Adair sighed. He yearned for Emory to see past his facades, see past his ability, see past their friendship, past their families, and recognize that she was the most important person to him. Above his parents and this school.
To realize that Adair had always loved her.
The bustle of the Academy had quieted, classes being resumed, and the forest that surrounded them had slowed in the haze of the afternoon, except for the gentle tousle of the wind. To him, Kiero was endless, the Academy acting as his prison. He yearned for more, to see the world, to experience what it had to offer him. To spend his days challenging himself, finding adventure and never stopping, never looking back. Not being a puppet for a life he had never chose for himself.
Adair sighed. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”
Emory gravitated slightly closer, only an inch, but to him, it felt like his skin was doused in flames. He clenched his hands, stopping himself right there.
Breathe.
“What did you take away from the meeting?”
Adair blew air through his teeth. “That my dad is a prat.” Her eyebrows shot into her hairline as she stifled a choked laugh. Adair muttered, “Oh, come off it, Em. I know you agree.”
Her silence was answer enough.
“He won’t stop, you know, until he has what he wants. That’s what I took from the meeting today, Em. That our families are becoming more divided.”
She huffed. “But what’s the point now? Why fight about what kind of freedom people have the right to? Our parents have been best friends for over a decade. What would come in-between that?”
Jealously. Power. Status. Greed. Expectation.
“Things change, Em. Sometimes, there are things people can’t come back from.”
A shadow flickered across her face as she sucked in both cheeks. She mused, “Your dad wants to build a new monarchy. My parents want to uphold the gains they have made, not by force, not by titles. We are the peacekeepers, the protectors of the borders. But what exactly will that mean for us?”
Adair wanted nothing more than to fold her in his arms and whisper that it would be okay. That they would be okay. He didn’t move, wrapping his arms around his knees.
She’s not yours. Not yours.
His emotions were vicious, his gut twisting, and his ears burned. He had never been one for knowing how to navigate being honest about his feelings. Three years ago, he had tried, and like most things, Adair tried to make good of it. Withered and burned, her rejection still stung him. But there wasn’t one day that passed that he hadn’t wanted more. That he didn’t dream of it.
Hooves thudded in the distance, rolling across the forest like disjointed thunder. Both of their heads snapped up, the hazy afternoon spell over them broken.
“What the...” Emory breathed, standing fast.
Adair stilled, everything within him becoming quiet. There was no movement, but the noise grew, rolling toward them like a wave crashing to shore. Standing slowly, his hands flexed by his sides, brushing against his ability churning beneath his skin. Then, there was a flash of deep green, and their visitors made themselves clear. Fifty stallions pushed toward the Academy, galloping under the sigil of broken steel and a churning sea.
Both he and Emory were already running, curses flowing from him. The Shattered Isles. The Shattered Isles.
They both reacted in time of each other. Scaling the hillside, Adair’s muscles screamed with the sudden movement. Pins and needles made his legs feel numb, but he pushed, sprinting in between the various buildings in a blur. There could only be one reason the Shattered Isles would come here.
Emory was his shadow, her sharp curses thrown in every direction. Adair sucked in humid air, his lungs feeling clotted with the thickness of it. The world remained oblivious to the fact that their nonexistent gates were being charged by people that were bred for war, for the bloodlust and the thrill of the fight. By people who, Adair knew for certain, would not play fair.
He and Emory were about twenty yards from the main building, their curt breaths marking their tempo as they pushed faster. Men and women’s voices floated behind them, their catcalls and untamed hollers chasing on their heels.
Ten yards.
Adair’s ability floated around him like a cloak, begging for release, to slip into someone else’s mind and overtake them. To fight, to get help, to do something.
Five yards.
Emory flew past him, wanting to reach the door first, her determination plain. He desperately tried to shut out the sound of the hooves booming behind them. If she was afraid, Adair couldn’t see it, and he admired her for that. They should be afraid.
She collided with the door, scrambling as she shoved it open. Breathlessly, they skidded to a stop, taking in the empty hallway.
She panted. “Come on. We must find them. Now.”
His hands shook slightly, and he looked at her, not needing to ask. Exhaling, he let go of the restraints, and with each snapping cord, his ability billowed from him. He always imagined it like smoke, spilling from him and searching for what his heart sought. What his soul sought. His strength wasn’t one made from pureness; it wasn’t a gift. It was one of darkness, of control, of desire. One that he had at his constant disposal. One that Adair couldn’t get enough of.
He was lost in his darkness; in the hunt of the person he was searching for. There was no distinction between his ability and man, not in this. A trigger flared in his mind, as his ability brushed against Nei and Roque’s energies.
Consume, consume, consume.
Pulling at him, his ability drowned Adair in want. Having the power to possess another’s will was intoxicating. He could feel it expand, circling around them
