Light Fae Academy- Year One

by Nala Kingsley

  “How about right now?” I offer.

  He lifts his eyebrows? You have a hot date or something?”

  “Or something,” I mumble.

  He eyes me appraisingly. “You’re different than your sister.”

  “No, really? I never would’ve thought that. I mean, we look exactly alike. We have to be the same person, right?”

  His eyes widen, and then he slowly grins. His breath wafts over to me as he laughs, and I smell a hint of wild honey wine. “You’re funnier than I remember.”

  “I’m just tired of being told what I can and can’t do. I’ve made mistakes, but they don’t define who I am as a person. My actions do.” My own eyes widen. If Sage can’t accept who I am, then we shouldn’t be together. Yes, the spark I’ve felt for him still burns within me, and it probably will for some time, but if he isn’t willing to give me another chance, that’s his loss.

  “Now,” he grumbles. “Fine. What do I need to do?”

  “For starters, help me come up with an idea for the project.”

  He blinks. “You haven’t even begun it yet?”

  “Group project,” I remind him.

  “Yeah, yeah.” He grimaces. “Jewel. What a fake professor. I swear she’s a hack… Wait a wingflap, it’s impossible to turn metal into gold, right?”

  “Yes. The point is to try—”

  “What if we don’t try?” he interrupts.

  “That’s the entire point of the project!”

  “What if we do?”

  Is he drunk?

  “You just said so yourself that we can’t!” I point out, exasperated.

  He wags a finger at me. “Fake gold.”

  “Fake gold,” I breathe. “Thistle, you’re a, well, not a genius, but that could work! Any ideas how to make that happen?”

  “I’m not the brains of this operation,” he mutters.

  “So I’m supposed to be brains and looks?” I joke.

  He blinks slowly a few times. “Rosemary, are you flirting with me?”

  I burst out laughing. I laugh so hard that I almost fall out of the sky. My stomach hurts from laughing so much.

  “No,” I finally gasp out to an unamused Thistle. “No, Thistle, I’m not flirting with you.”

  “Are you sure? Because—”

  “Maybe if I had been talking about your looks.”

  “Oh.” He shakes his head. “Why aren’t you talking about my looks?”

  “You aren’t my type.”

  “Why not?” he demands.

  “I prefer guys to have a little more meat on them.” I shiver, thinking about the hard muscles of Sage’s back as I gripped him while he thrust inside me. His abs, his broad shoulders, his firm chest…

  “Cosmo then? That guy needs to have a new wardrobe,” Thistle mumbles.

  “You think he needs new pants?” I ask not-so-innocently.

  “More like shirts. Not new shirts. Just shirts. I raided his dresser once. He seriously only owns two shirts. That’s it!”

  “I’m surprised he has any. Now, can we quickly do this project? It would be nice to have it all wrapped up early.”

  “Sure.” Thistle shrugs and follows me off to the back of the library, where there’s a wide expanse of empty land perfect for magical experiments.

  We make serious progress, and it’s actually not that bad. Thistle complains about doing much of anything, but honestly, I think it might be because he’s afraid to try for fear of failure. I push him but not too much, and he definitely does his fair share of the work.

  When the bell rings for next period to start, Thistle grimaces.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask.

  “I wish you had a hot date tonight.”

  “Oh?”

  “With me.”

  I blink a few times.

  “Yeah, I know. I’m not your type, but I had fun.”

  “I did too,” I say quietly, honestly. “I can see why you and Bay are friends.”

  “Aren’t we?” he asks.

  “Maybe we can be.”

  We fly off for Alchemy together, and he says something stupid that makes me laugh as we enter. Sage is here, and I look over at him. He’s talking to his partner and doesn’t look up. A pang rifles through me. His longish hair is falling across his face, and my fingers twitch as I fight back the desire to fly over to him, to brush his hair back and plant a kiss on his cheek.

  I turn away before he can feel me staring at him and settle in, ready to learn or at least try to considering I’ve been so distracted by the thefts and the arsons.

