Crystal Wing Academy: Book One: Outling

by Marty Mayberry

  My head popped above water and I gulped in fresh, clean air. Without Bryce holding my gaze, my mind instantly cleared.

  Shrugging away from Donovan, I collapsed on the side of my bed and dropped my face into my palms. Sweat coated my skin in a sickly sheen. My hands wouldn’t stop trembling.

  Wrenching my head up, I glared at Bryce. “What the hell…!”

  His shoulders curled forward, and his chin dropped onto his chest. “Sorry. It won’t happen again.”

  “Better not,” Donovan growled out.

  What won’t happen again? What had he done?

  Alys slunk toward the bathroom, tugging on Moira as she passed. Her gaze flicked between me and Bryce. “We’ll get our things and meet you guys in the hall?”

  The bathroom door clicked shut behind them.

  “Not cool, Bryce,” Patty said. “There are rules about that, as you very well know.” Her voice softened as she dropped down beside me and clasped my hand. “You okay, Fleur? Can I get you something? A drink of water? A protein bar?”

  My belly rumbled. When had I last eaten? Lifetimes ago at Ester’s. I couldn’t remember sitting down to breakfast or helping with the dishes. Why was that? Where had the memory gone? Had Bryce—and his bloodsucking gaze—stolen it from my mind?

  “Who—what are you?” Rising, I advanced toward Bryce on shaky limbs but stopped in front of him, my fists clenched, ready to smack him hard.

  He hunched against the door, and his palms lifted. “I’m a Slake,” he said so softly I could be the only one who heard. “And I’m really, really sorry. Not sure what happened. I won’t do it again.”

  But he’d done this before on a lesser scale, by the fountain. Distance might be the only reason I’d been able to unlock my gaze. If he’d been standing beside me, would I now be slumped against the exterior castle wall? “What did you do to me?”

  “Bryce’s skapti is persuasion,” Donovan said, his heavy gaze pinning Bryce in place. “Am I right?”

  Bryce gulped and nodded.

  Persuasion, huh? Exactly what had he been trying to persuade me to do?

  My stomach harder than a rock, I glared.

  “I was cleared,” Bryce blubbered out. “I can control this.”

  “I disagree.”

  His cheeks darkened. “I’m warded. Nothing would’ve—could’ve happened.”

  Except something had. What, exactly?

  “You okay, Fleur?” Donovan asked again. His hand dropped onto my shoulder, and he turned me to face him.

  “Yes.” Maybe.

  “Please don’t tell anyone,” Bryce said from behind Donovan, desperation filling his voice. “They’ll kick me out of school. I need to be here. How else will I learn to control power?”

  I shrugged because, really, like I cared?

  “It’s up to Fleur.” Donovan’s gaze centered on my face. “What do you think? Do we report him or do we let this go?”

  As I peered over my shoulder, Bryce’s pleading brown eyes hovered at my chin-level. They did not lock on mine, and they didn’t suck me down into a dark abyss I’d never escape from.

  “Okay,” I huffed out. I’d let it go for now. But I’d watch him closely. One slip and I’d shout it out from the rooftop.

  As soon as I figured out exactly what he’d done.

  Chapter 11

  A witch—err, wizard—had sunk her claws into Donovan again, in the form of a fake injury.

  Mean of me to contemplate a thought like that but, after interacting with Alys a few times, I was learning her manipulative, mean-girl routine fast.

  She might not truly be faking it, but I couldn’t be the only one among us thinking her injury was damned convenient.

  “It hurts so much,” Alys said, hobbling down the hall, leaning heavily on Donovan’s arm.

  “I only turned away a second,” Moira said, horror etching lines in her face. She clutched her hands beneath her chin, wringing them. “I shouldn’t have left that box of books by the door. If I’d unpacked them as I’d planned, she wouldn’t have fallen over them. Then she wouldn’t be hurt.”

  “It’s okay, Moira,” Alys said softly. Whimpering with each step, she continued toward the elevator with us trooping behind her. “I didn’t watch where I was going. I’m sure I’ll be able to make it all the way across the campus to the cafeteria. And, to make sure my ankle won’t be sore tomorrow, I’ll ice it when we get back to our room.”

