We Three Heroes

by Lynette Noni

  But Jordan and Bear—they seemed to believe otherwise. Just as they seemed to believe that the strict teacher herself was a veritable source of entertainment. And when she stepped into the storeroom, leaving them unsupervised for scant moments, the boys were quick to share their opinion. Or Jordan was, at least, since he seemed to be the ringleader of the two.

  “That coat of hers—wow,” Jordan said with a laugh, loud enough to draw the eyes of those seated at the other benches. “She’s gonna poke someone’s eye out with that thing.”

  Snorts of agreement met his statement, with nods coming from all around the room.

  “The good news is, we’ll see her coming from miles away,” Jordan continued, not at all uncomfortable with the attention focused on him, but instead basking in it. “Honestly—it’s like she went and rolled in a rainbow. I’m half-surprised she’s not trailing glitter dust when she walks.”

  Unable to hold back any longer, Delucia said her first full sentence to him—to anyone—and hissed, “Show some respect.”

  Her classmates’ amusement vanished, with uncomfortable shuffles and throat clearing meeting her statement. But she didn’t care, since all she could think about was another blond-haired, blue-eyed boy who liked to laugh at people behind their backs. And she couldn’t—she wouldn’t—sit there silently and just allow the belittling of another person, not when she knew exactly how awful it felt.

  Jordan turned to her, his face startled. “It was just—”

  “—a joke,” Delucia finished for him, already knowing that was what he was going to say. “Well, guess what? Your first one wasn’t funny, and neither is this one.”

  Cocking his head, Jordan looked at her like she was some kind of strange species and he wasn’t quite sure what to do with her. Bear was watching them closely, looking torn about whether he should intervene or not.

  “Look,” Jordan said after a moment of scrutiny. “I don’t know you, and I’m not sure what your deal is, but… a joke is just a joke, and I meant no harm by it. Try not to take this personally, but maybe you should consider lightening up a bit.” He offered what he likely thought was a winning smile and finished, “Couldn’t hurt, right?”

  Delucia couldn’t believe him. No one had ever told her to lighten up—in her life. Her fellow classmates, the people who she had so wanted to become friends with, were all watching, listening, waiting to hear what she would say.

  Part of her was horrified, since this was not the kind of attention she’d ever wanted to bring herself. But these people—her classmates—they’d all laughed at Jordan’s ‘joke’, and even now they were looking at him with adoration in their eyes. It sent her straight back in time until she was again seeing Annelyse and Bahrati and everyone else in the palace stables staring at Maxton with unveiled admiration, entertained by his callous words and repulsive behaviour.

  The memory, the feeling, it was too much. Too painful. Because with it came the knowledge that whatever had happened yesterday, whatever bonding had occurred between the first years—it was clear that both Jordan and Bear had made their way straight to the top of the social ladder. And Delucia… she wasn’t even on the lowest step.

  “You’re right, you don’t know me,” she said, willing steel into her voice to mask the sorrow she felt deep inside. “But I know you. And what I know is that you’re nothing more than an attention-seeking clown.”

  She hated—absolutely hated—that he looked even more amused after her insult, enough that she wished she’d come up with something much more biting. But before she could add anything else, Professor Luranda stepped back into sight, continuing on with their lesson by sharing what they would be learning over the coming months.

  Despite her attempt at diligence, Delucia found that she wasn’t listening to a word the professor was saying. And that was because realisation was flooding over her—a sudden understanding of what her life would be like in the coming days.

  Glancing around the room at the heads bowed together, seeing her classmates taking notes and whispering to each other when Luranda wasn’t looking, Delucia knew.

  None of that was for her.

  She didn’t have a roommate to sit with, to pass notes with, to share jokes with.

  She didn’t have whatever bonds had grown between the first years yesterday.

  She didn’t have a way to step up on the ladder, not even a single rung.

  She had nothing, she had no one.

  Only herself.

  That was all she’d ever had.

  That was all she would ever have.

  And with that realisation, the walls that she’d been so ready to lay aside snapped back into place around her heart, stronger than ever before…

  … and never to crumble again.

  Ten

  Days bled into weeks and faded into months as Delucia settled into academy life. Her classes were challenging, keeping her busy and helping her to ignore the lonely ache inside. There was so much to do at Akarnae—in lessons and out of them—that it was easy to find distraction from her own mind, even her own company.

  The library was a haven for her, much like the one at the palace. She’d claimed her own little nook up the back and whenever she needed to get away from the smiling, happy faces all around her, that was where she found herself. Either that, or in the stables, seeking comfort amongst her new equine friends who, just like Dancer, were wonderful listeners and the most faithful of confidantes. They were particularly companionable on the harder days, when all Delucia needed was someone to talk to, four-legged or otherwise.

  An added bonus to her stable visits was that the Equestrian Skills instructor, Tayla, was one of the teachers who knew Delucia’s true identity, yet she didn’t treat her any differently from the other students. If anything, she was harder on her, almost as if she knew Delucia had something she wanted to prove and Tayla was willing to offer the chance for her to do that. It was one of the reasons why Equestrian Skills was Delucia’s favourite class—the other being that she was the only first year with an Epsilon ranking, and the handful of older classmates remained polite but distant, with Delucia more than willing to follow their lead.