  When class is over, Professor Jewel calls me forward. I motion for Thistle to approach too. He sighs, rolls his eyes, huffs, but listens.

  Professor Jewel lifts her eyebrows.

  “Thistle is helping,” I say. “You don’t have to worry.”

  She glances between us. “That makes me very pleased. The project is due next week.”

  “We might be able to finish tonight,” I blurt out.

  “Really?” Thistle’s beam is so wide his cheeks have to be killing him.

  “That quickly?” Her eyebrows lift even higher. “I will be very interested to see what you two have come up with.”

  “You’re going to like it,” Thistle says proudly, puffing out his chest. “The idea was all me.”

  “Was it now?” Professor Jewel beams. “I am very happy to see you finally trying and applying yourself, Thistle. I’ve always thought you had potential.”

  “You did?” He gapes at her.

  “Yes. I also thought that if anyone could draw out that potential, it would be Rosemary.”

  “Me? Why?”

  “Sometimes, we need the opposite,” she says. “Now, hurry and fly off. I don’t mean to keep you.”

  “Can I have a note?” I ask in a rush.

  “Oh, of course.” Professor Jewel quickly writes a note that I have a group project and hands it to me.

  Notes are the only way a student can be out and about after curfew. The professors refused to change the way they teach. Most rely on solo projects, but enough prefer group projects that the note compromise settles the matter.

  “Thank you!” I grin at her and nod to Thistle.

  He laughs as we start to fly off.

  “What’s so funny?” I ask.

  “Does this mean you’ll go out with me?”

  “No.”

  “But we need the opposite,” he protests.

  “Sometimes but not all the time.”

  He gives me a cold stare.

  “Do you want to finish tonight?”

  “Yes. Swing by after dinner. I’ll be sure to have some on hand… What’s your poison?”

  “I don’t like poison.”

  “Nonsense. I’ll figure something out.”

  “Not fairy dust,” I blurt out.

  He laughs. “Don’t flap your wings too hard. I know that isn’t your thing. Don’t worry. I’ll find something you’ll appreciate.”

  With a wink, he flies off.

  First impressions are important, but they can also be wrong. Thistle isn’t a bad guy.

  But he does do fairy dust, just like the rest of Bay’s friends. As much as I hate to think about any one of them could be the guilty party.

  Including Bay.

  It wouldn’t have taken Thistle and I long at all to finish the project, but Thistle keeps trying to impress me and get me to drink a new kind of honey wine with spices. He actually heats it up for me, and it’s delicious. I will say that, but it also makes things even slower going.

  Finally, though, almost despite him, we finish. Instead of smiling or being relieved, he’s frowning.

  “Now you’re going to run off, aren’t you?” he grumbles.

  “Don’t be silly.” I hold up the bottle of wine that has about two glasses left in it. “We might as well celebrate.”

  He beams. “Now you’re talking!”

  “You two are so loud,” Cosmo complains as he enters the room. He scratches t
he top of his abs.

  “Put a shirt on,” Thistle gripes.

  “Why?” Cosmo reaches for the wine bottle, but Thistle grabs it and pours me more than my fair share and gives himself the rest. Cosmo rolls his eyes. “Whatever.” And he walks out of the room.

  “Is Bay here?” I ask.

  Thistle shrugs. “I know Holly’s out on a date. Spring? I’m not sure. Bracken—”

  “Did someone say my name?” Bracken strolls in.

  I stare at my wine glass.

  “What do you want?” he asks. He’s flying rather than walking, and he’s bumping into stuff. Clearly high.

  “I was just wondering who all is here,” I say quickly.

  “Why are you here anyway? This isn’t your home.”

  “Bracken, why are you being such a—”

  “Stay out of this, Thistle,” Bracken snaps. He flutters over the table and almost kicks over my wine glass. “I know you think you’re some kind of hero or something, that we’re all villains here. You make me sick. Just looking at you makes me want to punch something.”

  I flinch.

