One Kind of Wicked: A Reverse Harem Academy Series (The True and the Crown Book 1)

by May Dawson

  “Stay,” Airren barks at her. “I hope the two of you can help each other get your heads on straight. Right now, it’s Tera’s turn.”

  “That’s really condescending,” I say.

  “Oh?” His tone sharpens. He closes the door behind him. He swipes my chair away from my desk and sits in it backward, his powerful arms braced on the back of the chair. “I wonder why I might be condescending about your behavior, Tera Donovan.”

  I sit forward. “You can just call me Tera.” My voice is equally heated.

  The door clicks quietly shut behind Stelly. I stare past Airren’s furious blue eyes, following Stelly’s departure, but he doesn’t look at the door. No matter what Airren told Stelly, his ire is fixed solely on me.

  “Why would I do that?” he asks. “Everyone’s talking about you now. The Dark Lord’s daughter. Her wild power. Her equally wild sense of ethics.”

  I can’t meet those blazing eyes of his. I glance away, gathering my hair in one thick rope over my shoulder. “I take it stopping time is bad manners?”

  “Pretty much,” he says. “And so is humiliating a hero of the Divide War.”

  I make myself meet his furious gaze, even though anxiety eats through my stomach. “She humiliated me first.”

  “So?”

  I shake my head. “You wouldn’t understand.”

  “Yeah, no kidding!” He explodes, slapping his hand on the seatback. “Of course I don’t understand.”

  The sound of the slap on the wood fades away, and the room is quiet. My cheeks are flushed hot. My adrenaline is flooding, my fight-or-flight instinct overactive after my time Earthside.

  “Do it now,” he says, his voice soft.

  “Do what?”

  “Stop time.” His jaw is tight. “I don’t know many people who can stop time. I can only think of one who survived the war, actually.”

  I stare back at him. Don’t these guys talk to each other? I wish I could stop time, but I don’t know how to do that. I don’t even know where to begin. I haven’t done the simplest spell in a long time.

  He leans back, his eyes cool. “Go on. You like to show off. Show off.”

  “I can’t,” I reply, my voice brittle. “Okay? I don’t even know if I can raise a spoon off a table anymore.”

  He cocks his head to one side. His tone is calmer when he asks, “Why?”

  I don’t want to dime out Mycroft, but I can’t live up to that lie. I can barely grind out the words, though. “I was about to cry.”

  He sits back, raking his hand through his hair. “You were about to cry? So instead…”

  “Don’t you guys talk?” I ask. “I thought you were best friends.”

  “We’re closer than friends,” Airren says. “Mycroft and I served together. We’re like brothers.”

  I stare at him, trying to imagine what their relationship is like. It must be nice to have a brother, or someone close to it.

  His voice rises slightly. “But he pisses me off.”

  He gets up and crosses the room, pacing, slipping his hands in his pockets. “What is it you want here anyway, Tera?”

  “I just want a normal life here.” My voice comes out small. Whatever normal means. I know exactly what my future looks like Earthside, and it’s a long slog of misery and poverty. I used to be practically a princess; I don’t know what normal looks like here. I’m just betting it’ll suck a lot less.

  “Do you?” He pauses with his back to me. For once, he’s not wearing a dress shirt; his t-shirt clings to his lats before dropping loosely over the lean taper of his waist. “Then why did you play along when Mycroft wanted the room to think you were the most powerful freshman on campus?”

  “I didn’t have a choice,” I say softly.

  He shakes his head. “That’s a lie, and you know it.”

  I jump to my feet. The adrenaline flooding through my legs has made them shaky, eager to take flight. There’s nowhere to run.

  I level a finger at him. “I don’t know who you think you are to lecture me.”

  “I care about what happens to you.” There’s a flash of heat in his eyes and a set in his jaw that would normally make me afraid of a man. With him, the heat just convinces me that he means what he says.

  “Why?” I don’t understand. Nobody’s cared enough to yell at me in a long time, and as much as I want to tell him to fuck off, I also feel strangely warmed.

