Second Transgression Page 5

  “Technically, yes,” I say with a sigh. “But I was too scared of what would happen if anyone discovered my true identity, and I was feeling guilty about the accident, so I decided to just pretend.”

  “Is that all?” Cedric asks, bringing the conversation back to the present.

  “Isn’t that enough?” Lark sasses back.

  “I didn’t mean it that way,” he replies defensively. “I just meant, if there was nothing else to tell us, I’m ready to see her in action.”

  He shoots me an expectant look that makes me grin.

  “I’m sure there’s more I’ll remember to tell you later, but sure. I can show you some stuff. What do you want?”

  His gaze turns thoughtful for a moment before lighting up. He straightens his spine and points a finger toward the ceiling.

  “I’ve got one. Conjure a chocolate bar and a glass of milk, then use air to float them to me.”

  I smirk at his request. I learned to create chocolate when I was four years old, much to my mother’s dismay. She’d find me in my bed with sticky fingers and chocolate-colored drool on my pillow, and I received many ineffective lectures on the subject.

  “If you can’t do it…” Cedric teases.

  I lift my hands, fingers spread, and a large brick of chocolate appears from thin air, floating in front of my left hand. Within a couple of seconds, an empty glass pops into existence in front of my right hand, and I make a show of filling it with milk. Then I call to air and use a soft breeze to float both items to Cedric.

  He reaches out and takes the glass with one hand, but as he tries to grab the chocolate with the other, I use wind to zip it out of his reach and drop it into Acadia’s lap.

  “Hey,” Cedric complains, reaching over to take it from her.

  Acadia snatches it up and takes a huge bite before he can take it, making me chuckle. Cedric grumbles as he chugs the milk, making a satisfied noise when he’s done.

  “That was good,” he says.

  “This is, too,” Acadia adds with a mouthful of chocolate as she breaks the remainder in half and offers a piece to Jolene and Cedric.

  “Wait, wait, wait,” Lark says, and I turn to face her. “You mean you can conjure chocolate and you never told me?”

  She crosses her arms over her chest and taps her toe against the concrete floor. I shake my head with a laugh, and she reaches out, palms up, and says, “Gimme.”

  My eyes narrow slightly as I concentrate, and six perfectly shaped chocolate bars wrapped in silver foil appear in each of her hands, stacked with uniform precision. Her black eyes bug out of her head as she takes in the sight of them.

  I swivel and point at Asher, and a sack of peppermint sticks drops into his lap instantaneously. Before he can react, I spin around and point at Jolene, and a steaming mug of hot chocolate loaded with tiny white marshmallows manifests on the floor beside her. My gaze moves to Cedric, and I smile. Before he can question it, a barrage of chocolate chips rain down on him from nowhere.

  “Well, she obviously has food down pat,” Asher jokes around the peppermint stick between his lips.

  I stick my tongue out at him in response. He barks out a laugh, then takes on an overly-serious expression. But the sparkle in his blue eyes ruin the effect.

  “Too bad her physical combat skills suck,” he says in a monotone voice.

  “Oh, yeah?” I shoot back, turning to face him fully.

  Before he can respond, I strike. But not with my fists or feet. I use the strongest weapons in my arsenal—my mind and my magic.

  “Oh, God,” he yells, frantically brushing his hands over his body.

  The others watch with confused expressions as Asher swipes at his skin, his face a mask of terror. He hops to his feet and stomps from foot to foot, noises of fear and revulsion bursting from his lips. I let the illusion go on for two more seconds before I send air toward him, lifting him up and flipping him upside down.

  A look of relief crosses his features before his face stiffens into a glare meant to fry me on the spot. I laugh and command the air to turn in upright before setting him on his feet.

  “Really, Rory? Spiders?” he blurts with a shudder, running his hands over his arms like he can still feel them crawling across his skin.

  A laugh titters out of me. “You deserved it for that crack about my fighting skills. I’m not totally helpless, you know.”

  His blue eyes flare with promised vengeance as he utters, “I’m so going to get you back for that.”

  “Bring it on, hybrid,” I shoot back with a smirk.

