The Brave & The Broken: Gifted Fae Academy - Year Two

by Brittni Chenelle

  The Brave & The Broken

  Gifted Fae Academy - Year Two

  Brittni Chenelle

  Copyright © 2020 by Brittni Chenelle

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. Cover art and design by Silviya Yordanova of DARK IMAGINARIUM Art.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  1. Reina

  2. Kaito

  3. Reina

  4. Kaito

  5. Reina

  6. Kaito

  7. Reina

  8. Kaito

  9. Reina

  10. Kaito

  11. Reina

  12. Kaito

  13. Reina

  14. Kaito

  15. Reina

  16. Kaito

  17. Reina

  18. Kaito

  19. Reina

  20. Kaito

  21. Reina

  22. Kaito

  23. Reina

  24. Kaito

  25. Reina

  26. Kaito

  27. Reina

  28. Kaito

  29. Reina

  30. Kaito

  31. Reina

  32. Kaito

  33. Reina

  34. Kaito

  35. Reina

  36. Kaito

  37. Reina

  38. Kaito

  39. Reina

  40. Kaito

  41. Reina

  42. Kaito

  43. Reina

  Author’s Note

  Also by Brittni Chenelle

  Acknowledgments

  1

  Reina

  Lightning crackled through the courtyard as the last of the students filed into the auditorium. Though midday, the clouds blocked the sun’s rays and threatened a storm like a knife at our throats. The thick mossy smell of the impending rain filled my nose as I stepped out of the cool air and into the auditorium, only to regret it a moment later. The sobs of the broken-hearted students reverberated off the domed ceilings, and the air was so thick I thought we might suffocate in each other’s grief. Dressed in black, the room was guarded by a host of Fae ready to jump into action at a moment’s notice. We were no longer safe. The walls of Gifted Fae Academy had been breached, and with them fell one of our most beloved students.

  I took my seat beside Briara, my head pounding from a night spent crying, but unlike her I had no more tears to shed. It was as if I’d cried myself dry. My roommate, however, seemed to have an endless supply. I wanted to reach out and hold her hand, but she was so fragile I worried she’d shatter at my touch. I traced her gaze past the rows of students to the stage where a large portrait of Quan Levout sat, grinning brightly. Bri choked on her tears, and I turned my face away, clenching my jaw to the point of pain at the sound of her agony. I reached for the owl charm on my necklace only to remember that it, too, was gone.

  There is nothing so senseless as a murdered kid, and at a school filled with aspiring Fae, where we should feel safe, we instead felt helpless. As I replayed the night of the winter ball in my head, I kept coming back to the same thought: What was all this training for if I couldn’t even save a friend?

  The big screen above the stage lit, and a close-up of Veranda Yarrow filled the space. Although I could see her on stage just fine, the live feed intensified her expression. Her wide hips and fierce red hair swayed as she stepped behind the podium, her eyes glistening with pain. “Quan Levout was kind and brave,” she said, her words slicing into the crowd. “He died defending his friends and his school, an act worthy of the title Fae.” Her voice broke and she stepped away from the mic while Yemoja Roux took the stage.

  I leaned forward at the sight of my mentor. Her magenta hair was dulled, her skin ashy, and her eyes sunken in and dark. When her gaze flicked up to the crowd, I saw in her vacant expression that she’d been asking herself the same questions I had. Her slumped posture implied she blamed herself. She lifted the mic. “I’d like to present the honorary title of Fae to Quan Levout for his heroic actions during the recent attack.”

  A flare of sniffles and sobs filled the air, and my vision began to blur. I was no stranger to funerals. I’d been to my parents’ just over a year ago. The only thing that got me through back then was the hope that I would one day get into GFA, and things would be better. Only now, behind the walls of the institution I had admired all my life, I found myself walking toward the same despair but without the comforting vision of a better future.

  I snapped back to attention when the next speaker took the stage. Oden Gates—my boyfriend, and Quan’s closest friend—stepped behind the podium, looking much worse than Miss Yarrow or Yemoja Roux.

  He hadn’t returned a single call or text since the attack, and I’d imagined he was in bad shape. I just wanted to be there for him if he needed me. Dread flared inside me at the sight of him. Unlike Yemoja’s dulled appearance, Oden’s eyes blazed such a vivid green that he hardly looked human. His skin was waxy, his plump lips chapped. Rather than broken, he looked frightening, dangerous, ready to kill at the slightest provocation. Just from looking at him, and everyone else for that matter, I feared that if the school and the local Fae could be so defeated by a decimated spirit alone, The Fallen had already won. Robbed of my usual nervous habit, I smoothed out the folds in the black fabric of my dress as I waited for Oden’s first words.

  Finally, Oden tapped on the microphone, his green eyes glazed over like he forgot the whole school was watching.

  “I can’t believe he’s gone. Just like that.” He snapped his fingers as he shook his head. “Quan didn’t deserve to die.” He gritted his teeth, his jaw clenching. “What’s the point of these Gifts if we can’t protect the people we care about? What’s the use of all this training?” he asked, a low growl in his voice.

