Autumn Rose: A Dark Heroine Novel

by Abigail Gibbs

  “Freak! Oi, freak!”

  The call came from the other side of the quad. I told myself to keep walking.

  “Fur-reak!”

  I closed my eyes briefly. Valerie Danvers. I was surprised she hadn’t approached me earlier, considering the new material the revelation concerning my title must have brought her.

  “Hey, useless! You let that man die on purpose, didn’t you? You basically killed a man! Just like the last guardian killed Kurt!”

  Keep going. Ignore her.

  “Oi, Duchess! You too much of a snob to talk to me now? Duchess, where’s your granny? Go on, tell us where your granny is.”

  Keep walking. She will get tired of it eventually if you ignore her.

  “C’mon, don’t be a spoilsport, I only asked a question.”

  I bounded up the steps to the field, walking as fast as I could.

  “Is your granny dead, freak? Did they murder her?”

  My breathing shortened. I was almost running.

  “Did they kill her ’cause she’s a freak like you?”

  My tongue ran across dry lips, blood hot.

  “Fucking witch, she deserved to die.”

  Sticks and stones, she always said. Sticks and stones.

  “Mortana!” The curse left my lips before I could stop it, accompanied by a writhing ball of molten energy that had been stewing in the sweat of my hot palm, fighting against my clawed fingers to find its way to her skin. As I closed my hand around empty air, I felt hot blood run like a drink down my throat.

  But the spell never reached her chest. A shield sprang from midair, reaching over Valerie and her friends as a globe that rippled as my magic met with it. The curse, blue in the air but black as it fanned out across the shield, searched for a hole in the defense; finding none, it surrendered itself with the sound of a shattering glass, and gradually, the barrier faded into nothingness.

  There were gasps and even a few screams, and I knew that all over the field, people had sprung to their feet in shock. To the left of us, the headmaster stood frozen to the spot, extremely pale and sweating. The teaching assistants on the other side stared at Valerie and her friends. Nobody moved but the prince, who lowered his outstretched scarred hand and glowered at me. I tried to look at him. I tried to form some expression resembling shock or remorse on my face, but it would not come as I watched Valerie, feeling sparks jump between my fingers.

  “Go,” he snapped as though I was a servant to be bid about. My eyes flicked toward him and straight back to Valerie. I did not move.

  “That’s an order, Duchess.”

  Courtesy in respect to rank, loyalty to Athenea, strict adherence to the Terra Treaties.

  My feet began to move. I tore my gaze away from Valerie and watched the ground in front of me instead. Out of the corner of my eye I could see her square up, her fists clenching.

  “Don’t so much as move an inch toward her, Valerie.”

  My eyes snapped up to the prince, and his expression softened. I focused on him and not the other students as I walked, faster and faster, wanting to break out into a run and get myself out of there, because I was afraid of what my anger would do next. I tripped down the steps and heard the thud of the prince’s feet behind me.

  She deserves to die.

  My breathing hitched, and the anger exploded against my ribs and sank into the pit of my stomach. If he hadn’t been there, a personification of Athenea’s authority, I would have turned straight around and finished her off.

  All of a sudden, the prince grabbed my hand and tugged me along the path behind the hall building. He led me all the way around until he found a secluded corner and, without noticing how muddy the ground was, pulled me onto the grass.

  “She’s not worth it,” I heard him say as I was spun around so my back was against the wall and he faced me, arms folded, lips pursed. I registered the blackening anger in his eyes, but it was nothing compared to my own. My breathing would not slow and I could still feel a burning in my palm where sparks leaped around. Dancing on my tongue were several curses that would at least put her in the hospital.

  “Autumn, you’re not in control, you need to—”

  Animated voices sounded around the corner and he hushed midsentence, waited for them to pass, then switched to Sagean.

  “Aclean. Calm down. Take deep breaths.”

  I closed my eyes, forcing air into my lungs, waiting for the anger to seep away. I tried not to think of her; I tried not to think of anything, to become numb, but it was impossible with the sound of his breathing, husky and more erratic than my own. Listening to it, I felt the fury ebb away to be replaced with shame. Shame, then fear, as the full realization of what I had just done hit me.

  The previous guardian at Kable had been banished for accidentally wounding—fatally—a student. But I had intentionally tried to injure a human. The Terra set out a far worse punishment for such a crime. Death.

  I slowly opened my eyes. He stood in the same position, but this time his composure had disappeared.

  “Are you out of your mind?” he suddenly exploded after a minute of silence. His arms unfolded and flew into the air beside him as he took a step toward me. I shrank away into the wall. “Do you have any grasp on what you just tried to do?”

  Each time I inhaled, my breath split in two and my lower lip began to tremble as I shook my head. “It was an accident, she provoked me—”

  “How long has she been bullying you?” His right hand slammed against the brick wall beside my head and his face moved closer to mine.

  I glanced at his splayed fingers nervously. “W-what?”

  “You’re a duchess; you were brought up to not lose control so easily. She must have been filing away at your patience for you to do this. How long?”

  I kept shaking my head, looking at his shoes to avoid the fire in his eyes. “A year, maybe.”

