Adair pushed faster, his plan forming swiftly.
He hadn’t seen his mother since everything that had happened and assumed she had already left with Nei. She hated goodbyes, and so did he. That meant no one was looking for the deserter’s son, which left Adair at an advantage.
His feet carried him, twisting and turning, the walls blurring. All the classrooms Adair passed were sealed and forgotten about, as if everyone could taste the change before them. Frowning, he slowed his steps, slipping inside the washroom too fast for anyone to notice. Not that anyone was paying attention to him.
A ghost amongst the living.
“Shut up.” He stopped as his voice rang out. The washroom was empty, the dimly lit room making it seem like it was already late into the night. Adair growled, whispering to the voices curling into his mind, “Shut up.”
He was already moving as the taunts and accusations of their cruel voices ebbed. But they were never fully gone. Making his way to the end stall, he quickly closed himself inside, securing the lock. Panting, he lowered the lid of the toilet, and standing on top, his hands roamed, searching for the lever.
The Academy was an amazing place to grow up in, to see it be built from practically nothing. The one advantage to be a Stratton and living here his whole life was that he knew the secrets hidden amongst them.
The lever was small and flush in the stone, but Adair pressed down hard, and the concrete started to shudder to life. Bricks dissolved, crumbling into dust as Adair waited. Soon enough, a small tunnel was revealed, the damp air swirling around him. Adair grinned wolfishly, not looking back as he climbed into the cramped space. As soon as he passed the threshold, the air shimmered behind him, the movement of the wall becoming whole once more.
The Academy was filled with secret passages designed for his parents and the Faes to have meetings away from prying eyes when they had first formed the school. The school wasn’t always praised; it took years for people to be brave enough to utilize what the Faes were offering.
Adair had found out this, as he did with most things when it came to his parents, he had to use his wit and patience: they had documents hidden away, maps of the school, Adair conveniently found when he was pursuing different books of the cultures of Kiero, which his mother took an interest in.
Crawling faster, he leaned into the curves and twists of the tunnel, the dust making his nose burn. It had been years since he had used one of the secret passages, trying to keep his habits of disregarding the rules in check. The concrete was freezing underneath his palms, each movement sending shots of pain from his cracked and bruised fingernails.
He should have really seen a healer, but in a way, he liked the reminder of what he had gone through and survived. Each hot flash of pain, each strained movement reminded him that he was stronger. That at the start of each day he would carry on, bearing his scars like a shield and not a poison that would cripple him.
He would not become his father.
The light in the tunnel was becoming a dull grey wash as the concrete suddenly sloped down, and Adair knew he was getting close. He shifted his weight, so his legs were extended, his black boots shining in the limited light. Taking a deep breath, he pushed with his hands, gravity taking over. He dropped, sliding down the makeshift chute, the still air now roaring around him; he gritted his teeth until his jaws ached dully. He had always hated this part.
But just as soon as it had started, he slammed to a stop, his ribs bruising with the impact. Dots danced in front of his vision, threatening to bring him into unconsciousness.
Groaning, he rolled over, cursing, questioning not for the first time if it was worth using this passage. Coughing, Adair dragged his body, scraping across the cold rock, his arms shaking.
A voice boomed underneath him, and he smirked, blood pooling in his mouth. He listened, stilling his body as Roque continued. “Thank you all for coming on such short notice.”
Shimmying faster, Adair was met with a small overhang, looking down to the now full dining hall below. Chest heaving, he settled in, having a complete view of his classmates and teachers, their chatter dying down instantly at the sound of their leader’s voice.
Adair devoured the scene hungrily, his gaze landing on the four figures standing at the front of the hall.
Roque was dressed in a deep blue jacket, the rest of his wear black, enhancing his proud features. Emory stood beside him, her black hair glistening, swept back and pinned so it tumbled down her back. She wore a simple dress, a matching royal blue, the fabric sweeping down from her waist, creating the illusion of churning water. He was frozen as he took in her turned mouth, her gaze plastered to the floor in front of her. Beside them, Tadeas stood, his broad chest puffed out, his traveling attire now changed into a simple brown suit, his pale emerald hair tied back, enhancing his sharp features.
Adair’s hands curled tightly into fists, his breath coming in fast gulps. Before, the Isles were treated with wary and caution, and now? Now an allegiance was forming before his eyes. Marquis stood by his father’s side, having not changed since Adair saw him last, his deep emerald hair unruly, his indifference evident. A flash of admiration flared in his chest for the strange boy.
He wasn’t the only one who didn’t want his family name to dictate his future.
Adair became entranced as Roque said, “First, I must apologize for the abrupt change in your schedules. I wanted everyone here to be the first to know before I send my message to Sarthaven. The tides in our world are starting to change, and I must accept my duty in building this government and school, by accepting my fate. The Academy was my vision, along with my wife’s, to have a safe place to teach our children not to fear their gifts. That abilities didn’t create monsters. That just because we were different, didn’t mean it was wrong. My father was a proud and vicious man who brainwashed our world into thriving in our differences, to believe that the weak should be punished, to become our slaves, our lessers.
