First Infraction Page 2

  “I don’t know who my parents are, sir. I’m an orphan.”

  His eyes narrow and he huffs out a harsh breath before spinning on a heel and heading back up the steps. The human guard sets to work on my ropes, and I remain perfectly still until the last coil drops to the ground. The human jumps away from me quickly, and I smile at the fear in his eyes.

  He’s not so brave now that I’m not bound by magic.

  Without a backward glance for the jerk, I pick my way up the steps to where the Sylph waits for me by the door. I say a silent thanks to the heavens that my parents only ever call me Finley in the privacy of our home. The rest of the world, including the people at Oberon Academy, know me as Aurora.

  Otherwise, my alias could have been my downfall and all of this would have been for naught.

  “I am Echo Oberon, and you will refer to me as Headmaster for the duration of your stay.”

  I have to work hard to keep my expression blank. Headmaster? This is a prison, not a school.

  But then I remember the history of this place and the man who built it. Echo Oberon wanted in on the building of Oberon Academy with his distant cousin—my great-grandfather Finn. For whatever reason, Finn refused to let him have any part of it.

  So Echo built this place. His own academy that he could run as he saw fit. The problem was, all of the Sylph families wanted their kids to attend their king’s school…not one run by some second cousin, twice-removed. The whole thing was a flop.

  But Echo didn’t give up. He modified this place and turned it into a reformatory, where young Sylphs convicted of crimes were sent for punishment and confinement. It’s only been in the last decade that human courts have been given the power to send Fae here, as well.

  And it is no longer just an institution for Sylph lawbreakers. Zephyrs are sent here, too.

  “This is the common area,” Echo says as we walk through the doors into a large, open room.

  Gray. So much gray. Gray couches and armchairs rest on gray concrete floors. A dozen or so faeries watch us pass through, their expressions defeated as they lounge about in shapeless gray shirts and loose pants of the same color.

  My eyes drift around the room as I follow Echo across its expanse and I notice several things at once. First, no one is watching us. Wouldn’t a new inmate in a sparkly blue dress be of some interest? But no, the floor is obviously the most interesting thing in the room, since that’s where everyone is looking.

  Second, there are more Zephyrs than Sylphs here, and I have a sinking feeling I know why. Judges like the one who sentenced me, a human with a huge chip on his shoulder, are probably convicting Zephyrs for minor infractions and sending them here out of some misplaced sense of justice.

  The previous Zephyr queen wanted to wipe them out and Glamoured her people to follow her on that mission. But it doesn’t matter to these vengeful humans that the Zephyrs were not in control of their own decisions. They want their retribution.

  Just as I reach the other end of the room, a boy with inky black hair lifts his head and catches my eye. I stumble, but recover before I really embarrass myself and sprawl across the floor. My pace slows, my feet making the decision to shorten their stride.

  The boy is glaring at me, his eyes spewing animosity for some reason I cannot even fathom. But that’s not what has me shuffling at a snail’s pace, my mouth hanging open with shock.

  His eyes—the ones currently shooting daggers at me—are a bright blue.

  He’s a hybrid, like my mom. Like me.

  As I pass through the doors that lead from the common area, I come to my senses and realize the headmaster is several yards ahead of me and not slowing his pace. I hurry to catch up, but my mind still lingers on the boy with the azure eyes.

  He looks my age, maybe even a little older, which means his parents must have gotten together within a couple of years of Sebille’s death and my parents’ coronation ceremony. Fascination and curiosity course through me.

  While my parents have made great strides at integrating the two Fae races that have, throughout history, remained separate, romantic relations between the Sylphs and the Zephyrs are very rare. My Grandpa Cris and Grandma Ellie were the exception, falling in love in a time of war and hate, despite Grandpa’s mother being the instigator of all that negativity. It was love at first sight followed by heartbreak—but that’s a long story.

