Magic Captive: A Supernatural Academy Romance (The Velkin Royal Academy Series Book 2)

by Emmeline Winter

  That’s when Tormin asked the question that was on everyone’s minds. The one question that hovered above us like a dark, oppressive rain cloud.

  “And…father?”

  “Just through there,” she said, pointing towards a large door carved into the base of the tree. Her smile was warm, but sad. “It will do him good to see you both.”

  Without another word, the two princes made a beeline for their father’s bedside, leaving me, Kyra, and Queen Freia alone in the great temple atrium. Relief paired with worry at the sound of the King’s condition. Relief that he was alive; worry that he wasn’t going to stay that way for long.

  When Queen Freia turned towards us, she’d once again adopted that facial cocktail of concern and joy. I understood the feeling. This reunion was bittersweet—wonderful that, at last, we were all together…and terrible that it was under these circumstances.

  If there was any reason to fight for a better future, to face the evil currently infecting Velkin with determination and grit, it was to stop reunions like this from ever happening again. The next time I saw any of these people I loved, I wanted it to be a happy, joyous occasion.

  “Kyra. Carolyn. My darlings. You both look very well. Are you taking care of yourselves?”

  “We’re trying, Your Majesty,” Kyra said.

  Incredible how, in a time like this, she could ask us about ourselves. I glanced at Kyra, who smiled broadly, and I couldn’t help but marvel at how these two strong women before me wore their happiness like armor.

  I wished I knew how to do that. Right now, happiness like that seemed an impossible weapon to wield.

  Queen Freia drew her skirts up around herself and took a seat in one of the wooden chairs made from twisted knots of the tree’s root system. This was a far cry from the throne in Velkin where she’d been used to sitting and ruling from, but she wore it surprisingly well. As if she belonged as much here as she did there. As she retired to seating, the first signs of weariness settled into the lines of her beautiful, regal face. As if she was finally being honest with us…and, perhaps, herself.

  “My husband is resting in the other room. Our exodus from Castle Bloc…It nearly destroyed him. The Pixies have been using their magic to heal him, but, even their magic is a difficult thing, against the evil that Adric introduced.”

  I don’t know what my face looked like in that moment, but apparently, it was enough to prompt Kyra to add an additional explanation for my benefit.

  “Once, the evil magic lived right here, in the heart of Velkin. But it was pushed out. Exiled. The Kings and Chieftans promised never to touch it again.”

  “But Adric has never been…” Queen Freia’s lips twisted, and through the air between us, I could almost feel her heartbreak. I obviously didn’t have any clue what it was like to lose a child, but the pain of it must have been excruciating. “When he was exiled, we believed that he would learn his lesson. That one day, he would return to us. But now…” She paused. Long and meaningful, like the pulsing of a freshly touched bruise. “I wonder if I will ever see my son again.”

  I didn’t know what to say to that. There weren’t any words—not in any language I knew, anyway—that could fix what had been broken between Adric and his family. Still, I tried. It wasn’t enough, but I tried anyway.

  “Your Majesty, if there is anything that we can do—”

  “No, my dear,” Queen Freia said, gently waving me off. “You have done enough for the moment. There is still great work ahead of us, and for now, we should rest.”

  It was as sweet and kind a dismissal as one could have asked for, but it was a dismissal all the same. It seemed Queen Freia wanted to be alone with her thoughts. I couldn’t blame her for that.

  Kyra must have gotten the hint too—which marked the first time in our entire friendship where she did manage to take a hint—and linked her arm through mine.

  “You can come and stay with me, Carolyn. Have an over-sleep.”

  “It’s called a sleepover, Kyra.”

  “I always get that one mixed up.”

  She laughed, the clear and warm sound ringing like sweet bells through the temple. A reminder of happier times, of times when we could have sleepovers and talk about the princes in our lives and get into funny mix-ups about human versus Velkin vocabulary. Those times were gone now, but I hoped that one day, we would see them again.

