First Infraction Page 6

  “I can go first, if you want,” Lark says.

  It’s obvious she feels like she’s doing me a favor. Zephyrs are historically better at handling air than Sylphs. And she doesn’t know who my mother is.

  “Okay,” I say with a smile as I widen my stance. “Show me what you got.”

  She lifts her hands and a gust of wind blows my hair back. I giggle as it swirls around me, spinning faster and faster as my loose clothing flaps against my skin and my hair twists into a thousand knots. I feel lighter on my feet as the force of air pushes against me, trying to lift me off the ground.

  Lark has her bottom lip pinched between her white teeth, and a bead of sweat trickles down her temple as her face reddens with exertion. She really wants to pick me up, but it’s not working.

  I center myself and push power into her cyclone, giving it just enough juice to lift me a few feet off the floor. Lark laughs with delight as I pretend to wobble and freak out at my sudden weightlessness. She pulls the wind back and my shoes hit the wood with a thud.

  “Very good, Miss Sparrow,” Chase says as he walks around us.

  “Thanks, Chase,” Lark replies, her face red again. “This is Rory.”

  “Rory Finley,” he says, stretching out a hand to me. As I take it and give it a firm shake, he says “You can call me Chase. Let’s see what you can do.”

  His green gaze seems to assess me as I nod and stand back, waiting for Lark to ready herself. I call to air and gently send it toward Lark before directing it to spin around her. While my first instinct is to show off a little, pick Lark up and toss her around, I tighten down on the urge. I’m supposed to be staying under the radar.

  So I pretend to strain and speed up the wind just enough to tangle her hair like she did mine. Chase nods and says something about me having average talent for a Sylph, then walks away. Lark narrows her eyes at me and props her hands on her hips.

  “I know you helped me,” she mouths.

  I glance back at Chase to see him distracted by another student. No one else seems to be looking at us, so I refocus on Lark. Her eyes widen as I shoot her a mischievous grin. Before she can blink, I loosen the tight rein I have on my power and feed it into the wind.

  Lark’s mouth drops open as she flies into the air. I flip her in a cartwheel, then set her feet back on the floor, letting my wind fully dissipate. A quick glance around proves no one saw me, and I give her a wide smile.

  “Why, you little…” she growls as she stalks toward me. “Why were you holding out in front of Chase?”

  I lean in closer and whisper, “I didn’t want him to think I was showing off. Besides, he was so impressed with your performance, I didn’t want to mess it up for you.”

  I waggle my eyebrows at her suggestively, and her cheeks redden once more. Oh yeah, she like-likes him.

  I open my mouth to tease her, but an eerie feeling tattoos down my spine, making me shiver. A feeling like I’m being watched.

  I glance from left to right, but everyone seems to be completely focused on their partners and making air funnels. I look over my right shoulder to see Chase working with another set of students. I try to shake the feeling, but it persists.

  An inmate in front of me shifts to the left, and suddenly, I’m locked in a stare-down with Asher York and his devastating blue eyes. I want to look away, but somehow I just can’t. He looks…introspective, like I’m a puzzle he’s trying to figure out.

  That is not good. I can’t have anyone, especially a guy that seems to have hated me on sight, looking at me too closely.

  I link my arm through Lark’s and pull her to the side, putting the bulk of the class between us and Asher. Hopefully, he’ll take the hint.

  After another twenty minutes of elemental practice, Chase calls for attention and orders us all to run laps for the rest of the hour. There are no grumbles or groans, so I can only assume this is the norm. As people move to the perimeter and start jogging around the track, Chase approaches Lark and me once more.

  “Your body is the vessel that houses and nurtures your magic,” he says. “Keeping it in top working order is paramount to success.”

  With that, he jogs away, joining another group of inmates on the track. Lark and I amble over, and I stretch out my legs before we start to run.

  “Success in what? Being locked up for the rest of our lives?” I mumble.

  Lark chuckles but doesn’t comment. For the rest of class, we run. My mind wanders from one subject to the next—my parents, the accidental murder, this place, the note.

