And, of course, it all made sense. If one of them gave in to how we felt, then it could threaten our ability to study here at the Academy. So, they’d all agreed to stay away. It was logical. But that didn’t mean I didn’t hate it. Alwyn had been keeping us apart for far too long.
“Right. I want this stupid agreement to end.” I stood from the table and crossed my arms over my chest. “And until you’ve sorted it all out, I’ll be training on my own.”
I found a punching bag in the gymnasium and took my anger out on it. Truthfully, I wasn’t all that angry at my instructors—at my mates. I was more angry at Alwyn than anything else. I was angry at myself. And I was angry at the fact I didn’t have the guts to step forward and present myself as the Queen of the realm. Because, as much as I hated to admit it, Alwyn had been right about a few things.
I was happy enough to adopt some of Marin’s heritage—like the fact she had a harem and the fact she was able to harness the powers of all four seasons—but I wasn’t bold enough to take the responsibilities that went along with everything else. I’d come a long way since I’d first arrived in Otherworld, but I still had a long way to go.
How could I rule? How could I sit on a throne and give others commands?
Bouncing on my feet, I threw my fist at the punching bag.
I was strong. I was powerful. And I wasn’t as meek and afraid as I once was.
But I wasn’t ready to be Queen. I didn’t know enough about this realm. I hadn’t yet fully developed all of my powers. The strongest fae in the realm should hold that title, and the one with the most compassion and the steadiest hand. After everything that had happened to the fae of this world, they needed someone who would rule them gently but still rule them firmly. Someone calm and composed. Someone with the confidence to hold her chin high.
I slammed my fist into the punching bag again.
Was I that kind of fae? Maybe one day, but I knew I wasn’t there yet. Sure, I was the rightful heir, and yes, the realm needed someone to lead them into the next stage of their lives. Things were changing. If someone didn’t step up, the confusion and chaos of the courts would only increase with every day that passed. But I hadn’t lived here for even a year.
The truth was, the fae of this world might not even accept me as their ruler.
My stomach tumbled at the thought.
Because that was the true heart of my fear.
I was scared to step forward and take my mother’s crown. Because I was afraid they would refuse to let me have it.
“What did that punching bag ever do to you?” Finn’s lighthearted voice drifted toward me from the open doorway. I didn’t look up or answer. Instead, I lobbed a flurry of punches at the bag in front me.
“Are you imagining that the target is me instead of that bag?”
“Maybe a little bit, if I’m being honest.” I lowered my fists to my sides and bounced on my feet as I caught my breath, stealing a glance in Finn’s direction. He looked one-hundred percent unfazed, as per usual. If anything, he looked two seconds away from breaking out into laughter.
“I’m glad my frustration amuses you.”
“Norah.” His smile faded. “We were only trying to do what was best for you. What’s a few more months of waiting when we’ll be able to spend centuries together? Our physical separation isn’t that long when you remember just how many years we live.”
Centuries. The lifespan of a fae was so much longer than that of a human being. It was a fact I still found hard to fully grasp. Fae were immortal in some respects. They didn’t age. They wouldn’t die of natural causes. But that didn’t make them invincible. They could still get killed. They could still be poisoned. They could still be injured just like any mortal could be.
Their throats could be ripped out by Redcaps.
The fae didn’t like to use the word forever because forever never came for anyone. Not even immortals could grasp onto that one thing that every living creature wanted most: to survive forever.
With a heavy sigh, I stepped away from the punching bag. “I just wish that I’d been at least consulted in this little agreement of yours.”
His lips quirked. “And what would have been your response if you had been consulted? I imagine it would have been something like this. You would have stomped off, punched some things, and then you would have said no. Besides, you were aware of our agreement in essence, Norah. Don’t forget that all of this started with Alwyn and her rules.”
I narrowed my eyes and raised my fists.
“Alwyn.” I punched the bag. “And her.” I punched it again. “Rules.”
“Although Alwyn isn’t truly the one to blame,” Finn said. “Would you like to know who came up with the ‘no touching’ rule between changelings and their instructors?”
“Let me guess. Alwyn.”
“No.” He grinned. “Your mother.”
My eyebrows shot up. “But my mother loved this place. She loved the changelings. Everyone keeps telling me about much she cared…”
He gave a nod. “Queen Marin did love this place. She visited the Academy as often as she could and certainly more than any other Royal. She liked to keep herself appraised on the progress of each and every changeling here. She knew them all by name. She knew what year they were in and where they’d come from. Back then, we didn’t need to test the changelings to know which court they belonged to. We had records to remind us of who they were. Things were different back then. Simpler. Easier. But even then...there were rare instances of changelings and instructors getting physical when they would not end up as mates…followed by heartbreak. Marin saw the tears and the pain, so she made a rule. Train first. Mate after graduation.”
I took a moment for that new information to sink in before continuing. “You do know that rule isn’t always followed. Trust me. The changelings gossip. I’ve heard about plenty of times where things have progressed far past the ‘rules’ of this place. No one cares. It feels like there’s so much more emphasis placed on what I do. The others can sneak around and kiss their mates all they want. But if I do it? Alwyn would drive me out with a pitchfork.”
