“Brokk, what can we help you with? Cesan here was just leaving.”
Brokk studied Cesan, his dark ambiance, much like his son’s, filling and suffocating the room. Bowing mockingly to Nei, Cesan strutted by them, Roque looked at his friend silently.
Warning, hot and sure, flared within Brokk. What had he just interrupted? A dark curiosity bloomed within Brokk, and he cleared his throat, pushing his thoughts aside.
“It’s...well, it’s about me punching Professor Iasan in the face during ability training.”
Nei’s lips curved slightly upward, her kind eyes waiting for more of an explanation but Roque stormed in front of Brokk, snapping, “An assault against a teacher can result in expulsion!”
Gnashing his teeth together, Brokk volleyed, “And pushing students to react in violence doesn’t need consequences? Sir, I beg you to listen to what I’m saying. Iasan isn’t teaching us. He is forcing us to always be on the defense, to always act with vengeance. To be weapons without compassion. To barely be human.”
Roque ran a hand through his tousled hair. “Iasan has his methods as we all do. He pushes you because he believes that you can achieve great things. He is brusque, stern, and disciplined, but he knows no other way. The tides of this world have been pushed into change with great effort from all of us. Without challenge, there is no growth. It is the younger generation that will dictate whether the dream and purpose of the Academy lives on. For it to live on, it must encompass your soul, your beliefs, and your dreams. It once did, did it not?”
Brokk stood awkwardly, the weight of Roque’s words falling on his shoulders. He did once, as a young boy. Now, being seventeen and on the brink of entering his manhood, he had let go of his dreams of a full life pinned on childish whims. The last twelve years had ensured that. Brokk sought out one thing above all else. The truth. The truth of his past, the truth of the Academy. The truth of the hearts of the Faes and Strattons and how they upheld their students.
A flash of sympathy crossed their leader’s eyes, and he rested a strong hand on Brokk’s shoulder. “You will understand fully one day. With all dreams come sacrifice. With all freedom comes some form of a cage. It is the lesser of two evils that we all must learn to live with.”
Brokk cast his eyes toward the floor, unable to find his words.
He saw Nei’s sharp gaze flickered between them before Roque murmured, “You are dismissed with a warning. But if I hear of this sort of behavior again, or you are brought to me, then there will be consequences.”
Heat flushed his cheeks, and Brokk dipped his head. “Thank you.”
With that, he flew from the room. Clicking the door shut, fast low voices danced at him from behind it, and that strong sense of warning pulled at his gut again. Ripping himself away, he sauntered down the hallway. He needed to find Memphis. Something wild and dark was churning for them all in the shadows. He could feel it.
Brokk tried to cage his galloping pulse, but every step, every thought brought him closer to his conclusion. The Faes and Strattons were hiding something at the very heart of the Academy, and he had every intention of finding out exactly what it was.
Chapter Two
Adair
He was transfixed by the way she moved. Locks of her black hair trickled forward. Her slender body was animated as Emory was lost in what she was saying. The words were a distant hum, never truly reaching him, but wrapping his mind with their warmth. It felt so good to be talked to without the condescension from his parents or from the withering looks of fellow students.
The afternoon air brushed his cheek, bringing him back to his pressing thoughts. As usual, he was completely and utterly at Emory Fae’s mercy. She radiated with life, and Adair clung to it like a lifeline, desperately and all at once. Chewing his inner lip, he tried to slow his hammering heart, his clammy palms. To suffocate the urge to lean over and run his thumb over her lower lip, to cup her face, to lower his lips on hers and just feel what it would be like, to know the possibilities they held together.
Like every other day of his life, he pushed his roaring emotions down deep, chaining them in the restraints of his very core. The afternoon had passed with their parents going over maps and possible borders his father would go to next with his brainless group.
Roque and his father constantly butting heads.
Nei and his mother, Bresslin, talking quietly to themselves.
Him and Emory had sat in the back, watching and ever dutiful.