  And more than once, the dark-haired, blue-eyed boy who I can’t seem to kick out of my head.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Why are you being so shifty?”

  My eyes shoot up to meet Lark’s across the dinner table. She’s watching me with one brow perfectly arched as I try to school my face into an expression of wide-eyed innocence. I shake my head and shrug.

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “You don’t know what I mean, huh?” she deadpans. “You’re wound up so tight, I’ve been bracing for an explosion all afternoon.”

  We’d spent our free time hanging out in the common room, asking each other random questions to get to know each other better. I now know Lark hates mint flavored chocolate and loves furry animals. Any furry animals. Even possums.

  “What do you mean?” I ask. “I thought we were having a great time.”

  “We were,” she concedes. “At least, as great as it could be with you grinding your teeth the whole time. Seriously, what’s going on?”

  Her tone shifts from snarky to worried, and I feel compelled to tell her the truth. At least, the part of the truth that doesn’t reveal my true identity. I don’t know her well enough for that. Not yet.

  I lean toward her and whisper, “It’s Asher York.”

  “Ash—”

  I kick her shin under the table and she yelps. When she looks at me with betrayal in her eyes, I shush her and jerk my head to the right, where the boy in question is sitting just three tables away. Lark nods as if she understands, but her eyes are still narrowed like she’s already plotting revenge for that kick.

  “He keeps staring at me, and it’s making me all twitchy,” I admit, keeping my voice low.

  Lark lifts her arms out to her sides and stretches, feigning a yawn as her head turned toward where Asher was sitting.

  “Real smooth,” I murmur, one side of my mouth lifting.

  I keep my eyes on her, and I can tell by her expression he’s still watching me.

  “It’s weird, right?” I ask when she looks at me with widened eyes.

  “It is strange,” she replies, and I can see the wheels turning in her head. Suddenly, she straightens, and her expression turns serious. “Listen Rory, I know he’s hot—if you’re into that kind of thing—and mysterious, and maybe broken enough to make you want to fix him, but you should really think about keeping your distance.” Then in a low voice she adds, “He killed someone.”

  “So did I,” I whisper, unfazed by her revelation.

  Having been a victim of the human courts myself and knowing how they feel about Zephyrs, it wouldn’t surprise me if some really old human keeled over nearby and the judge pinned Asher with murder.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” Lark said, bringing me back to the present. “I asked him once and he didn’t deny it. He killed someone.”

  “Maybe he had a good reason?” I offer. “No. Sorry. I don’t know why I’m defending him. I don’t even like him. At all. He’s a jerk. I just think it’s weird, his staring at me all the time.”

  “Okay,” she says, nodding as she gives me a totally disbelieving look. “Sure. You don’t like him.”

  “Lark. I don’t.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Stop it.”

  I try to be firm, but it’s all I can do to hold in the laughter. When an evil smile curls up her lips, I give up the fight and chuckle.

  “I guess I’m protesting too mu
ch, huh?”

  She holds up a hand, leaving a small space between her finger and thumb. “A wee bit. But hey, I don’t blame you, girl. I just wanted you to know he comes with a lot of baggage and his fair share of trouble.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” I say, my smile falling. “Even if I do find him attractive, I don’t think the feeling is mutual. When he stares at me, it’s like he’s trying to figure me out. Not because he finds me at all attractive. I think he hates Sylphs.”

  I add that last bit in a small voice, and Lark leans forward, locking eyes with me.

  “Why do you think that?”

  “Well, he seemed to hate me on sight,” I say, waving a hand around my very Sylph-looking face. “I think it may be because he’s a hybrid. Maybe there’s some resentment there, because…I don’t know.”

  “Because the Sylphs would have treated him like a lesser being? Like he’s some kind of freak of nature?”

  She asks the questions like she already knows the answers but is waiting to see if I’ll admit “my kind” could be so intolerant. I arch a brow at her.

  “Exactly. But, you know, the Zephyrs haven’t always been unbiased when it comes to mixed heritage.”