“First, we don’t have pitchforks here in Otherworld,” he said with a low chuckle. “And second, the reason Alwyn holds you to such a high standard is because of who you are. Surely you see that, Norah. You’re Marin’s daughter. You’re the only surviving Greater Fae. Alwyn gives you a hard time because you matter. She gets angry because she wants you to rule the realm. She doesn’t want anything to ruin your training because you need it, far more than the others do.”
I blinked, shock flittering through me. “Well, if she thinks my training is so important then why would she kick me out if I broke the rules?”
“Good question. It’s why I have found it extremely difficult to stick to the agreement with the others.” Finn’s eyes flashed with amusement and something else—desire. “Alwyn wants you to focus on your training and nothing else, and I think she’s scared of what will happen to the courts if you don’t take up the crown. She wants you to finish your training as soon as possible, and that means no distractions. Distractions like me. But I do not for one second believe that Alwyn would ever kick you out. She’s bluffing.”
Heat flared in my stomach, and I took a step closer to him. “So, you don’t think she’d actually kick us out?”
“Not in a million centuries,” he murmured.
“So, you don’t agree with the others. You don’t think we should force ourselves to stay apart.”
He pursed his lips, his eyes dancing in the dim light of the gym. “I think I want nothing more than to scoop you up in my arms and take you to bed. But it isn’t Alwyn I’m worried out, my love. It is the others. We’re your harem whether you realize it or not. We’re a unit, and the only way we can work is if we are honest and respectful of each other. So, regardless of what Alwyn would do, you and I? We’re still on pause.”
With a wicked wink, Finn spun from the door and disappeared into the hallway,
leaving me even more frustrated and tense than I had been before.
Chapter Nine
As I made my way from the gymnasium to the dining hall, starving from the brutal workout I’d given myself, Alwyn stepped out from the shadows of a darkened doorframe and stopped me in my place. I bristled immediately. Even though Finn had explained why Alwyn was acting the way she was, it still didn’t change the fact that I hated how she spoke to me.
She wanted me to be the Queen of Otherworld, but she treated me as if I were a child.
“I need to speak to you alone,” she said, gesturing to her office door further down the hallway.
“Well, I was just on my way to get some food. It is lunchtime, you know. I realize I’m not one of your real changelings, but it doesn’t change the fact that I need to eat sometimes.”
I could have sworn she rolled her eyes. “I’m not here to argue with you, Norah. I need to speak with you. It would be wonderful if you came along to my office without making a scene.”
“Fine.” I crossed my arms over my chest and followed her down the hallway to her office. Once we were both inside, she shut the door quietly behind us and settled into a chair behind a massive mahogany desk. She drummed her fingers on the reddish wood, and then sighed. “I realize that you and I don’t always see things from the same viewpoint.”
“You don’t say,” I couldn’t help but snark back.
She exhaled a long breath through flared nostrils. “Queen Marin left this Academy in my responsibility. These changelings will only survive if they’re fully trained in the ways of this world. It is thankless work, most of the time. The rest of the realm looks down on us. But I made a pledge all those years ago, and I’ve stuck by that pledge, even when things were down. Everything I do here, I do it with the safety of this Academy in mind. I would do anything to protect my changelings. Do you understand?”
Well. This was far more of an explanation than I normally got from her. “Yeah, I can understand that.”
“As hard as it is for you to believe, I do value your opinion,” she finally said, but slowly and strangely as if she had to drag the words out of her throat. “You have proven yourself time and time again, and I know you care for those less fortunate than yourself.”
I stilled. “What is this about? You mean the Redcaps, don’t you? The ones that have only been transformed because of what you do to them.”
“Norah.” She let out a heavy sigh. “I personally wasn’t the one who did this to them. I didn’t come up with the Tithe. I didn’t determine how we pay it. It’s something that has been going on for centuries, long before either you and I were born. Even the great Marin, a powerful, compassionate fae I know you hold in esteem, she didn’t abolish this Tithe. She kept it going because she understood the repercussions if she didn’t.”
“Just because it’s always been done doesn’t mean it’s right.”
“Of course it doesn’t.” She spread her hands across the table and pressed down hard. “I am not saying it’s right. But as I’ve told you time and time again, there is no other way for Otherworld to survive. That said, I appreciate your unending passion on this matter, so I will make you a deal. If you can think of another way, then I will take your idea to the courts and see what they all think. Until then, we must continue on with the changelings and the Redcaps and the Tithe.”
So, I needed to come up with an alternative. I needed to find a different option for the Tithe. There had to be another way to give the Dark Fae what they wanted. It was time for things to change. The world couldn’t go on like this. We couldn’t keep swapping fae children for human children, stealing babies from their mothers, and allowing the magic of this realm to twist innocent beings into violent beasts.
I didn’t know how and I didn’t know when, but I would find a way to stop it.
“Agreed. I will see what I can find.” I cocked my head when she didn’t dismiss me immediately. “Is that why you wanted to speak to me? To tell me I should find another way to beat the Tithe?”