  “Is that what you learned Earthside? That you can’t trust anyone?”

  “That’s what I learned in Avalon.”

  When he meets my eyes, his gaze softens. “You don’t need to borrow any more secrets, Tera. Mycroft meant well, I’m sure, but people thinking you’re so powerful—it’s not a good thing.”

  “Maybe they’ll stay out of my way,” I say.

  “Maybe that isn’t as wonderful as you think it is,” he snaps back.

  “I think it is when no one wants to be my friend except, bizarrely, you.” In class today, Radner said my father’s rat army was still scurrying around. Could Airren want to get close to me because he idolizes my father? “Why exactly is that?”

  His lips quirk up. “Well, Tera, I can see the sweetness locked up behind those cold blue eyes of yours.”

  “I guess your magic doesn’t help your eyesight.”

  “Speaking of.” He seems unaffected by my insult. He plucks a pencil off my desk and holds it out to me, balancing it on his outstretched fingers. “Pick it up?”

  Spoon magic. Every kid in Avalon leans to levitate a spoon when they’re ten, when they’re allowed to experiment with magic for the first time.

  It’s the simplest cast, too. Mime taking the pencil in your hand. Then raise a finger, the same height in the air as the spoon should rise.

  “Sure.” I lift my hand, and my chest tightens. An old fragment of memory plays relentlessly. His breath on my face. His fingers biting into the side of my throat. I’d been so intent on getting away from him, I hadn’t realized I was choking until I gagged and couldn’t draw a breath in.

  I pretend to pluck the pencil from the air. I flip my hand over as if I carry the pencil on my fingertips.

  He squeezed tighter. The hard edge of his hand pressed deep into my throat. My eyes bulge. I raised my hands, trying to cast, but the threads of magic kept slipping through my fingers.

  “Tera,” Airren prompts.

  Magic takes silence at first. I try to focus, despite the handsome, arrogant man standing in front of me. Despite the memories crowding behind.

  His breath was hot on my face. I fought the darkness at the edges of my vision, but the darkness took me anyway.

  My fingers rise through the air. The pencil stays stationary.

  Airren’s face changes subtly. “Shit.”

  “Tell me about it.” I cross my arms, turning away from him. “I’m going to get kicked out. And it’s not even going to be for making a war hero piss herself.”

  “Don’t be a bitch about Radner,” he warns.

  “I thought we already covered this.” I turn my back to him to look through my bookshelf, even though I can’t focus on the titles; my chest heaves with quick breaths, my vision hazy with panic after trying to cast. “Who are you to lecture me?”

  He storms toward the door. But he pauses with his hand on the knob.

  “You know—whoever you are, it’s true for all of us—you’re lucky to find friends who will tell you when you’re being stupid and love you through it anyway.”

  “You’re not that person to me.” My voice comes out so soft that I almost think Airren can’t hear it. As soon as I’ve said, I hope he didn’t.

  “It seems like you’re going to do your best to make sure I’m not,” he says tartly. “We’ll see, Tera. Maybe you’ll win. Maybe you’ll make everyone scared of you.”

  He goes through the door, and it slams shut behind him.

  That win is the best outcome I can imagine, really. Everyone scared of me and leaving me alone. Maybe I’ll become a hermit in th
e mountains of Ashdor, like in the stories I read as a kid.

  It’s the best outcome I can imagine, but it’s not the one I want.

  Chapter 10

  Cax

  “Let’s go to the range.” Mycroft pushes back his chair from his desk. “I’m bored.”

  “I’m not.” I glance up from my desk, where I’m tinkering with the necklace that Croft and I have been working on for Tera. Imbuing magic in the necklace was one thing; making sure it wouldn’t fail her when she needed us most required a bit of technology in the mix. Mycroft is the most powerful magician on campus, but he’s all thumbs; when it comes to working with a tiny screwdriver and a magnifying glass, the mission is mine.

  Mycroft’s eyes flicker across the room to a translucent silver bubble shimmering back and forth as it flattens itself beneath the doorway. As fragile as they appear, they’re incredibly tough; it takes a lot of magic to break a bubble that isn’t meant for you, and they can squeeze under any door. No matter how much you might want to keep them out.

