by Lina Jubilee
We had a panicked child here. And there was no reaching a panicked child with force and chaos.
Just as the plume of steam exploded outward from the boy to meet the intruding vine, threatening to engulf the entire playground, I got close enough.
Protect him, I spoke inside my head. Protect them all.
“Pumpkin, what’s going on?” asked Papa Zander in my head. I didn’t know where he was—I didn’t have time to wonder. He was a telepath with an innate connection only to those he cared about most. He must have picked up on my stress, but I had no time to explain. What could he possibly do to help in the next two seconds anyway?
Protect! I answered back—to him, to myself, to anything listening.
And I did. Visualizing the bubble of protection. Creating it, projecting it with my mind. Controlling it, shaping it in the air with my hands. Around the boy. That’s it. Soft, warm, inviting.
With a shrill hiss, the steam exploded outward, hitting the faintly visible pinkish walls of my protection, straining against it—pushing. Fighting. Demanding chaos.
Protect, I thought. “Protect!” I said out loud.
The bubble fought back, soothing, comforting, conforming to the child’s needs, trapping him and the steam inside. The air outside the bubble growing blissfully cooler, Rajani was able to move and breathe again, Derek shuffling to her side, helping her up. Her metal scales faded away, revealing skin, and Connak slid in beside them, taking her other side.
“It’s all right!” I shouted, knowing my voice alone would travel along the bubble of protection like a speaker inside it. “It’s okay! We all make mistakes.”
The quiet sniffles of the boy penetrated into my mind first, his form still shadowy behind the mists inside my bubble. “Zora pushed me.” He hiccupped.
A playground fight turned dangerous.
“It’s okay,” I said again, as soothingly as I could.
There were others headed our way now, people attending to the children, Veras members and instructors here to offer their help.
Mom was the only one of the new arrivals I allowed to penetrate my concentration, the hand she offered on my shoulder not just a message of support, but a gauge of the situation. Was I handling it? Did I need the boost in my ability she could offer?
I shook my head.
“It was my turn on the slide,” said the boy between hiccup sobs. “And Zora said she didn’t care, and she pushed me, and when I tried to get up and tell Miss Lacey, she pushed me harder and—”
“It’s all right,” I said again, quieter this time. “We all lose control sometimes. But it’s time. It’s time to breathe deeply and focus. Get the temperature back to normal. Let it go. Let go of the anger, the frustration…”
As I spoke, the steam inside the bubble retreated, dissipating, the child inside revealed. His blond hair was scruffy, and there was a patch of dirt on his cheek, along with three small scratches on his neck.
“That’s it,” I said, my muscles beginning to ache at the strain of holding the bubble up. “It’s okay.”
With that, the temperature grew stable again, the steam gone, and the protection bubble collapsed, my aching legs stumbling. Mom grabbed hold of me on one side and a couple of pairs of strong arms swept in on the other side. I turned to see Pop Nash and Dad Jayden.
“All right!” called Dad Jayden, taking charge, as ever. He patted my back and pushed his glasses up his nose, his all-white full head of hair the perfect complement to his pale cream skin, marred only by the slight indentation of wrinkles around his eyes and mouth. Somehow, any sign of aging on him only gave him a more distinguished appearance, like one of those former movie stars you knew were hot in their youth and had somehow just become more handsome in their sixth decade. “Are you all right, Bryony?” he said softer to me.
I nodded and he set about with the other instructors, who were helping the temperature-controlling boy dry his tears, directing him inside to the infirmary, no doubt.
“Our baby’s getting so strong.” Pop Nash noogied my hair as if he were a big brother. I might have laughed at it when I’d been five or six, but it was getting a bit old.
Straightening, I patted my messed-up hair. “Thanks. I think.” I stared at him. The silver threading through his close-cropped golden hair was at odds with his still rugged and youthful appearance. Even well past forty, he filled out a workout suit like a man several decades younger who had to try much harder to build muscles. It came more natural to him, bulky as he was, though he certainly had a love for the workout.