“Not beat the Tithe, Norah. Another way to pay it.” Her chair creaked as she leaned back into the wooden frame. “But no, I called you in here to let you know that Shai awoke from her coma-like trance last night. She is fairly delirious and incomprehensible, but she admitted to all of the murders. All of them. This means you have successfully found the guilty party. If you still want that information on your step-father…”
“That’s impossible. She couldn’t have done it.” Dread pooled in my stomach at the image of Bree’s face when she found out that her friend had killed the Hunters. She’d wanted so badly to be right. She’d wanted to believe the ones she cared about were resistant to the worst of the beast.
And I’d been so convinced that she was right. I’d been so certain that Shai couldn’t be the killer. Perhaps my own bias had drowned out the facts. Perhaps I’d been too focused on what I wanted to be the truth that I didn’t see reality staring me right in the face.
“She has made her confession,” Alwyn said in a firm voice. “If she were a regular fae, then we would likely schedule her execution based on the severity of her crimes and the number of deaths. However, as I’ve mentioned before, she’s to stay alive until the Solstice of her eighteenth year. That’s almost two years from now. She’ll be kept in our dungeons for now, and then she’ll be moved to a more appropriate cell when we determined where that is. Most likely the Spring Court, as most of her victims were from that season.”
Alwyn’s words began to blur together in my mind. All I could picture was Bree’s crumpled face. Her friend would never again see the light of day, not until the Solstice night when she’d be tossed out onto the streets.
“Do you understand, Norah?”
I glanced up, furrowing my eyebrow. I’d missed whatever that last part had been, but I didn’t get the chance to ask her to repeat it. A loud crack exploded from somewhere nearby, and a boom shook the ground beneath my feet. I cried out and grabbed at Alwyn’s desk as the stone floor rumbled underneath us.
“What’s going on?” Eyes wide and heartbeat racing, I met Alwyn’s wide eyes across the table. Her golden skin had morphed into a brutal chalk white. She clutched at her desk, mimicking my movements and looking as though her worst nightmare had come to life.
“I don’t know,” she whispered, gritting her teeth when another wave of rumbles shook the floor. “Something like this has never happened before. It feels as though the ground is going to open up and swallow us whole.”
I frowned, tightening my grip when the ground bucked once again. “You mean, you’ve never felt an earthquake before?”
“Is that what this is?” She pressed her lips together into a tight line. “Earthquakes don’t happen here in Otherworld. That’s a human realm issue. Or at least it was.”
Glancing around us at the books that were tumbling off their shelves, I thought back to how the skies had flashed with lightning back when the Autumn Court had been trying to take control of Otherworld. Those storms had been a rarity then, too, a signal that something wasn’t right in this strange realm. And now, we were experiencing another type of weather event that didn’t happen here. Was this a sign that the fae had once again started messing with the fabric of their lives? Was it happening all over again? And if so, what had set it off this time? After we had defeated Queen Viola that violent winter night, Alwyn and the my instructors had been convinced we would never again experience a storm in this place.
And yet here we were.
There was no mistaking the rumble of the ground. This was an earthquake. Which meant...something had set the realm off again. Something that was strong enough to destroy the very earth.
“I thought I might find you in here.” Rourke patted my stack of books and dropped into the library seat across from where I’d been camping out for the past five hours. “Trying to see if you can find some information about past earthquakes in Otherworld? Well, I can tell you now there won’t be anything about them in these books of
yours. We fae have never experienced one here before. And I cannot say I am glad they have started to happen now. I thought our previous storms were bad, but this was something else. If the tremors had been much stronger, the Academy could have come tumbling down.”
I sighed and leaned back in my seat. I’d spent a solid five hours flipping through each one of the books to my left, and I still had another stack of five or so I wanted to get through before dinner. During my intensive time reading, I hated to admit that I had almost forgotten about the earthquake that had rocked the hearts and souls of so many of the fae instructors. Earthquakes just didn’t happen in Otherworld.
And the fact that it had? It was only a herald of worse things to come.
That wasn’t why I had come here though. I had more important things on my mind.
“To be honest, I’m not researching the earthquake. Alwyn told me the same thing. You’ve never had one here before.” A pause. “I’ve been looking into the Redcaps.”
Rourke lifted a brow. “The Redcaps? You do know that if there is anything you would like to know about them, you can come to me or Kael, though Finn or Liam don’t know as much about them as we do. We’re your instructors. I know you’re angry with us for making that agreement, but we’re still here to help you, Norah. Don’t you think it’s time we put our disagreements aside and return to your training?”
“You won’t know the answer to this particular Redcap question, and neither will any of the others,” I said, leaning back in my chair so that I could better look up into his handsome face. “And yes, I will return to training. But only if you all agree to stop making deals about me without even letting me know they’ve been done. This is the kind of thing we should agree on all together. This is the kind of thing that I should be aware of, at least.”
He pursed his lips.
“What?” I crossed my arms over my chest.
“Well, that was quite a commanding thing to say. You’re beginning to sound quite Queenly, my love.”
A Touch of Starlight Page 7
