by Alex Lidell
“Yes.” He still doesn’t turn, though his back muscles bunch beneath his shirt. His hand moves, apparently pulling another paper out for his inspection as he motions to a high-back chair a pace away from him. “Take a seat.”
I walk slowly, my hands fingering the strap of my satchel. “I’ll stand.” The words come out softer than I’d intended. I clear my throat and try again. “I’d prefer to stand, sir. If that is all right.”
River turns, his broad chest and square jaw enough to make a stone dampen. “All right.” He waits, bracing his hands on the desk behind him in a way that makes his shirt stretch over his abdomen.
Stopping at the chair, I’m suddenly not sure why I insisted on standing. Certainly it does little to diminish the sheer difference in our size, with my head barely reaching River’s shoulder.
“You should know that when I issued orders for you to report here, the Ostera ball…events had not yet happened.” His voice is a soft rumble that vibrates my core. Events. His dance. Our kiss. My running off into the darkness. My hands tighten on the back of the chair. River straightens, pulling down on his already perfect shirt, his face an unreadable mask. “What I did was inappropriate, Leralynn. And I both beg your forgiveness and offer assurance that such indiscretion on my part will not be repeated.”
Ice douses my core. Indiscretion. I’m a bloody indiscretion.
“Understood, sir.” My voice is so distant, I can’t believe it belongs to me, my heart hammering against my chest.
He draws a deep breath, his shoulders straight but seeming to bear even more weight than I am used to seeing upon them. “All right. With that said, judging from the books I see you’ve brought, I imagine you are aware of my original reason for summoning you.” He runs a hand through his hair, one of his only tells of discomfort. “However, given my subsequent poor choices on an unrelated matter, I don’t believe myself to be in a position to oversee you. So I will instead simply lay out the facts and let you walk out that door to make your own choices. You are not required to say anything regarding my suspicions or allegations, but I request that you not lie to me either. Can you agree to that?”
I swallow, my mind tripping over River’s words as I repeat them in my head. Say nothing and walk out. Too good. The offer sounds too perfect to be true, and yet I can find no hidden hook in it.
“Leralynn?” River prompts, then clears his throat. “If you do not wish to be alone in a room with me, I understand.”
“No.” I raise my hand, simultaneously realizing both River’s misinterpretation of my silence and the small glowing coals of indignation that his previous words roused inside me. Spinning on my heel, I stride to the still-open double doors and pull them shut. “I’ve no problem being alone in a room with you,” I say, striking back at him. “You didn’t force something on me that I didn’t want, and I will not let you rewrite history to imagine it that way. I’m perfectly capable of making my own choices about who I kiss.”
He raises one dark brow, his gaze brushing from the now-closed door back to my face. “Relieved as I am to note that my actions have not doused that spitfire spirit of yours, my position at this Academy makes any overture coercive.” He holds out his hand, forestalling anything I was going to say. “In either case, let us return to the topic of my original summons.”
Putting his hands into the small of his back, he inclines his head toward me. “Several of your instructors have expressed concern about whether the work you submit is done…independently. My intention was to have you work here for the morning, to reassure both myself and your teachers that the material you submit is, in fact, your own. Or to address the issue by harsher means if it is not.”
A shiver runs down my spine, and it’s all I can do to keep myself from taking a step back.
He shakes his head, not even pretending that he missed my sudden tension. “None of that is going to happen, Leralynn.”
I let out a breath in spite of myself.
River sighs. “I am not at all certain I am doing the right thing, but as I refuse to insist you remain in my isolated company, I will simply remind you that, eventually, you will face exams and leave the matter at that.”
Exams. I’d not thought I’d be here long enough for those. “What happens to students who fail?” I can’t help asking.
“Great Falls Academy is prohibited from expelling students directly, but we make the consequences unpleasant enough that most withdraw their enrollment or choose to alter their study habits drastically.” River’s gaze locks on me, something about the way he says the words making them sound like a desperate warning instead of a threat. Tapping a finger against his desk, he walks back to his seat. “You may go.”
