Rebel Academy: Crush

Chapter One WILLOUGHBY

The cursed silk winds around me, crushing the air from my lungs.

I gasp. I can't breathe, and my magic is trapped.

Brother, please don't betray me.

But then, I killed father.

Another royal blue snake slithers from my younger brother, Darby's, hand and winds around me to create a gossamer light suit.

Round, and round, and round…

It's scented with Darby’s magic of winter grasses, but it makes me shudder, rather than feel safe. It glimmers in the light like the silver shackles at my wrists and the collar at my neck.

My magic screams at the unnatural cage that binds it.

I'm a collared prince dressed in silk. A fallen king. Deposed.

Why am I surprised that I'm on my knees before the throne, which I'd been destined to sit on?

Darby sprawls on the frozen throne. He wears the Ice Crown, which is as high as antlers, like he craves to gore me with it.

I shiver because it's like looking at my younger self in the mirror: large sky-blue eyes, which match the cascade of silky sky-blue hair. Yet have I ever been flushed with such hate or ambition? He watches me with a ravenous expression like my every flinch and gasp feeds the darkness within him.

Had I merely missed it before, clouded by love?

Father raised a kingdom, but I raised Darby. I dragged him away from his musty books and out to explore the mountains, rivers, and woods of our Other World. I crouched with him in the mud, as we cupped frogs in our hands. Then we swam under the freezing thunder of waterfalls to explore hidden chambers and dream of dragons. When we clasped hands and blew the fuzzy heads off dandelions, screwing shut our eyes to make a wish, I'd never known that as the seeds scattered on the breeze, I was blowing away my last moments with my brother.

A king who now watches the life in my eyes die.

Yet were Darby's wishes back then different to my own? Had he always desired my crown?

I shudder, and my mind grows hazy. My powers are forced down, dangerously deep inside. Yet aren't they what's dangerous? I'm deadly. That's why I'm in chains.

I sway, and my vision blurs.

In the name of the Other World, don't restrain my magic...my mind...my body in this enchanted straightjacket.

Kill me.

Did I scream that out loud or did it only echo inside my mind?

Don't condemn me to this slow death.

My brother's lips curl into a cruel smile. He's always been a talented sorcerer. I'd been proud of his talent. Once, I'd been puffed up about my own skills both as a warrior and a sorcerer. Now I know that I've never been able to control either power.

As the last length of silk slithers around my chest, I choke.

Help me.

But I deserve this: my sentence and salvation. If I can't control myself, then perhaps, this cursed suit can.

I wrench at the shackles, fighting the panic.

Don't struggle. You're a prince, act like one.

The palace chamber is dim in the evening light. How long has this curse been woven? How long have I knelt on this sapphire floor as a prisoner, which once I'd played on? I battle to lift my head and look through the arched window out at the palace gardens beyond. The lattice of oaks, which form bowers for fountains, are beaten by a snowstorm.

All around me, servants who I've known since I was a child and would once have bowed and waited on my orders, bustle to their work like I'm invisible. They drop silk banners across the wooden columns.

Why are they hiding my father's palace? They are burying its simple lines under extravagance. Does Darby wish to bind it in his magic as much as he's binding me or to hide it away...?

Will he imprison me in the dungeons?

I press my nails hard into my palms. An elf's life is too long to live without touch, life, and light...

Kill me.

I stare defiantly up at Darby, who glowers back.

"Stop this, brother." I wet my dry lips. "It's enough."

"You think to tell your king when it's enough?" Darby arches his elegant brow.

"Since when were you the king? Or mine?" I tilt my head. "You're my younger brother. It’s I who father sat on his knee and told stories of our ancestors. One day, it’ll be my turn to add a sculpture. You know how hard I studied for that skill." When Darby shifts, I raise my shackled hands to point at the frozen ice sculpture of a dragon on the back of the throne. "Every king adds their own legacy. Yet I only cared about the feel of father's fingers between mine, as he'd traced them across each one: warm against the cold."

Sitting on that throne with father, I felt that he could protect me from anything. But he couldn't protect himself from me.

Darby clutches the dragon's wing like he wishes that he could break it off. "Well, he's dead now. So, his fingers are only cold, and it's mine that get to hold the throne."

When I flinch, Darby's expression darkens like it's a personal victory.

I swallow. "I didn't mean—"

"No more lies, traitor." Darby leans forward on the throne that I'd been brought up since birth to inherit, wearing the Ice Crown on his head that’d only been meant to grace mine.

I clench my jaw. "Where's mother?"

"Weeping."

Who was lying now?

For the first time, rage bubbles through me. The tips of my hair sharpen with ice. The room becomes chilly.

Not again, not again, not again...

"I'm still her son," I hiss.

A sly smile creeps across Darby's face. "Are you so certain, killer?"

The hurt flashes across my face, before I can mask it.

Under my breath, I hum the calming lullaby that mother taught me, when I was plagued with nightmares of Dark Elves and unable to sleep. She’s skilled in magic but only to heal, unlike Darby who uses his to harm. I possess merely a spark of her talent. Her songs are like being dragged down into winter waters, sliding into sleep.

When Darby leaps off the throne and prowls towards me with predatory danger, I stare at him in shock.

The throne room falls to a deep hush. The servants huddle together, scared. My hum echoes through the ancient chamber like calm waters beneath the deadly ice of my brother's rage.

The crack of Darby's slap across my cheek, silences me.

"Shall I spell your murderous lips unable to sing our blessed songs again?" Darby circles me.

