First Infraction Page 5

  Chapter Nine

  “Everyone, this is Rory Finley.”

  I keep my head down, but I can feel eyes burning into me as I head toward the back of the room. This is so embarrassing. I’ve attended the same school my whole life, and everyone knew who I was before my first day. I’ve never had to endure this strange torture.

  A hand snakes out and grabs my wrist, and I barely suppress a shriek of surprise. Big, black eyes motion me to the empty desk on my left, and I sigh with relief. Lark saved me a seat.

  After breakfast, I had her show me where the restrooms were and she said she’d meet me here. I got a little turned around and ended up walking into the classroom just as the clock struck eight.

  “My name is Mollie Ridell, and I teach this class,” the instructor says as I take my seat. “You can call me Mollie.”

  The way she says the word teach makes it sound like a mockery. I don’t know if it’s the idea of herself as a teacher, or the subject matter that’s made her so cynical. Or maybe it’s neither. Maybe it’s the fact that she, an inmate herself, is teaching a class in prison to a bunch of kids we all know are never getting out of here.

  Discipline of Magic, indeed. These faeries will never use magic again.

  Movement on the other side of Lark catches my eye, and I lean forward to see Asher bent over a notebook, his pencil moving in long, flowing sweeps. I wonder briefly what he’s drawing, but Lark clears her throat and snaps me out of it.

  I lean back and refocus on Mollie.

  “Control is something you must maintain at all times, no matter how angry, upset, excited, sad—you get the picture. We can’t let our emotions dictate our actions. That’s when we get into trouble. Even using magic in self-defense can lead us down the road to destruction, as I’m sure many of you can attest.”

  I feel like she’s speaking directly to me, though her eyes roam the whole room. I see a few kids nodding in agreement, while others stare off into space, lost in thought. Or memories. I squeeze my eyes shut and try to force the image of that human, dead on the dancefloor, out of my mind.

  “Now, as promised, I have the list of pairs here for our practical exercise. When I call your names, please group up. Sidney and Acadia. Jolene and Cedric.”

  I watch and listen as the pairs are called off. I don’t really know what’s going on, but I silently pray that I somehow miraculously get paired with Lark, even though I wasn’t here when Mollie obviously worked out this assignment.

  “Lark and Asher.”

  Well, there goes that hope. I slump in my desk as my new friend gives me a sympathetic look before turning her desk to face her partner’s. He doesn’t even look up.

  “Rory,” Mollie says, “since you don’t have anyone to pair with, just slide in with Lark and Asher. You don’t mind, do you guys?”

  Lark beams as she shakes her head and slides to the side so I can scooch in beside her. Asher doesn’t look up from his drawing.

  “Asher, Rory. Rory, Asher,” Lark says, trying to break the ice.

  A noncommittal grunt vibrates from his chest, but he still doesn’t look up or acknowledge me in any other way. I open my mouth to say something, I’m not sure what. Anything to get him to look at me. But Lark cuts me off.

  “So, the assignment is to try to rile each other up so we can practice control. I mean, it’s kind of stupid, seeing as how these,” she says, holding up her wrist to show me her bracelet, “block our magic. So the exercise is purely theoretical.”

  Fear lances through me at her words. My magic is not blocked. And while I can’t imagine Lark saying or doing anything to get me worked up enough to make a mistake, Asher is another thing entirely.

  I can see him riling me up in all kinds of ways.

  I clear my throat, saying, “Okay, so what do we do first?”

  “Asher, care to join us?” Lark asks, arching a brow. When he doesn’t respond, she turns back to me. “Don’t worry about him. The instructors always pair us together because I’m the only one here who isn’t either fawning all over him like a hussy or scared to death of him.”

  One corner of Asher’s mouth curves up, just the tiniest bit, at her words. The smirk disappears as quickly as it arrived, and I almost think I’ve imagined it. And he still hasn’t looked up from his drawing, which I can now see is a beautifully detailed tree.

  “Okay, since Rory and I are friends and she’s already seen through my tough girl act,” Lark says, smiling, “I’ll start with you, Ash.”