  He smirks back, his head nodding like he’s already plotting the perfect revenge. My teasing hybrid remark didn’t faze him for a second, and my smile grows a little bigger.

  We’ve come so far, Asher and I. All that bitterness and anger he carried with him when we first met has vanished, replaced by kindness, affection, and a snarky sense of humor. I love it.

  I love how comfortable in his own skin he is now, knowing the people surrounding him care about him. How much happier he is knowing we don’t see a hybrid when we look at him—he’s just a person. A friend.

  I know he feels it because I feel it, too. Not only am I a hybrid, I’m also the heir to the throne. But looking at the faces in this room, I know they don’t see Princess Aurora Finley Oberon. They only see Rory Finley.

  It’s an amazing sensation that I never would have experienced if I hadn’t ditched my European tour to hide out in the city. If I hadn’t accidentally killed that human. If I hadn’t been sentenced to Oberon Reformatory.

  Life is funny like that, I guess. Because of all those extreme, horrible events, I met Lark, Asher, and the others. People who I know will be in my life forever, once we get out of here.

  And we will get out of here. All of us.

  Chapter Nine

  “There’s a certain hierarchy of living beings you must keep in mind at all times. At the top of the ladder are the Sylphids. Our race deserves the highest respect. Beneath us are the Zephyrs. Then, going down the rungs, in order, you have animals, plants, hybrids, and those pathetic humans.”

  You could hear a pin drop in the resulting silence. Though I shouldn’t be shocked, somehow I am. But it clears quickly, anger taking over every inch of my body. I can’t control it as my vision goes red. My mouth opens, and the words pour out before I can stop them.

  “So, what you’re saying, Miss Avery,” I ask, putting a nasty emphasis on her name, “is that we should show more respect to a weed in the grass than we do our own queen?”

  A hateful smirk raises one side of her mouth. “That is exactly what I’m saying. She is not our queen, Rory. She rules the Zephyrs. We answer only to King Easton.”

  “The queen’s husband,” I retort. “And I’m pretty sure he’d want his wife to be paid the respect owed her.”

  “Do not speak unless I give you permission,” Tiana snaps, then smooths out her expression. “And do not deign to know the inner workings of the king’s mind. If anyone would know, it’s me.”

  My stomach rebels at her obvious innuendo, and I nearly throw up in my mouth. A brush of fingertips down my spine has an instant calming effect, and I snap my mouth closed to hold in the rash flow of words that wants to explode from me.

  “What do you mean, Miss Avery? Did you know him?”

  My gaze snaps to the left and my mouth drops open as I realize I was right. It was Acadia who asked the question, her tone gushing with awe and enthusiasm.

  As Tiana spouts off some self-important monologue about how close she was to my dad in school, Acadia glances at me and shoots a cheeky wink. I slump back into my chair as the ire drains out of me.

  Acadia has single-handedly diffused the situation. With her youthful exuberance, she’d drawn Tiana Avery in, disarmed her, and kept me from losing it and blasting her straight into the afterlife.

  It’s like…magic.

  “And until that dirty mutt showed up and cast her evil spell over Easton, I was the center of his univer
se. I could’ve been his queen.”

  And all Acadia’s work flows right out the window as I jump to my feet in a haze of fury. Fire rages through my veins as I throw up a hand and prepare to blast the blonde witch right in her ugly, foul mouth. Tiana’s eyes widen with what must be shock before narrowing into angry slits as someone tackles me from behind.

  Asher’s urgent voice whispers something against my ear, but I can’t hear it over the sound of the blood pounding through them. I try to jerk out of his grasp, but he’s too strong. In the next instant, I’m out in the hall as Tiana’s angry voice shouts something about not coming back until I can show her the proper respect.

  I’m furious, struggling to escape Asher’s unwanted embrace, when his words finally pierce the haze of anger controlling my actions.

  “She’s not worth it, Rory. Don’t let her goad you into doing something you can’t take back.”

  My body deflates, and Asher tightens his grip so I don’t melt into a puddle on the floor. Hot tears sting my eyes, formed from anger and embarrassment. I don’t know if I’ve ever lost my temper so completely.