  “Great,” Mycroft muses out loud. “I’m in trouble.”

  “I figured I was in trouble,” I say. “What’d you do?”

  Mycroft holds his hand out, palm up, and the bubble floats into his palm. It pops when it touches his skin.

  Airren’s voice fills the room, rough and impatient. “Meet me at the library. We need to talk.”

  Two sentences, and so much ominous.

  “I made sure Tera’s cover would hold.” Mycroft closes his fingers around the mist the bubble had left behind. “She needs to look like a badass if anyone’s going to follow her.”

  I set the necklace aside reluctantly. I hate to be interrupted when I’m working. After I throw on my jacket, I check that my knife is in my boot. My life got a lot more dangerous when I fell in with Mycroft and Airren, but it got a lot more interesting too.

  “Damn it,” Mycroft mutters as he shrugs his own jacket on. “Fighting with Airren wasn’t how I planned to liven up my night.”

  “No actual fist-fight tonight.” I request as we head out the door. The two of them are close as brothers and twice as vicious sometimes. They’d kill for each other—I know they have—but sometimes it seems like they would kill each other just as readily.

  When we all started college, I was surprised that the two seasoned veterans, who stood out in our freshmen class with their arrow-straight posture, dangerous bodies, and advanced magic, wanted to be my friends. It turned out that they wanted my tinkering skills. It wasn’t until I followed them into the path of a Ravenger that I realized they weren’t veterans at all. They were still Divide Marines, taking cover among students to continue their work in a place where nothing is exactly what it seems.

  It’s been an adventure since I met them, and I don’t plan on the adventure ending when we graduate.

  Mycroft and I cross the dark campus to the library. The moon hangs low over the towers of the dorms. Mycroft is silent, even by his standards, as if something is on his mind.

  When we reach the library, Airren is studying at his usual spot against the wall on the main floor, between the stacks. He stands and walks away from us toward the stairs. Mycroft and I glance at each other, shrug, and follow him. Airren’s always had a bit of a flair for the dramatic.

  He leads us down into the basement and unlocks the door to the warehouse, which I’ve never been in. I barely get a glimpse of the mythic rows of ancient texts and treasures, though, before he’s unlocked another door to the side. We file into a long conference room. No matter how cool the location, it’s as boring as any other conference room, with a dusty chalkboard and a battered table.

  “No one else will be able to use this space.” He tosses two more keys on the desk, both threaded onto ribbons in our dorm colors. “We need a place we can work in privacy as we sort out the True.”

  “Great.” I pick up the key, thrilled that I’m avoiding one of Airren’s lectures. I’ve heard quite a few before.

  “And we can talk freely here,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest. He sits on the edge of the table, leveling me with a look before he turns that same irritated gaze on Mycroft. “What the hell is wrong with the two of you?”

  “That’s a really general question,” I say. “Mycroft clearly has a chip on his shoulder from growing up in the mines, plus I really think he has some combat trauma—that neither of you will discuss—and I—”

  “Need to shut up,” Airren fills in for me. “You can’t keep hinting to Tera that there’s any reason behind why the three of us are always around. Just pretend you think she’s cute.”

  I do think she’s cute. I think she’s more than cute, though; she’s unpredictable and fiery and smart and a little bit lost. It turns out I find that charming in a woman.

  “Airren is right,” Mycroft says.

  “Traitor,” I tell him.

  Mycroft shakes his head. “Oh, Airren is pissed at me too, and I know why. But he’s right, a lot of people died for the intel about what the True plans for Tera. We can’t blow the chance to get close to her.”

  “I’m not blowing it,” I protest. “She’s suspicious about why we want to be her friends. If we just told her something—that we’re curious about her because of what she means to the True—”

  “No!” Airren says. “Radner was clear. Any reveal of information needs to be vetted by our superiors. There’s a long game being played here, Cax—”

  “A long con.” I correct.