  I swallowed; there it was. I bit my bottom lip and shut my eyes. Oden was unraveling, and it was painful to watch. Professor Greene and Veranda Yarrow exchanged a look, as if debating whether to put an end to his speech. I hoped they would, but I supposed they were giving him leeway since he knew Quan best.

  Oden sputtered, “When I find Kaito Nakamaru, I’ll make him fucking pay for what he did!”

  Veranda snatched the microphone away and the room sat in stunned silence.

  I dropped my head, the heat of fresh tears streaking my face. Kai. I placed my hand flat on my chest where the owl charm used to rest. My heartbeat raced against it as I swallowed the urge to defend him.

  Miss Yarrow spoke, “Emotions are running high. There will be grief counselors available to any who feel the need to talk. Please join us in the cafeteria for refreshments, if you wish.”

  The screen above the stage flipped to static. Taking it as a sign that the ceremony was over, some eager students stood and prepared to move to the cafeteria. I didn’t blame them. The sorrow in the auditorium was palpable. Thunder crackled outside as the first few students filed out, then the screen lit up again. My stomach dropped, my heartbeat racing as I gaped at the screen. Kaito Nakamaru stared back, and before he spoke his first words, I feared trusting him had been a terrible mistake.

  2

  Kaito

  I glared into the blackness of the camera lens and took a steadying breath before I shattered my former life. Willing myself not to think about who would be listening, I interweaved my fingers to keep my hands from shaking. I felt DT looming over me, heard the scrape of his boots as he paced behind the cam
era, his eyebrows raised and his head cocked at my hesitation.

  I sighed, knowing I’d agreed to this, as the camera’s static red light urged me on. I spoke, “By now you know of The Fallen’s involvement in the attack on Gifted Fae Academy. Now that we have your attention, we’d like you to know why. This unwarranted hero worship must end. Wake up! The Fae’s hands are covered in blood. Their power has been absolute, their victims slaughtered without a trial. Why should some be praised for these violent acts and others punished? As a society, we’ve been brainwashed by the media, taught to love and trust the unchecked Fae as we reward them for their violence. They grow richer, while the rest starve on the streets. We die, they profit. According to the Fae, there is no benefit in financially assisting the poor or ungifted. Gifts alone determine whether we starve or thrive, with no merit given to any other aspect of our being. The Fallen merely seek to correct this injustice. To take back the wealth and power that belongs to the people. We are driven by the ones we couldn’t save, the fallen among us. We have grown in numbers, gifts, and strengths, and we will purge this city of the corruption that has placed the Fae upon pedestals, allowing them to play judge and jury. The leaders of this city have turned violence into an exalted enterprise—paying the Fae with the funding that should be helping the less fortunate. It’s time to stand up and rise against the Fae.

  “My name is Kaito Nakamaru, the leader of The Fallen. Join us, and together we’ll build a better world—one where your gift won’t define your life.”

  The red light on the camera blinked out but the tension in my body didn’t ease. DT stepped in front of me. “Very good, Kaito. Very good. Your sacrifice is going to help so many people.” He turned back to Zane. “You were right about him. He’s perfect.”

  I stood. “Forgive me for not being flattered,” I growled as I headed for the door, making sure to knock shoulders with Zane on my way out.

  It was supposed to be a threat, but Zane’s clumsy footsteps behind me said he hadn’t gotten the message. “Kai,” he called. I froze. “This really is for the best, you know. I know you’re not happy about how it all went down at the school but—”

  I turned on him so quickly that I felt his gift flicker to life between us. He pushed his glasses up on his nose.

  “A kid is dead, Zane. He wasn’t Fae, he wasn’t part of the system. He was a high school kid, like us.”

  “And more kids like him starve on the streets everyday and they don't get a shred of the news coverage he did. They don’t get a fucking honorary title. It’s one thing to be the face, man...” He stepped toward me. “...to say the words verbatim, and to even sound committed to the cause, but if that’s not how you feel, what are you even doing here?”

  I ran a hand through my hair.

  His mouth tensed. “Don’t forget about the bigger picture.”

  I glared at him. “I didn’t ask for this.”

  He shook his head, his blue hair glinting in the stale light of the office hallway. “None of us did.”

  DT walked out from behind Zane and my hair stood on end.

  “Is everything okay?” he asked, his voice teeming with sincerity and concern. I’d met with him on several occasions but I never quite got used to the look of him. He was, in a word, transcendental. His skin looked ceramic, like carved marble, his polished features delicate and almost feminine. His white hair further emphasized his youthful, almost ethereal appearance. But it was the ease with which he moved through the world that unnerved me. He was all things pleasant, gentle, and charismatic—hardly the type I would have thought capable of masterminding The Fallen. Alongside DT, Zane wilted like a flower exposed to too much sun. He leaned away as if his body instinctively fled DT’s dark gift.

