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

by May Dawson

  I don’t know how to describe this.

  “I was awful to you, and I’m sorry,” she says shortly. “Do we have to talk it out?”

  “No, I guess not.”

  “And I’m a crier,” she says. “It’s true. I cry at everything. Sad songs. Children’s movies. Happy songs. Unusually exceptional landscaping.”

  “Landscaping?” I repeat.

  “Because the world is a beautiful place!” She throws her arms up in the air. “Have you ever noticed the rose bushes behind the Arts building?”

  “No.” Would I have seen that when I was fleeing the building for the library after scaring Radner? Hmm. I probably wasn’t taking in the flowers then.

  She takes a big bite of her bagel, chews thoughtfully, and swallows before she tells me, “I know it’s silly. I’m kind of an embarrassment to my family.”

  When Airren was trying to rein in her crying jag, he told her, Don’t embarrass your family. She’s telling me something vulnerable, something that hurts. Even with my rusty social skills, I know I’m supposed to offer something an even trade if I want to be friends.

  She lies back on the bed, chewing on her bagel, one arm propped beneath her head. She doesn’t look like she expects anything from me.

  I lay back too. The bagel is so freaking good, especially when I was starving but couldn’t handle the cafeteria today.

  “I was too.” My voice seems loud in the quiet room.

  I want to know more about Stelly and Cax, but I don’t want to say anything more about myself. The two of us stare up at the same ceiling and chew in silence. But the faintest warmth lights in my chest.

  Maybe this crazy girl is really going to be my friend.

  “Airren really tore into me,” I say.

  “He’s an ass,” Stelly says. “I love him. I’ve known him for three years now, and he is the best guy in the world most of the time. Kind. Generous. Caring. But also, a total ass.”

  “What about Mycroft?” I ask, my voice sounding idle.

  Stelly sits up on her elbow, fixing me with a knowing glance. “He won’t tell anyone a damn thing about himself. I don’t know his birthday or his middle name. He’s a good guy too, but he tries to keep even that a secret.”

  “Why?”

  “That’s a bigger mystery than his middle name.”

  “Maybe,” I muse out loud, “his middle is too awful to tell anyone. Because I mean, come on, his parents named him Mycroft.”

  She grins, exhaling softly. Stelly seems to smile and laugh as easily as she cries. I feel jealous of her lightness.

  “I like Mycroft.” It’s a rich, deep rumble of a voice.

  I sit up fast. Mycroft braces one blocky shoulder in the doorway, his tattooed arms crossed over his chest.

  “Doesn’t anyone knock around here?” I demand, annoyed that he’s walked in on me talking about him.

  “Watch your tone, blondie,” he says. “I find your wrath adorable, but not when it’s directed at me.”

  Funny how that all deflates my anger in a second. Adorable? I tilt my chin up at him, wrapping my arms around my legs. “Yeah, speaking of. Thanks so much; you got me in serious trouble with Airren.”

  Mycroft shrugs.

  “Wow,” Stelly observes, glancing between Mycroft and me. “For a second, I thought Mycroft was breaking his streak. Adorable.”

  “I think you’re adorable too,” Mycroft tells her. “When you…”

  He mimes zipping his mouth.

  Stelly swings her feet off the bed. “Like I said, I’m the honorary little sister around these parts. So the guys are pretty much always assholes to me.”

  I grin, wishing that I was someone’s honorary little sister. Or maybe that’s not what I want to be to these guys. Still, the comfortable relationship among them all makes me wish I fit in.

  “Your advisor wants to see you,” Mycroft says. “That’s what I came to tell you. After Casting, you need to head to her office.”

  “When did you become a messenger?” I ask.

  “Well, your advisor is the professor that I TA for,” Mycroft delivers this in a deadpan voice. “Radner’s office is on the top floor of Arts. End of the west wing.”

  “Are you kidding me right now?” I demand.

  Mycroft’s lips tug slightly towards one corner.

  “It won’t be so bad, blondie,” he promises. “I’ll be there.”