“Nash. She’s too old for roughhousing.” Mom stepped forward to push a strand of my hair I’d missed away from my cheek. She smiled, her deep red lips tugging upward at one corner, the slight grooves forming around her mouth only making the smile seem more beautiful, earned after a lifetime of similar ones. “I can’t believe you and your brother are almost graduates.” Tears pooled at the edges of her eyes and Nash slipped in to put his hand on her shoulder. Those deepening grooves around her lips and her salt-and-pepper hair were the only clues that she was older than she looked. It was no surprise she’d caused four men to fall in love with her—the fact that she could boost their powers in very, uh, interesting ways aside. They loved her. All four of them.
Which I appreciated sometimes—having four doting daddies could do that to a little girl—but not so much at others.
At some point, Hazel and her entourage had made their way back outside. Instead of tending to the children like some of the other students, they were simply glaring our way, Pepper and Sheila pretending to be examining their nails, and Jerry mimicking Hazel’s catty pose, a single hand on his hip.
They all looked gorgeous—coiffed and not a thread out of place—and it was clear they thought the idea of lending a hand here could lead to disheveled clothes or an immediate need to touch up their manicures.
The thought made me want to hurl.
“Bryony has four daddies and her mummy’s a whore,” said a ten-year-old Hazel the first year she transferred to Veras Academy. She was on a swing, monopolizing the entire set with her friends, and singing this as a song.
I stiffened as the song hit my ears by the big oak tree. Derek looked up from the book he was reading to put his hand—tentatively, waiting for my reaction—atop mine.
“Runs in the family because her aunt’s a slag, too,” continued Hazel in her song.
I jumped to my feet, my fists clenched, and Pepper burst into laughter at something—at the sight of my face. My short, green hair. My pointed ears.
The only known half-Nelian, half-Earthling in the world.
“Someone’s touchy,” said Hazel in her snobbish English accent before she descended into giggles along with Sheila and Jerry, the four of them forming a bizarre pack the moment Hazel had transferred. “You don’t see me going around acting all special. My family actually worked for their money—and until someone’s stupid family got involved, we used to have so much more!”
Sheila let out a little gasp and her doppelgänger popped out of thin air beside her in an identical pose, their hands over their mouths, her clone seeming to be sitting on nothing, as there were no spare swings. Then it seemed to realize its predicament and stood, crossing its arms, acting almost as if a separate entity from its host—one equally in thrall to exchange student Hazel Thorne.
Hazel had introduced herself the first day as heir to the Thorne Biodegradable-Mushroom-Root-Formerly-Plastics fortune, making sure to express her displeasure that mushroom root packaging apparently cost far more to make and produced far less profit than old-fashioned plastic.
Her grandfather and father had campaigned hard against the Nelians’ reach extending to the United Kingdom. And had failed. Their heir turning out to be a Natch had been the perfect opportunity to send her abroad and get in good with the Nelian king behind all the changes, Pop Nash had guessed out loud once in front of me shortly after her transfer.
Though Daddy Alarik had little to do with the runn
ing of the school. Everyone knew his lover and children were here, though.
My parents had all asked me to be kind to her. If the Thornes learned to embrace their reduced fortune for the betterment of the world, even more of their class were likely to follow.
Unfortunately, Hazel had never given me the chance.
“Four daddies, four uncles, one mummy, one aunt,” sang Hazel. “Whore’s a Haddix family trait, what you think about that?”
Her friends giggled, the extra Sheila laughing so hard that with a little pop, her clone vanished into nothingness again.
“You take that back!” I shrieked, but then there was an explosion on the ground in front of her, ice shards soaring this way and that. The girls and Jerry screamed, covering their faces, running for the hills.
Derek smirked at me, his arm out in front of him. “What?” he said. “She can’t carry a tune.”
“You all right, sis?” Sage jogged over from where he’d no doubt been comforting Lacey, a Veras member who focused mostly on instruction of the little ones. I checked behind him to make sure Lacey was in one piece at the moment, considering the stress of the situation might have brought on a relapse.
