First Infraction Read online

  “Not unless you want me to tell him why I told you,” she says.

  My heart jumps in response to her words, and my expression must advertise my panic, because Lark just laughs and starts walking again, pulling me along with her.

  I need to get myself under control and squash whatever morsels of attraction I may be starting to feel for Asher. I can’t afford to get distracted, and even if I could, he detests me.

  I refuse to open myself up for that kind of disappointment and embarrassment. I will not let him sneak past my defenses. I cannot allow this pull I feel toward him to continue.

  I’ll just turn it off. Yeah. I’ll make the decision to not be attracted to him. If I can avoid any future conversations or confrontations, I should be fine. Right?

  “Come on, you two,” Chase calls out, snapping me out of my thoughts as we walk through the gym door. “We’re jumping right into sparring today. Lark, you partner up with Cedric. Rory, you’re with Asher.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  I stumble, but catch myself before I fall on my face in front of everyone. The witches burst into a round of sweet-sounding giggles that makes me want to punch each one of them in their pretty faces. I take a deep breath and lift my chin, refusing to make eye contact with anyone.

  If I have to do this, I’ll do it with dignity.

  “Okay, everyone, listen up,” Chase calls out, his voice echoing off the walls. “For safety’s sake, I am not going to deactivate the bracelets for this exercise. I want you to focus on hand-to-hand combat. Fighting with your body will help you learn to defend yourselves without resorting to or relying on your magic.”

  His words hit me right in the gut, and I actually bend slightly at the waist. If I’d used my physical ability to get that guy at the club off of me, I wouldn’t be here right now. I’d be free. Free of this place and the guilt that wracks me every time I think about that night.

  “Let’s go, Princess.”

  Asher’s voice and condescending tone snap me out of my frozen state. I meet his eyes as I walk forward, and my stomach flutters with nervous energy. My breathing accelerates as one thing becomes glaringly clear—I’m going to touch him.

  And he’s going to touch me.

  He’s a jerk. You don’t like him. Not here to meet a boy.

  The words scroll through my mind on a loop as I move closer. Asher crouches into a defensive stance, his body tense and ready despite his bored expression. I attempt to copy his posture, but I’m still too tense. I feel ridiculous.

  My mind drifts back to the academy. Fae learn to spar both with and without magic there, but the professors always excluded me from the hand-to-hand combat drills. They couldn’t let their princess get hurt. I never complained because, well, I knew I’d always be able to protect myself with my magic.

  Ugh, maybe Asher is right about me. He has no idea how right.

  “Are you going to stand there and stare at me all day, or are we going to fight?” he asks.

  I look around and realize the other pairs are already sparring. My face heats as his words register. I have been staring at him this whole time like an idiot. My eyes drop to the floor between us.

  “Oh, don’t back down now, Princess. Show me what you’ve got.”

  Though the words sound positive, his tone is still belligerent. I look up to see him smiling, and my heart flips over in my chest. Good Lord, the dimples.

  But then I meet his eyes. There’s no pleasure there. Anticipation, yes. But no humor.

  “What do I do?” I mumble.

  “Come at me,” he grits out, waving me forward with impatience. “Try to knock me down.”

  I take a few quick breaths and lunge toward him, my palms up and aiming for his shoulders. With practiced ease, he steps to the side, his arms swinging around to connect with my back. I stumble forward a few more steps before landing on my stomach with a grunt.

  Well, that was embarrassing.

  A large hand moves into my line of vision and I flinch away from it. A sigh meets my ears and I look up to see a frowning Asher bent over my prone body.

  “I’m just offering you a hand up, Princess.”

  Against my better judgment, I take his hand and let him pull me to my feet.

  “Thanks,” I mutter, wondering why he’s still holding my hand.

  He shakes off my gratitude and snatches me forward, getting up in my face. I attempt to jerk free, but his grip is like iron.

  “You need to learn to do things for yourself, Princess. You’re no better than the rest of us. We’re all prisoners here.”