The hairs on my nape rise. I stiffen my shoulders, and my expression becomes shuttered.

Would he truly do that? It broke every elven belief.

Don't take my music.

Still, I don't move.

"Yet that wouldn’t solve the problem of the elves outside this palace who hold vigil for their dead king and call for your execution." Does he wish me to beg for my life? Let him take it. He blinks. "Won't you say anything?"

"It's hard to be the one with the power," I answer, softly. "I shan't make the decision for you."

Darby's eyes widen. "I wasn't...I mean..." His gaze slides from mine. I can see him then: the boy who climbs trees with me and charms the horses to gallop faster than the fall winds. "I believe mother weeps because she's worked out that you're not a Light Elf at all. In fact, you're nothing but a Dark Elf from our nightmares. You're a changeling who was swapped at birth...the reason that my true brother and prince was killed."

How could he shame me like that? He could have my magic, mind, and body but not my heritage.

I birthed with my own hands two foals, Thunder and Lightning, who I raised to be stallions for my brother and me. Their coats gleam midnight black against the snow. They understand me better than any elf. Together, my brother and I have ridden them on missions, as well side by side into battle to protect the kingdom.

Even if the same people who I protected now wish me deposed and executed, I still love these lands.

How could I not be his brother?

"A fairy tale. I'm a Light Elf...I'm me..." Yet the uncontrollable power that's been bound is different. It’s...monstrous. My stomach lurches. I bend over, resting my forehead against the cold floor. "I'm not Dark..."

Darby's sharp heel digs into the back of my neck, holding me to the ground. "You're a monster. Be grateful that I love the elf who you once were enough to be honest. As you can't control yourself, it's my duty to leash you. Hereby I judge you banished from the Other World and sentenced to the Rebel Academy, until such time as it's reported that you've repented, paid penance, and have learned to control your power."

Banished? Sentenced to the Rebel Academy?

"Please, brother," I beg, "don't send me away from the Other World. It shall wither my Soul to lose the music of these hills and streams. I've spent centuries defending and loving this kingdom. My magic and Soul are connected to it like ivy. If I'm torn from the Other World, across the Eternal Forest, it'll be like..." My brain's foggy with the cursed silk binding it. "...tearing me apart."

All of a sudden, Darby grabs my hair and wrenches back my head. I cry out, as he pulls me up, until I’m staring into his glittering gaze.

His eyes narrow.

"Do you deserve anything different, changeling? You're royalty and so you must continue with your life — such as it is — but you won't escape the prison of the coven-led academy. The worst supernatural boys,” I force myself not to wince at his sneer, “of the paranormal world are controlled by the witches. They have the specialized experience to dampen your powers even further than the curse that now binds you. If you ever loved this kingdom as you claim or any of your family," for a moment, his expression softens, before becoming glacial again, "then don't shame us. Serve your penance. Impress me with your achievements. No matter how far apart we are, I control the magic within that suit and I can still crush the rebellion from you."

"Reject, crush, and imprison me," I say like I'm not shattering inside; the blizzard rages outside the palace, smashing against the windows, "but look after Thunder and Lightning when I'm gone. Those stallions are loyal and love us both. They won't understand where I’ve gone, and I'll..."

...Miss them.

They don't deserve to be left behind.

When Darby's expression transforms to false sympathy, I tense. By my ears, what has he done?

Not my horses...I can't...anything but... They’re innocents...

I'm shivering. I can't stop. Darby rests his hand on my shoulder like he's steadying me but instead, he's dragging in my shivers like they're strengthening him.

Has his magic truly become this dark? How could I have been so trusting?

"Don't hurt others because you won't execute me,” I whisper. “I'd do anything to gain your forgiveness, but if that's not possible, then kill me."

"Thunder roared when I fired the arrow through his brother's heart." Darby tilts up my chin, so that our gazes meet with a searing intensity. "But he didn't try and run. He's always been obedient like that. So, it appears that he doesn't take after you." A tear chases down my cheek. I can't stop it...stop anything. Don't say it, no more. "But he was silent when I wound silk just like this around his neck."

Silk spun in the air and then around my neck above the collar. I scrabble at my neck, but Darby holds my bound hands down like I'm reduced to the younger brother.

I'm powerless against him.

I gasp, dragging in desperate breaths. Darby yanks me off my knees, dangling me in the air as if I'm on the end of a noose.

Then he cups my cheek. "When you fall asleep in your academy, I want you to think about the moment that I killed your horses because you killed my father. And how at any moment, I could unwind the silk from your suit and..." His fingers slip down one by one from my cheek to clasp around my throat like a threat. "...choke you in your sleep. Will you behave for your professors now? I expect you to win every tournament, prize, and trial. Sweet dreams, killer."

The silk tightens, my eyes flicker shut, and I fall into darkness...

I'm dying.

And that's how I woke up on this first night in the Rebel Academy.

Alone, hurt, and trapped.

Shaking, I gasped for breath. The silk was tight around my throat, as I struggled, still haunted by the nightmare.

I'm writing this in my Crystal Diary. It's the only place that I can be honest.

Who can I trust after the darkness in my brother? After I lost control of myself?

I’ve been told that I now belong in the Princes Wing. A haughty fae prince has been put in charge of me. He's a Prefect but he's more like my guard. There's also a vampire whipping boy who's beautiful and as lost as me.

Yet what frightens me most about this academy isn't that I'll be crushed. It's that I'll lose control like I did in my own kingdom. Then I'll crush my eternal prison, this Rebel Academy.

After all, they’ve taken in a true monster.