  When I lost control in that dance club, the consequences were catastrophic. But that incident was born of fear and self-preservation.

  This is completely different. Tiana Avery is an awful person, and she tormented my mother when they were at the academy together. But Mom never let her win. She stood up for herself and came out on top, and Tiana ended up spending her life here, in prison.

  “You okay?”

  I turn in Asher’s arms to see Lark closing the classroom door behind her before looking at me expectantly.

  “Yeah, I’m fine,” I sniff, straightening to stand on my own two feet. “What are you doing out here?”

  She shrugs. “It’s not hard to piss the old battle-axe off, especially with a face like this.”

  Meaning Tiana hates all things Zephyr and wouldn’t hesitate to remove one from her sight on the smallest offense. God, I hate her. So much.

  “I just batted my beautiful black eyes and asked why she thought the king would want her when he has someone as amazing and legendary as December Thorne by his side.”

  She winks one of those gorgeous eyes at me, and my face twitches. Then she smiles a big, toothy grin, and I lose it. Laughter shakes my body, tumbling from my mouth and taking with it all the tension, shame, and anger.

  My humor is slightly hysterical, and I catch Lark shoot her cousin a look. Great. She thinks I’ve gone crazy now.

  Reining in my emotions, I sniff and wipe the tears away from my cheeks.

  “Thanks, Lark. I needed that,” I say. “She made me so mad, talking about my—the queen like that.”

  I almost blurted out that she’s my mother. I mentally berate myself with a wince. I have to be more careful, especially in open areas like this where Echo’s cameras could be anywhere.

  “She wishes she was half the Fae our queen is,” Lark says, lowering her voice in volume and pitch. “You cannot let her get under your skin, Rory. If you lose it and blast her…yeah, it’ll feel great and give the rest of us grade-A entertainment, but it would be the end of everything. The Con Crew, our mission, your anonymity. Everything.”

  “I know,” I reply, feeling duly chastised.

  “When she—or anyone else—gets to you, find me,” Asher says. “I will be your anchor. I’ll hold you steady until the storm passes. I promise, I won’t let you falter, Rory.”

  I nod as tears sting my eyes at the pure devotion in his voice. I don’t know what I did to deserve these people, but I know I’m never letting them go. My gaze dances to Lark, who gives me an affectionate smile.

  “Me, too,” she says. “And the others, as well. We’ve all got your back, girl. And just remember, Tiana Avery is nothing. A nobody who feels the need to trump up her own importance to make herself feel better about her tragic life.”

  I nod in agreement, and she grins.

  “That’s my girl,” she says, and an emotional laugh bursts from my lips. “Asher, get her out of here. I’ll cover for you guys with Chase. Our girl needs a break.”

  Before I can put up a token argument about them giving me no choice in the matter, Asher sweeps me away with an arm around my waist. I hold my tongue until he pulls me past my room, where I assumed we were headed.

  “Where are we going?” I ask.

  “My cell,” he whispers.

  My mouth snaps shut as my feet keep up with his quick pace. I’ve never been to his room. I haven’t put a lot of thought into why, but I just kind of assumed he wanted to keep his space private. The fact that he’s taking me there, now, feels kind of momentous.

  We turn a few corners and he skids to a halt in front of a closed cell door. It’s solid metal, just like mine, with a rectangular slot in the center. Asher stares at the floor for a moment before reaching out to grab the handle. Without looking at me, he gives it a twist and pushes the door open.

  Holding out an arm, he finally meets my eyes and says, “After you.”

  I step inside, and the first thing I notice is that Asher has a window. It’s small and high, and only let’s in a small amount of dim light, but it’s there, nonetheless. I open my mouth to comment on it when he flicks on the light. My words catch in my throat as my eyes widen.

  The room is covered with art. Sketches drawn in pencil on white paper hang neatly in rows on the walls. I walk to the left, my eyes travelling over the drawings. Trees, fields, skies, and oceans. Beautiful buildings and fierce animals. A gorgeous older woman with black eyes that must be his mom. A handsome gentleman that resembles him enough to be his dad. A perfect portrait of Lark, her sassy attitude apparent in the swirling lines and heavy shading.