  Just at that moment, the door to the King’s chambers flew open, and Tormin and Anatole stumbled out together. If both of them had walked in as the tall, confident princes we knew them as, then this time, they practically crawled out instead of walking. They both were grey as ghosts, stumbling away from their father’s side.

  Kyra and I both knew what we needed to do now.

  “…On second thought, why don’t you stay with Anatole tonight?”

  “I think that would be best,” I agreed. “But Kyra?”

  She looked at me. I looked at her. And a million wordless conversations passed between us. All my life, I’d wanted a real, true friend. Someone I could trust with my secrets, someone to whom I could say anything and everything. But that was the funny thing about finally having the friend I’d always wished for. Turns out, when you have a friend that close, you don’t have to say anything at all for them to perfectly understand you.

  Still, in two words, I managed to sum up our unspoken talk. I nodded once, slightly, and then said all I needed to.

  “Thank you.”

  “Don’t thank me yet,” she said, reaching out to me to take my hand and give it a squeeze. “We haven’t won the war.”

  I waited for her to say it. To add the yet that I was craving. We haven’t won the war yet. However, that yet never came. Instead, she let go of my hand and wandered over towards Tormin, who had found a seat in one of the tree-seats woven into the base of the root system. She sat beside him, quiet and still, until he gently reached out and threaded his fingers through hers.

  Neither of them spoke. Neither of them even looked at each other. But the moment was so pure, so heartfelt, and so heartbreakingly honest that I had to look away. It felt too personal, like I was stealing a moment that didn’t belong to me.

  Once I’d turned away, though, I found myself face-to-face with Anatole. Handsome, arrogant Anatole who had the universe at his fingertips.

  Only, now, he didn’t look that way. When I saw him now, standing there before me in his green uniform best, all torn and destroyed from our travels through the dark woods, his face rubbed with ash from the explosions at Castle Bloc, his eyes tired and too old for his young face, he looked like a King.

  Someone who had seen too much, had his heart broken too many times, and had been hurt again and again and still, had to fight onward.

  Without a word, he offered me his hand, and I took it. Now, I understood why Tormin and Kyra hadn’t exchanged words in that quiet moment when they’d been reunited. There weren’t any words for a moment like this. Words seemed gauche, too small for every big thing we were feeling.

  Somehow, I could tell that the King was dying. I didn’t need words for that. Neither did Anatole.

  I allowed him to lead me out to the fire beneath the stars, where some helpful Pixies had handed out blankets and warm pillows so the weary who wanted to sleep outside could remain comfortable. Some had sought the warmth and solace and protection of the Tree Temple, but we wordlessly moved towards the great fire in the village square, where Anatole led me down to the ground, wrapped his arms around me, covered us both with a great woven quilt, and then nestled us both back against a small tower of pillows for comfort.

  That wordlessness followed us for a long time.

  Neither of us wanted to speak. Putting words to what we were feeling only would have made them more real. I knew that shortly, we were going to have to face the evil out there and answer the call of destiny. But the thing about destiny was that sometimes, that destiny was to die. To lose. To forfeit everything.

  This was the calm before the storm, an
d neither of us wanted to mention the dark clouds swirling over our shared horizons.

  For the moment, I was content to lay in his arms and count the seconds of his breath as it played against the nape of my neck. In, two, three. Out, two three…

  “Carolyn?”

  He finally asked me.

  “Yes, Anatole?”

  Then, I realized that the counts of his breathing had gotten erratic. In, two. Out, two, two, three… As if he were trying to suppress welling emotion.

  “It is not appropriate for a future king to weep,” he conceded, addressing my question before I’d even voiced it.

  “Maybe not,” I said, not wanting to disagree with him in a moment like this. I reached out and began to draw random patterns along the top of his exposed hand. “But it is appropriate for a man who may lose his father and his kingdom and everything he’s ever loved. It’s alright to be scared.”

  “I’m not scared. A king cannot be scared. No one will follow a frightened person into battle.”