  Thistle stands. “Why are you being such a villain, Bracken? Isn’t that what you don’t want her to think we are?”

  “That’s what you want,” Bracken snaps. “You’re falling for her stupid good little fairy crap. She’s using you. She thinks one of us is the thief.”

  “No she doesn’t.” Thistle glances at me. “Do you?”

  “I have no idea who the thief is,” I say angrily, standing. “You don’t know me at all, Bracken. I don’t use people.”

  “No? Really? Why did your relationship with that guy end? Because you used your sister or some shit like that, right? Used her name or flirting skills or attitude, something like that, right? You’ve always looked down on us and on her from the very beginning, thinking yourself better than us.”

  “That’s not true,” I spit out.

  “You wouldn’t be over here unless you want to try to worm your way into our place so you can snoop, am I right?” Bracken asks. “You want to see who has matches or a lighter… and fairy dust.”

  I swallow hard.

  “What the hell are you talking about?” Thistle demands. “Fairy, you have to calm down. You’re starting to look and sound like a demon.”

  But Bracken ignores him. “That’s right. Bay told me about your little theory.”

  “Theory? What theory?” Thistle eyes me, suspicion beginning to cloud over his eyes.

  “She thinks the thief uses fairy dust.”

  Thistle says nothing.

  I say nothing.

  Bracken smirks. “Yeah, so, Bay’s not the user in the family. You are, Rosemary. You used Thistle. You lured him in, and he bought it, and you’re here. What were you planning? To get him drunk and to sleep so you can snoop? Is that why you’re wondering who all is here?”

  “A girl can’t ask about her sister’s whereabouts without getting grilled and racked over the coals?”

  “I wonder if she’s hoping to find coal in one of our rooms,” Bracken continues. “Coals can be used to spark a fire, right?”

  “Get out.” Thistle’s words are low and deadly.

  “I’m just saying. I’m sure you’re upset, Thistle, but—”

  “Get out,” Thistle repeats.

  Bracken holds up his hands. “I’m going. I’m going.”

  “Not you,” Thistle spits out. “Her.”

  Bracken smirks.

  I drain the last bit of my wine, grab our fake gold, and leave without another word.

  Bracken. He’s on the top of my list. As much as I want to strike Thistle from the list, I can’t, but there’s one list he’s no longer on, or maybe I’m no longer on one of his lists.

  I’m sure I just lost Thistle as a friend, and that hurts a lot more than I thought it would.

  Chapter 27

  The moon shines brightly. I stayed at Bay’s a lot longer than I intended, but if any of the guards stop me, I have the note from Professor Jewel.

  So far, there hasn’t been another theft or arson, so the lockdown seems to be working.

  Is that because Bay can’t leave to get the fairy dust from whoever her supplier is? Even suppliers have to have suppliers, right? Although I suppose there is one person who has to grow it or harvest it. I’m not even sure how fairy dust is made. I’ve never been interested enough to learn about the drug in depth.

  The silver light should be calming, but I'm anxious, uptight. Bracken's words cut deep, and I realize he hates me. Worse, I could see it in his eyes. I've always felt unsettled in his presence, but now… now I don't want to be anywhere near him.

  Because of the note, I feel like I can do a little patrolling of my own. Not once but twice I’m stopped by a guard, who demands to see my note. Both of them grumble at me, especially the second one considering I’m not near the dorms or lived-in cottages right now. I’m closer to the teaching cottages.

  “Hurry up and get to your destination,” he grumbles.

  “Yes, of course.” I happen to catch a glimpse of his nametag. “Pine!”

  “Yes?”

  I haven’t been up close and personal with Wren’s guard until now, and I see why she likes him so much. He’s built but slender with dark eyes but light-colored hair, blondish rather than white.

  I clear my throat. “I’m roommates with Wren.”

  “Are you?”

  I nod. “I’m Rosemary.”

  “Yes, the note said that. How is Wren?”

  “She’s a little tired of the lockdown. Do you have any idea when it might be lifted?”