  There’s something about that faint smile of his that distracts me from dreading a face-to-face with Radner. Do not flirt with the handsome jerk. “Are you going to tell her that I can’t actually stop time?”

  He glances at his watch. “You’re about to be late for Casting. And I’d worry about making a good impression if I were you two.”

  I jump off the bed, grabbing my backpack, as Stelly also hurries to get her stuff. I’ve only lost track of time because of Mycroft; it doesn’t seem fair for him to be judgy about it. “I thought you said not to worry about my reputation.”

  “I said not to worry about my reputation,” Mycroft corrects. “Yours is already pretty desperate.”

  I stuff the last of the bagel into my mouth and follow Stelly and Mycroft out of the room.

  As we head across campus, Mycroft peels off without a goodbye. Stelly rolls her eyes at his tall, impressive frame as he strides away, but then bumps her shoulder against mine.

  “I swear that’s the warmest I’ve ever seen him,” she says.

  “Stelly.”

  She grins at the reproving tone of my voice. “You have to promise that if you melt down the ice-man’s walls, you’ll tell me all his secrets.”

  I shake my head.

  “I know, you’re full of secrets too,” she says. “You might be two-of-a-kind.”

  “I don’t have any secrets, Stelly,” I tell her.

  She nods dramatically, pressing her finger to her lips.

  She doesn’t have to believe me. But it’s true. I don’t have any secrets.

  I just have stories I don’t want to remember.

  Chapter 12

  Stelly’s eyes flicker over to me. Little worry lines stand out clearly between her arched blonde eyebrows.

  The Casting classroom is as different as could be from the lecture classes. The room is tucked away in the basement of Arts and feels dimly lit, even with the hum of fluorescents overhead. The buzz of electromagnetic waves from the electricity is almost palpable, stretching every nerve in my body with anxiety. When I first was flung Earthside, the constant hum of electronics felt like it would drive me mad, and I’ve already grown accustomed again to Avalon’s peace.

  Freshmen stand in a circle, repeating casts while TAs and the professor circle the room. These dark rooms are for casting practice. First-semester freshmen are supposed to cast under the eyes of a professor or an upperclassman. Casting can go terribly wrong. So we practice first, repeating the same hand motion hundreds of times until our fingers cramp. Next semester, we’ll move upstairs and work in small groups. But for now, here, the technology dampens our magic and makes sure that if we mis-cast, nothing comes of it but a lecture.

  The professor doesn’t even bother to correct my fingers; he glances at me and says, “Tera would kill us all, apparently. Does anyone feel like being eaten by a demon today?”

  I bite down on my lower lip. He’s being facetious. Hardly anyone ever summons a demon by accident.

  At least I have a semester before I’ll stand in front of the class to cast. I just need to master spoon magic and stopping time before then. No need to wake up in a cold sweat at night.

  Everyone else has studied casting—and done some basic magic—during their last several years of secondary school. It’s never felt so obvious that I’m behind; I can’t even waggle my fingers right.

  Professor Hendrick stops in front of me again. “Let’s switch to wand work,” he says drily. “While the wand often makes it easier to channel your focus—and is a bit safer for a klutz—it’s important that you learn to cast both ways. Y
ou can’t become dependent on your wands.”

  Shit.

  I don’t have a wand. When the uniforms helped me through the portal Earthside, I didn’t exactly get to bring my wand.

  For a second, the house where I grew up looms in my mind. It’s an enormous country house, the white marble exterior winking through green trees. That’s how I remember it in my mind the most: coming home, seeing all the lights on in the house, blazing against the night.

  I wonder if my wand is still there. I wonder if the house still stands, or if they burned it down.

  My magic paper bag of school books did not contain a wand. But why would it? There’s probably no one else in Avalon who doesn’t have a fucking wand. I didn’t think about how I would probably need one right away.

  Also, wands definitely cost more than twenty-nine dollars.

  Stelly tries to make eye contact with me, but I ignore her. I try to look like I’m focused and learning as the students around me cast with their wands.