Tension that I didn’t know was holding my body immobile suddenly releases its grip, relief flooding my blood. A reprieve. A stay of execution. All I need to do is walk out the doors, and I can return to the niche I’ve carved out for myself over the last month. I work alone, powerful in the safety of being who I am—no matter how short it falls of the males’ standards. And now, without River looking over my shoulder, I will have months of easier breaths. Months to fight unmolested by night and survive the Academy the best I can by day. He need never learn the truth of my ignorance or of my cheating. As for exams, I’ll deal with those when they come. If they come at all.
Everything is exactly as I could possibly wish it. So why am I not happy? Clenching my jaw, I wait for a delayed uplifting of spirit to flutter through me. It doesn’t. It can’t.
“River,” I say quietly.
“Sir.” His voice has an edge.
“Sir.” I shut my mouth, the words catching in the back of my throat. I need to keep silent. Turn around. Walk out the door and thank the stars for making the male leave me alone. And yet my legs will not let me move.
Maybe I don’t want the reprieve. Don’t want for River to turn a blind eye to my cheating, for Coal to release his wrestling holds, for Tye to take no for an answer to a dance. Maybe I don’t want Shade to look away when I ask him to. All the things that I’ve struggled for. Maybe I want none of them. Not really.
Whatever punishment he will inflict for my cheating, I think it will hurt less than him turning his back on me.
With a suddenly trembling hand, I reach into my satchel and pull out my history text. Opening the book to a random page, I lick my lips as I stare at the long words. “‘Ckriee-del’s inch-insulation…insinuation that it would consider…consider…’” My voice breaks on the long words as it always does, my heart pounding harder with every misread syllable. River unlikely even remembers a time when he tripped over such things. My face heats, my chopped words echoing in the small wood-paneled room. I tighten my grip on the pages, the words swimming before me. “‘It would consider any buildup of ships a pro-vo…provo…’”
“Provocation,” he says very quietly.
“Provocation,” I echo, gripping the book so hard that my knuckles blanche. “‘Ckridel’s insinuation that it would consider any buildup of ship a provocation, led to the core-create…’” The words blur, my traitorous eyes stinging. I should have chosen a different sentence, one that I had some chance of reading. Stars, I should have walked out the door when I had a chance.
I realize he is beside me only when his large hands take the book from my grip. Putting a knuckle under my chin, he tips my face up to meet his. For the first time since I met the male, I can’t bring myself to look into his eyes. Can’t bear the disgust and disappointment that I know will lurk behind his gaze no matter how schooled his features.
“Might I deduce that your mathematics skills are little better?” he asks. “And that neither the work nor the application you turned in to the Academy were your own?”
I nod. Ironically, no lie there.
He blows out a long breath. “Why are you telling me this now?’ he asks. When I keep silent, the grip he has on my chin tightens, a note of command entering his tone. “Look at me, Leralynn.”
The journey up Riv
er’s large muscular body to meet his eyes is one of the longest I’ve taken.
“Good,” he says as our gazes meet. Mine vulnerable, his commanding. I hate how much weight that one syllable of River’s praise carries. His eyes stay on mine. “Now. Tell me why you’re telling me this. I would have let you walk out the door.”
“Because… I didn’t know what else to do.” The truth rushes from me in a whisper.
He nods, as if that answer is somehow acceptable. “Who else knows? Your roommate, Arisha of Tallie, I presume?”
I shift my weight, but he does not allow me to escape his gray gaze, his control somehow frustrating and calming all at the same time. With no escape route left, surrendering the last of the truth is somehow easier. “Arisha believes I’m just having trouble keeping up with everything because I’ve been busy. She doesn’t realize the extent of…of what I don’t know.” I force a hint of a smile I don’t feel onto my face. “So, in other words, the Academy is about to see its first cadet who fails exams multiple times. A first time for everything, right? Now you know it will happen. In case you don’t like surprises and all.”
He shakes his head once, his sharp eyes cutting right past the fakeness of my smile. “I’ll help you.”
“What?” It’s my turn to stare at him.
