gregory is coming to speak at the forum Saturday. It’s expected that he’ll push his agenda and try to force the nobles to a vote. It won’t be long after that.”

  A shiver trailed down my spine. The palace was a day’s carriage ride away from the Academy, and I hadn’t realized just how much comfort I’d taken in that distance. I hadn’t seen the king since he had me tortured in the forum; I had no desire to hear him speak in the same location. After using decay to rust through my chains, he’d looked at me with something akin to fear. He’d let me off the hook, because of my unexpected lineage and the fact that Celeste was the one responsible for the demon attacks, but I was sure he hadn’t forgotten about me or the threat I posed.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, realizing that Viviane was waiting for a response.

  “Me, too,” Viviane said. “I regret that I…I haven’t spent as much time with him as I could’ve. But the thought of going to visit Dorian right now hurts too much. I hate goodbyes.”

  I hesitantly reached across the space between our beds. I had a half-formed idea of squeezing her hand, but I didn’t know if that was allowed. Or wanted. Viviane and I weren’t enemies anymore, but I wasn’t sure we were friends either. I dropped my hand and curled my fingers into my sheets.

  Finally I sighed, drawing a line through my poor attempts at sigils, and closed my textbook. It was past noon and I was still in my pajamas. I glanced at Viviane again. Moping wasn’t good for either of us.