First Infraction Page 4

  At least, as real as it can be when she doesn’t know my true identity.

  Classes. Friends. Free time. It seems like a semi-normal life, except for the locks on the doors.

  Maybe it won’t be so bad here, after all…

  Chapter Seven

  The ache in my hands is spreading to my wrists and forearms. But I don’t stop pounding against the door. My throat is scratchy and hot, but I don’t stop screaming for release. I have to get out of here. Something is wrong, and I don’t want to know what it is. I just want out.

  I wake with a gasp and bolt upright, struggling to free my arms which are tangled in the blanket. My breath comes and goes in short bursts as my chest heaves up and down. The nightmare left my pulse racing and my body drenched in sweat.

  A clicking sound draws my attention to the door, and it takes me a moment to realize what the sound means. It’s the lock, disengaging. It must be morning.

  My hand skims the wall, searching blindly for the light switch. Flicking it on, I blink a few times until my eyes adjust to the light. I get up, hissing as my bare feet touch the cold floor. Once they grow used to the temperature, I slip behind the curtain to use the toilet. At the sink, I splash some water on my face to remove the last dregs of sleep and the salty remnants of sweat.

  No one has said anything about showers. And I’m in desperate need of one. Great.

  I pad back across the room, looking for the soft canvas shoes I wore yesterday. My gaze catches on something white near the door, and my eyes narrow as I realize it’s a slip of paper someone has obviously pushed through the slot on my door.

  I reach down to pick it up, my movements slow and measured like I think the thing’s going to bite me or something. I shake my head at my own ridiculousness and unfold it as I walk back toward my bed. My eyes scan the words—just one short sentence scribbled in messy handwriting—and the note slips from my trembling fingers.

  I know who you are, Princess.

  My vision glazes over as my minds whirs, attempting to come up with some sort of explanation…other than the obvious.

  “Maybe it means they think I’m narcissistic. Like…I think I’m better than everyone else,” I whisper.

  But that theory is weak and I know it. It’s much simpler than that. I am a princess, and someone at Oberon Reformatory knows it.

  But how? And why are they being so cryptic, slipping anonymous notes through my door instead of just calling me out? What is the point?

  A chill races down my spine and I shudder. I don’t know what to do. Maybe I should try to use my powers and bust out of here.

  Or maybe I should call my parents. They could fix this. I’d be out of here before lunch and I could put this whole debacle behind me, once and for all.

  Of course, the consequences of bringing them into this mess would affect many more people than just me.

  TEN YEARS AGO…

  I dig my elbow into Robbie’s side and make a shushing noise. She won’t stop giggling, and she’s going to get us busted for eavesdropping.

  I’m still mad at Mom and Dad for sending us to bed early. The whole family had come over for dinner—Grandma and Grandpa, Jules, Great-Grandpa Robin, and Grandma Freya—and Robbie and I had been dismissed and sent to our rooms right after we finished eating.

  It’s not fair. Jules got to stay and she’s only twelve. Who cares if she’s my aunt? She’s a kid, just like Robbie and me.

  Totally not fair.

  “You know the scandal would cause major setbacks, December. All the progress we’ve made with integration and equality would be jeopardized,” Grandma said, pulling my attention away from a still-giggling Robbie.

  “Ellie is right,” Great-Grandpa Robin added. “I know you want to let them be their true selves and just have a normal childhood, but the reasons you originally made the decision to glamour them still stand.”

  I open my mouth and take a quick breath as I realize they’re talking about us—me and Robbie. Everyone outside the family thought we looked like Zephyrs because Mom and Dad use Glamour to make us appear to have black wings, hair, and eyes. It’s always been a fun game to us. But—

  “I know Mom’s right,” my mom says, cutting off my rampaging thoughts. “It just feels so duplicitous, lying to the people who look to us for guidance and trust us to be good and honest leaders.”

  “It’s for a good reason,” Grandpa says.

  “But does that make it okay?” she shoots back.