  “Since you arrived?! Why haven’t you reported it? I heard what she said. That was more than bullying, it was racism!”

  “It’s nothing.”

  “Nothing?” he repeated, raising his left hand and closing his forefinger and thumb so they were almost pinching. “Autumn, you came this close to blowing her to pieces! This close to breaking the Terra! I won’t report you, but if that curse had hit her there would be no sheltering you.”

  I blinked back the tears in my eyes, feeling a mixture of relief and horror, because his words were true. There was no hiding when the Terra were breached. There was no mercy in the law courts, because they were the only thread that suspended us in a state of peace with the humans.

  “I know,” I whispered. “I know.”

  He closed his eyes briefly and groaned, placing his other hand on the wall on the other side of my head. “Do you have a death wish? Because what you just did makes it seem like you do.”

  “I—I . . .” I couldn’t answer and neither could I shake my head. Instead, I ceased my attempt at holding back the tears. They slithered down my cheeks and plummeted as I hung my head.

  “Autumn?”

  My bisected breathing became rasps, and the rasps sobs. There was no stopping the misery now. I knew that much. It was an insatiable beast, but its touch had become silken and light over the summer as hope had surfaced. But that had been a deception; soft strokes to entice. It was back. Yet. Though it was a cold demise, it was not a product of mine. No. It had been caused by him. The prince.

  “Autumn Rose? Tell me you’re not being serious?”

  Now that brief moment of flattery in the car the week before disgusted me, because it was he who had dragged up so many things that I had learned were better buried, for my own well-being and sanity.

  “Please?”

  I could not say anything.

  “Autumn, a death wish? Do you mean you want to take your own life? Mortalitas voltana?” His face crumpled and his hands closed around my shoulders, shaking me slightly.

  I raised one shoulder, intending to shrug, to look nonchalant, but couldn’
t summon the energy to do any more, to deny what he said.

  “No? You’ve thought about it then?”

  I gave a small nod.

  “B-but why? What is it? Is it your grandmother?” He shook me even more and when I didn’t answer, pulled me into a crushing embrace. I sprang back before my sobs heightened, tripping over my own feet to put as much distance between us as possible. “Autumn? What is it? Tell me!”

  It’s you! I wanted to scream, and I would have if it had been completely true. But it wasn’t. It was everything.

  “E-Extermino . . . Not saving that human man . . . V-Valerie . . . Your stupid orders about my grandmother! I hate your stupid orders!”

  Through my blurred, frantically blinking eyes I could see him watching me in horror as I backpedaled, summoning the magic still brewing after Valerie’s words, and took to the air.

  Let me be numb again, I thought. Let me bury the depression as best I can. Burying is better than this.

  The wind slapped against my cheeks, bitter and stinging. But behind my closed eyelids, it was not air making contact with my cheek, but a hand. Once, twice. Hard enough to leave an imprint.

  Stiffen that upper lip, child! Kindness only comes when you are strong, because when you grow up the world will fall on your shoulders! You are my heir; how dare you cry? How dare you be so weak? How dare you lose your mask?

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Fallon

  I did not let out a breath until she was high in the air, a retreating speck. Around me I was aware of voices, incoherent interference in the distance, as I struggled to switch my mind back to English—whether those voices were those of human minds or tongues, I could not tell. I could barely even think.

  Suicide. Any fool could see that she was not happy. But there was a huge, cavernous cut in emotion between unhappiness and . . . and . . . that. Between dejection and despair; between discontent and utterly losing the will to even live.

  A surge of adrenaline passed through me. There was no way she should be alone; not in the state she was in now.

  I tossed my bag from my shoulder; it disappeared before it reached the ground. I was supposed to have a math lesson that afternoon, and catch-up afterward, and leaving would mean abandoning my car until the next day, but none of that mattered. School wasn’t why I was here.

  Knowing she wouldn’t hang about, I took to the air in pursuit, praying she intended to go home. But when I’d risen far above the campus, there was no sign of her, and when I expanded my consciousness out, hoping to touch upon her own, I found nothing. Making a split-second decision, I headed over the river, wondering how she could have disappeared in less than half a minute.

  When the town came into view, I searched for the church and graveyard we had passed when I had dropped her off. To my complete relief, frantically walking through the graveyard was the young duchess. I waited until she had passed through the gate in the dry stone wall, and then dropped to the ground behind the church tower.

  She didn’t hang around once she reached the lane—though she didn’t push herself as far as her magic would allow but moderated herself to a jog. I took after her as quietly as I could; cursing the crunch of the gravel path and opting for the grass verge instead, weaving between the graves. All around, wilting flowers lay in mildewed jars.

  I halted at the gate and waited for her to reach the top of the hill at the path’s end, where I could just make out the cottages and their tiny doors giving way to the vast branches of a maple tree. When she crossed the summit, I broke out into a jog, too, and quickly emerged at the turning she had directed us to the week before. On the other side of the road, I could see her diving between the unruly shrubs in her yard and hear the slam of a front door.

  I let out a sigh of relief, but it wasn’t enough. I couldn’t let her be alone, not with those thoughts running through her mind.

