Pressing his lips together Adair ate his retort taking in the other boy, his interest blooming.
He lifted the corners of his mouth with a wicked glint in his eyes. “I’m Marquis, by the way. I’m sure I will be seeing you soon.” Gracefully, he bent in a mock bow, and then with that, he was striding back up to the Academy, hands buried in his pockets. He didn’t look back at Adair once.
Shaking his head, Adair pushed the strange boy out of his mind. He had more important things to focus on. Soaking in his final moments of peace, Adair hungrily watched as the soft hues turned into a beautiful array of fiery brilliance. The sun peaked higher in the sky, and closing his eyes, sunlight bathed his skin, flushing his cheeks and his vision. Lingering, he could pretend the world was on fire.
“Find us, Adair.”
His eyes flew open. Breathing hard, he twisted off the ledge, his heart caught in his throat. The whisper felt like someone breathing down his back, his skin prickling at the thought.
Swallowing hard, he walked back up to the Academy, thinking about the day of classes ahead, trying to ignore the voices in his head.
‘Don’t you want more?’
Stalling, he curled his fingers into his palms, his broken nails sending lacing pain up his arm. Looking behind him, he knew there was no one there. But why did he feel like he was being watched? Adrenaline surged through him, and Adair murmured under his breath, “Don’t be ridiculous, Stratton. Keep moving.”
One foot in front of the other. The cool morning air brushed past him, and it took all of Adair’s control not to run up the sloping hill. He ran a hand through his unruly inky hair, trying not to focus on his trembling fingers.
‘Accept the darkness inside of you.’
Adair came to a full stop, his limbs taut. The world was still, yet Adair couldn’t shake the oppressing feeling of hopelessness colliding within him. Like he was running right into the pit of fire himself, and his course couldn’t be changed. Which he knew was ridiculous. It had just been a nightmare, bleeding into his reality. He was hurt, tired, and overwhelmed. This was just his imagination dealing with his stress.
And he would not let it control him.
Exhaling through his teeth, he continued the climb back up to the school, icy whispers slithering in his mind and soaking into his heart the entire way.
***
“I am sure you are all aware of our visitors by this point, but I’m afraid the world must go on.” The class’s whispers only increased, and Professor Jett clapped his hands together, his booming voice encasing them all, “Enough.”
Sparks danced from their professor’s palms, and his class were instantly quiet, looking at their teacher with wide eyes. Adair felt the corner of his mouth pull up in a lazy smile.
Lowering his hands, Professor Jett continued, “Now, who wants to tell me the magical properties of these two obsidian gems?”
Adair wanted to roll his eyes; going to class was a waste of his time.
“No one?” Professor Jett raised a silver eyebrow at them all.
Sighing, Adair murmured, “Combined, they make the perfect gas to knock out your enemy, and in large doses, an army.”
“I didn’t see a hand, Stratton.”
Locking eyes with the older man, Adair slowly raised his pale hand. “The chemical reaction between the gabnite and the slinte, once weathered, will create the perfect destructive gas.”
Professor Jett nodded brusquely. “Yes, thank you, Adair,” Flicking his gaze away and, not missing a beat, Professor Jet pushed on about the different kinds of gems, rocks, and minerals that could be mined to find other lethal combinations.
Professor Jett was one of the only teachers who had the nerve to look Adair in the eye, but only barely.
Clenching his jaw, he told himself for the millionth time in his life that it wasn’t his fault he was born into the family he was. That he was different.
Sighing, he shifted his gaze to the opposite wall, where a smooth slate of frosted glass hung. Deep within the ice, smoke sprawled and swirled, shifting and ticking, smoky tendrils marking how long was left of the class. And when Adair would meet his father.
His skin crawled, dread pooling in the pit of his stomach. He had nothing to fear; it was his dad.
What happened the last time he demanded a meeting?
Adair’s spine stiffened as he gazed forward, not focusing on anything but being pulled down into his memory.
Cesan had left a note, crisp and identical to the one he received last night. When Adair had met with him, he had two seconds to process what had happened. The door clicked shut. He had looked up to his dad, hopeful and curious. Then his world exploded into white, lacing pain and his father’s anger.
‘You are above this, Adair, above them.’
Adair vaguely remembered the note floating down to the floor, drifting as light as a feather. He had clutched his cheek, desperately trying to stop the wobble in his lips as his father had whispered in a deadly quiet, “You do not need friends. You don’t need anyone, Adair, except your family. The more you open your heart, the more people will find a reason to shatter it and bind you to that pain. You are not weak, you are a Stratton, and you will not bow.”
He had run out of the room, tears spilling fluidly. That had been only a month ago, and Adair hadn’t talked to his father alone since. It was as if the closer he was to turning eighteen, the more his father craved using physical violence to ingrain his morals into Adair, no matter how hard he resisted.
No one else knew what their private