  His eyes, which remain firmly on the paper before him, narrow slightly, telling me he doesn’t like the shortened version of his name. Lark’s devious smile tells me she knows it and used it on purpose.

  “I don’t know why you think you’re better than everyone else here. I mean, you’re not even that hot. You’re just a novelty. The girls only want you because you’re a hybrid.”

  The air whooshes out of my lungs with that last word. It hits a little too close to home, particularly since I know my mother suffered ridicule and hatred when she was younger. My wide eyes watch Lark, who is staring at Asher expectantly until her face falls.

  “Cool as ever, I see,” she says, dejected.

  I look over at Asher. His bright blue eyes are on me, and a shock rushes down my spine. He looks almost…intrigued. Then the moment is over as he rolls his eyes and looks back down at the tree his hand is bringing to life on the paper.

  “I’m going to get to him one of these days,” Lark says, her tone wistful. “I’ll break him out of that stoic shell, just you wait and see.”

  My eyes flick to Asher and catch him smirking again. I shake my head and look back at Lark.

  “You guys are so weird,” I mutter.

  Lark laughs, saying, “This guy doesn’t let anything or anyone get under his skin. I’ve made it my mission to be the first, and he’s given me permission to play dirty. Nothing is off-limits. I told you we always get paired together, right? Well, this is it—I insult him, he doesn’t react…rinse, repeat.”

  “What does he do to test you?” I ask my eyes moving back and forth between them.

  “Nothing.”

  My heart somersaults in my chest as I hear his voice for the first time. It’s deep and rich, and makes my nerves tingle. I mentally berate myself for acting like some swoony, caricature of a girl.

  Not. Here. To. Meet. A. boy.

  “Ash here thinks it’s hilarious that I hate to be ignored. I’m ashamed to admit that it works every time. Makes me want to throat-punch him.”

  “My turn,” Asher says, his eyes shining with anticipation as they light on me. “What are you in for, Princess?”

  My heart, which had been doing somersaults again at the deep timbre of his voice, shrivels up and dies before dropping into my stomach.

  “Wh-what?”

  “Asher,” Lark chides, but he ignores her.

  “What? Cat got your tongue?”

  His words shock me out of my stupor. I’ve heard my mom use that strange human phrase and she always laughs when she says it. Cats were extremely rare when she was growing up and the planet was still pretty barren. She told me once that the first time she heard the phrase, she took it literally, thinking cats were actually prone to taking people’s tongues.

  Asher is looking at me expectantly, and I don’t know what to say. I briefly consider making something up, but Lark knows the truth and I don’t know her well enough yet to know if she’d call me out for lying.

  “I bet it has something to do with a Zephyr, and that’s why she doesn’t want to tell us,” he grits out.

  “Asher, that’s enough,” Lark says, her voice carrying a sharp edge.

  “What happened? Did a lowly dark faery look at you wrong? Did you get busted for having the poor guy hurt? Or worse?”

  Wow. Just, wow.

  Any attraction I may have been unwittingly harboring for this guy just vanished. I feel my anger rising, the panic I felt at hearing him call me princess fading under its heavy weight. He ha
s no idea who I am. The term was meant to be an insult. I lean forward and pin him with a glare.

  “It was a human,” I say, snarling. “He was high on Lox and wouldn’t take no for an answer. In trying to get him to stop molesting me, I accidentally zapped him with my magic and he died. I killed him, and I have to live with that guilt for the rest of my life. Which will, unfortunately, be spent here, in this awful place with you.”

  I can feel my magic crackling under my skin, begging to be unleashed on this jerk. Somehow, I manage to keep it locked up inside me. I slide my desk back to its original spot and stare at the clock for the rest of the hour, ignoring them both.

  I’ll apologize to Lark later, when I’ve calmed down and am less likely to let something slip.

  Like the fact that I could put Asher York on his butt. Right here, right now, bracelet or not.

  Chapter Ten

  “So, what is this class all about, anyway?”