But as always, he was watching her. Glimpses of her full lips quirking to the side in her crooked smile. How she tucked her long ebony hair behind her ear. How her eyes reminded him of the forest at night, deep and full of secrets. How when she was excited or mad, her high cheekbones flushed deeply. Her laugh. Her scowl. Her stubbornness. Her, entirely.
Breathing in the deep scent of summer, he tried to relax as they sat on the ledge of the grey boulder they had scaled. He knew, with every passing day, the ownership of his heart was being whittled away. A slow warmth spread through him at the thought, because when it came to him and Emory, there was no other way he wanted his story to be written. The first time they had met, he had known - they were destined. Her light had always complimented his darkness, and he was, in every sense, entranced by her.
“Adair?”
Snapping out of his thoughts, he stole a glance at her and faltered, looking ahead.
The sun sat lazily in the sky, and time seemed to stop, each stolen brush of fingers and sly smile tucked away for them both. Emory sought out the comfort of her longest friend. He was her confidant. Who else could relate to what it felt like to uphold their family’s reputations? The pressure, the constant scrutiny. He cringed internally, echoes of his father’s criticisms filling him.
You are the best and the strongest, Adair. We are elite. Better than these fools who occupy this place. You will understand, my son. There is more to life than a teenage boy’s desires. You will see that you deserve to rule. To be mighty. To grow out of this place.
Adair sighed. He yearned for Emory to see past his facades, see past his ability, see past their friendship, past their families, and recognize that she was the most important person to him. Above his parents and this school.
To realize that Adair had always loved her.
The bustle of the Academy had quieted, classes being resumed, and the forest that surrounded them had slowed in the haze of the afternoon, except for the gentle tousle of the wind. To him, Kiero was endless, the Academy acting as his prison. He yearned for more, to see the world, to experience what it had to offer him. To spend his days challenging himself, finding adventure and never stopping, never looking back. Not being a puppet for a life he had never chose for himself.
Adair sighed. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”
Emory gravitated slightly closer, only an inch, but to him, it felt like his skin was doused in flames. He clenched his hands, stopping himself right there.
Breathe.
“What did you take away from the meeting?”
Adair blew air through his teeth. “That my dad is a prat.” Her eyebrows shot into her hairline as she stifled a choked laugh. Adair muttered, “Oh, come off it, Em. I know you agree.”
Her silence was answer enough.
“He won’t stop, you know, until he has what he wants. That’s what I took from the meeting today, Em. That our families are becoming more divided.”
She huffed. “But what’s the point now? Why fight about what kind of freedom people have the right to? Our parents have been best friends for over a decade. What would come in-between that?”
Jealously. Power. Status. Greed. Expectation.
“Things change, Em. Sometimes, there are things people can’t come back from.”
A shadow flickered across her face as she sucked in both cheeks. She mused, “Your dad wants to build a new monarchy. My parents want to uphold the gains they have made, not by force, not by titles. We are the peacekeepers, the protectors of the borders
. But what exactly will that mean for us?”
Adair wanted nothing more than to fold her in his arms and whisper that it would be okay. That they would be okay. He didn’t move, wrapping his arms around his knees.
She’s not yours. Not yours.
His emotions were vicious, his gut twisting, and his ears burned. He had never been one for knowing how to navigate being honest about his feelings. Three years ago, he had tried, and like most things, Adair tried to make good of it. Withered and burned, her rejection still stung him. But there wasn’t one day that passed that he hadn’t wanted more. That he didn’t dream of it.
Hooves thudded in the distance, rolling across the forest like disjointed thunder. Both of their heads snapped up, the hazy afternoon spell over them broken.
“What the...” Emory breathed, standing fast.
Adair stilled, everything within him becoming quiet. There was no movement, but the noise grew, rolling toward them like a wave crashing to shore. Standing slowly, his hands flexed by his sides, brushing against his ability churning beneath his skin. Then, there was a flash of deep green, and their visitors made themselves clear. Fifty stallions pushed toward the Academy, galloping under the sigil of broken steel and a churning sea.