In my arranged marriage, I was wed to a fearless woman, who at first loathed me, being connected to the son of a man who had shackled her people, the people from the Shattered Isles, to a husband who was too scared to allow my wife to bear the weight of my greatest secret.” His eyes swept the crowd. “We witnessed war, bloodshed, the world tearing itself apart with a wild magic that was uncontained, and no one cared. But against all odds, we started to trust one another. We shared a vision, of a world at peace. And I dared to trust her with my secret, that I, a Fae, was a desolate.”
Roque took a shuddering breath, peeking down at Emory, a sad smile tugging at his lips. “We stood up to my father’s council as you all know. We broke away and changed our future and the history of Kiero. You all also know the story of how Nei was my strength through the dark days ahead of us, as we arranged a Peace Treaty with the Isles and broke away from the capital, forming the first democratic government.” He paused and the crowd shifted in the silence.
“It is a sad day today, as I must be honest with you. I have failed, in my dream, in my vision of fairness and equality. Peace has been a fleeting thing, something that we have been able to grasp here, but beyond our borders? There are still so many people who believe in the old ways of my father’s reign. The people of Kiero have been suffering, and I have too long ignored that state of our world.” Another pause.
“May I introduce to you all Tadeas Maher, and his son, Marquis Maher, King and Prince from the Shattered Isles. They have come with the sad news my wife’s father has passed, and they are here, with their company, as our guests while we negotiate our terms.” Roque’s voice hung, allowing the weight to settle.
Emory shot a sharp glare at Marquis, who raised his eyebrows in response, making Emory glower.
Clearing his throat, Roque’s voice dragged them all back into their reality. “Today marks the end of our democratic society, and I ask you, my students, my friends, my family, to accept me as your rightful King. Together, we can rebuild our world, escape this hovering darkness of wa
r, and enter a true era of peace.”
He lowered himself to one knee before the crowd, causing ripples of unease to grow amongst them. Laying a hand across his chest, his voice turned gravelly, “I promise you all that I will not fall into my father’s mistakes. I will never forget our safety or to turn deaf ears to you. I will never betray you or lead you astray. A threat has become clear to me, and as King, I will stop it with help from Tadeas. Kiero will flourish and prosper. No dream will be too big, no alliance too obscure. It is time to set our differences aside and unite Kiero as one.”
He stood, eyes blazing. “My wife and her team are already chasing after a man I trusted with my life. A man that promised he would never betray me, but his greed, his close-mindedness has made him blind. He has threatened acts of terrorism until I step down from being your leader. I will not falter under his violence. I will not throw away everything I believe in. That we have worked toward. The Academy, above being a school, is a promise that we will not sit idly by.”
Emory’s eyes widened at her father’s words as he roared, his voice bouncing off the walls, “Will you have me?”
Adair watched from above as the spark of Roque’s words caught, turning into an inferno. Tadeas clapped Roque on the back, grinning broadly as teachers and students started to yell, to chant, to praise: “Long live the King! Long live the Faes!”
Adair covered his mouth, his screams clawing against his throat, begging for release. The pounding booms of feet stomping, of yells clambered up the walls toward where Adair, shattering into a thousand pieces, lay hidden. His father had made a mistake, had been lied to and jaded by Roque. He promised him greatness and handed him the shadows. Was it wrong for his father to want more?
Yes.
Groaning, Adair covered his eyes, wishing to disappear. He knew firsthand how vicious his father could be, how twisted, how dark. He had been trying to break him for years and had left his family, tried to kill his best friend. For what? A title? Responsibility of ruling a country?
His muscles cramped and complained against his movements when he took a gulping breath and moved his hands underneath him. Getting ready to leave, Adair paused as Roque’s voice roared far below him.
“We are gathering senior students as well as teachers who are willing to become part of Tadeas’s group to assist in going to Sarthaven, to bring Cesan and his followers back.”
Roque was immediately lost in the chants, in the yells of approvals.
Adair gritted his teeth and left, maneuvering through the tunnel. He didn’t want to hear any more, to see his friends sign up to bring his father back. He didn’t want to watch Emory stand by her father’s side, knowing that there would always be a division between them now.
He was a traitor’s son, a scorned boy, harboring a dark ability. He was a weapon. He was barely a name, more like a shadow, one everyone was skittering away from.
Hot tears ran down his cheeks, and Adair didn’t stop them. A sharp buzzing filled his hearing as he shuffled to the left, starting the long climb back to the washrooms. The filtered grey light had dulled considerably, making the walls seem endless, like he could freefall into nothingness. Silently, he pushed ahead, trying to forget, trying not to fall into numbness. But for him, what was the point of trying? Everyone that resided in this cursed school had made up their judgements about him and his family.
But as he continued to climb, his thoughts went to his friends. What about Emory and Memphis? His heart dropped into his stomach at the thought of his small group of friends. What did they think of him now? Would they have forgiveness in their hearts for him, to know that he wasn’t following in his father’s footsteps?
His pulse picked up, making his skin slick and clammy at the thought.
“Don’t you want more?”
Adair froze, the hissing voices encircling his consciousnesses. He stuttered, “W-who’s there?”