  “I know, I know,” she chants, holding up her palms. “Just keeping it real.”

  I chuckle, and my eyes stray to Asher, who is now looking down at his plate. I shake my head.

  Lark is right. That boy is dangerous and a distraction I don’t need right now. Whatever his deal is, it’s his problem. Not mine. I need to keep my distance.

  I will not lose focus. Discover who wrote that note, neutralize them, go home. That’s it.

  Yeah. Easier said than done, I’m sure.

  THE CLICK of the lock reverberates through me, making me shiver. I sit on the edge of my bed, humming a simple tune to fight off the suffocating silence. I’ve never had a problem being alone before, but there’s something about this forced solitude that puts me on edge.

  I take a deep breath, holding the air in my lungs for as long as I can before slowly letting it out. I’m okay. I made it through my first day unscathed, and no one figured out who I am, or tried to hurt me, or anything. I can handle this.

  I fall back against my thin pillow and stare at the cracks in the ceiling. I wonder what my family is doing. Mom and Dad are probably pushing some new initiative to make the world a better place.

  Robbie is probably hanging out with her namesake, Great-Grandpa Robin, and I’m sure they’re up to no good, as usual. The thought makes me smile. Those two are always getting into some kind of trouble.

  But not the kind I’m in right now. This is a whole new low.

  Grandpa Cris and Grandma Ellie, being a Zephyr and a Sylph, had a taboo relationship that produced my mom—the first ever hybrid. Great-Grandpa Robin lied to Grandma, made her think Grandpa abandoned her, then lied again when Mom was born and made her think the baby died. All because he thought he was protecting Ellie.

  Grandma Freya killed her husband, but he deserved it after betraying his people. He traded my dad, his own son, to the Zephyr queen in hopes that she’d kill him so he, Alwyn Jameson, could be king of the Sylphs.

  But no matter what the members of my family have done, it was all for love or the greater good. What I’ve done—lying, manipulating those around me, sneaking off without protection, killing a man—none of that can be justified. Not really.

  But I’m going to make it up to them. When I solve this little mystery and get out of here, I’m going to be better. I’ll appreciate my family and all the things I’ve always taken for granted.

  I’ll stop being so selfish.

  It’s time to grow up, and there’s no place like prison to do that.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Knock, knock. Wakey-wakey.”

  I sit up too quickly and dizziness assails me. I fumble for the light switch with my eyes locked on the dark shadow, backlit by the dim light streaming in from the hallway. I find the switch and flick it on, then breathe a sigh of relief to see it’s only Lark standing in the doorway.

  “Oh, sorry,” she offers, shrugging. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I just thought you might want to take a shower before breakfast.”

  Now, I’m awake.

  “Shower?” I ask.

  “Yeah,” she laughs. “We’re not total heathens in here. Boys and girls alternate days. Today, it’s our turn.”

  I jump to my feet, grab a clean uniform, and motion for Lark to lead the way. As excited as I am to finally get really clean, it doesn’t escape me that we’re only allowed to shower every other day. Ugh. What if we get dirty or super sweaty on an off-day?

  “Are we only allowed to use them in the morning? Or can we wait until after classes are over?”

  She shakes her head and says “The water is only on from six to eight in the morning. We get ten minutes each, so everyone gets a turn.”

  I’m not going to complain. I haven’t washed my hair since that night at the club, and the sink-bath I took yesterday just didn’t cut it. This is going to be heaven.

  Lark leads me down a hall I haven’t been through before to a big, swinging door at the end. As we enter, I breathe a sigh of relief at the sight of individual stalls closed off with thick, white curtains. I’d half-imagined some kind of communal shower where we all bathed together.

  “Here’s the soap,” Lark says, pointing to a caddy of yellow bricks.

  I pick up a bar and sniff it, my nose crinkling in revulsion. It’s supposed to smell like lemons, but a harsh chemical smell overpowers the fresh scent.

  “Are they trying to burn our skin off with this?” I quip.