Both he and Emory were already running, curses flowing from him. The Shattered Isles. The Shattered Isles.
They both reacted in time of each other. Scaling the hillside, Adair’s muscles screamed with the sudden movement. Pins and needles made his legs feel numb, but he pushed, sprinting in between the various buildings in a blur. There could only be one reason the Shattered Isles would come here.
Emory was his shadow, her sharp curses thrown in every direction. Adair sucked in humid air, his lungs feeling clotted with the thickness of it. The world remained oblivious to the fact that their nonexistent gates were being charged by people that were bred for war, for the bloodlust and the thrill of the fight. By people who, Adair knew for certain, would not play fair.
He and Emory were about twenty yards from the main building, their curt breaths marking their tempo as they pushed faster. Men and women’s voices floated behind them, their catcalls and untamed hollers chasing on their heels.
Ten yards.
Adair’s ability floated around him like a cloak, begging for release, to slip into someone else’s mind and overtake them. To fight, to get help, to do something.
Five yards.
Emory flew past him, wanting to reach the door first, her determination plain. He desperately tried to shut out the sound of the hooves booming behind them. If she was afraid, Adair couldn’t see it, and he admired her for that. They should be afraid.
She collided with the door, scrambling as she shoved it open. Breathlessly, they skidded to a stop, taking in the empty hallway.
She panted. “Come on. We must find them. Now.”
His hands shook slightly, and he looked at her, not needing to ask. Exhaling, he let go of the restraints, and with each snapping cord, his ability billowed from him. He always imagined it like smoke, spilling from him and searching for what his heart sought. What his soul sought. His strength wasn’t one made from pureness; it wasn’t a gift. It was one of darkness, of control, of desire. One that he had at his constant disposal. One that Adair couldn’t get enough of.
He was lost in his darkness; in the hunt of the person he was searching for. There was no distinction between his ability and man, not in this. A trigger flared in his mind, as his ability brushed against Nei and Roque’s energies.
Consume, consume, consume.
Pulling at him, his ability drowned Adair in want. Having the power to possess another’s will was intoxicating. He could feel it expand, circling around them like a predator stalking their prey - sniffing and weighing its options, right before landing the killing blow. Adair pulled back, slamming into the present moment.
“The Library,” he wheezed, his lungs crackling.
Emory took off, her footfalls echoing down the hallway, not looking back once. Pumping his arms, he followed, seething low under his breath.
Low laughter echoed behind them through the doorway. He swore, stumbling as his knees grazed the unrelenting floor. He felt the skin on his kneecap tear, warm blood trickling down his leg. Pushing himself back up, his legs shook from the defiance of gravity, but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t.
Do not look back. Do. Not.
A sharp tugging sensation caught his left wrist, and gravity left him once more as he slammed into the cold stone floor. Black dots tinged his vision, threatening to pull him into unconsciousness as the cutting taste of iron filled his mouth.
“Adair!”
Emory’s scream seemed distant, like he was below water being pulled further away from the world above.
Throwing his weight forward, he scrambled, nails breaking as his fingers tried to find something to hold on to. Pain, hot and consuming, surged up his shoulder and down his side. Someone cackled, and he vaguely realized that he was being dragged backward.
Rolling, he looked at the leather whip cutting into his skin, crimson blood trickling down his wrist. Adair looked to where the group of pirates waited for him. Their leader held the end of the whip, his smirk holding the promise of malice. His pale green hair was braided back, his deep eyes flashing as Adair stopped before him, gasping and shaking. A boy around seventeen peeked around his father, his emerald hair glistening like a gem, his pale freckled skin making his eyes look too big for his face.
Adair begged with his eyes, for mercy, for the boy to do something.
Jutting his chin out, the boy shook his head so fast Adair almost didn’t catch the movement.
