Rebel Academy: Crush

Chapter Twenty MAGENTA

When I reached out with my magic, it curled through the academy's wintry grounds. Its roots burrowed beneath the academy and up into the trees of the Dead Wood. Out here, as I marched towards the dragon stables and the mission, I could sense my Wickedly Charmed powers in every crunching step, the snowflakes tearing from the leaden sky, and in the trembling of the breezes.

I was wicked, but now, I wasn't merely an explosion of primal rage, grief, and pleasure.

The curse was melting along with the snow, and the wards that trapped us all in the Membership were breaking down. If my dangerous Ice Prince could control himself, then so could I.

I clasped both Fox and Bask's hands, unwilling to let go. Fox shivered in only his whipping boy uniform, since Damelza hadn’t considered him deserving of a coat, even though she could be sending him to his death.

Sweet Hecate, never let me lose my Rebels.

Yet was it worse to hold onto them eternally or free them forever?

Sleipnir stormed ahead of me towards the huge stables with barred stalls, which looked more like a prison than the castle. His shoulders were stiff, and his hair was bristled to cinnamon red.

Music tinkled from around the corner. My brow furrowed. It was the same melancholy song about building snowmen (in my first life, I’d never have guessed that it was so hard for people to find play partners in the future), which my crow familiars had told me Willoughby sang with haunting beauty in the shower.

Was this where he’d learned it?

Ah, that made more sense than it being an elven ballad.

Yet I couldn’t shake the sound of Midnight’s howling, the crack as his wings snapped, or Lysander’s desperate Juni, please…

I hated with a witchy passion the sound of another woman’s name on Lysander’s lips.

One of the things about being burned alive and then trapped as a ghost, who was unable to escape Hecate’s Tree, was that it made me rather possessive of what was mine. Strangely, that now included Lysander.

One of the other things about being burned alive and so on, was that it clearly had driven me a little crazy because how could I care like my heart was in flames about two Princes and their whipping boy?

Had I captured them to our side or had they captured me?

I followed Slepnir around the corner and into the yard, which was in front of the stables. I wrinkled my nose against the stinging smoke. Then I narrowed my eyes at Professor Ambrose. He hummed along to the music, crouching over ranks of bridles, saddles, and spurs. I’d never ridden a dragon before, and I’d never been ridden before. Well, only the once. But losing my virginity to Fox wasn’t something that I’d forget.

Inexperienced as I might be, however, I knew that I’d prefer it not to include anything that controlled, hurt, or whipped me.

My gaze fell onto the leather whip, which was coiled at Ambrose’s waist.

Ambrose was a delicate, beautiful Seelie fae with emerald eyes that were bright against his alabaster skin and a matching steampunk uniform. His wings were golden like his hair. It didn’t look like he’d have had the strength to have survived as a Rebel and then to have been offered the role of professor.

Yet appearances were frequently deceptive.

Most people, for example, couldn’t even see my familiars, but Flair and Echo were loyal, brave, and possibly psychopathic.

They were perfect.

But then, nobody’s perfect, and what’s a ghost if not nobody?

“You know that I won’t touch any of those torture devices,” Sleipnir growled, “or are you getting ready for a seriously kinky party?”

Ambrose twirled around, startled. His wings spread out like he was trying to hide something…or someone.

Hecate’s tit, did he have a lover saddled up behind him?

Snap my broomstick, let it be Ezekiel.

Then I gagged as I imagined Bacchus being ridden, instead. Although, I rather thought that it’d be karma for her treatment of Pocus.

“You’re early, boy.” Ambrose snarled in a Scottish accent that thrummed with such dominance that my knees almost buckled.

His gaze darted between us, as we strolled closer.

“You’re late, Prince Ambrose,” Sleipnir threw back.

Ambrose’s wings drooped. “Are you ever going to call me professor?”

Sleipnir grinned. “Are you ever going to free all the shifters?”

Fox raised his hand. “Is this flirting session open to all of us or do we need to take turns with the sexual tension?”

Ambrose’s expression darkened, and he reached for the whip at his belt.

“Da!” A small, pale face peered around Ambrose’s legs.

My eyes widened. Ambrose had been trying to hide Ty, his son, a tiny fae boy with golden hair that curled behind his ears and jade eyes. He wore a plain green coat and leggings, but he wasn’t a full fae because he had no wings.

Ambrose blanched. Instantly, he reached down to draw Ty, his son, closer against his leg like he needed to protect him against us. His hand shook.

My guts roiled. Byron had attempted to hide Robin throughout his childhood in the same way, every time that he knew Robin was in trouble. It would usually end in the both of them receiving a whipping, but Byron couldn’t stop the impulse to step between the mage and the witch professors.

My breath caught. Robin had become my best friend, but had father seen him as a son?

“Will you report me?” Ambrose said, stiffly.

“Why are you making da sad?” Ty demanded, tightening his fists in Ambrose’s pants. “I’ll f-fight you, if you h-hurt him.”