  Whether in the stables or the library, weekends were spent reading volume after volume or mucking out stalls and cleaning tack. On the odd occasion, Delucia was invited to join Tayla on outings through the forest, riding the horse she’d been allocated for the year—a bay gelding named Monarch. Despite the name being Tayla’s idea of an inside joke, Delucia had grown fond of the steadfast gelding, just as she’d also taken a liking to the academy’s shaggy pony, Monster. Barely the size of a large dog, the little beast was a troublemaker—but also a cute one, who never failed to lift Delucia’s spirits.

  Outside of her time spent with either books or horses—and, indeed, during those times—Delucia mostly kept to herself. Every so often she spotted Kaiden and Declan around the campus, or the even rarer sighting of Jeera, but as she’d made them promise, whenever they crossed paths, they acted like they didn’t know her. A few times she caught a secret grin and friendly wink from Declan, but anytime she locked eyes with Kaiden or Jeera, she found only disappointment on their faces. Not at her… for her. More than anyone, the two siblings seemed to realise that her dreams of a new life at Akarnae weren’t quite living up to the mark.

  It wasn’t all bad, though. Indeed, she loved almost everything about the academy. The classes, the teachers, the grounds—even her own private room turned out to be a boon, just as Jarvis had said, since she could holo-call her parents without fear of discovery, as well as read the books Master Ying sent her way—books from the royal archives, the likes of which would raise suspicion if sighted by others.

  All in all, her life was basically perfect. Sure, she was lonely, but she’d been lonely her whole life. Another five years weren’t going to cause her any long-lasting harm.

  … Or so she tried daily to convince herself.

  Perhaps the only thing that was unsettling were her drea
ms. As if arriving at the academy had activated some switch inside her, at least three times each week she saw a vision in her sleep that later came true. For the most part, they were small things, like knowing Administrator Jarvis was going to invite her for tea to ask whether she was settling in well, or that Headmaster Marselle would make an announcement at dinner to remind students about the curfew in effect. But there were also a few occasions when her dreams had been more dramatic, like seeing her Equestrian Skills classmate, Ryan, thrown from his horse only to be trampled by its hooves—resulting in three broken bones and a concussion—or seeing her fellow first year, Pipsqueak, suffer an allergic reaction during lunch that sent her into cardiac arrest and required Doctor Fletcher to revive her right in the middle of the food court.

  Delucia had felt awful after the incidents, wondering if—and how—she might have warned them. But both events had happened early in the year, at a time when she hadn’t understood her gift enough to know when it was in effect. That was something she was still learning, but as the weeks passed, she was growing more and more confident when it came to differentiating between fact and fiction.

  Much of that confidence came from her Core Skills class—the only subject dedicated specifically to the study of their gifts, including learning how to control them. The instructor, Professor Marmaduke, had a low-level mental gift that included the ability to read surface thoughts—something that would have alarmed Delucia had her own limited mental defences not been strong enough to protect her mind against the woman’s weak ability.

  Marmaduke was a bit of a flake, but despite her wishy-washy nature, her classes were helping Delucia. Added to that, the library was full of texts relating to gifts, and between what she read in her own time and the exercises Marmaduke set, she was finally beginning to understand how her ability worked, now almost always recognising the difference between a dream and a true dream.

  The trick, Delucia now knew, was to identify whether she was a spectator or a participant. If she was a participant—if the dream included something happening to her or as a result of her actions—it was likely a normal dream. If, however, she was forced to watch events play out that had nothing to do with her, events that she couldn’t manipulate with her own subconscious guidance, then it was likely a prophetic vision of future events.

  It took a while before Delucia was able to understand the distinction, but with the meditative exercises Marmaduke gave her—exercises to calm her thoughts before sleep and clear her mind—she was eventually afforded a deeper clarity in her dreams and, more importantly, greater retention. Both of these allowed Delucia to consider her dreams carefully upon wakening, weighing just how real they felt.

  Of course, she wasn’t always right, as there were the odd occasions when a true dream involved her, making the distinction between spectator or participant all but impossible to judge. But for the most part, she was slowly beginning to get the hang of her ability.

  As time passed and the days grew cooler, Delucia began to experiment with her gift, including revisiting her dreams at will. It was something she learned from a book rather than Marmaduke, and arguably the most foolproof way to determine which visions were prophetic, since she could only ever revisit true dreams. It was also remarkably easy, since all she had to do was call to mind a previous dream while drifting off to sleep, and she would find herself returned there, surveying the vision as if she were investigating a crime scene.

  While fascinating, her dream revisitations were often rather tedious, since so far, the true dreams she had experimented with had been fairly anticlimactic and boring to re-watch. The same was true for any recurring dreams that she was unintentionally swept back into—especially the one that showed nothing but the unending corridor of doorways. It remained the same as she’d dreamed it over the summer, the whispering voice remaining out of reach no matter how many times she revisited the scene, searching for more details. All she knew was that it was a true dream—which meant one day, it would mean something.