  “Headmaster buys it from the humans. Says it’s his contribution to society, but I think it’s just another way to torture us. It really dries out the hair.”

  She sighs and takes her own bar before disappearing into an empty shower stall. Not wasting another moment, I step into the one next to hers and pull the curtain closed. Setting down the bar of soap, I turn on the water and start to strip.

  “Can you believe she’s hanging with that awful Crow?”

  The snide voice echoes off the shower walls as the door bangs open. I roll my eyes as I finish undressing. I know that tone. It seems, even in prison, there’s a hierarchy and whoever this girl is, she thinks she’s at the top.

  “Maybe we should bring her in with us,” another voice says. “She’s pretty enough.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t go that far,” the first voice says.

  “I’d say Asher thinks so,” a third girl trills. “Have you seen the way he stares at her?”

  Wait. What? Are they talking about me? If that’s so, then Crow is…

  “She should learn that Sylphs shouldn’t mix in with them. I’m sure she’d drop the Zephyr in a snap if we offered to let her join us,” the first girl says.

  Oh, I don’t think so. I grab my towel and wrap it around my torso, tucking the corner in at my chest to secure it before grabbing the curtain and ripping it aside. These witches are about to discover the fact that I don’t tolerate bigotry. That I defend my friends and family with everything inside me.

  That this bracelet does nothing to inhibit my power.

  I open my mouth to berate them, to tell them where they can shove their offer of friendship, but no sound comes out. Lark is already there, shoulders heaving as she faces off with three blonde beauties.

  Water drips from her hair, running in rivulets down her body. Her very naked body.

  “My name is Lark,” she grits out between clenched teeth. “L-a-r-k. Lark.”

  “Get out of my face, Crow.”

  I recognize the middle girl’s voice as that of the ringleader. The other two giggle, and suddenly I’m thirteen years old, overhearing the mean girls at Oberon Academy whispering awful things about me after oozing syrupy sweetness to my face.

  Back then, I had to let it go. I was Princess Aurora, heir to the crown, daughter of two dynasties. Face of the combined Sylphid and Zephyr kin
gdoms.

  Right here, right now? I’m Rory Finley, convicted killer.

  “Excuse me,” I say, whipping a towel from the bin and handing it to Lark as I step between her and the trio of blonde devils.

  “Hey, new girl,” the ringleader says. “We were just talking about you.”

  “I heard,” I reply, forcing a wide smile to my lips. “Did you mean it? Do you really want to be my friend?”

  I feign excitement, filling my voice with exuberance as I give Lark a side-eye stare.

  “Sure,” the girl says. “I’m Angelina, and this is Brooke. That’s Maisy.”

  “Rory,” I say with a nod. “So, all I have to do to join you is drop this one like yesterday’s trash?”

  These girls are dumber than I thought, because Angelina smiles and the other two nod with eager enthusiasm. There’s a dark glow in their light-colored eyes, something that looks like anticipation.

  I look over at Lark, who’s been uncharacteristically quiet throughout the exchange. She’s frowning, but the muscles in her cheeks are twitching as she tries to hold the dark expression. Relief flashes through me as I realize she knows none of this is real. That I’m messing with the queen bees.

  “So, let me make sure I have this totally right,” I say, turning my attention back to them. “You expect me to turn my back on the only person who’s been nice to me in this awful place because she’s a Zephyr? You want me to hang out with you three, adopt your egotistical, small-minded attitudes and treat anyone who looks different from us with disdain and revulsion, mocking them at every turn just to make myself feel better? Have I got it all straight?”

  At some point during my spiel, Angelina caught on that I’m not buying what they’re selling, her light green eyes darkening. The other two just look confused. Idiots.

  I throw my arm over Lark’s shoulder, and she wraps hers around my waist. I wave a hand between us, pointing at myself, then Lark, then back again.

  “Real friends,” I say, “don’t turn their backs on each other. If you mess with her, you mess with me. I’d be careful not to forget that, if I were you.”