His gaze drifted to the ceiling, and Memphis embraced that for the first time, he wasn’t going to do anything but wait and try to sort out the information he knew. His muscles started to relax, and sleep tugged at the edges of his skittering mind, desperately trying to connect the dots.
As his surroundings bled away and his consciousness floated into the realms of dreams, he couldn’t shake the feeling of unease and that they were all running out of time.
Chapter Seven
Adair
“Please proceed to the Dining Hall... Please proceed...”
Adair awoke with a jerk, completely and utterly disoriented. The Academy’s intercom blared through the hallway, the whining pre-recorded message sounding flat.
How long had he been asleep? The walk back to his room had been caught in snippets in his mind, his body going through the actions. Blearily looking at the small clock on his bed stand, he realized it was just on the brink of twilight.
Sitting up, Adair rubbed his eyes, listening to the intercom’s drone, his gut tightening with every word. His father hadn’t come back.
Scrambling up, he was across the room and flying through his dresser, sifting through clothes in every direction. He grabbed his usual go-to, the black shirt and pants, with his button-down jacket. Throwing a hopeless look in the mirror, he stopped.
Bruises flowered along his jaw and underneath his eye, his skin paler than usual, his ebony hair standing up in every direction. His eyes were hollow. His empty gaze of indifference reflected at him, but locked down underneath the surface, he was screaming.
Ripping his gaze away, he was out of the room before he could register what was happening. His classmates were already flooding the concrete hallways, the curiosity rippling around them in a contagious energy. Classes had been canceled for the rest of the afternoon, and now this?
Turning the corner, looking to the bay windows, the sun dipped below the horizon, the last rays bleeding into the sky, creating a marvelous display. Beautiful and terrible, he thought, as his gaze drifted back to the throng in front of him, that the world displayed most magnificently before the darkness swept in.
Adair pushed faster, his plan forming swiftly.
He hadn’t seen his mother since everything that had happened and assumed she had already left with Nei. She hated goodbyes, and so did he. That meant no one was looking for the deserter’s son, which left Adair at an advantage.
His feet carried him, twisting and turning, the walls blurring. All the classrooms Adair passed were sealed and forgotten about, as if everyone could taste the change before them. Frowning, he slowed his steps, slipping inside the washroom too fast for anyone to notice. Not that anyone was paying attention to him.
A ghost amongst the living.
“Shut up.” He stopped as his voice rang out. The washroom was empty, the dimly lit room making it seem like it was already late into the night. Adair growled, whispering to the voices curling into his mind, “Shut up.”
He was already moving as the taunts and accusations of their cruel voices ebbed. But they were never fully gone. Making his way to the end stall, he quickly closed himself inside, securing the lock. Panting, he lowered the lid of the toilet, and standing on top, his hands roamed, searching for the lever.
The Academy was an amazing place to grow up in, to see it be built from practically nothing. The one advantage to be a Stratton and living here his whole life was that he knew the secrets hidden amongst them.
The lever was small and flush in the stone, but Adair pressed down hard, and the concrete started to shudder to life. Bricks dissolved, crumbling into dust as Adair waited. Soon enough, a small tunnel was revealed, the damp air swirling around him. Adair grinned wolfishly, not looking back as he climbed into the cramped space. As soon as he passed the threshold, the air shimmered behind him, the movement of the wall becoming whole once more.
The Academy was filled with secret passages designed for his parents and the Faes to have meetings away from prying eyes when they had first formed the school. The school wasn’t always praised; it took years for people to be brave enough to utilize what the Faes were offering.
Adair had found out this, as he did with most things when it came to his parents, he had to use his wit and patience: they had documents hidden away, maps of the school, Adair conveniently found when he was pursuing different books of the cultures of Kiero, which his mother took an interest in.
Crawling faster, he leaned into the curves and twists of the tunnel, the dust making his nose burn. It had been years since he had used one of the secret passages, trying to keep his habits of disregarding the rules in check. The concrete was freezing underneath his palms, each movement sending shots of pain from his cracked and bruised fingernails.
He should have really seen a healer, but in a way, he liked the reminder of what he had gone through and survived. Each hot flash of pain, each strained movement reminded him that he was stronger. That at the start of each day he would carry on, bearing his scars like a shield and not a poison that would cripple him.
He would not become his father.
The light in the tunnel was becoming a dull grey wash as the concrete suddenly sloped down, and Adair knew he was getting close. He shifted his weight, so his legs were extended, his black boots shining in the limited light. Taking a deep breath, he pushed with his hands, gravity taking over. He dropped, sliding down the makeshift chute, the still air now roaring around him; he gritted his teeth