  Airren shrugs one shoulder. “You said you wanted to be Intel. You can walk away—stay away from Tera, leave us to work. Just keep your mouth shut.”

  “No, I’ll stay.” When I imagine walking away from Tera now, something shifts inside me. I barely know her. But there’s something bright and warm underneath her tough exterior, and I want to wrap my arms around her and protect her from what’s to come.

  “People died for that intel, and more people will die if we lose control of her,” Mycroft says.

  “I understand!” I say. “It’s just that she seems like a girl.”

  “She should seem like a mission,” Airren says.

  I nod without answering. I want to be one of them, and that means I’m supposed to be a good spy.

  In an abstract way, I’ve known that being a spy means hurting people. Betraying them.

  Now it’s real. We’re just a few days into the mission, and I don’t like it.

  “Got it?” Airren’s voice is sharp.

  Typical Airren. He can’t just let it go; he needs the yes sir. “Just a mission. Not a hurting girl who should be able to trust someone for once in her life.”

  I expect Airren to light into me. Instead, he says, “She’s both, Cax. But you can’t lose focus.”

  “I’ve got it,” I tell him. “No more hints.”

  “It’s for her own good too.” His eyes are wide, sincere, when he claps me on the shoulder.

  I know he’s a good actor, but I think he really believes that line.

  Chapter 11

  Tera

  In the morning, I’m sitting on my bed combing through my freshly-washed hair when I realize Stelly is stalling. She’s skimming through her book, but she keeps glancing up as if she’s checking to see if I’m ready yet.

  “I’m skipping breakfast this morning.” My stomach growls, but I don’t want her to feel obligated to sit with me. My desire for a crowd, any crowd, wars with the desire to avoid pity.

  “We’ve got Casting together,” she says.

  Great. Casting. Casting with Stelly.

  She shrugs one shoulder. “I’m going to run down to the coffee spot and grab a latte. Do you like vanilla?”

  “No.” I can’t afford a latte. I have the cash I had left in the world when the cab took me to the Portal, which is twenty-nine dollars. I haven’t even figured out how to convert it to local currency. I’m saving it for a rainy day, but when I say rainy day, it had better be nothing more than a sprinkle. Maybe just a strong breeze.

&n
bsp; “Who doesn’t like vanilla? It’s the world’s most harmless flavor,” she says. “Do you like bagels?”

  “I like quiet in the morning,” I say, and regret it. Christ. She had good reason to cry about being my roommate; I’m a jackass. I put my pencil down and say, “I’m sorry. I’m a little tense.”

  “Me too,” she says, before she slips out of the room.

  As soon as she’s gone, I toss my comb down on the bed, push my damp hair back behind my ears, and concentrate on raising the comb. I couldn’t do magic Earthside, and I knew it. But now, here where I should? Magic hurts. The memories press in, and my body responds like magic itself is agony.

  I’m on the edge of despair when I hear the sound of the knob turning. Then it stops. I jump to my feet, my hands already curling into fists, ready for a fight.

  The door flies open. Stelly’s shoulder is against the door, pushing it open. She’s carrying a latte in each hand, and a bag tucked under her elbow.

  “I figured no one really dislikes vanilla or bagels unless they’re a monster,” she says brightly, putting the latte down on my desk. “Jury’s still out of you, girlfriend.”

  “I’m not paying you for anything I don’t ask for.” There was probably a less bitchy way of phrasing that.

  Stelly looks at me with a frozen bright smile on her face, just long enough to make it clear that was not a response she cares much for, and then she shrugs and goes on, her face animate again. “You know who my family is, right?”

  “No, I’ve been out of the loop.”

  “Okay. Well, the short answer is: my mom owns companies. Plural. She brings tech from Earth and recreates it here. So I can buy you all the bagels I want, bitch.” She fishes her bagel out and then tosses the bag to me.

  I grab the crumpled paper bag when it lands in my lap. The smell of warm, yeasty bagel floats out. “If you really want to buy me bagels…”

  “I really do. Carbs should improve your disposition.”

  “What’s going on?” I rip the bag open. “How’d you go from tears to… this?”