  By the time I reach Etiquette and Discretion, I’ve calmed down and am determined to pretend like Asher York doesn’t exist. I won’t even think his name.

  Lark and I sit next to each other again, but this time, he who shall not be named takes a seat on the other side of the room. Thank God.

  “All right, let’s get to it.”

  I look up at the sound of the voice and cringe. It’s the crazy older woman from the mess hall. I start to panic. It’s not good that I already had a less than pleasant run-in with one of my instructors.

  Then I remember what she said to me—Move it, Loser—and I have to stifle a laugh. She’s supposedly teaching a group of young inmates good etiquette and then acting with completely rudeness to a stranger?

  “Is something funny, new girl?”

  My eyes widen as I realize I’m busted, and I stutter out an apology.

  “It’s her first morning,” Lark says, covering for me. “She’s still adjusting.”

  The woman’s eyes narrow as her gaze chases to Lark. I watch as her expression morphs from displeasure to hatred in an instant. Oh, she does not like Lark.

  “When I want your opinion, bird-girl, I’ll give it to you.”

  Woah. Rude, much? This instructor’s nasty behavior is spiraling fast from funny to angering. I feel a protective streak forming for Lark, even though I’m sure she doesn’t need my help.

  “Yes, Miss Avery.”

  Lark’s words are submissive and her tone is flippant, but neither of those is what freezes me on the spot. Did she just say Avery? I know that name.

  But no, it can’t be.

  “All right, let’s get started. New girl, my name is Tiana Avery, and I expect you to address me respectfully as Miss Avery. I will be teaching you proper etiquette and how to use discretion when you perform magic in public.”

  I can see her mouth moving, but I don’t hear anything after her name. Tiana Avery? No. No way. It can’t be. I can’t be that unlucky.

  FIVE YEARS Ago

  “I DON’T EVER WANT to go back there.”

  “It’s okay, Finley. Everything will be fine when you go back after winter break. You’ll see.”

  My mom’s words don’t comfort me. Not in the least. I pull my head to the right, dislodging her fingers from my hair.

  “I hate it there, Mom,” I snap, my twelve-year-old emotions soaring out of control, once again. “Everyone is so fake. They act all nice to my face, then say horrible things about me behind my back.”

  “Who’s saying stuff about my girl?”

  Dad walks into my room with those words, his blonde brows drawn low over his ice-blue eyes. He looks ready to take on the world for me, and I have never been one to let an opportunity go to waste. I dart forward and circle my arms around his middle while conjuring up a few tears.

  “Please, Daddy, don’t make me go back there,” I whine.

  “Okay, take a breath, Finley,” he says, leading me back over to the bed where Mom still sits, a skeptical expression on her face.

  She knows I’m laying it on thick, but I don’t care.

  “I can’t take it anymore,” I say. “There’s this girl, Cadence, who lives to torture me.”

  “Hmm, sounds like something your mom went through,” Dad says, the edge of humor to his voice making me look at my mother. “You should tell her how you handled it.”

  Mom gives him a long-suffering look, gritting out, “I don’t think that’s such a good idea, dear.”

  Dad laughs, saying “Go on, what can it hurt? Tell her how you handled being bullied by Tiana.”

  They have some kind of silent argument that ends with Mom sighing in defeat. She goes on to tell me about Tiana Avery and Aubrey Ellsworth, and how they tortured her when she first got to the academy. I know from history class that Aubrey turned out to be an undercover spy inside the school, but this is the first I’ve heard of Tiana.

  “Your mother knocked her on her butt on more than one occasion,” Dad says, and it makes me smile. “Tiana Avery thought she was queen bee, but December showed her how it felt to be stung. No one could measure up to your mom’s power.”

  “But violence is not the answer, right Easton?” Mom says.

  “Of course not,” he says, but he gives me a wink.

  And suddenly, I do feel better. If my mom could make it at Oberon Academy, then so can I. If I have to knock a few heads together, then so be it. Mom did, so why can’t I?