His voice bounced off the tunnel’s walls. Peering into the darkness, Adair waited a beat. One, high pitched giggle bounced back from the other end of the tunnel. Scrambling back, Adair slipped, slamming his head against concrete, dots flickering in front of his eyes. It was like being doused in freezing water, every sense on overdrive, his nerves sparking with adrenaline. Fear coiled underneath his skin, soaking into his core.
It was the same voice, the same giggle from his nightmare. Impossible. You are just tired and stressed. Move. His thoughts egged him on, but he couldn’t. He curled his limbs into themselves, his breath quick as he made himself flush to the wall. Seconds passed, and all Adair could do was stare farther into the tunnel, where the voice had come from.
The light was fading, and to his left, Adair saw them first. The slim figures, crawling toward him, their tilting heads. Their permanent grins. He was mesmerized as they started crooning to him, “Adairrr. Adair, we have found you. Don’t you want to be noticed? Come with us, and we will show you the way. Come.”
It was impossible, yet Adair saw them crawl steadily to him, pale arms and black holes where their eyes should be. The air rippled, and Adair flinched, as he felt the ancient magic shudder through his bones. He somehow had bled the rules of reality and dream together.
They were in front of him now, caressing his arms, reaching for his face, tugging at his hair.
“Come with us. Follow your destiny.”
Their teeth glinted in the dark, sharp as knives, and Adair buried his head beneath his hands, shutting his eyes tight.
“This is not real. Not real. Not real.”
The giggles erupted around him, orchestrating his terror, and he felt a tongue lick up his cheek. Tasting him.
He was screaming now, flinching away from their touch, from their promises, from their hungry expressions. Clutching his knees to his chest, Adair fell into the fetal position, pressing his eyes shut.
The minutes turned into hours, the darkness swallowing him and the creatures whole. Adair was frozen, talking to himself, yelling at them to go away. His blood had slowed. His circulation cut off from being curled into a ball for so long. It wasn’t until the traces of dawn flickered into the tunnels that Adair lifted his head—his eyes swollen from crying and his voice hoarse—to see that he was utterly and completely alone, no trace of anyone ever being with him.
He uncurled his limbs, leaning over to empty his stomach, the bile burning his throat and nose. The acid made his eyes water, and coughing, he looked up the tunnel. He stayed like that, sweaty and shaking, unable to move. Unable to do anything but feel the hot tears slide down his cheeks.
Chapter Eight
Brokk
The energy in the Faes’ office practically overtook all of the students, and Brokk wished breakfast had lasted longer.
Memphis stood stiffly beside him, and Brokk leaned closer to his friend. “Can we talk?”
“You really think this is the time, Brokk?” Memphis arched a pale eyebrow. “We are about to go into a warzone.”
“Which is exactly why it’s the only time. Just hear me out. I’m sorry about yesterday. About how I reacted. I talked to Roque last night after the meeting, and he said if I helped the cause, I wouldn’t be expelled from school. You didn’t have to follow.”
Memphis smirked, whispering, “Yes I did. Do you really think I would allow you to get all the action? Besides, who is going to keep you in check with Iasan?”
Brokk grinned. “I would suspect you.”
Memphis looked ahead, lost in his own thoughts, not answering him. Brokk hated this. He hated being pulled into a movement fueled by politics and alliances. But what choice did he have? He had been a member of the Academy almost all his life, and now was the time they were all put to the test. It was either do this or leave.
They were protectors. Guardians of the peace. Or so they had claimed.
Rolling his shoulders, Brokk stood straighter when Roque opened the door, seeming tired. Tadeas followed closely at his heels. The door closed with a snap, and Roque eyed the thirty students and smiled slyly.
>
Reaching the front, he folded his hands neatly in front of him. “Thank you all for coming so promptly. I have been reassured that you are all the top of your class or have volunteered on your own accord.”
Vigorous nods met his words.
His gaze lingered on Brokk when he continued, “You are all representing the future of Kiero. Tadeas and I have reached the decision that if anyone doesn’t follow his orders while you are away from the Academy, those individuals will be brought back and tried for treason. Your mission is to tell anyone who is seeking refuge to come here until we have the situation under control and bring Cesan back. I hope you all know I wish I could come with you, but I am needed here. I expect you all to show Tadeas the same respect you would show me. He is here to help us.”
Brokk’s blood ran cold, his mind running into a thousand different possibilities. Here he was, trading his freedom to a man who had waltzed in proclaiming he was a King from across the Black Sea? To lead them to the capital to find a madman?
Looking over to Memphis’s furrowed expression, he knew his friend was thinking the same thing. Swallowing his doubt, thinking about what exactly they had gotten into, he took in the rest of the young men and women potentially ready to lay down their lives for this.
To do Roque’s dirty work.
Of course Roque was staying, to get word to the capital, to sway all Kiero to his regency. Or, he was staying to ensure no one found what he was hiding here... The thought had him practically bouncing on his heels. If Brokk knew one thing for certain, it was to never trust the Strattons, and things had gone from bad to worse in a matter of days. Somehow, when they got back from this, he and Memphis would get the truth and the full story.
If we get back.
Heir of Lies (Black Dawn Series Book 1) Page 8