  Then his eyebrows bunch down over his eyes, and he leans in even closer as he inhales deeply. When he backs away, his expression is incredulous.

  “Why do you smell like roses?”

  Oh, no. Think, Finley, think.

  “Let me guess. Your hoity-toity Sylph parents managed to smuggle you in some of your own stuff.” He shakes his head in disgust. “You’re too good for crude prison soap, huh?”

  “Yes! I mean, yes,” I say, lowering my voice to calmer tone. “I’m totally a spoiled rich girl and can’t bear to live without my expensive soaps and shampoo. Daddy made sure I don’t have to.”

  I shoot him a simpering smile for good measure, hopefully reinforcing his opinion of me and ending his questions. I berate myself for not realizing how dangerous it was to use the scented soap I conjured.

  Asher’s expression changes to one of confusion. Like me suddenly playing up the poor, little rich girl routine was not what he expected. Or like I’m a terrible liar and he can totally tell I’m being disingenuous.

  “Anyway,” I rush to add, “let’s go again. I need to get the hang of this.”

  I manage to stay on my feet the rest of the class, and Asher keeps his snide comments to himself. The air between us is awkward as I make lame attempts to attack him and he anticipates my every move. He doesn’t even look like he’s paying attention, swatting me away like an errant fly.

  Normally that would irritate me to no end, but in this instance, I’m fine with it. As long as he’s not sniffing me or asking questions, I can deal with being the weak link in our pairing.

  After what feels like a hundred years and a thousand attempts to get the better of him, Chase calls our sparring matches to a halt and tells us to run laps. Without a word or gesture to Asher, I take off. Lark catches up to me on the track.

  “You okay?” she asks.

  “Yeah,” I say, forcing out a chuckle. “I’m fine, physically, but my ego is a little bruised.”

  “Don’t sweat it,” she says with a grin. “My cousin is a skilled fighter and could wipe the floor with anyone in this class…maybe even Chase.”

  “I still can’t believe he’s your cousin,” I whisper, as I lean toward her.

  “Yeah, well, just don’t say that too loud,” she replies. “You’re the only one here who knows.”

  “Why is that? I mean, why all the secrecy?”

  “That, my dear Rory, is a story for another day. Come on. One more lap and we’re done.”

  I close my mouth and pick up the pace, letting the subject drop. If she wants to tell me everything she will. If she doesn’t, well, that’s okay too.

  We all have our secrets, don’t we?

  I SPEND the afternoon alone in my room, laying on my bed and staring at the ceiling. I wonder how many times my parents have demanded Sawyer put me on the phone while he, under the spell of my Glamour, tells them I’m fine and need more time.

  I wonder what Robbie’s been up to, and whether she’s angry that I haven’t called her. I’m sure she is. I’m going to have a lot of explaining to do when I get out of here.

  And I will get out of here.

  I just have to decide if I’ll tell them all the truth, or continue the lie and pretend I was being stubborn all summer on my vacation. I decide to just play it by ear and figure it out when this is all over. Why think about today what you can put off until tomorrow, right?

  A knock interrup
ts my thoughts, and I look at the door, expecting to see Lark peeking through the slot. Instead, I see narrow hips wrapped in dark pants. I pull myself up and walk to the door, swinging it open.

  “Hello, Jax,” I say. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

  “Officer Woodrow,” he grits out, and I give him a bright smile. He rolls his eyes and sighs. “Just checking in to make sure everything is okay, and you’re not having any problems.”

  “I’m fine,” I say, narrowing my eyes. “Do you check on all the inmates here?”

  He grunts and spins on a heel, marching down the hall. I watch him go, wondering what his deal is. Why is he so interested in me? And why does he care if I’m okay or not? I shake my head and duck back into my room, swinging the door shut behind me.

  This place just keeps getting weirder and weirder.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “When you get back out into the real world, it is imperative that you keep yourself under control. You cannot, under any circumstances, allow your emotions to dictate your responses and lash out magically. I know you’re all young, and emotional responses are kind of your thing, but there’s no place like prison to help you grow up fast.”

