There was silence throughout the room as Tadeas continued, “That’s what I thought. Now, since you have obviously done something or are doing something that would’ve made your father leave his eldest daughter severed from his alliance, I am here to help. I am a man of change, and of vision. I do not recognize any treaty of the past that was constructed, and my people will raid and sail wherever their hearts’ desire.” His eyes narrowed. “My people also recognize me as their King, and they respect my command. I am a reasonable man as well and don’t want to start another war. I am here to see if you can gain my respect, and we can find new terms to move forward with.”
“You’re a reasonable man but have insulted everything we have worked toward... Can we even gain your respect?” Cesan sneered, malice dripping off every word.
“I could move forward with a man of similar vision to the Shattered Isles.”
“No.” Roque’s voice quivered. “I refuse to go back to regency.”
Tadeus said, “You would allow your people to burn? For Kiero to fall into ruin? People will learn to fear the King across the Sea, Roque, if you are deemed a weaker man than me.”
Nei cut in, “Allow us, Tadeas, to gather our thoughts. At least allow us the honor of hosting you during your stay.”
Memphis’s balance was tipped as he slammed back into his own mind, breathing hard.
“What did you hear, Memphis? What’s happening?” Emory asked.
Swallowing hard, he looked at his friends, shaking his head. “Let’s go back to my room. We can talk there.”
They looked at him with pale faces, before they shuffled back the way they came, Memphis reeling.
Kings. War. Unrest. The Faes are hiding something. Something that broke alliances.
Goosebumps prickled across his skin, and Memphis couldn’t shake the knowledge that the Faes are hiding something; Brokk had been right. What secret would be worth sailing across the Black Sea for?
A powerful one.
Chapter Four
Adair
It was late into the night as Adair walked down the hallway. His body ached with every movement, dried blood cracking underneath his shattered nails, but it was nothing compared to how his heart broke with every passing second.
They had talked for hours, going over what Memphis had heard, every possible outcome, every possible way that it would change their lives. Emory’s strong reassurances that her parents wouldn’t allow anyone to change what they had built, the safety within the Academy.
But Adair saw through her façade and the fear that lingered there. Gritting his teeth, he slowly made his way back to his bunker where he was certain either a message from his father was waiting or his father himself.
The low lanterns on the wall lit his way, as the seconds morphed into minutes, and finally, Adair reached that looming, familiar door. Gripping the handle, he swung the door inward.
His room was simplistic, the bed tucked in the corner, his books piling on his bookcase. Other than that, there was nothing to indicate what Adair Stratton held close to his heart. Locking his eyes on the ivory envelope tucked on his pillow, he moved in a trance, and with trembling hands, he read the flawless handwriting before him:
Tomorrow, noon, in the Library – C.
His father was never a man of many words.
Adair flopped on his bed in a defeated heap. This was bad. Over the years, he couldn’t bring himself to acknowledge to anyone, let alone talk to anyone about his father’s ravings. About how Roque was weak and his father’s wild dream about Adair one day becoming King. The Academy was a fool’s dream. About the yelling matches, the hidden bruises, and ashamed tears. Adair had believed he would rise to rule with Emory by his side. In believing that, he had embarrassed himself beyond repair with the girl he loved most.
His father’s vision was an arranged marriage—a union that would make the world tremble and finally bow. The Faes and Strattons building the monarchy...
As he grew, Adair had let that dream idle into embers and had pushed more energy in repairing his and Emory’s friendship.
He was feared amongst his peers, an outcast, a monster amongst the gifted.
Taking a shaky breath, Adair rolled over, covering his eyes, begging for sleep to take him. And like every other day, he reminded himself how lucky he was to have the friends he did and the small freedoms he could relish in before he was whisked away into oblivion.
The trees around him were weeping blood. Adair stood transfixed as he spun around, taking in the inky black bark, stained by the ruby droplets. There were no sounds at all, like the entire world was holding its breath.
“Hello?”