Pain flared in his chest as Adair felt a heavy boot crunch against his sternum, pinning him flush to the cold hallway floor. Gasping, he tried to get up, to move, and the man only pressed down harder until Adair was sure he was going to break his bones.
“My, my, this place is very interesting, isn’t it?” The man’s voice was dry and full of authority, and he flashed Adair his gold teeth, searching his face. He leaned closer, “Now what should I do with you?”
Adair couldn’t breathe. The walls seemed closer, the hallway blurring. Shouts filled the hallway, and Adair looked up to those leering faces. Teeth snapping, laughter clawing at Adair’s edges. Their taunts. Their insults. And the boy standing in the middle of the throng, doing nothing but watching him as the distant words became a sharp humming in his senses. The humming becoming a madness.
And he snapped.
Adair’s ability shattered through him, and with its inky claws, he sunk them deeply in his victim, relishing in how quickly the boy’s mind bent to his will. Adair flashed open his new perspective and looked at his form still pinned on the floor; his eyes rolled into the back of his head. The man paused for the briefest of seconds at Adair’s lack of struggle.
The boy’s voice was smooth, and Adair started to laugh slowly. The man turned to look at his son, his back stiff. Only to find that his once emerald eyes were now pitch black.
“What the...?”
Adair didn’t wait; he didn’t care that he was outnumbered. He launched himself toward the man, aiming low and throwing all his weight forward.
The man dodged his attack easily. Chuckling darkly, he said, “Oh, boys, we have a fighter. Shall we entertain his idea?” Mocking laughter rippled around the group, and the leader lazily took in his son’s imposter. “You need to leave my son out of this. How about a fair fight in the body that is yours?”
Adair felt the boy’s thin lips pull upward. “You won’t fight fair, why should I? You wouldn’t dare hurt him. Now tell me why you’re here. What do you want?”
The man paused, tilting his head as he assessed him. Adair tensed, his muscles pulling as he prepared to fight. The man bared his teeth, making Adair flinch. Before he could say anything, a low hissing filled the hall.
Spears of ice flew past Adair, lodging themselves firmly in the man’s cloak, the force throwing him backward and pi
nning him to the wall.
“Try touching my son again, and I will make sure I don’t purposefully miss.”
Bresslin Stratton was a force to be reckoned with as she strode forward, the group of rovers trying to block their leader from her wrath. She smirked, her gaze as cutting as a sword, frost spreading down her fingertips and hands.
“Wrong answer.” His mother was fluid as water, as ice shattered their trance. Ducking, Adair let go and slammed back into his own body, scrambling to get out of the way.
“Adair!” Emory ran up to him, dropping to her knees and clutching his bloodied hands. “Are you okay? I went... I got...” Stopping, she gasped as she looked at his open wounds from the leather whip, his blood dripping onto the floor.
“Em, I’m okay. It’s going to be okay.”
Adair cupped her face for the briefest moment, breathing hard, before strong hands wrenched him up. His father’s face was contorted in anger when he said, “What did he do to you? Adair, what did he do?”
Spittle flew from Cesan’s lips. Emory blanched behind them, unaware that Adair’s blood was smeared on her cheek. Cesan shoved him back, his silent rage rolling in waves.
“Dad, no!” Adair’s voice cracked and landed on deaf ears as his father stalked to where the intruders were now pinned by his mother’s enchanted ice. Bresslin paced back and forth, her cutting gaze making their visitors wary and, for the first time since arriving, silent.
Lurching at his father, Adair found himself grappling at thin air, his vision spinning violently.
One more step. One. More.
Everything happened in clips of violence.
Cesan stalked up to the rover, not giving him a chance to explain, before bones cracked and more blood was spilt. Fists against jaws, might against might.
Adair tripped, landing hard on his knees. Yells, protests, and the one voice who could stop his father’s wrath - “Cesan, stop.”
Roque Fae strode past, Nei followed at his heels, her expression dark and unyielding.
Heir of Lies (Black Dawn Series Book 1) Page 3