“Reading, mathematics, the basics everyone here takes for granted. If you are prepared to work, to really set your mind to it, I will help you with all of it. In confidence.” He lowers his hand, leaning back on his heels as if to give me a bit of breathing room. “It will take all you have Leralynn, and I may—will—push you harder than you think I should. But if you trust me to teach you, I will.” He pauses, looking uncertain for the first time. “Do you trust me?”
I take a deep breath. “Yes.”
14
Owalin
The chamber fell silent as Owalin, Captain of the Night Guard, strode to the kneeling female. Beatrice’s wounds bled still, the copper scent of her blood and fear filling the air. She was right to be frightened. In the decade since Owalin obtained the key to Mystwood and led his regiment to the mortal realm, his warriors had never been compromised. Until now.
“Yori and I were certain the female was alone,” Beatrice told the chamber, her chin raised despite the slight tremble in her voice. Blood and sweat plastered long strands of silver hair to her face, her pale blue eyes twitching between the floor and Owalin. “Alone and young. It would have been a swift capture and valuable intelligence had the shifter not appeared.”
“You had no leave to engage,” Owalin barked at her before checking his tone. This was about planning and information, not punishment. Punishment would come later. After years of work at Great Falls, the threads in the tapestry shielding the mortal realm from magic were finally starting to fray. Already there were points where stepping in and out of the Gloom was sometimes possible. Just a bit more prying and Owalin’s warriors would be able to successfully tap into their immortal magic.
Once that happened, taking the Academy would be a swift matter. Any peoples who thought penning the children of ten royal kingdoms together was a bright idea deserved to be taken. Just as Owalin and the Night Guard deserved a realm of their own.
Owalin returned his glare to the kneeling warrior. “The wench saw you step into the Gloom?”
“Yes.” Beatrice flinched. “It was my only way of making it back alive. I judged that reporting the presence of other immortals was of greater value than keeping the Gloom a secret.”
Owalin drummed his finger on the table’s edge. Beatrice had a point. Any immortals outside the Night Guard would be under Council orders to protect the mortal realm—and once Night Guard warriors became able to access magic, so would the other bastards.
Ensuring no other fae prowled the mortal realm was the whole reason Owalin had funded the human inquisitors so actively scouring the continent. Owalin was rather proud of himself on that front. How many others would have recognized the hidden opportunity in a stray lord’s anti-fae movement and turned the silliness from a liability into an asset?
“Master Zake, why is there an immortal on my lands?” Turning to the only human sitting at the table, Owalin raised a brow. “I was under the impression that your people were combing the alliance to eradicate any hint of fae sympathizers. How the bloody hell did an actual fae immortal slip their grasp?”
“You are the one who’s been dumping experimental refuse into your own yard,” Zake said. Around forty, the lord was large and—by human standards—muscular. With a thick head of wiry brown hair, Zake had amassed a series of scars, including a long slash across his face that gave him a perpetually displeased expression. “If you shit where you dine, you can’t expect to keep from attracting those Lunos rodents.”
Owalin flashed the man a warning look. A year ago, he’d have done a great deal more than that, but the human lord had proved useful. Spurred by some personal slight, Lord Zake had half the bloody continent busy turning on neighbors and eradicating fae craft. Most of the craft was imagined, of course, but any occasional artifact or text that got caught up in the process made it right back into Owalin’s hands. By the time the Night Guard was ready to attack, the continent would be prime for the taking, the humans having no notion of what was happening until it was too late.
Which meant Owalin had to swallow an occasional insult. Keeping Zake was akin to keeping a hunting dog—you couldn’t expect the pooch not to lick its backside in public once in a while.
“Let me restate my question,” Owalin said harshly. “How has your network of fae-hunting inquisitors overlooked an actual fae intruder?”
“My people are seeded in the cities and towns, Grayson being the closest to here.” Zake’s tone finally shifted to something Owalin could tolerate. “We don’t comb the wilderness. So unless the wench and her shifter have taken residence in the forest itself, the only location I’ve no visibility into is the Academy itself. They will not allow outsiders, even my inquisitors, inside the walls.”
