Hurt flashed across her face as she spat, “I can’t choose my family any more than you can! I have been worried sick about you! You haven’t stopped for a second to think that I have possibly come to explain myself? To apologize? That I haven’t been waiting for hours?”
He ran a bloodied hand through his hair, his heart pounding viciously against his chest. “No. You were perfectly clear before.”
With narrowed eyes, she jabbed a finger at his chest. “You listen to me, Adair Stratton. I am sorry for what my dad told me, but I can’t control what is happening in this world! We are surrounded by things that don’t make sense, surrounded by secrets and lies and darkness and now a potential war!” She paused. “But after you left, I talked to my Dad, and I will not go through this without you beside me. He is reconsidering.”
She beamed.
His nails bit into his palms, hidden from her view. “No.”
“What do you mean no?”
“I mean, stay away from me. I want nothing to do with you or your family. I don’t need your charity. I don’t need your friendship. I. Don’t. Need. You.” He had contorted, losing himself in the churning anger inside him.
Emory paled with every word, her eyes brimming as she said fiercely, “You don’t mean that! You’re my best friend.”
He cut the last strand of himself loose as he smiled coldly. “Yes, you will find that I do mean it. Leave me alone. You’re better friends with those two Mixed Bloods.”
Her mouth hung open, and Adair turned back to the school.
What had he done?
The insult cut deep. Mixed Blood, a term from Roque’s father’s reign. People who were not of a superior birthright and had “tainted” abilities. People like Memphis, whose parents were desolates. People like Brokk, who had no idea about his past or where he came from. Even people like Emory, whose ability was an anomaly considering her parents.
Trudging back up to the Academy, in the dying sunlight, he knew there was no taking back what he had said. He glanced back once, Emory still frozen at the bottom of the hill, tears rolling down her cheeks.
Coldness swept through him as he wrenched his gaze forward, his bitterness filling him. She had chosen her life. It was time he chose his own. What scared him most is that he believed she should have chosen him. All those years of shared secrets, of stifled laughter, of whispers, of their dreams, of their fears whisked away with the promise of a crown.
He swallowed hard, the tightness in his throat searing. It was time.
The Academy was no longer his home, and he intended to show the world its secrets.
***
The edges of his vision were tinged red. Adair was frozen, staring at his door with wide eyes. Time seemed to collapse in on itself; his hands shook violently at the deep red slash across his bedroom door and the insults cut into the wood.
Traitor.
He stepped closer, the red paint looking like blood in the dimness of the quiet hallway.
Follow your father to his death.
His bruised hands brushed the knife marks, his tears quietly trickling down his face.
Monster.
A strangled noise slipped from him, and he looked around, wondering which of his classmates had done this. How long had they thought this? Just waiting for the opportunity where no one would do anything about it. When hate would override humanity.
Get the hell out.
It was amazing the power that words held. Either wielded within yourself or by other people, it didn’t matter when you started to believe them.
Grabbing the doorknob, he took a deep breath, twisting it a little too hard. Then everything was chaos. Sharp sirens rang through the intercom; a dull flashing light coursed down the hallway. Doors flew open like a beating drum as students poured out, their confusion clear. Over a decade of familiar faces, staring at him cruelly as they passed, their sly smirks and cutting judgments made Adair’s ability course through him like a shield, tempting to crash through every single mind. Just for a second, they could feel how he felt.
“Out of my way! NOW!”
Roque barreled down the hallway, pure panic etched across his face. Pushing students out of the way, Emory chased at his heels, shooting Adair a glance as she passed him. He didn’t think his feet carried him after them, fear making everything vivid, but he ran, dreading the worst.
At the end of the hallway, the doors exploded open. Nei stood in the last of the daylight, the dried blood stains over her fighting gear; Memphis, Brokk, and Alby supported themselves beside her.
In the distance, a blood thirsty howl echoed.
Roque ran to his wife, not caring there was an audience as he grasped her face in between his hands. “What happened!? Nei!”
“Sarthaven has fallen.”
It was a choked whisper, but it sent ripples throughout the students and remaining teachers. Adair stopped, making himself flush against the hallway as he watched Emory collide into Memphis, hugging him tightly, and then hugging Brokk.
Roque paled. “Cesan?”
Nei nodded, her voice growing stronger. “And Bresslin. Our company was led into a trap. I was the only one to survive. The city itself, Roque... It is overrun by dark creatures that he is controlling. They are killing desolates and anyone who defies them.”
Silence.
“We were followed,” Nei added.
Roque snapped his attention past her, to the towering forest bathed in golden light.
Another howl sliced through the air.
“Where’s my dad?!” Marquis pushed through the throng, his emerald hair standing on end, as he stared at Nei, his voice cracking. “Where’s Tadeas?”
Their heads bowed, not meeting the prince’s gaze.
Paling, Marquis folded in on himself, repeatedly saying, “No. no.”
There was a clambering of hooves in the distance, and Marquis snapped his head up, pushing past them. Adair followed him, coming to the entranceway.
On the