  Alys’s sore ankle made me remember Donovan’s leap from the roof. I couldn’t imagine anyone doing it once. Why did he feel compelled to jump again?

  Gazing up at Donovan, Alys leaned into his side, doing that eyelash thing that seemed to make all the guys around her go limp. Even Bryce—Mr. Persuasion himself—wasn’t immune to her charms. He hovered on her other side, his hands fretting.

  “I hate to ask this, Donovan…” Did she really? “But can you please take me to the clinic? I think I need to get this looked at. The healers will be able to help me.”

  “Of course,” Donovan said.

  “It’s a long distance from here,” she added. “I’m not sure I’ll make it on my own.”

  Donovan leaned back, staring down at her. “You think…I should carry you?” He sounded more stunned than excited about the prospect.

  “Oh, thank you,” she gushed. “That would be wonderful. You’re such a sweet guy to offer.”

  I rolled my eyes, though the gesture lost some of its oomph when no one but Patty noticed. Patty matched my eye roll with one of her own.

  Pausing by the elevators, Donovan sighed. He turned to us. “You guys go on ahead. I’ll take Alys to the clinic and we’ll join you later. If they can’t see her quickly, we’ll pick something up at a café after.”

  “You’re the best, Donovan,” Alys said, and to us, “I’m truly sorry. I know I’m ruining the first dinner at the Academy for everyone else.”

  My lips thinned, but I bit them before I said something I shouldn’t. But really. This was overkill.

  “You’re hurt,” Moira said. “No reason to apologize.” She spontaneously hugged Alys. “I’ll take care of that box as soon as I can.”

  “It’s okay.” Alys hugged Moira back. Easing away from her roommate, she winced. Maybe she wasn’t faking it, after all? “Please don’t feel bad. I was a klutz, not watching where I was going. Don’t worry about me.”

  Moira sniffed. “I hate that I’ve hurt you.”

  The elevator doors opened, and Donovan scooped Alys off her feet. She cradled her face against his chest and linked her arms around his neck. While her expression remained pained, the look in her eyes when they turned my way…Well, I didn’t like the irritated feeling sweeping through me. I had no right to feel put out about this. Donovan was helping her. He’d be a jerk if he didn’t.

  From his thinned lips, Donovan also didn’t look thrilled with the prospect of lugging Alys across campus.

  We rode the elevator to the lobby together. When we exited the back door of the dorm, late-day sunlight poked my eyes, a last-ditch effort before the sun slipped behind the main building. Donovan and Alys went right while we took a left. Our feet crunched on the stone path that slowly meandered around flowerbeds, clusters of spiky trees, two gazebos, four gargoyles—that might be real because I swore their eyes followed us as we passed—plus more park benches than I cared to count. Shadows made the path extra spooky.

  “We need to talk,” Patty said firmly, snatching at Bryce’s arm and dragging him farther ahead of us. The path was only wide enough for two. Moira and I walked together, falling back behind Patty and Bryce.

  “You!” Patty shouted. “You need to know right now…” They pulled ahead, and I couldn’t hear anything else. Not sure I wanted to, either. Being on the receiving end of a pixie’s anger wasn’t my idea of a fun time. Her pink hair stood up as if she’d stuck her finger in a light socket, her cheeks had gone scarlet, and her tiny fists looked ready to pummel Bryce.

  He wisely put some distance between
them, walking along the edge of the path, partly in the grass. I expected him to bolt but he remained with her, listening without giving any obvious reply. His tall, gangly frame shrunk inside itself.

  “I know Alys comes across as conniving on occasion,” Moira said, pulling my attention to her.

  Patty needed to talk to Bryce. Moira must need to talk to me about something, too. Hopefully, it didn’t involve yelling.

  “Alys? Conniving?” I tried to sound shocked but I’d never been a great actress. My face gave me away, as Donovan had kindly pointed out.

  Moira smiled at my pretend amazement. “She’s a super-sweet person. Nice. You should see her with her younger half brother and sister.”