Her natural state was a literal pile of goo. Stretchy and convenient, depending on the task at hand. But limp and gooey.
She had to focus to stay all together like a human being, and it caused her great pain, but she rarely showed it. She was as beautiful as Uncle Bo, her older brother. Blonde and willowy, peachy like a summer’s day.
She was also almost nine years older than my brother and me and the dope was totally besotted.
“Yeah,” I said, brushing him off. He sent me a knowing look across those blue eyes, as if we had some sort of telepathic twin connection that would tell him otherwise, but he didn’t say anything more. Fit and bulky, he resembled some kind of mix between Nash, Jayden, and Zander—though he had Zander’s dark, wavy hair. It was impossible to tell who’d fathered him, but all of our parents were convinced I’d saved him in utero, protecting him against Mom’s powers and bringing us both into existence against all odds.
Not that I could remember any of that, of course. I absentmindedly ran a gloved hand over the patch of skin on my upper arm and Sage exchanged some words with Mom and Pop Nash. There was no missing the pointed stare Hazel directed his way. In your dreams, asshole, I thought at her, hoping my curling lip was enough to convey the message. It seemed to work. She turned on her heel, her clique following a moment later, returning back to the college wing of the Academy.
I snapped back into the moment. Rajani!
I met up with Rajani, Derek, and Connak, the latter two supporting the limping Rajani between them, and Rajani chuckled dryly as she saw me. “Good job, Bry. Smarter than me.”
“I’m glad your instinct was to help,” I said, looking pointedly at Derek for a second as well. I gave them both a slow smile. “I just wonder if we need more practice in coordination.” Thank Mother Nelia that there was really no need for fighting anyone anymore. Practically no need, anyway.
The Renegades took care of the few Typicals who acted out in prejudice. The Nelians and Earthlings were at peace now.
There was almost no reason to be devoting all of our childhoods to learning how to make the best of our powers at all.
“Um, Derek, I don’t really need two people supporting me on my way to the infirmary, but I do appreciate the offer,” said Rajani, clearing her throat. Her eyes went wide and she tilted her head twice toward the Nelian on her other side.
Rajani was the type of friend who thought it was awesome that both my mom and my aunt had four lovers—husbands, in my aunt’s case—each. The type whose next words after finding out were, “Sign me up for some of that, please.”
Clamping my lips together, I slid an arm through Derek’s and tugged him away. “See you later, then, Jani. Thank you for taking care of her,” I added to Connak.
“Your Highness,” he said once more, bowing ever-so-slightly. I flinched but tried not to cringe outwardly.
The crowd dissipated, another bell going off in three short rings, which meant an “incident” had caused the cancellation of the class—it really wasn’t that abnormal, with so many kids just coming into their own with their powers.
Derek and I hadn’t moved an inch toward the college building, and it wasn’t until Derek massaged the back of my hand with his thumb that I realized I was spacing out.
So oblivious, I’d even tuned out Papa Zander’s voice in my head.
“Your mother tells me it was just some kid freaking out,” he said. “And that you saved the day. Pumpkin?”
Yeah. Um, yes. It’s all fine, I answered back.
“Zander?” asked Derek out loud.
I nodded, though to tell the truth, I’d been thinking about a whole lot of nothing before I’d had my telepathic conversation.
I searched the dwindling crowd for Hazel and her groupies, but they were gone, Sage and Lacey and all the little kids, too. Mom, Dad Jayden, and Pop Nash spoke with Professor Chastity a few yards from the entrance to the main recreational area, the one with the kitchen and the dining hall as sleek and utilitarian as any gym-converted-to-mess-hall could be.
“Bryony!” said Dad Jayden, waving toward us.
“Way to go, pumpkin,” said Papa Zander over the telepathic bond. “Excuse me, though, as I’ve got a delegation to greet.”
I couldn’t keep track of what the Renegades were up to these days.