  “This is amazing,” I mutter, but Asher doesn’t respond.

  He waits quietly by the door as I make my way around the room, admiring the drawings and resisting the urge to brush my fingertips across them. When I get to the opposite side of the room, my feet stop in their tracks.

  I inhale sharply, my eyes burning as they travel over sketch after sketch…of me. There’s me with a smile on my face and dancing eyes. There’s me with a sheen of sadness that can’t be hidden. Me, the lines of my face rigid with anger. Nervous. Happy. Thoughtful.

  There’s at least fifteen drawings of me on this wall, and when I have looked at them all, I turn to Asher. His eyes are downcast and his cheeks are red. He looks embarrassed, but when his gaze raises to meet mine, I see a completely different emotion in their blue depths. Fear.

  “When did you do all these?” I ask.

  I’d seen the one drawing he’d done of me, but that one was safely tucked under my pillow.

  “Every day, since the first time I laid eyes on you,” he admits, but there’s a catch in his voice. “I’m not some weird stalker, I promise.”

  One corner of my mouth ticks up as I realize the reason for his fear. The reason why he’s never brought me here before now. He thinks I’m going to freak out over this. That I’ll think it’s weird, or obsessive, and if it were anyone else, I might’ve.

  But I know him. Beneath all his layers of self-protection and detached confidence, Asher York has a soft heart and a sensitive soul. He protects the ones he cares about and puts their needs above his own. He’s strong and dependable, powerful, funny, and kind. And beautiful. He’s so beautiful, inside and out.

  “I love it,” I whisper. “Thank you for bringing me here.”

  His whole body seems to melt with relief as he strides forward and pulls me into his arms. He doesn’t kiss my mouth, but buries his face in my neck as his embrace tightens to an almost painful degree. But I don’t complain. I just hug him back, staring over his shoulder at the wall of me.

  Something pings in my chest, something that feels foreign and familiar at the same time. I tighten my grip on Asher’s neck as I realize what it is. I pinch my eyes closed as fear and excitement zip through me with equal fervor.

  That feeling is complex, yet simple. Impossible, yet
inevitable.

  I love him.

  Despite our rocky beginning and all the obstacles that stand in the way of any kind of happy ending for us, I’ve fallen for Asher York.

  What am I going to do now?

  Chapter Ten

  “I want you to shape water like you did before, but this time on a much larger scale.”

  “What do you have in mind?” I ask, my eyes locked on the gray orbs of Echo Oberon.

  I hope my expression exudes excitement and reverence. What I’m actually feeling is nausea. I’m so scared he’s going to figure out who I am and what I’m up to, I have to keep my knees locked to stop their shaking.

  “Call to water and force it into the largest wave you can manage. But control it, Miss Finley. I do not want to get wet today.”

  His superior tone grates on my nerves just enough to quell the nausea and the nervous shaking. This man is something else. Force the water, indeed.

  I may call what I do with the elements command or control, but it has always been more of a partnership. I call the elements to me and ask them to comply. There is no forcing anything.

  And the fact that Echo used those words and has that mindset says a lot about him—as a faery and as a person, in general. He’s a terrible example of both.

  But I can’t say any of that to him. So I nod with fake enthusiasm and call to water. I build it up slowly, wrinkling my face in concentration while ignoring Echo’s foot, which is tapping on the floor with unconcealed impatience.

  I clench my back teeth together. I could call water and wash him away in an instant, but I have to keep up the ruse that I need him. So I keep the wave confined against one wall and let my gaze flick to my tutor.

  “What do I do now, Headmaster?”

  The slight uptick of his mouth tells me I’ve done the right thing and played up to his ego perfectly.

  “Build the base up, first,” he says. “Make it large enough to support the crest at the top, but do not forget to retain control.”

  I do as he says, adding more water bit by bit until a massive wave is straining against my hold. The desire to just release it and let the water sweep Echo up into its deadly embrace fills me, but I fight it. I need to be smart. There is no doubt he could take control of the wave. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have ordered me to create it while he stood nearby and vulnerable.