  The professor stops in front of me. There’s a smirk when he opens his lips that makes me want to slap him.

  “If you’re not prepared for class, you may go.”

  Stelly whispers something after me that I don’t quite catch as I turn and grab my backpack. Well, apparently I’m not meant to hear the last ten minutes of this class either. Here’s hoping they don’t share the secrets of the universe while I’m out.

  Next up is my visit with Professor Radner. Yay.

  With no way to send a bubble, I find myself sitting on the stairs that lead to the top floor, waiting for eleven when Casting should be over. Then Mycroft will be around to go into Radner’s office with me. Not that I think he’s going to help my case. Mycroft seems to make nothing but trouble for me. I don’t know why I feel better with him around. Maybe the man won’t just get me in trouble, but will help me get out of it too.

  I shake my head at myself. Wishful thinking.

  As if my thoughts have summoned him, Mycroft turns the corner of the stairs. He’s holding a heavy, old text on his forearm, his head down, reading it as he walks. I think he’s lost in the text as he heads up the stairs toward me without looking up.

  I’m about to jump to my feet before he steps on me. Without looking up, he pauses and asks, “What are you doing, blondie?”

  “I got kicked out of Casting.”

  He steps onto the stair next to me. His palm hovers next to my face, and it takes me a second to realize he’s offering me a hand up.

  I reach up and take it. His fingers close around mine, and he hauls me to my feet. He tugs me with him, forcing me to step backward, but I don’t mind holding his hand a little longer. I step onto the top of the landing with him. Light streams through the big windows at the top of the landing, falling across his hard-angled, handsome face.

  “I didn’t have a wand,” I say.

  “Look at that. You can get yourself into trouble without me.” He finally flips the book shut, tucking it under his arm, and turns those deep eyes to me. His full attention makes butterflies rise in my stomach. “Did you forget it?”

  “I don’t have one.”

  He raises one eyebrow. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  I feel stupid, but it’s not like I’ve ever had a class on Casting like everyone else. I don’t know how things work in this world, not exactly, even though it used to be mine.

  I shake my head. “So you could rescue me like before? You could have stopped time to take me shopping?”

  He rolls his eyes. “I’m broke. You should see Cax for funds.”

  “Ha,” I say.

  “Not kidding. He’s rich.” Mycroft shrugs. “And he’s a sucker for a pretty girl. Tell him that you need him. Cax loves to be needed.”

  My lips part in surprise. I’m pretty sure Mycroft would never ask for that kind of help. He knows damn well I can’t either.

  In some ways, Stelly is right that we’re two of a kind.

  Except he’s a foot taller than me, ropy with muscle, and a magical genius.

  He unzips his messenger bag and reaches in. He pulls out a wand. My nostrils flare at its faint scent: old, dry wood, and ocean salt, and a touch of iron and copper like this wand has soaked in blood. It smells like power. The wand’s base is silver, worn smooth by a human hand, and the wood has been painstakingly etched with small runes. By tradition, only the wand’s owner can etch and enchant it. Mycroft has spent dozens of hours, if not more, bent over this wand in careful work.

  He waggles the wand at me, raising an eyebrow like I’m dense. “Take it, Tera.”

  “I can’t take that.”

  “You can do whatever I tell you to, freshman.” He reaches over my shoulder, grabbing the handle of my backpack, and spins me bodily around. I roll my eyes, but his familiar touch is nice, in a way.

  He unzips my backpack and shoves the wand in, then zips it back up. “Done making me late?”

  “Thank you.”

  He shakes his head. “Don’t thank me. I’m giving you something because I want to.”

  “I can still say thank you.”

  “What’d I say about following my orders?”

  “This isn’t the military.”

  Airren said he and Mycroft served together. But I’m not exactly being a candidate for Avalon’s finest.

  His lips quirk up slightly. “Oh, it doesn’t have to be.”

  I’m still trying to make sense of those words and that smirk when he grabs my hand and hauls me with him down the hall.