  “I sure do.”

  “When?” I ask eagerly.

  “When the perpetrator is caught.”

  “Have you made any progress?” I ask.

  “No. It’s possible the lockdown has scared him.”

  “Or her,” I add.

  He lifts his eyebrows. “Or her,” he echoes. “Since you know Wren, can you deliver her a message for me? I was going to text her, but…”

  “Of course.”

  “Tell her that I might not be able to make lunch tomorrow.”

  “What a shame,” I murmur. “Maybe you two could have dinner instead.”

  “Maybe we could.” He smiles before shaking his head. “No. No dinner. Not until…”

  “The perpetrator will be found soon,” I tell him.

  “Divination tell you that?” He snorts. “Whoever this person is, they’re powerful, powerful enough to be able to cover their tracks. We’ve even called in the best of the best fairies to try to track the culprit, and no one can find him or her or the items or the means of their disarming the protection spells or anything at all. But just because we haven’t so far doesn’t mean we won’t,” he rushes to add.

  “I have complete faith in you,” I assure him.

  “Good. Now, fly off to your partner’s cottage, or are you going back to your dorm? It is rather late.”

  “I do my best work late at night.”

  “Ah. Is an owl your animal connector?”

  “I’m not sure. I haven’t tried communicating with animals too much.”

  “That’s a shame,” he murmurs.

  I squint as one of his shoulders wiggles. Oh! That’s not his shoulder! There’s a squirrel sitting there!

  He pets his squirrel, nods, and flies off.

  Pine’s a little rigid, but I can tell that he’s more fun once you get to know him. No wonder Wren spends so much time with the guard.

  But I’m not heading back home. I continue to fly around when I spy a shadow near one of the mini castles. I think the professors might live in this one. Yes, they’re under lockdown too, so they’re forced to stay on campus for the duration.

  Is the shadow an animal or a fairy? I fly closer for a better look.

  Fairy. Definitely a fairy. Dark hair. Maybe green?

  I land and hide behind a thick tree. Quickly, I tuck my long locks inside the back of my dress and pull up my hood
from my cloak. My white hair is a beacon, and right now, I do not want to be seen.

  Just then, the fairy looks up from trying to open a window. In that split second, I can see her face.

  See her haunted eyes.

  See her green hair.

  Spring.

  But what is she doing? Yes, this doesn’t look good her trying to break into the place, but is she looking to steal? Or set the building on fire? It’s late enough that most if not all of the professors will be here. If she means to set the place on fire…

  I stand there and wait, watching as Spring tries the window again. This time, it budges, and she squirms her way inside.

  After she disappears from view, I race over and enter through the window. We’re actually dropping down into a room beneath the ground level. A basement of some kind.

  Spring has her back to me, and I crouch behind some boxes. She sniffs loudly. Snorting fairy dust? I can’t be sure, and I tiptoe over to the next stack of boxes, trying to get close enough to see what she’s doing, prepared to jump out and stop her if necessary.

  Finally, I move enough that I can see her. She brushes some white dust from her upper lip, and it slowly drifts to the ground. In her hands are some papers and a lighter.

  She’s the arsonist!

  My shock has me standing up so fast that some of the boxes fall. Like a shot in the dark, Spring up in the air and flying out of the window. Immediately, I give chase. I’m just exiting the window as a light turns on in the room. The ruckus of the boxes falling alerted someone to the disturbance.

  Swiftly, I fly up high, looking all around. Spring is gone, though.

  That’s quite all right. I know where she lives.

  Chapter 28

  I zoom toward the cottage, but a guard halts me.

  “I have a note,” I start to say.

  “That doesn’t matter. It’s too late, and there’s been an incident. You have to come with me.”

  “But you don’t understand!” I protest. “I know who the arsonist is!”

  “Do you now? Come on.”

  He grabs my arm. I’m shocked that my first instinct is to yank free, to try to fly away, to attack him if need be, but I don’t, of course. I’m not that reckless, and it would only serve to make them not listen to me.