  Silence shrouds the table for several moments as they all think about what Mom said. I think about it, too.

  Does she want me to show the world my true appearance? I can do that, if it will make her happy. I should tell her I agree with her, and maybe she won’t be so sad.

  I push myself up and take a step toward revealing myself, but Jules catches my eye. She shakes her head, the movement small and unnoticeable to her tablemates. But her wide eyes and pinched lips tell me what she means.

  I should stay hidden.

  So I lean back behind the corner where I’ve been hiding with Robbie and continue to listen.

  “The girls are too powerful,” Dad says, his voice deeper than usual. “That kind of power is hard to hide. It will come out and the people are going to have mixed feelings about it, at best. At worst, Finley and Robbie will be feared and reviled.”

  I don’t know what reviled means, but it doesn’t sound good.

  “Couple that with the fact that you’ve been Glamouring their true appearance,” Great-Grandpa Robin adds, “and it will cause a mass hysteria. The Zephyrs will be angry you lied. The Sylphs will be ecstatic that their princesses look like Sylphids and the divide between the two races will grow again.”

  “It’s too much weight on their little shoulders,” Mom whispers, but I hear the words. And I see the tears glistening in her eyes.

  “That’s why we keep it on ours,” Dad says, wrapping an arm around her. “As long as they don’t know the full weight of it, it won’t affect them. They think it’s just a game. Or an extra layer of protection.”

  It’s not a game? And other Fae don’t have the same powers as us?

  I slump back against the wall next to Robbie, who’s finally stopped giggling. The weight of everything we’ve overheard settles down on me as my mind plays the words over and over in my head. Too powerful. Feared. Mass hysteria. Divide.

  I clutch Robbie’s hand and silently lead her back to the room we share. Closing the door softly behind her, I pull her into my bed and wrap my arms around her.

  “What does it all mean, Finley?” she asks.

  “I don’t know,” I murmur, locking my eyes on her ice-blue ones, so much like Dad’s. “But I do know this—we can’t ever let our guard down, Robbie. We have to be careful, always, to keep our Glamour in place. And we can never, ever let anyone outside the family know all the stuff we can do with magic.”

  She nods her little blonde head, her expression solemn. “I promise,” she says.

  “Me too,” I swear.

  I STARE at the slip of paper on the floor as the memories assail me. I can’t call my parents. I know that.

  That dinner party conversation may have been the first time I overheard them talking about the ramifications of their choices, but it wasn’t the last. Robbie and I have heard all the arguments, seen the pinched faces when we apply our Glamour, the shock when we perform some new and powerful magic.

  That’s why we made a pact to keep any new developments between just the two of us. There was no point in stressing Mom and Dad out more than they already are.

  We discovered our immunity to magical bonds when I was fourteen and Robbie was thirteen. We were staying with Grandpa and Grandma and found one of the golden ropes in their storage shed. Robbie thought it would be hilarious to bind me and leave me there—I wasn’t the nicest sister to her in those early teen years—but the ropes didn’t hold me. I tied her up, and just like me, she just pulled them right off. We put them back where we found them and neve
r told a soul.

  This is our life. Suppressing our talents and hiding our appearances is what we do, and we know why we do it. I can’t destroy the elaborate façade we’ve created because I got a creepy note. Besides, the curious side of me really wants to figure out who slipped it into my room.

  I pick the note up and stare at it again, nodding my head firmly as I come to a decision. I will not involve my parents in a scandal—and this one would be epic—and I won’t freak out and get caught using magic I shouldn’t possess.

  I run my fingers over the gold bracelet as I call for air. A breeze ruffles my hair, and I smile. Just as I thought. This bracelet has no effect on me.

  I step behind the curtain, just in case someone walks down the hall and decides to peek in through the slot in my door. I hold out my hand and concentrate, and within seconds, a bar of soap appears there. I lift it to my nose and inhale, nearly groaning at the sweet scent of roses.