  Chapter 13

  “You wanted to see me?” I ask Radner, lingering in the doorway as if maybe she’ll say no and I can escape. Mycroft stands behind me, a hulking presence; he’s back to his stoic impression, where his face is as rocky as his muscles.

  “Sit.” She gestures to the chair.

  I sit on the edge, my hands folded tightly together on my knees.

  “You’re not in trouble,” she says briskly. “Let’s get that out of the way.”

  That’s a pleasant surprise.

  “Mycroft confessed his ridiculous prank.”

  Mycroft’s face is completely impassive. His eyes on her are steady, but he looks untouched. Untouchable.

  He’d told me, “It’s a point of pride to me to never let the bastards win.” I am one-hundred-percent with him on this, and I’m pretty sure Professor Radner is in bastard territory. I stare back at her without responding.

  “How is your magic, Tera?” She shuffles aside some folders and draws a book toward her. It’s a dark green book with elaborate, swirling gold script on the front. It’s hard to read the ornate writing upside-down, and then I catch the T-e-r. I lean forward, unable to hide my curiosity.

  The book says Tera Donovan on the front.

  She taps her fingernails on the cover. “Student book. Everyone has one—your teachers send your grades and their notes, and your advisor updates it. You are already an administrative problem—we don’t seem to have your mathematic or your magic scores.”

  “Strange,” I say blandly.

  “So, you did take your tests?”

  “I must have forgotten to write my name on the papers.” I run my fingers over the fat strand of my braid, pulling it over my shoulder. “Blonde, you know.”

  “Mm. I guess we don’t have to worry about a ditzy Donovan taking over the world, at least.” She eyes me suspiciously.

  “Sorry to be a difficulty,” I say. “Anyway, could you answer a question for me, please?”

  “What’s that?”

  “Why am I here?”

  “That’s an awfully existential question when I’m still on my first cup of coffee.” Radner speaks to Mycroft more than me, in a tone as if she’s inviting him in on the joke, but his expression is unchanged.

  “I mean,” I say, even though she knows perfectly well what I mean, “I received my acceptance package for Corum out of the blue. I didn’t have any way to apply. Where did that letter come from?”

  She flips through my book aga
in, the book with my name as a title, the book that I can’t read. The pages seem like they must be blank, but that doesn’t stop her from examining them. She’s going to ignore my question.

  Then she says, “You were sent through the portal in the midst of a volatile time. You were barely more than a child…”

  I’ve told myself a hundred times that I didn’t deserve to be exiled, that I was only a child, that I shouldn’t have been held responsible for my father’s crimes.

  When someone else says it, the words stun me.

  She shrugs as if this revelation is barely worth discussing. “Your unfair sentence was commuted by the Prince.”

  “By the King?” Mycroft asks, his voice low.

  Despite how soft his voice is, it still makes me jump; I’ve almost forgotten him in the quiet of the room and the intensity of the conversation with Radner.

  “By the Prince,” Ruby says. “He’s begun to take an interest in politics.”

  “About bloody time,” Mycroft says.

  “And now that you’re back, we have to do something with you,” Radner says to me. “You must make yourself useful.”

  It might be difficult for me to make myself useful here without magic. Although I imagine a lot of people would much prefer Donovan’s daughter be a kitten with no claws.

  I have no intention of spending my life as a kitten though. I know what comes for you in the night when you can’t strike back.

  Has Radner figured out that I don’t have my magic?

  “So, someone paid my tuition and my books?”

  Her eyes shift slightly toward Mycroft at the mention of books, but she says, “You can pay your tuition back once you find employment after college.”

  “Don’t those seized lands and bank accounts count for anything?” Mycroft asks, his voice lazy and disinterested.

  Radner smiles tightly. “Tera here is a pauper, I’m afraid. Her father’s despicable gains have been rightfully seized for restitution.”

  Pauper’s such a funny, old-fashioned word.

  “It’s all right,” I say. “I’m used to it.”

  I get by on my charm. Ha.

  Radner turns that tight smile on me. “I do hope you’ll find a way to be useful, Tera. Avalon’s too small to keep any deadweight about.”