  “I’m sure she’s great with her family.” And with Moira. Not with outlings, but no one was perfect. And family wasn’t competition, not most of the time.

  “I’m always telling her she needs to lay off the mean girl act but it’s the only face she shows the world.”

  “Maybe it’s not an act?” I knew I sounded snippy. Irritation rushed through me when it shouldn’t. Donovan was only a friend.

  Keep telling yourself, Fleur, and you might start to believe it.

  “Underneath her sharp exterior, Alys is pure mush.”

  For that to be true, her mush must be hidden deeper than the center of the Earth. I had a feeling, if I scratched the surface and peeked inside, I’d see the same Alys there I’d interacted with already.

  “Her mom died when she was born, and her father has blamed her ever since.” From the anguish in Moira’s tone, I could tell she was truly sad for Alys.

  I hadn’t known my father, but I did know what a parent’s rejection felt like. An unexpected wave of sympathy for Alys swept through me.

  In this, we were alike, because we’d both been hurt by our parents for different reasons.

  “It wasn’t her fault her mother died,” I said.

  We passed a cluster of statues that looked…alive. That is, their eyes blinked and their heads turned our way. One lifted his arm, waving. Goosebumps rose on my skin, and the hairs on the back of my neck stood at attention. If one of the statues hopped off its stand, I was so out of here. Talk about eerie. Imagine walking here at night!

  “You really don’t understand how a magical being is born, do you?” Moira asked. Not in a mean way but as if she couldn’t believe I was this clueless. She backtracked quickly, her face sheening over with regret. “I’m sorry. How can you understand when you’re just an outling?”

  “You think an outling can’t understand loss? I do know what it’s like to be blamed for something you didn’t do.” Or something you didn’t intend to do.

  “Oh, I know you understand the emotions involved.”

  The certainty in her voice brought me to a standstill, and I faced her. “You don’t know anything about me.”

  Her gaze sank into mine. Not in the wrenching, devastating way Bryce’s had but as if she was offering me pure sympathy in exchange for…

  I yanked my eyes away from hers before she saw too much. Before she took…Had she been hoping to discover the secrets I kept buried deep inside?

  She started walking again and I slunk beside her, trying to mask my vulnerability. But the patches I kept slapping over my emotions were wearing thin.

  “Sometimes, when wizards are born,” she said. “They draw power from their mother.”

  “Knowingly?”

  “No, the body does it all on its own.”

  “How does power work? This is still unclear to me.”

  “First, there are two kinds of magic. Elemental magic, which everyone can do, plus the ability to pull in power to boost our skapti. Take it to the next level. Though a lot of us never do more than enhance our skapti with power. Most people have something they’re good at. Maybe it’s making music or doing math or cooking. That’s normal in humans, too, I’m sure.”

  I nodded. Finally, I might be about to get some answers to the mysteries surrounding power and skaptis.

  “For magical beings like us, our aptitudes or skills, known as skaptis, can be heightened with power. For example, the person who’s good at making music might be able to draw in enough power to give a concert-level performance. The cook? He or she might create meals worthy of kings.”

  “This is their skapti,” I said.

  “Yes. Most people have multiple things they could take to the next level but usually, there’s just one skill they can truly excel at.”

  Hmm. Donovan’s was weather. What would that entail? Somehow, I didn’t think it meant he’d become a TV weatherman.

  “Most magical beings can’t take it further than that. Only a few—the super-Elite among us, those directly descended from the original six—can draw in enough power to be truly awe-inspiring in our skill. That’s why we come here, to learn how to pull in power and then use it to enhance our skapti.”

  Cool. In the past, I’d been able to draw in power. I’d felt it quivering in the colorful threads I’d grabbed onto and pulled inside. Then I’d sent them back out with a wish. Or a curse, in Tristan’s case.

  Did my skapti involve fire? How could a skapti like that be turned into a career?

  “I can tell how worried you are,” Moira said.

  Like always, it must be written all over my face, unless…I frowned at Moira, studied her, though there was nothing discernable in how she walked or behaved that told me what I was seeking.