  Magic is awesome.

  I wash as best I can with the water from the small sink, then run my damp hands through my hair to tame the wild tresses. I could Glamour it to look perfect, but that would be too suspicious. I’m not supposed to have access to my magic at all.

  I look down at the bracelet once more, my mind churning with possible scenarios.

  I can’t call my parents, but I’m not helpless. I could leave this place—right now, if I really wanted to. I bet I could Glamour myself to look like a guard, like Jax, walk right out the front door, and never look back.

  But someone knows who I am. I need to find out who it is and what they want. Because whoever it is, they’ve seen my true face. They know my family has been lying to the world my whole life.

  They could destroy everything.

  No. I can’t leave. Not yet. Oberon Reformatory will remain my home, for now.

  I have until the end of my scheduled European tour to figure out who wrote this note and how to stop them from ruining everything.

  Chapter Eight

  “Rory, over here!”

  I look right at the sound of my name to see Lark waving a hand in the air. I shoot her a smile and motion toward the breakfast line to let her know I’ll be there after I grab some food. She smiles and gives me a thumbs-up signal.

  I study her as I wait my turn in line. She’s beautiful, but all Zephyrs are with their smooth, alabaster skin and wide, dark eyes. Her obsidian hair is plaited into a long, thick braid that trails down her back, a stark contrast to the dull gray prison garb we’re being forced to wear.

  “Move it, loser. I don’t have all day.”

  My first impulse is to apologize, despite the rudeness of the Sylph. She is obviously older than me, and I was raised to be respectful. But one look at her face has me snapping my jaw shut and turning to grab a tray without comment.

  Something about her looks off. Something deeper than the general hardness of being in this place. Almost like she might be a little crazy.

  I hurry over to Lark’s table and slip into the chair across from her. She tilts her head, her onyx eyes studying my face.

  “You okay?” she asks.

  “Yeah,” I say, waving her off.

  “How did you sleep?”

  “Eh. Nightmares,” I admit.

  “It’ll pass,” she assures me.

  “Can I ask you something? Something personal?”

  The words pop out of my mouth before I can stop them, but I’m burning with the curiosity.

  “Anything,” she says, pointing her fork at me with a smile.

  “What did you do?” I stutter. “You know, to be sent here.”

  Her eyes narrow and her lip curls as she grits out, “Who says I did anything? Maybe I’m innocent. Did you ever think of that?”

  “I’m sorry,” I blurt, backpedaling. “I didn’t mean—”

  A laugh bursts out of Lark, who shakes her head at me, saying “God, you’re so easy.”

  I realize she was messing with me and ball up my napkin before tossing it at her face. She swats it away with a smile and takes a bite of her eggs before speaking.

  “I was selling magical favors to humans,” she said, her voice flat.

  “What? Why?”

  Giving magic to humans is illegal. We can use magic to help them if they need it, but we can’t give them a spelled item, a magical favor, that can be used against another human. It’s unethical and can lead to bad blood between the races. More than there already is.

  “I don’t know,” Lark says, shrugging. “It started out simple enough. I had this friend, a human, who really wanted a boy to like her.”

  Shock ripples through me as she speaks. Lark had a human friend? A human was friends with a Zephyr? That’s…amazing. I can’t wait to tell Mom—

  I can’t tell her. She can never know I was here.

  “So, I made a love charm,” Lark continues, pulling me from my internal monologue.

  “Did it backfire, or something?”

  She sniffs like she’s offended. “Of course not. It worked perfectly. He fell for her and they got together.”

  “So, what happened? That can’t be the end of it, or you wouldn’t be here.”

  “She dropped me like a bag of bricks,” she mumbles. “She got so wrapped up in her new relationship, she didn’t need me anymore.”

  “I’m sorry, Lark. That’s awful.”

  She shrugs. “It’s okay. If I meant so little to her, I’d rather know than not know. Anyway, the guy found out about the love charm and pitched a fit, dumping her on the spot.”