“Bry?” asked Derek. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” I said quickly—perhaps too quickly. Derek gave me a slight hmm and studied me with those warm hazel eyes.
“You’re worried about inheriting the crown,” said Derek, speaking aloud the anxiety I’d tried to squash and suffocate and keep from putting into words.
“Your books!” I said, searching around us. “You dropped your tablet and notebook—”
“Bry!” Derek cupped my chin gently to get me to turn back to him. The fluttering in my stomach was at odds with the way I felt secure at his side. “If it’s bothering you, you need to tell your parents. I’ll go with you.”
A sharp whistle caught my attention. “Bryony!” called Pop Nash from near the door. Even from here, I could see the slight dance of flames in his palm as he straightened his back and did his best not to show that he’d caught his daughter in a somewhat uncompromising position.
But that was ridiculous. Derek was my best friend. My rival for valedictorian. I’d grown up with him.
I mean, I did want to find love. Just one love. I wasn’t my mom or my aunt. But Derek… Derek was safe. I couldn’t imagine jeopardizing that.
Besides, he had plans after graduation and I… I’d had plans forced on me.
“My dads are calling me,” I said, my voice wavering. I gave his hand a squeeze and pointed to the haphazardly strewn pile of his notebook and tablet nearby. “Don’t want to forget those. We’ve got exams coming up.” I tapped the side of my head. “And I think you’re the one trailing behind me by .4 points?”
“.3.” Derek cracked a small smile. Of course he’d know the precise difference in our GPAs. “But, Bry, you don’t have to keep brushing this topic off.”
“See you at dinner!” I shouted, already fleeing toward my escape.
And right into another situation I wanted to escape from.
I could tell by the glimmer in Dad Jayden’s eyes. They only lit up like that when he was with Mom or Papa Zander—and when he had some really “exciting” news to share about Veras Academy.
No one could ever say he didn’t deserve to be headmaster of this place. He’d put everything into it.
Maybe a little too much of himself into it.
“There she is,” he said, as if he hadn’t spoken to me just moments before. “Our hero.” Professor Chastity, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, gave me an approving nod. “Our princess,” Dad Jayden added.
He wasn’t one for pet names with his kids like my other da
ds were.
No. He meant it literally.
“Why do I have a feeling I’m not going to like the next few words out of your mouth?” I said, trying to inject some nervous chuckles into my voice. They came across more terrified than jovial.
“Bryony,” said Mom softly—though still admonishingly.
“The Renegades are bringing back the Natch delegations from New Zealand, Great Britain, and Japan,” said Dad Jayden, nonplussed. “Their royal families have decided to send their princes to be guests at our Academy for a brief cultural exchange.”
I nodded dumbly, my mind racing. Exchange students? Or guest lecturers? That was a first. Interesting. What does this have to do with me again?
Mom slid her fingers through mine, her mouth parting slightly. “The thing is, darling, your fathers and I thought—”
Pop Nash wrapped an arm around one of my shoulders and squeezed me to his side. “You’re going to get hitched!”
Chapter Three
Three Natch princes were on their way here, to the Academy. Their countries put more stock into their royalty these days than they had before the Nelian invasion, New Zealand even naming a royal lineage in the past couple decades to reward a Māori Natch who’d prevented a tsunami from devastating the island nation. For a second there, I thought with a chilling sense of shock, that they intended me to marry all three of them.
Then I realized that mattered far less than the fact that they wanted me to marry any of them.
“What are you talking about?” I snapped, jerking out of Mom and Pop Nash’s grip. My voice grew thick as my posture stiffened. “You’re joking. You’re arranging my marriage? Do you hear yourselves?”
Mom swallowed visibly as she exchanged a look with the others gathered around. “Now, that may have been a crude way of putting it”—Pop Nash shirked under her harsh look—“but we’ve been discussing the matter with Alarik, and it might do the Nelian-Earth alliance a lot of good to have it strengthened with a marriage between the heir to Nelia and the heir to one of Earth’s nations.”