  My heart ached for him. I wasn’t a king, but I understood now what it was like to have the weight of other people’s expectations and lives upon your back. The weight was enough to crush.

  However, it was clear that we saw things differently. He found strength in projecting an image of utter defiance in the face of danger. I saw strength in admitting just how weak I was.

  “Really? Because I’ve never been more afraid in my entire life. And I’m not ashamed to admit it.”

  He didn’t reply. Adjusting slightly and turning my neck so I could face him, I tried to speak my truth into that thick, beautiful head of his.

  His eyes were bright with unshed tears. His jaw was locked. I’d never seen him like this before, never seen him so free of his emotional armor.

  “Anatole. The only way we are going to get through this is together. I know it is hard. Your brother betrayed you. Betrayed everyone he’d ever loved, everyone who’d ever trusted him. But it’s time for you to trust me. For both of us to trust each other.”

  “And what if we lose?”

  That question hung in the wind, heavy against the lightness of the air all around us. It wasn’t a question I wanted to contemplate, wasn’t a question he was supposed to ask out loud in a time like this. But I answered it anyway. If this was the end of the world, the end of our lives, then it was best for us to be completely honest with each other.

  “Then at least we’ve lost together. At least we’ve gone out fighting for the right thing, instead of surrendering to fear and doubt.”

  I brushed a tear away from Anatole’s cheek. He very nearly smiled.

  “When did you get so wise?”

  I shrugged. I didn’t know if I was wise, but I did know that there was only one way to get through this. Together.

  “Your mother taught me a thing or two. I wanted to leave Velkin when I first started at The Academy. She convinced me to stay behind and to see things through.”

  He wrapped me back in his arms and held me like he never wanted to let me go. “You’ve always been brave.”

  “Well, you know,” I said, nestling deeper into his embrace. “That’s the thing about bravery. You can only be brave when you’re scared.”

  Chapter Ten

  Anatole

  When I woke the next morning, after a long night of creeping, evil nightmares that could only be explained by the black magic in my heart, Carolyn was no longer in my arms. I couldn’t blame her, of course, for abandoning me in the night, but the split second between waking and realizing that my body was cold from her absence filled me with a kind of shocked terror, spurring me to my feet and to action. A million thoughts raced through my head. Had she left? Returned to Earth? Or had she been kidnapped? An invasion of the Velkin here in the Pixie Forest didn’t seem at all likely, but what if the Pixies had turned during the night and were using her as some kind of leverage against me?

  I scanned the remains of our makeshift camp from last night, my eyes running over the dead remains of the bonfire and the disturbed earth where everyone had been sleeping. Everything else was gone.

  Everything else, but a familiar, feminine voice, which carried like a siren’s song on the wind.

  As if pulled by the lilts and valleys of her tone, I turned my head towards the Tree Temple, where the doors had been thrown wide open at some point during my sleep. The day was just beginning to creep over the Pixie Forest, so the warm light of the Temple beckoned me forward, and I followed its pleas.

  When I arrived in the doorway and peered inside, the sound of Carolyn’s voice filled my ears. And when I finally took in all that was happening before me, more surprise gripped me by the back of the neck. I really shouldn’t have been surprised to see Carolyn Conners, the woman I loved, standing in a sea of Pixie and Velkin and human alike, arguing our cause to the Chieftan himself. After all, she was the bravest being I knew. The reason we were going to survive this thing.

  But still, my instincts wanted to run to her, to protect her from the prying eyes of all who listened to her speech. When my eyes locked with those of my mother and then my brother, Tormin, shortly after, though, both of them seemed to tell me to stay exactly where I was.

  Apparently, from the way they both slightly widened their eyes and their smiles, Carolyn was winning.

  When she stopped talking, the Chieftan sat back in his twisted tree trunk chair, considering her with piercing blue eyes that so contrasted with his reddish hair and the dark tree all around him. Then, he spoke.