  My head falls to the side as I listen to Mollie’s lecture. I study her features, wondering if she actually believes what she’s preaching—that any of us will be out in the real world again. Ever. She seems sincere, like she really wants us to believe there’s hope for a future outside these walls.

  One look around the room shows me no one is buying what she’s selling. Most of the students look bored, doodling in notebooks and staring off into space. Like none of this actually matters.

  “That is why we spend this hour throwing insults, pushing each other to our limits. I know you don’t actually have access to your power right now, but you can work on controlling your physical response. Breathe through the anger, smile through the hurt. Focus on desensitizing yourself to the point where nothing anyone says really matters. Because you know what? In the grand scheme of things, it doesn’t.”

  Mollie catches my eye and smiles, and I do my best to return it. She’s trying, even though she is proof positive no one ever leaves this place. I, once again, wonder what she did to be sent here…

  “Okay, pair up and get to work.”

  Lark scoots her chair closer to mine, then waves at Asher, saying “Let’s go, Ash.”

  He rolls his blue eyes but scooches closer, then looks back down at the drawing he’s working on. The tree has much more detail today—individual leaves, dark twisting branches, and tufts of thick grass growing around the trunk. He really is talented.

  I glance up to catch his eyes on me, one brow arched. Busted.

  “Sorry,” I whisper, feeling like I’ve somehow intruded on his privacy. “It’s beautiful.”

  He grunts and looks back to the page, sweeping his pencil across the surface as he shades the sky. I clear my throat against the awkwardness of the moment and look over at Lark. Her eyes are on her cousin, wide with wonder. She shakes her head, then looks back at me, her face blank.

  “You want to start today?” she asks.

  “Sure,” I say, shrugging.

  I study her for a moment, taking in her delicate features. With porcelain skin, those wide, black eyes, and shiny, luxurious hair, I can’t think of a single insult. She’s also pretty much the most awesome person I’ve ever met, outside of my family. My shoulders droop as I sigh.

  “I can’t. Everything about you is perfect.”

  A laugh bursts from her pink lips, and it’s contagious. A round of giggles erupts from my chest and I lean back in my chair.

  “You’re sweet,” she says once we calm down, “but I am far from perfect. Just ask Asher.”

  My eyes dart to Asher as she says the words. His gaze drops from my face to his artwork, but not before I see a look of wonder plastered there. I watch him for a moment, but his stare doesn’t budge from the beautiful tree.

  “Yeah, she’s the worst,” he mumbles, responding to Lark’s comment.

  “Oh, now my feelings are hurt,” Lark deadpans. Then she looks back at me. “Well, if you can’t think of any way to insult me, try with Ash. I’m sure you can come up with something.”

  She winks at me suggestively and my eyes dart back to Asher. But he’s not looking at her. He’s looking at me, his expression filled with dark anticipation. I swallow against the lump that forms in my throat.

  Think. Think. Think.

  Your eyes are like sapphires. Ugh, no, Finley. Think insults. Insults.

  “Come on, Princess. Flay me with that wicked tongue.”

  Okay, he really shouldn’t say stuff like that. My face heats, and I pray he interprets it as a flush of anger instead of the blush it is.

  “What’s the matter, Finley? Can’t decide which hybrid insult you want to use?”

  My heart dies in my chest as he speaks, then beats back to life as I realize he thinks he’s calling me by my last name. Then the traitorous organ flutters as I soak in the sound of my real name on his lips. It is…divine.

  Reality crashes back in as I process the rest of what he said. My eyes drift closed and I take a few deep breaths. I know the insults he means. I’ve overheard whispers about my mother. About me.

  Mutt. Half-breed. Mongrel.

  Being who I am, no one would dare say those things to my face. But Asher? I can’t even imagine what he’s had to deal with his whole life. Whatever it is, it’s hardened him.

  “Oh, please, Princess,” he snaps. “Wipe that pity off your face. I didn’t ask for it and I don’t want it.”