  THE MEMORY FADES away as Miss Avery starts her lesson. She can’t be the same Tiana Avery, can she? Then again, how many Tiana Avery’s can there possibly be?

  “Now, when you are in the public eye, you must maintain perfect composure. You don’t have to like everyone you come into contact with, but you do have to be polite. Especially in this new, perfect world our king and queen have tried so hard to create.”

  Oh, God. It is her. I can tell by her derogatory tone when speaking of my parents. She hates them as much now as she did back then.

  But how did she end up here, teaching classes?

  Everything I know about her runs through my mind as I attempt to at least pretend like I’m listening to her lesson. She hated my mom, on sight, and tortured her in that mean girl way the popular kids like to do. Mom lost her temper more than once and attacked her with magic, but never really hurt her.

  Tiana was ostracized after the battle with Sebille, and I know it had something to do with my dad’s father, who betrayed the entire family and tried to make himself king. I don’t know exactly what happened because my parents refused to give me any details. They always said I was too young.

  My eyes refocus on her, and fear lances through me. Except for the color of my hair, I look almost exactly like my mom. If Tiana looks closely enough, will she recognize the resemblance? Would she tell Echo, and anyone else who would listen, my true identity?

  Does she already know? She could be the one who slipped the note through my door.

  As she drones on about perfect etiquette in mixed company, her eyes drift across the room, but don’t really focus on anyone in particular. Not even me. Surely, if she knows I’m the daughter of her nemesis—the instigator of her downfall—she’d at the very least be giving me the stink-eye.

  Unless she is practicing her skills and keeping her composure.

  My head shakes and I try to focus in case there’s some kind of test later. But Tiana Avery is at the top of my mental list of suspects. I’ll be keeping a close eye on her, while trying simultaneously to stay out of her line of vision.

  I can’t have her looking too closely and recognizing me as my mother’s child. I’m sure she’s looking for a little payback, and I would make the perfect pawn to hit my mom and dad right where it hurts.

  I have to make sure she doesn’t make that connection, no matter what. Even if it means using a little Glamour.

  My lips turn up with an evil grin. I’ll learn everything this witch has to teach me about using magic with discretion, then use it against her. My survival here depends upon it.

  Chapter Eleven
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  “Don’t you think she’s just adorable?”

  I roll my eyes at Lark’s humor as we head down the hall to our last class. I have a feeling today wasn’t the first time Miss Avery had used cruelty when dealing with my new friend, but Lark just lets it roll off her back like it’s no big deal.

  “Is she always so pleasant?” I ask, making my voice as syrupy-sweet as possible.

  “Yeah,” Lark says with a sigh. “Always.”

  We walk into a large gymnasium that reminds me a lot of the one we use at Oberon Academy. One half is covered with thick pads on the floor and walls, and there’s a running track around the perimeter. A group of inmates are gathered in the center, and Lark and I walk up to join them.

  “Today, we’re going to be working in pairs. Choose a partner and spread out.”

  The blonde guy who spoke looks like he could be one of us, but he’s obviously older since he’s an instructor. I watch him walk across the room and flick a switch on the wall. When nothing happens, I look at Lark in question. She taps her bracelet.

  “It sends out a magical wavelength that deactivates these,” she says. “The gym is heavily spelled so no one can use magic to escape. Headmaster trusts Chase to keep us in line while we practice.”

  “Chase?”

  She nods at the instructor. “Chase Wheatley.”

  I nod and follow her to a corner of the gym, happy that she assumed we would be partners. My mind is racing a mile a minute, though. It hasn’t escaped my notice that the instructors are all Sylphs. There are no Zephyrs with any power at Oberon Reformatory.

  “Okay,” Chase calls out in a voice loud enough for everyone to hear, “today we’ll be working with wind. I want you to make the air travel in as many directions as you can in a smooth, fluid motion. The end result should be a wind funnel. Extra credit if you can use it to raise your partner up off the floor.”

  I can’t help but smile as I shake my arms out at my sides. Tornadoes have always been my Mom’s specialty, and I was barely out of diapers when I mastered the skill. This is going to be fun.