  The leonine smile on Lark’s face told me she might have had something to do with him finding out. Before I could ask, she continued.

  “Word got out about my skills, and kids started coming to me about all kinds of issues—strict parents, failing grades, love problems. What started as a favor for a friend turned into a booming business for me.”

  “What did you get out of it?” I ask, intrigued. Fae don’t need money.

  “Popularity. Power. If I couldn’t have real friends, I could at least have the illusion. I was lonely.” She pauses for a moment, then shrugs again. “Anyway, one of my minions used his favor on the wrong person, and bam! I’m arrested, tried and convicted in human court before I can say the words not guilty.”

  “How long have you been here?” I ask.

  “Eleven months of a five-year sentence.”

  The water I’m sipping spews from my mouth. My wide eyes stare at her in disbelief.

  “Five years?”

  I only got six months. And I killed someone. What is going on here?

  “It doesn’t matter what the paperwork says,” she mumbles. “We all know there’s no getting out of here.”

  We sit in silence for a few moments after that. I can’t believe she got five years. Maybe it’s because she’s a Zephyr. Some humans will never forget the reign of Sebille and will always hate the dark faeries. I’ve always been shielded by my family, but I know the stigma exists.

  And the Zephyrs just have to take it, because using magic against a human is illegal.

  “What about you?” Lark asks, and my heart stops in my chest.

  “I…uh…”

  “It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me,” she says, but I can see the disappointment on her face.

  We were having a moment of trust and sharing and I ruined it. I might as well tell her. I don’t know if our infractions are kept secret, anyway. She could very well find out from someone else, and that would suck. She should hear it from me. I lean forward and motion for her to do the same.

  “I killed a human,” I admit in a shaky whisper.

  Her eyes round into black saucers, making me flinch. I can see I’ve shocked her.

  “It was an accident,” I rush to add.

  “Of course, it was,” she says, leaning back. “You’re too nice to be a cold-blooded killer. So what happened? A guy get too handsy and you zapped him?”

  “Uh, yes, actually.”

  “No way,” she says,
leaning over the table again. “I was only joking. Tell me everything.”

  I tell her about the club, the Lox, the cute boy and his inappropriate touches. She listens with rapt attention, not even flinching when I tell her how I lost it and zapped the guy with a fire bolt. Then I tell her about my court hearing.

  “Freaking humans,” she says. “It was obviously unintentional and you were only defending yourself. How long did you get?”

  I cringe as I answer truthfully. “Six months.”

  I don’t know what I expect as a reaction, but it’s not the bark of laughter that erupts from Lark’s mouth.

  “Freaking humans,” she repeats.

  It’s ridiculous that she was given a sentence of five years for illegal use of magic and I was given six months for killing a man, however unintentionally. All because I look like a Sylph. The prejudice is still there, but nowhere near where it would be if I’d been sporting my black hair and eyes.

  A chill rushes across my skin and I look around, feeling someone staring. My eyes are snagged by electric blue ones and all thoughts desert me. It’s the hybrid boy, once again looking like he could just as soon kill me as kiss me.

  I flinch. Why am I thinking about kissing him? He’s a stranger, and not a very friendly one. I should be avoiding him at all costs.

  But there’s a story there, I can tell. I’m intrigued by the puzzle he presents, and I want to know more.

  “Hello? Earth to Rory.”

  “Oh, sorry,” I say, breaking eye contact with the boy and looking back at Lark.

  “Asher York,” Lark says. “Quiet, broody, not too hard on the eyes. Almost every girl in this place wants him, yours truly excluded, but he keeps to himself. Don’t waste your time. He rejects them all. He’s just not interested.”

  I feel some dejection at her revelations, then order myself to pull it together. I’m not here to meet a boy, and I can’t let some mild attraction distract me from my real purpose for staying here. I need to focus.

  Someone is toying with me, and I need to find out who it is and put a stop to it. Then, I’m going home.