  “You’re going to figure this out,” Moira said, patting my arm. “Please don’t stress about it.”

  Easier said than done.

  “I wanted to share a bit more about Alys. Remember, I said she took power from her mom. Most of the time, when an Elite infant does this, the mother’s fine. Healers help her focus on the right element to rejuvenate her supply, that core of power all magical beings carry within their stones.”

  “Alys’s mom wasn’t able to refill fast enough, was she?”

  “Alys took too much. She couldn’t know what she was doing. She was a newly born infant. But her skapti knew. It was hungry.”

  My skin quaked at the thought. Was my skapti hungry?

  As far as I knew, my mother could not draw power. If she had, she would’ve understood what happened with Tristan, plus why I’d acted without knowing my own strength.

  “Are outlings descendants of the fae?” Not Elite but with some distant blood? Funny how I hoped Moira would say yes. Then I’d feel as if, in some way, I belonged here.

  “Humans able to draw power possess a random genetic mutation. I’m sorry, but it’s unlikely they have fae blood.”

  I refused to believe this was true. Me flinging fire at Tristan had been the result of some weird genetic mutation? Nothing else?

  “Alys blames herself for her mom’s death,” I said, certain of that fact.

  My brain dragged me into the past, to that moment when Mom left. Sometimes, I hated her for abandoning me. There were times when I wanted to scream at her. If she had power, I wanted to suck her dry.

  I didn’t like knowing this about myself.

  Other times, I understood why Mom had done it and shame made me cringe deep inside. If only I could’ve stopped myself from hurting Tristan. Then, I’d be with my mom right now.

  And she’d still love me.

  I tried to swallow the lump in my throat, but it wouldn’t go down.

  “Alys puts on a great front, but it’s only to keep from being hurt,” Moira said. We paused beside a flowerbed where tall plants with dark pink blossoms swayed in the light breeze. Moira leaned over and sniffed a flower, smiling.

  We continued walking.

  “She seems pretty tough to me,” I said. The tough exterior she’d created would be harder to break through than a steel wall. “Who other than her dad could hurt her?”

  “Donovan. She’s crushed on him for years, and I think he likes her, too.”

  I had no reason to think he didn’t. He’d known her for a long time. They had a history as Elites. M
agical pasts and maybe a future if I hadn’t jumped into the picture.

  “I hope you don’t think less of me for bringing all this up,” Moira said.

  “No, it’s okay.”

  “Sometimes, people are easier to understand when you know their motivation.”

  I had a better idea about Alys’s, but what was mine? My future here was unclear. If I possessed a skapti, it remained unknown. I wasn’t sure there was anything I was truly good at. As for drawing in power, I’d lost that ability years ago.

  Washed up before I even got started. Figures.

  The only thing I knew was that I wanted to remain at the Academy. A thirst to learn how to control whatever I’d used years ago had been growing inside me since Mom left me here on the doorstep.

  It was my time, and I’d take full advantage of the opportunity I’d been given. I wouldn’t let them send me home.

  Ugh. Was that why Justine wanted to talk to me tomorrow night?

  “You didn’t tell me your skapti,” I finally said. “But let me see if I can guess.”

  Her eyes sparkled as she paused on the walk. “Okay. Shoot.”

  “Empathy.”

  “How did you…” She laughed. “I’m obvious, aren’t I?”

  “Not to everyone.” I turned to fully face her. “What do you read in me?”

  “You’re scared.” Not a speck of hesitation in naming it.

  Correct.

  “However…” Moira frowned, seeking within. “You’re not afraid about what might come next.”

  That was debatable. What if Justine kicked me out?

  “You’re excited about your future. Eager to learn how to draw power, though I sense you’re terrified you won’t figure out how to control it before it controls you.”

  Her insight was damned creepy. I could only imagine her abilities once she’d learned how to draw in power to enhance her skapti.

  “You’re also worried you don’t have the strength to handle the power you’ll pull into your stone.”

  If I could find the threads again, could I handle whatever they’d give me? I hadn’t done well with the threads seven years ago.