He took a tentative step forward, the mossy ground sinking under his weight. There was a strange dampness in the air, thick and cool. The forest was never ending, and Adair was at the heart of it. A high-pitched giggle cut through the air, and Adair jumped, twisting around.
A woman with ebony hair stood behind him, her eye sockets stretching wide into deep empty holes. She reached toward his heart, sharp teeth being revealed as her lips were pinned back into a permanent grin.
“It’s so beautiful, isn’t it?”
He breathed out, “W-who are you?”
The woman tilted her head slowly to the side, assessing his question. Another giggle erupted from his right side, and she locked her gaze on whoever laughed.
After a beat, she whispered silkily, “Your future, if you choose.”
Adair had slowly trod backward, his back now flush against the wet bark. The woman sauntered up to him, her features contorting between human and something else.
“Don’t you want to be powerful, Adair Stratton? Accepted? Loved? The son who is never enough, the student that is feared. Well, I see you, and I do not fear you.”
His heart raged against his ribcage, trying to break free as Adair whispered, “You’re wrong.”
Giggles erupted all around him in the shadows, devouring his words. The woman was now face-to-face with him, a pale hand against his cheek, forcing him to look at her.
Her breath was hot against his skin. “You would be enough, if you accepted the darkness within you instead of burying it.”
Looking down, the ground started to shift and churn, dissolving into a thick smoke, and the world exploded into whispered promises that sunk their sharp claws within his heart.
The woman tilted her head, whispering, “Find us, Adair. Find us.”
She stepped back, spreading her arms wide, and closing her eyes, she fell into the smoke. It hissed and sparked, embers flying up toward the sky.
Shaking, Adair lurched forward, but not before he realized he was soaked with blood. Crying, he shook his head, whispering, “Not real, this is not real.”
Blood smeared over his pale skin as he tried to wipe it away, but it piled on thicker and thicker. It ran down his face, and as he looked up through the iron and salt, he realized that the world around him was consumed in flames, devoured and lost to the smoke and ash. As he stood there transfixed, Adair realized that he was in the heart of the fire.
And he was laughing.
Lurching out of the nightmare, Adair shivered in a cold sweat, his mouth opening and closing as he shifted back into reality.
Just a dream, it was just a dream.
Running a hand through his black hair, gulping down air, and trying to steady his nerves, he closed his eyes, and beneath his lids, the woman waited for him, her sharp, angular features and beckoning calls.
He muttered to himself, “It was not real. Not. Real.”
Shaking his head, he jumped to his feet and began pacing his small room, he tried to stop the ice that was flowing through his veins and the odd exhilaration that awakened his senses. It was just a nightmare. That felt exceedingly real. He was probably under too much stress, and this was him reacting to it.
He wasn’t a monster.
He didn’t want more.
Clutching his face, Adair breathed into his palms, each breath wi
ping away the darkened forest. Slowly, he lowered his hands, taking in his room. It was the same as before, nothing changed.
“It was just a bad dream,” he stated to the air.
The quiet of the night pressed back to him, and he resigned to the fact that he was not getting any more sleep tonight.
Numbly, he walked over to his dresser, pulling out his normal outfit of black pants, a shirt, and a jacket, and swiftly peeled his soaked clothes off him. Refreshed, he slipped out of his room, clicking the door softly shut.
Through the bay windows, tinges of dawn peaked over the horizon, and Adair set off down the hallway, knowing exactly where he wanted to be.
He passed the classrooms and suites, basically jogging now, the walls feeling too close, too small. Too much like a cage. He passed the surveillance room, the different cameras capturing almost every ounce of the school.
Dawn was his favorite time of day, the edges of the night being chased away, the world still and silent while everyone was still lost in their dreams.
Exploding through the front doors, he breathlessly jogged to the edge of the hill, where a small escarpment overlooked the surrounding landscapes. Scaling it easily, he hung his feet over the edge and settled in as the sun greeted another day. The Draken Mountains to the east were bathed in golden hues with tinges of pink bleeding into the sky. Dew still clung to the blades of grass, as Adair watched the world reawaken. Bit by bit, the light overtook everything.