  Before Zane could get out of reach, DT draped his arm over his shoulder like an old friend, but Zane’s panicked gaze snapped to me so quickly I could tell we feared the same thing. My breath caught as I waited to see if Zane would drop dead, then and there. The last thing you wanted was to be touched by the harbinger of death. Instead, DT grinned and said, “Be easy on him, Zane. Kaito is burdened by what he lost today. Give him time.” His gaze moved to me, but he spoke to Zane as if I weren’t there. “In a few short minutes, he accomplished more for our cause than our entire enterprise. He’s a hero.”

  I felt like many things: a traitor, a liar, but certainly not a hero. Without a word, I turned and headed for the elevators, leaving Zane to fend for himself. I wanted nothing more than to hide out in my new apartment. DT was right about one thing, I did need time. He knew that by making me the face of The Fallen, I would be sacrificing my reputation and any chance at a normal life. That was certainly true enough. But as I moved into the elevator and the doors closed in front of me, the sick pang in my stomach said what I lost that day was much more precious. I reached up and ran my thumb over the owl charm on the chain around my neck, the one that once belonged to the girl I finally realized I love. I’m sorry, Reina.

  3

  Reina

  The screen blinked out and with it the last semblance of faith I had in Kaito. My skin seared as the collective student body’s attention turned on me. I trembled, my mind so caught between a web of emotions that I couldn’t settle on one. Then slowly, like a feather drifting below the breeze, it landed. I was fucking pissed.

  “Reina,” Bri whispered, but words just swirled in the tornado that raged inside of me.

  How could he do this? I believed in him. All that bullshit about his feelings for me, all those games. Every memory I had of Kai was suddenly filtered through a new lens; the lens of a traitor. Tears pricked my eyes as I ground my teeth together. He’d hurt me for years and I’d defended him. My breath caught. He was nothing but a fucking pathological liar.

  Briara touched my arm and I snatched it away instinctively.

  “Reina,” she said more sternly, “you’re glowing.”

  I looked up at her, a purple sheen reflected on her face. Her gaze moved beyond me and I turned to find a museum of frightened statues. Desperate to flee, I planned to push my way through the crowd, but they parted so quickly that I made it to the door in a few clumsy strides.

  I burst out into the courtyard, where the sky had already opened up to rain, and slashed a glowing hand through the air in frustration. The rain split as the purple blade sailed through the mist before dissolving. I placed a quivering hand to my chest, as if I could slow the race of my heart with a touch. The rain soaked through my clothes, and I heard the shuffle of students as they started to file out of the auditorium behind me. There was nowhere I could think of to be alone, so I fixed my gaze on the hedge maze. I headed for the entrance, the icy rain seeping into my shoes. I shivered, though my skin felt hot, sweat mixing with ice on my forehead.

  I blinked, and standing between me and my escape was Yemoja Roux.

  “Let me pass,” I ground out through my clenched teeth.

  She raised her hands defensively. “I know you’re hurting right now, but if you stay out here, you’ll get sick and you won’t be able to help anyone.”

  I pushed past her. “I don’t care.”

  “Oh, so you thought being Fae was only about fame and glory, then? Good to know.”

  I spun. “What are you even talking about?”

  Her tone hardened. “Did you think it would be easy? This, right here, is what it feels like to be Fae. Bad things happen—horrible, unspeakable things—and those are the moments when you need to hold it together. When things are the darkest, the Fae step up. They don’t fall apart, or put their lives at risk because they’re upset.”

  “You don’t understand,” I said as hot tears spilled down my cheeks.

  “Then tell me. I’m here for you. Let’s get out of the rain, and you can share the story. We can talk about why this is hurting you so much.”

  I stumbled over to her, my strength draining from my legs. Her voice was a mix of firmness and tenderness, a sound that was so like my parents. It soothed me, so I moved towards it l
ike a flower towards the sun. I collapsed into her arms and cried while she carried me inside. “I got you,” she whispered.

  Bri dashed after us with no regard for the rain. “Can I come along… please? I… I think I should come,” she said, her gaze moving between me and Yemoja Roux, her dark makeup already running down her face.

  Later that afternoon, after I’d dried off, I sat with my hands cupped around a gold-rimmed teacup and held it to my face as the steam warmed my nose. Yemoja Roux sat on the far end of the L-shaped couch, wearing a similar t-shirt and sweatpants combo as the one she’d given me to wear while my clothes dried. She looked so human in normal clothes, and I realized I’d never thought of her that way before. I was reminded of the time she cried when I used my gift on her. Bri was smudging the apartment, burning sage in every corner, and Yemoja Roux didn’t seem to mind in the least. As I scanned the penthouse apartment, with its high vaulted ceilings and arched windows, it was hard to imagine that Yemoja Roux lived here. While it was every bit, if not more, the flashy and expensive place I imagined all Fae to live in, it was something else—something I hadn’t expected. It was cold… lonely.

  Bri took a seat beside me and rested her head on my shoulder. She looked different without her makeup, and even after living with her for months, I’d scarcely seen her without it. The makeup suited her, but the ease of her features without it seemed to capture her good nature. I was glad she’d come along. She’d always told me how bad she was in emotionally charged situations, but I don’t think she gave herself enough credit. She was here. What more could I ask?