  Even though my mom and her sister, who’s only a few years older than me, are constants in my life, I’m still rattled to see someone outside of my family share traits of both races. A small spark of hope ignites in my chest. If Zephyrs and Sylphs are getting together, my parents’ vision of the world they want to create is actually happening.

  “These are the dorms.”

  Echo’s brusque tone chases the happy thoughts from my head. And reminds me where I am.

  He pushes open a door and stands at the entrance, holding out a hand for me to pass through in front of him. My steps stutter as I take in the room.

  A small bed with a threadbare blanket rests against one wall. A stack of gray clothing lays folded at the end. One corner contains a small desk and chair, the other a toilet and sink with a long curtain that can be pulled across for privacy. A bare light bulb hangs from the ceiling.

  One door. Four walls. No windows.

  That’s it.

  I swallow thickly against the lump in my throat as I turn to face the creator of this purgatory. He’s smiling, like he’d been waiting for this. Like seeing my reaction at the first glimpse of my future was the sole motivator for this tour he took me on.

  “Change into your uniform and push that scrap you call a dress through the slot,” he says, pointing to a rectangular hole cut into the wood of the door.

  I am suddenly very glad for the curtain around the toilet.

  “Give me your hand,” he says.

  I recoil, not wanting this creepy control freak to touch me, but he’s staring at me expectantly. Like there’s no doubt in his mind I’ll comply. Like he almost hopes I won’t.

  I place my hand in his and he frowns. Now I’m sure he wanted me to argue. I’ve spoiled his fun.

  He reaches into a pocket with his other hand and pulls out a thin gold bracelet. As he wraps the delicate chain around my wrist, he explains its significance.

  “This bracelet is spelled to suppress magical abilities. It will remain on your wrist until your sentence is over.”

  He releases me and I look down at the simple piece of jewelry. My eyes narrow as I study it, reaching for my power. It’s right where it always is, and doesn’t feel suppressed at all.

  Interesting.

  “This door will remain locked until dinner time. Dinner is served at six p.m., sharp. If you are late, you don’t eat. Come to my office afterward for your schedule,” Echo says, pulling me from my thoughts.

  The door slams shut and the audible click of a lock echoes in my ears. My body starts to tremble as I reach for the drab clothes on the bed and head behind the curtain to change.

  He didn’t tell me where the dining hall is.

  He didn’t tell me where his office is, either. Or what the schedule is for.

  I’m on my own, and I’m going to have to figure things out if I want to survive this place—even with my powers. I try to blink back the tears, but the need to have a good cry is too strong. I hold it together long enough to push my dress and shoes through the slot, then curl up on my bed beneath the thin blanket.

  I stifle the sobs and cry as quietly as I can as memories of that night come flooding back in, and I remember what brought me to this awful place.

  Chapter Four

  Three Days Ago

  So. Bored.

  This is not what I lied to my parents and sister for. I’ve been cooped up in this hotel suite for days, only venturing out during daylight hours to some of the local shops in the area. After everything I went through to get here, I’ve let fear cage me in and sequester me inside my room.

  No more.

&n
bsp; I make the decision and hop from the bed, snatching a slinky, sparkly blue dress from the closet before I can change my mind. As I run a comb through my hair, I stare into the mirror and whisper words of encouragement to my reflection.

  “Everything will be fine. No one knows who you are. You’re going to have a great time.”

  I’ve been making excuses to myself for four days to stay in my suite each night. I was tired. There was a good movie on. I was…tired.

  But the truth is, I’ve been scared. Scared that someone will somehow recognize me and my vacation will be cut short as my parents storm in to snatch me away and ground me until I’m thirty. But this hasn’t been much of a vacation, and I took a big risk to make it happen. There needs to be some kind of payout.

  And a night dancing at the hottest club in the city sounds like the perfect start.

  With one last glance at my reflection, I practice my smile and grab my small handbag before heading out into the corridor. My purse contains my phone, my room key, and the fake I.D. I conjured for this trip. It has my picture and my alias, proclaiming me Rory Finley…regular Sylph. Nobody special.