  “I do not understand why a human would join in leagues with the Velkin. Most of your kind has been magicked home, returned to Earth for their own safety.”

  I glanced around to confirm that, indeed, somewhere in the night, many of the humans had apparently been whisked back to Earth and away from the battle. The Chieftan continued, his head cocked to the side like a wise old bird trying to determine if a dark spot on the ground was a nut or a seed.

  “But here you sit, at their side, ready to fight with them. My daughter is right when she says that humans are a confusing group.”

  Carolyn didn’t bow under the verbal pressure. Instead, she shrugged and played to the crowd, smirking as she spoke.

  “Oh, come on, Chieftan. You didn’t think I was going to let Anatole have all of the world-saving fun, did you?”

  The crowd joined together in laughing at her little joke, and for a brief moment, I thought of all the bloodshed between our two peoples and marveled at how sweet the sound of laughter was after years of screams.

  “I see. I see,” he said, joining in the laughter, though his was more dismissive sounding than most. It was clear, at least to me, that he didn’t see at all. “Surely you humans are not so enamored of violence that you would put yourself in danger this way?”

  “No. Of course not. But…” Carolyn’s face went serious, almost severe, as she wandered the small tract of floor space she’d been given to address the Chieftan. She searched for the words, and I prayed that she found them. “My time on Earth was not a happy on, Chieftan. Kyra knows. Coming to Velkin, this is the happiest I’ve ever been. And I want to fight for its future. For its freedom. A freedom that, if I have anything to say about it, you’ll have, too.”

  The Chieftan’s lips flattened into a thin line. “You talk a large diversion, human.”

  Positioned at her father’s right side, Kyra’s face dyed red with embarrassment. It was a small miracle, at least from the look on her face, that she didn’t slap her palm to her forehead and storm out of the room from the humiliation of it all.

  “The phrase is, you talk a big game, Dad.”

  Raising a hand to dismiss his daughter’s practical correction, he set his gaze squarely on Carolyn, and sized her up. His gaze narrowed, and I could practically hear his thoughts. The Velkin and the Pixies have been at war—real war and silent war, both—for thousands of years. What makes you think you could change all of that?

  It was something I’d asked myself countless ti
mes as I’d prepared to take on the throne. The problems of that a ruler would face, especially in a society like ours where memories and lives were long, had been deeply ingrained in our societies. Dismantling those structures would take time and effort and compassion and brilliance. What made him think he was good enough to succeed where others had failed so often?

  “How can you make this promise?” The Chieftan asked, his voice a low, questioning rumble.

  Before I could think better of it, I adopted my most regal posture and stepped forward, out of the shadows of the doorway, and made my presence known.

  “She can’t. But I can.”

  “Ah,” the Chieftan said, lifting his chin but not showing even a flash of deference in his expression. “The Kingling arises.”

  Kingling wasn’t quite the title I would have liked, but given our current situation, I wasn’t going to correct him or his condescending nickname. There were more important things at stake here than my foolish pride.

  “When I am on the throne of Velkin, I swear to you, Chieftan. Everything will change. I will make it so. And I will do it, knowing every day I can never make up for what my ancestors did to yours. I am sorry.”

  And with that, for the first time in my life, I bowed to someone who was not my king or queen. I swung down low, recognizing his power and acknowledging his position. When I looked up, his face was less certain than it had been before. His eyes swept the small contingent of Velkin and the few remaining humans.

  “This is…” He brushed a hand through the air, indicating to Carolyn and our small, rag-tag crew of refugees. “This is not quite an army, to go up against Adric. If my intel from the Castle Bloc is correct, then you are in for a dangerous and bloody fight. If you go in with this crew, you will not make it out alive,” he said, his grave voice losing all hints of even pretend playfulness it had a moment ago.

  He was right, of course. At least, that’s how it felt. Last night, my mind played me nightmare after nightmare of the slaughter ahead of us. I couldn’t say that out loud, though, so I chose to put as positive a spin on things as I could possibly manage. It wasn’t much.