“Couldn’t sleep either, then?”
Cursing, he jumped, nearly falling off the ledge. To his right, the teenage rover sat on the same ledge, his emerald green hair looking more vibrant in the light. He jutted out his chin, looking forward, as he stated, “I’m sorry about my Dad.”
Adair appraised him, seeing if he was being sarcastic or not. Lifting a dark eyebrow, he said, “He’s not great at making the best first impressions.”
The boy’s face spilt into a lopsided smile, and his eyes lit up. “So, you’re not afraid of us then? The whole sail here, my father prepared me for you bunch of sticklers.” His face twisted as he mimicked his father’s voice, “They aren’t like us, Marquis. Be prepared for the worst, Marquis.”
Barking out a laugh, Adair quipped, “Afraid? Most people are afraid of me. Try being the only one at your school with the ability to possess people. But no, I’m not afraid of you.”
The boy faltered, looking forward. “Only the change my father is bringing to Kiero?”
Adair rolled his shoulders, turning his attention back to the sunrise. “Change isn’t a bad thing, if it’s met with good intentions.”
“Ah yes, good intentions.” The boy chuckled. “I was brought into this life taught to take what I wanted without a second glance, to always be moving. To dance with the edge of danger, and above all, do what’s best for me. I don’t think anyone from the Shattered Isles knows what that even means.” He shook his head, standing. “Anyways, I will leave you now to your brooding thoughts.”
Pressing his lips together Adair ate his retort taking in the other boy, his interest blooming.
He lifted the corners of his mouth with a wicked glint in his eyes. “I’m Marquis, by the way. I’m sure I will be seeing you soon.” Gracefully, he bent in a mock bow, and then with that, he was striding back up to the Academy, hands buried in his pockets. He didn’t look back at Adair once.
Shaking his head, Adair pushed the strange boy out of his mind. He had more important things to focus on. Soaking in his final moments of peace, Adair hungrily watched as the soft hues turned into a beautiful array of fiery brilliance. The sun peaked higher in the sky, and closing his eyes, sunlight bathed his skin, flushing his cheeks and his vision. Lingering, he could pretend the world was on fire.
“Find us, Adair.”
His eyes flew open. Breathing hard, he twisted off the ledge, his heart caught in his throat. The whisper felt like someone breathing down his back, his skin prickling at the thought.
Swallowing hard, he walked back up to the Academy, thinking about the day of classes ahead, trying to ignore the voices in his head.
‘Don’t you want more?’
Stalling, he curled his fingers into his palms, his broken nails sending lacing pain up his arm. Looking behind him, he knew there was no one there. But why did he feel like he was being watched? Adrenaline surged through him, and Adair murmured under his breath, “Don’t be ridiculous, Stratton. Keep moving.”
One foot in front of the other. The cool morning air brushed past him, and it took all of Adair’s control not to run up the sloping hill. He ran a hand through his unruly inky hair, trying not to focus on his trembling fingers.
‘Accept the darkness inside of you.’
Adair came to a full stop, his limbs taut. The world was still, yet Adair couldn’t shake the oppressing feeling of hopelessness colliding within him. Like he was running right into the pit of fire himself, and his course couldn’t be changed. Which he knew was ridiculous. It had just been a nightmare, bleeding into his reality. He was hurt, tired, and overwhelmed. This was just his imagination dealing with his stress.
And he would not let it control him.
Exhaling through his teeth, he continued the climb back up to the school, icy whispers slithering in his mind and soaking into his heart the entire way.
***
“I am sure you are all aware of our visitors by this point, but I’m afraid the world must go on.” The class’s whispers only increased, and Professor Jett clapped his hands together, his booming voice encasing them all, “Enough.”