  The night air is warm and sultry as I wander down the sidewalk in my high-heeled shoes. Most Fae would just pop out their wings and fly, propelling themselves to their destinations with speed and ease. But I can’t do that.

  Most people, human and Fae alike, can peg me for a Sylph on sight. At five-foot-eleven-inches, I have the height and the classic Sylph coloring. I can’t hide that I’m Fae unless I Glamour myself to be shorter and maybe change my hair color.

  But me being Fae isn’t the problem. It’s my wings.

  While my parents Glamoured my hair and eyes to match that of the Zephyrs, and I’ve maintained that image, they left my wings in their natural state. They are the light blue color of my father’s, but edged in black, proving my mixed heritage.

  Everyone knows these wings belong to the princess, so I keep them hidden and try to ignore the way my shoes are pinching my toes as I walk to the club. I briefly consider using Glamour to hide the black edges, but decide against it. I can already hear the thumping beat of music coming from inside the building, which is just around the corner.

  There’s a large group of humans trailing down the street, and I take my place at the end of the line. I hope I haven’t wasted my time and energy, and my big night out ends with me still standing in line. That would just be great.

  “You.”

  I look up at the sound of a man’s voice to find a burly guy with a tight black t-shirt standing in front me. I look from left to right as groans echo around me, but the muscled man ignores them.

  “Go on in. Fae don’t have to wait.”

  “Oh, okay,” I murmur, flinching at the glares I can feel slicing into my back as I step out of line and head for the door.

  I reach out and lay a hand on the man’s arm, shooting soothing Glamour into him before he can snatch away from my touch. While I am perfectly capable of Glamouring people without touching them, the contact strengthens my power and eliminates all resistance.

  “Why don’t Fae have to wait in line?” I ask, using magic to coerce him into answering truthfully.

  “The boss thinks it’s good for business,” he mumbles. “Make this place the place to be. People feel special, rubbing shoulders with the high and mighty faeries.”

  I pull my hand away from his skin as he snarls that last bit. Not a fan of the Fae, obviously.

  He unclips a red velvet rope and gestures for me to step forward. As soon as I pass through the door, all thoughts of the Fae-hating bouncer fly from my head. There’s no room for anything but the beat of the bass, the flashing lights, and the gyrating bodies crowding the whole space.

  Warmth shoots through me as the dance floor beckons, tempting me to let loose and party like a normal person. Like the person I want to be.

  I walk around the edge of the crowd, my eyes drifting over sweaty humans that reek of alcohol and Lox, a serum of concentrated magic the Zephyrs used to create and provide to the humans under Sebille’s reign. It was highly addictive and dangerous, and my mother outlawed it as one of her first acts as queen.

  Apparently, it was still readily available, if these people were any indication. And I can’t even tell her, or I’d be so busted.

  I spot several sets of black wings and even a few multicolored ones as Fae mingle with the humans. It seems as if all the faeries in the place have their wings proudly on display, making themselves objects of attention and, from what I can tell, affection. The humans seem to be fawning all over them. I wonder if they—

  I shake my head to clear it and move toward the bar. I’m here to have fun, not worry about the relationships between the humans and Fae in the building. It was none of my business.

  I order a drink, some fruity concoction the bartender assures me I’m going to love, and wander back over to the edge of the dance floor. My body sways to the beat of the music as I lift my cup to my lips, then freeze.

  Bringing the rim of my cup to my lips, I inhale deeply. Pineapple, orange, coconut, rum. Nothing more. I breathe a sigh of relief and take a sip, smiling as the flavors burst across my tongue.

  “Yummy,” I murmur, my lips curving into a smile.

  There is obviously some heavy Lox abuse going on in this club and, while it gives the humans a pleasant high, it’s deadly to Sylphs. If anyone slipped some into my drink, I don’t know what would happen. The quarter-Zephyr in me might protect me from death, but then again, it might not.

  The crowd shifts and my eyes land on a guy weaving his way across the dance floor. My pulse spikes as my gaze drifts over his face. Deep-set eyes with thick brows, deep dimples, and a five o’clock shadow pique my interest as he moves in my direction.