  “I don’t…I didn’t…” I stutter.

  “Sure,” he barks. “Poor little half-breed probably got picked on as a kid. That’s what you’re thinking, right? How much worse my life has been than yours?”

  Anger surges inside me and I spew, “There’s a difference between sympathy and empathy, you jerk.”

  “Empathy?” he laughs, but there’s no humor in the sound. “How could you possibly know what it’s like to be me, Princess?”

  His tone, more than his words, slices through me, making me flinch. At that slight movement, his lips curve up into a sadistic smile.

  My anger flares again, and I feel power surge inside me, begging to be unleashed on this antagonistic prick. I close my eyes and breathe through the urge, just like Mollie instructed us. Once the desire to blast him ebbs, I open my eyes and meet Asher’s.

  Only, his expression has changed. His eyes are wide and his mouth is slightly open. His chest heaves up and down as he breathes. He quickly erases the slack-jawed expression from his face and looks down at his drawing.

  I stare at the top of his head for a moment before moving my wide gaze to Lark. She shrugs and shakes her head at me, like she has no idea what’s up with her arrogant, beautiful cousin.

  “Okay,” she says, lengthening the syllables, “I guess I’ll go. Ash, you’re a jerk. You need to stop picking on Rory all the time and maybe you’ll get it through that thick skull of yours that she’s not like the others.”

  Those last five words are heavy. Loaded with meaning. Telling me I was right—Asher York has suffered a lot in his life because of his mixed heritage.

  I feel myself softening toward him again, but then I remember how he reacted and the things he said to me. He’s broken, and despite the romantic in me begging to pick up all the pieces and put him back together, I need to keep my distance.

  I can’t make his life better. I can’t take away the hurt and disappointment. I can’t make him love himself for who he is.

  I can’t fix him.

  And, I remind myself for the umpteenth time, I’m not here to meet a boy.

  I need to keep my head down, figure out the mystery of who sent the note, then escape. That’s it.

  I look at Lark and my heart aches a little. I know I just met her, but she doesn’t deserve to be here for the rest of her life. Maybe I can take her with me when I get out of here.
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br />   Of course, she isn’t incognito like me. It would be harder for her to hide. She wouldn’t be able to go back to her normal life. But any life would be better than this, right?

  There’s got to be a way. Even if I have to bring her home with me and tell my family the truth.

  I shiver at the thought, then push it out of my mind. Later. I’ll figure out everything later.

  I MANAGE to make it through Etiquette and Discretion without challenging Miss Avery to a death match, but just barely. Knowing everything that woman did to my family before I was born makes it really hard to listen to her go on about respect and discipline. I have no idea what Headmaster Echo was thinking when he assigned her to teach this class.

  The man must be insane. Or up to no good.

  My bet is on the latter.

  As I head into the gymnasium for my last class, my anxiety spikes as I spot Lark and Asher standing off to the side of the group. Lark sees me and waves me over, and I head in their direction. I keep my eyes trained on my friend, refusing to look at her confusing and frustrating cousin.

  “Okay people,” Chase calls out, bringing the class to order. “Today we are going to start with elemental control. When I deactivate the bracelets, I want you to pair up and take turns using the elements to defend yourselves against attack.”

  He walks over to the wall and flips the switch. A collective sigh of relief fills the gym as all of the other students feel their power return to them. I’m sure it must feel like a missing body part being returned.

  “I’ve got the princess.”

  Asher’s words snap me back to reality, as Lark shrugs and wanders off to find another partner. Traitor.

  “Why are you so dead-set on torturing me?” I ask, the words flowing out before I can stop them.

  Asher cocks his head at me, saying, “Torturing you? Is that what I’m doing?”

  “You know what I mean,” I snap. “You don’t like me. I get it. I don’t know what I did to make you hate me, other than being born with blonde hair.” I call to my Glamour and turn my hair a dark shade of brown. “Is this better? Am I more acceptable now?”