Sparks danced from their professor’s palms, and his class were instantly quiet, looking at their teacher with wide eyes. Adair felt the corner of his mouth pull up in a lazy smile.
Lowering his hands, Professor Jett continued, “Now, who wants to tell me the magical properties of these two obsidian gems?”
Adair wanted to roll his eyes; going to class was a waste of his time.
“No one?” Professor Jett raised a silver eyebrow at them all.
Sighing, Adair murmured, “Combined, they make the perfect gas to knock out your enemy, and in large doses, an army.”
“I didn’t see a hand, Stratton.”
Locking eyes with the older man, Adair slowly raised his pale hand. “The chemical reaction between the gabnite and the slinte, once weathered, will create the perfect destructive gas.”
Professor Jett nodded brusquely. “Yes, thank you, Adair,” Flicking his gaze away and, not missing a beat, Professor Jet pushed on about the different kinds of gems, rocks, and minerals that could be mined to find other lethal combinations.
Professor Jett was one of the only teachers who had the nerve to look Adair in the eye, but only barely.
Clenching his jaw, he told himself for the millionth time in his life that it wasn’t his fault he was born into the family he was. That he was different.
Sighing, he shifted his gaze to the opposite wall, where a smooth slate of frosted glass hung. Deep within the ice, smoke sprawled and swirled, shifting and ticking, smoky tendrils marking how long was left of the class. And when Adair would meet his father.
His skin crawled, dread pooling in the pit of his stomach. He had nothing to fear; it was his dad.
What happened the last time he demanded a meeting?
Adair’s spine stiffened as he gazed forward, not focusing on anything but being pulled down into his memory.
Cesan had left a note, crisp and identical to the one he received last night. When Adair had met with him, he had two seconds to process what had happened. The door clicked shut. He had looked up to his dad, hopeful and curious. Then his world exploded into white, lacing pain and his father’s anger.
‘You are above this, Adair, above them.’
Adair vaguely remembered the note floating down to the floor, drifting as light as a feather. He had clutched his cheek, desperately trying to stop the wobble in his lips as his father had whispered in a deadly quiet, “You do not need friends. You
don’t need anyone, Adair, except your family. The more you open your heart, the more people will find a reason to shatter it and bind you to that pain. You are not weak, you are a Stratton, and you will not bow.”
He had run out of the room, tears spilling fluidly. That had been only a month ago, and Adair hadn’t talked to his father alone since. It was as if the closer he was to turning eighteen, the more his father craved using physical violence to ingrain his morals into Adair, no matter how hard he resisted.
No one else knew what their private talks entailed. No one except the school healer, who had covered up Adair’s split, bruised, and bloodied skin without question on various accounts.
A deep tolling vibrated throughout the room, and Adair jumped back into the present moment. His chair squeaked underneath him. The smoke in the ice showed that it was twelve, and class was over. His classmates were oblivious to his unease, and their relief and chatter overtook everything as they relished in their new freedom.
Chairs squealed, books and pages ruffling as everyone else started to file out, Professor Jett yelling over them, “Now remember to read chapters twelve through fourteen! I will know if you don’t!”
Adair was frozen. How had the morning passed so quickly? He had felt in a daze throughout breakfast, and then like a ghost, he had sat through his classes. Advanced Ability Training. Advanced History. Advanced Weaponry.
Breathe, Stratton.
With shaking hands, Adair swept his useless books into his bag. These classes were just a time filler for him. With parents like Cesan and Bresslin, Adair had already read the textbooks several times.
Only the best.
Sighing, Adair forced his body to move, feeling Professor Jett appraising him the entire time. Adair didn’t look back as he left and was met with the pure chaos of the hallway. Pieces of paper with inked secret messages soared through the air, laughter and gossip spilling from the entourage of students. Ducking his head, Adair set for the library, desperately trying to ignore flashing shows of abilities, the catcalls, and squeals.
Heir of Lies (Black Dawn Series Book 1) Page 5