  I chug down half my drink, hoping for a little liquid courage as he closes in on me. This close, I can tell his hair is a dirty blonde and his eyes are a deep brown, framed by long lashes. My lips involuntarily lift at the corners.

  Yummy. And this time, I’m not talking about the drink.

  “Hi,” he says, his deep baritone voice sending a shiver down my spine. “I’m Michael.”

  “Rory,” I breathe, taking his outstretched hand.

  “Nice to meet you, Rory. Would you like to dance?”

  “Yes,” I say, nodding. “I’d love to.”

  I feel a little breathless as he takes my drink from me and sets it down on a nearby table, his other hand still clinging to mine. He leads me out into the middle of the crowd, raising my hand above my head and twirling me around before whipping my body back toward him.

  “Wow,” I murmur, my heart thundering.

  “What was that?” he shouts into my ear over the pounding of the music.

  “Nothing,” I yell back. “You’re a good dancer.”

  “So are you,” he says, so close I can feel his hot breath on my ear.

  Then he pulls back and smiles, his white teeth gleaming in the flashing lights. We dance for a few minutes or a few hours, I’m not sure which. A steady stream of sweat trickles down my spine, and I’m sure my hair is a hot mess, but I don’t care.

  This is the vacation I wanted.

  The music slows and one side of Michael’s mouth quirks up as he opens his arms. I step into them without missing a beat, sliding my hands up around his neck as his come to rest lightly on my hips. My eyes are locked on his as we sway side to side, then his grip on me tightens and he pulls me closer.

  His nose nuzzles my neck before he brings his lips to my ear and mumbles, “Can I kiss you, Rory?”

  He leans back to gauge my reaction. I’m sure I look ridiculous with my wide eyes and even wider mouth. My teeth clink together as I snap my jaws shut, then tilt my head to the side as I study him.

  Why not? I mean, I’ve never let a boy kiss me before, so this will be my first, but who cares? Michael doesn’t know I’m a princess, isn’t trying to get close to me because of what my name or my family can do for him.

 
He just wants to kiss me.

  I’m nodding before I can change my mind. He smiles briefly then his mouth is on mine, nibbling with soft lips as his hands slide around to my back. He pulls me flush against him and my mouth falls open with surprise.

  He takes advantage of the moment, slipping his tongue past my lips to brush against mine. I barely refrain from biting down out of instinct and force myself to relax and just go with it. It feels strange, but not unpleasant, exactly. I close my eyes and dive into the moment.

  That’s when I taste it.

  My eyes fly open and I jerk back, breaking the seal of our lips. His mouth moves immediately to my neck as I push at his shoulders.

  “You’ve been taking Lox,” I accuse.

  “It’s okay, baby. You should try it. It makes you feel so good.”

  I cease my struggling as I try to comprehend his words. Does he not realize I’m a faery? Or does he just not know that Lox is deadly to Sylphs? Maybe he just doesn’t care.

  He takes my frozen state as an invitation, and his hands slip down my back to latch onto my butt. His fingers knead the flesh, and shivers of revulsion chase up and down my spine.

  “Michael, stop,” I stutter out, pushing his shoulder with one hand and trying to pry his hands off my butt with the other.

  “You feel so good,” he murmurs. “We should go somewhere a little more private.”

  “Let me go. Please.”

  I’m begging him to stop, but I can tell all he hears is the word please. His movements grow bolder and more frantic. One hand slips from my butt and I suck in a sharp breath as his fingers trail around my thigh, just below the hem of my dress.

  Then his hand is between my thighs, sliding upward, and I lose all sense of reason. Anger flares through me, that this stranger would dare touch me so intimately without permission. And that he’d persist after I said no.

  I raise my hands and pound them against his shoulders, screaming unintelligible words meant to make him release me. Without intention, a bolt of fire streams from my hands into his frail, human body and he flies backward.