  Dreams were fickle things, as Delucia was coming to realise more each day. But she was still thankful for her gift because, if nothing else, it allowed her entry into Akarnae. And despite being a social outcast, she still felt deep in her soul that the academy was where she was meant to be.

  Even if she was alone, at least she was alone in the right place, ready and waiting for whatever promise her future held, and hoping every day that the doorway Kaiden had once said would open was coming.

  Seasons changed and summer faded into autumn, the air at the academy growing brisk as the wind kicked up, heralding the swift arrival of winter.

  It was on one such windy Saturday in the first week of December that Delucia was locked away in her room, having spent the hours since waking doing everything she could to avoid the outside world.

  Normally she tried to be as far as possible from her lonely dorm on weekends, but today was different. It was Family Day at Akarnae, and the only thing harder than seeing her classmates all enjoy each other’s company was when they did it surrounded by their loved ones. Especially since her own couldn’t visit her at the academy, not without giving away everything she was determined to keep hidden.

  Laughing humourlessly to herself as she reorganised her belongings for the third time that day, Delucia realised that no one would believe the truth, anyway. Her classmates would sooner believe that Jordan was the royal princess before they considered her a viable heir to the throne. In their minds, she was a moody, antagonistic loner—a reputation she’d earned, and indeed, a reputation she sought to maintain.

  A therapist would claim she was self-sabotaging, perhaps even suffering a personality disorder, jumping between the two extremes of wanting people in her life, then determined to keep everyone away. But Delucia was merely protecting herself, her defence mechanisms now as natural as breathing. Her classmates knew she would bite if approached—figuratively, of course—and they kept their distance. Just as she told herself that was what she wanted.

  But distant or not, she still had to spend time with them, and even now she knew she couldn’t remain locked in her room much longer. Mostly because she was starving, her empty stomach aching from having skipped breakfast and lunch to avoid witnessing the cheerful family reunions.

  Looking outside her window, she saw that the sun had set and dusk had settled upon the grounds. Most of the families should have left by now, so Delucia presumed she would be safe to venture to the food court for dinner without experiencing too many moments of envy.

  Grabbing a heavy coat to guard against the piercing wind, Delucia was embarrassingly eager to get to the food court, her gurgling stomach demanding that she order enough for an army so as to make up for the meals she’d missed that day.

  Fantasising over what she would eat first, Delucia wasn’t paying attention when she flung open her door and rushed out into the hallway, her mind focused on satisfying her hunger in the timeliest way possible. Distracted as she was, she all but collided with a group of people walking past her room at that exact moment, digging in her heels just in time to avoid ploughing them down.

  “Whoa, easy there!” Jordan said, reaching out to steady her as she stumbled backwards. “You okay?”

  Delucia froze—but not because of his gentle touch, and not because of the genuine concern she saw in his gaze. In fact, her focus wasn’t on him at all. Instead, she was looking beyond him, to the group of people he stood with.

  Bear was there, of course—he and Jordan were a package deal, as Delucia had learned within hours of meeting them. And while they might have started off on the wrong foot that first day, she had since realised that, despite her early judgement, they were nothing like Maxton. Yes, they liked to have fun and spent a good deal of their time in detention because of it, and yes, they were cocky, but it was the playful sort rather than anything spiteful or arrogant. They were also surprisingly dedicated when it came to their studies, and they took their classes more seriously than she’d thought possibl
e. Above all, they were nice—something she never would have imagined after that first day, but it was nevertheless true. Enough that it hadn’t taken her long to understand the reason they were at the top of the social ladder was simply because they deserved to be there.

  Right now, though, it wasn’t Jordan or Bear who held Delucia’s attention. Rather, it was the man, woman and small child all staring back at her, waiting to hear her response to Jordan’s question.

  But—no. They didn’t all hold her attention. Because while she knew the woman and child were standing there, her focus was targeted solely on the man—a man she knew.

  It was Warden William.

  William Ronnigan—Bear’s father.

  And the startled look on his face showed that he was just as shocked to see her as she was him.

  Delucia’s heart pounded in her chest as she wondered what was about to happen. William wouldn’t give anything away, she was sure of it. But her face—she was certain her surprise must be showing. And that was what prompted her to react without thinking, yanking her arm from Jordan’s hold, spinning on her heel and rushing back into her room. She didn’t mean to slam the door after her, but the force she used in her haste to escape was enough that it banged harshly upon closing.

  Breathing deeply and wishing she could take back the last thirty seconds, or at least rewrite them, Delucia leaned against her door, berating herself for her ridiculous behaviour. It was only when she heard the muffled voices through the wood that she willed her pulse to calm and strained her ears to listen.

  “Don’t take it personally, guys,” Bear said to what was evidently his family.

  “Yeah,” Jordan added. “It’s not you—she’s rude to everyone.”