Owalin pursed his lips, mentally examining and discarding one possibility after another before settling on an approach that was as simple as it was powerful. “Very well, Master Zake. Then let us not be outsiders. Please discover what employment opportunities might exist at this prestigious institution. In fact, I’m confident we can assist in creating the appropriate vacancies as needed.”
Part II: Dungeons and Dreamers
1
Coal
“I do miss the sight of that pretty, bent-over ass greeting us in the stable, but this will have to do.” The guardsman’s voice, reaching Coal through the thin walls of Czar’s stall, grated on his already dark mood. The clanking of metal bits the guards had been sorting earlier had sounded so much like the phantom scrape of chains that Coal had paused twice to brace his forehead on Czar’s shoulder and breathe through the flashes of pain and darkness. Shade had said time should snuff out nightmares, but time, plainly, had opposite plans when it came to Coal.
The one—the only—time the nightmares had quieted for two days was after Coal had coupled with Leralynn in the cave, the storm raging outside a harmony to the one exploding between them. Not a solution to be indulged in again, though Coal still held on to it in the privacy of his memories. But that was a month ago, and each day since, that precious lifeline thinned more and more.
Another man whistled. “You went and drew that yourself, Kreger? Quite handy with a pen when ’tis to your cock’s benefit, I see.”
Feet shuffled, and Kreger squawked indignantly, startling the horses. “Give it back, you bastard.”
“I will. But this beauty is meant to be shared. You aren’t the only one with an aching cock, you know.” The man laughed, raising his voice. “’Ey, Coal. I know you’re here. Come take yourself a look. If this doesn’t lift your mood, I swear you are a lost cause.”
Coal straightened from where he was cleaning Czar’s hooves—the stallion was liable to kick any of the stable hands who came within range, le
aving his care to Coal alone—and looked out from the stall. Two stocky dark-haired guards tussled over a scrap of paper, the taller holding it out of the shorter one’s reach. The pair picked a poor day for it—not that there were many days now that Coal didn’t feel his leash on violence straining to the breaking point. Waiting for half a reason to escape.
“Give it back to him and leave for your patrol,” Coal called, though it was a waste of breath. Until the damn dance was resolved, neither bastard was going anywhere. Fine.
Hoof pick still in hand, Coal strode out of Czar’s stall and ripped the offending sheet from the taller man’s hand. Midday sun slanted in through the high windows of the immaculate stable, catching a corner of the parchment. Coal was halfway to handing the loot back to its owner when the familiar lines of a girl’s face, sketched in easy pen strokes, leapt out of the shadows, gripping his stomach. Unfolding the parchment all the way, he stared at the unmistakable mock-up of Leralynn, her legs parted open to reveal a wet entrance, swollen with need. An entrance he knew all too well. The drawing didn’t come close to doing it justice. Just as it failed to capture Leralynn’s heaving, pink-tipped breasts, the memory of which was well burned into his mind.
Coal’s hand tightened on the page, darkness hovering at the edge of his vision. “Do you have more?” he asked, his words a cool distant noise at utter odds with the hot rush of blood filling his ears.
Kreger’s bloodshot eyes narrowed for a moment. “Maybe.” He licked his lips, a hint of a smile creeping onto his face. “In my barracks. But it will cost ya.”
The darkness was tinged red now. “Take me there,” Coal heard himself say, his voice a cracking whip, his body already in motion.
2
Lera
Sunlight streaking through the window of River’s study illuminates my graphite slate, tiny specks of dust hanging starlike in the light’s beam. I try to concentrate on mathematics. I really do. But with River looking over my shoulder, one wide, callused palm braced on the back of my chair, and the other flat on the writing desk, I can’t think over the heat of his body, his intoxicating male scent. Woodsy, mixed with soap and a hint of the chalk we’re using. This close to him, I hear the phantom song of the violin all over again, the stars rushing across the sky as River twirls me through the Ostera waltz. One two three. One two three. One two three.