  Yet when I reached the opposite sidewalk, something made me pause. There were no gates, or guards, or lodges, but I was acutely aware, as I passed the sign bearing the avenue’s name, that this was her territory and that I was trespassing. It was like being a kid again, trying to steal apples from the crown orchards; they were not fenced and we were never told not to go there, but we knew that what we were doing was wrong.

  I took a few cautious steps and glanced around nervously. It had been a long time since I had walked around a neighborhood alone and unguarded.

  I stopped when I reached the edge of her front yard. It wasn’t an unpleasant house—it was quite charming in a small, rustic sort of way—but it was hard to believe that the duchy of England, with all their wealth and property, lived here; much easier to imagine the field day the paparazzi would have if they knew the details of their lifestyle choice.

  I gripped the pointed post of the white picket fence. It was common knowledge the House of Al-Summers had always rejected pomp, but this . . . this I had never expected.

  Then I noticed something that made my blood run cold. In the driveway were two cars.

  It took a minute for my heart to stop racing. I knew her parents worked away in London. It had never for one moment occurred to me that they might actually be home for her.

  I shook my head and let out a sharp breath. She was not alone. I could go. Yet at the same time, it seemed like a perfect opportunity. Human or not, her parents were nobility, and I would have to introduce myself at some point. It would be an advantageous move.

  But even as I placed my hand on the gate, I knew that I could not do it. I could not face them, look them in the eyes and shake her father’s hand. Guilt—for now, at least—prevented me from intruding upon their lives any further.

  I looked up at the house, half expecting, half hoping—but knowing it would be better if I didn’t—to see a flash of gold. There was nothing.

  She is safe now. Her parents will take care of her.

  And so I let go of the gate, turned, and walked away.

  “If your mind is anything to go by, I’d say you’d been to dinner with a vampire, and you were the main course.”

  I did not reply. Behind my closed eyelids all was dark.

  “Fal, I’m your cousin. What is it?”

  “You remember Autumn Rose as a child, right? How would you describe her?”

  “Confident, pretentious, bossy maybe. Good talker.”

  “Yes. She was. But that is not the wreck I’m at school with. That is not the girl we came here for.”

  There was a pause. “It’s this place, Fal. It’s godforsaken.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Autumn

  My parents were home, and there was no faking illness with the shrewd eyes of my mother attuned to any pattern she didn’t believe colds could muster. A cold that miraculously healed in time for work the previous weekend only to return exactly a week later was not a believable cold; that was why I was up with the bright break of the next day and in school just as the caretakers were unlocking the doors.

  The sun had not yet risen high enough to warm the bench I sat down on, so I stretched the tips of my toes beyond the shade and let my legs bask in the growing heat as the light worked its way up toward my skirt. I slid a little lower, letting my head rest on the back of the bench.

  I closed my eyes. He wouldn’t be here for another twenty minutes at least, and it would be half an hour before the buses arrived.

  Why did he bring that up yesterday? It made me uncomfortable; more than uncomfortable. I was admitting a stranger into the innermost workings of my mind; and as much as he obviously thought to the contrary, we were strangers. Playing as children to pass the long hours at balls did not make us friends. I didn’t even properly remember the visits before I was twelve, and I had not been the only child of high birth to move in such circles at that time. There were dozens of us. Yet in just two weeks he was privy to things I had not divulged to a single human at Kable. How does that work?

  I summoned a globule of water, about the size of a pea, into my hand and let it skate across my palm, pe
rfectly intact, and down to the base of my wrist. It was soothing—a trick my grandmother had used to get me to sleep when I first went to live with her.

  I felt the clouds close over the sun and reluctantly opened my eyes, thinking it must be time to find somewhere to hide out until homeroom. I blinked a few times, before the globule burst and I scrambled to my feet.

  Leaning against a nearby bench was the prince. The remnants of a small smile on his lips disintegrated as our eyes met and he began the stuttered apologies of someone caught red-handed.

  I dropped into a low, cautious curtsy, unsure of how else to react.

  “Don’t,” he muttered. “Just don’t.”

  Instead of standing back up, I sank onto the bench.

  He sat down beside me. “Tell me you wouldn’t do it?” he asked in a near-whisper.

  I shrugged my shoulders.

  “Have you seen someone about this? Had therapy?”

  “Right after she died. It didn’t help.”

  “But it’s got to be better than this. Look what happened yesterday!”

  I said nothing for a while, resting my forearms on my thighs and leaning forward; that way I couldn’t see him. “Have you heard of something called coping ugly?” His silence answered me. “Sometimes things—and emotions—that might otherwise be bad are the only way we can cope.”

  I briefly glanced back to find him shaking his head.

  “But how can you still let it affect you? Why not start looking forward instead of back?”

  “It’s not just her.”

  “Then what else is it?”

  I remained mute. He sighed before I heard the bench creaking in protest as he leaned forward; out of the corner of my eye, I could see his arms, clad in the thin wool of his jumper, just inches from my own, bare.

  “You have a job.” It was a statement, not a question. “Runs in the family, huh?” He let out a chuckle then stopped abruptly. “St. Sapphire’s was lucky to have your grandmother as a teacher. She was one of the best.”