“Enough of that,” Ambrose hissed, swinging his son into his arms and wrapping his wings around him. “These students…” How much had he been struggling not to say rascals? “…Are your kind patrons in the academy. They’re good.” Ambrose looked like he was trying to force himself to feed his own son poison, and my stomach twisted. “Show them some respect.”

Ty blinked away tears. “Aye, da. But I want the elf. He’s good.” I blinked. If only Darby could hear that it was the killer, with whom the child felt safest. “I’m s-sorry, sir.”

“Chill out, short stuff, we’re cool.” Sleipnir shot me a troubled glance, before crouching in front of Ty. When he held out his hand to Ty, it was Ambrose who flinched. Sleipnir snorted. “Fae might be asshole enough to hurt kids, but I won’t.”

Reluctantly, Ambrose loosened his hold on Ty, who crept out from behind his father.

“I’d never report you,” I assured Ambrose. “Would it be for the song about snowmen? Is it some type of incantation?”

Ambrose stared at me. “Are you mocking me?” His translucent skin pinked. When I merely arched my brow, he slapped his hand against his thigh with a crisp smack. “Nay, unless Frozen has enchanted the world, which is admittedly possible. Ty isn’t allowed to be seen. But it was my daft self who risked it, which means that if there’s punishment…”

“Yeah, it’s all on your ass, we get it.” Sleipnir held out his hand again to Ty.

When Ty grasped it, Sleipnir’s hair softened to candy pink. A serpent tattoo coiled down from beneath his coat, shimmering and alive, to dance along the back of his hand, flickering its tongue at Ty’s fingers. Ty giggled.

“Da, look! A snake!” Ty’s bright eyes raised to Ambrose’s.

Ambrose’s lips curled into a smile; it was a good look on him. “Aye, but now it’s time to go to your room.”

Ty’s face scrunched up like he was about to cry, but then he slowly withdrew his hand from Sleipnir’s. Just for a moment, I regretted that this resurrected body couldn’t bear children. Sleipnir would’ve made an admirable father.

Our godly ghost children, however, would’ve been a handful.

Ty turned and ran inside to the stable block. Ambrose watched, until the door banged shut. Then he spun back to us, and his expression hardened. “Fetch your dragons. It’s tradition to ride to the ruins.”

Bask wandered to the barred stalls. “Rayn, it’s petting time.”

When Bask stuck his hand through into the darkness, my heart beat so hard against my ribcage that I thought it’d burst. I doubled over, and my mouth became dry.

Don’t let the dragon fry his hand, gobble it, or make it into a tasty finger food treat.

Sleipnir merely slouched to his feet, however, as my magic burst out ready to yank Bask to safety.

A dragon pushed its smooth golden head against Bask’s hand; its neck was sinuous. I caught a glimpse of its bat-like yellow wings as it shifted closer to the front. Ethereal magic fluttered around it. Then it nuzzled against his hand gently in a dragon kiss.

Ah, this was the Snuggle Dragon who matched Bask, much like Mist did Sleipnir.

Did that mean my crow familiars suited me? Wow, what an awful thought.

Bask stroked Rayn. How lonely were the shifters?

When I caught Sleipnir’s sad gaze, I finally understood. This could be Fox and him in these barred prison cells.

Ambrose marched to Bask, hauling him away from Rayn. “He’s Lysander’s dragon.”

Bask’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Would you take it easy? Don’t I at least get to choose how I ride to my death?”

Ambrose’s hand dropped to the hilt of his whip; his knuckles whitened. “How about you rascals listen to me, and then I don’t have to lose any more students?”

Bask nodded, avoiding his gaze.

Ambrose glanced between us. “The Gateway in the ruin is both a weapon and like a library’s database to other realms and even alternate realities. None of you have seen a fraction of its power.”

I crossed my arms. “As the new girl, I haven’t seen anything. So, we’re meant to step through something that’ll take us on a mission to do what, precisely?”

Fox bounced on his toes. “New boy here as well. Voldemort won’t be waiting for us, hissing our names like the noseless naughty boy that he is, right?” Ambrose simply leveled him with a blank stare. Fox shuffled on his feet. “What?”

“Have you forgotten that I’m your professor or that I can still sentence you to detention?”

Fox licked his dry lips. “I knew that there was something that’d slipped my mind.”

When Ambrose prowled to Fox, raising the hilt of his whip to tip up his chin, I stiffened. “Then you’d best not forget this, whipping boy, it’s your life at stake. If your Wing fail this mission, then you’ll be executed.”

My pulse pounded at the threat to Fox. “And what if we simply run?”

Of course, it was a bluff. I’d found that I was rather good at those.

Even if I could escape, I’d never abandon my familiars, Willoughby, Midnight…or Lysander.

Who would’ve thought that I’d ever protect a fae prince?

Ambrose huffed. “Like the Crows didn’t think of that. You only need to imagine you’re back in the academy and you will be. But the magic of the Gateway automatically pulls you back within the wards after twenty-four hours, if you don’t return yourself. Then your whipping boy will be executed for your escape attempt.”

Fox batted the whip away. “Brilliant.”

Sleipnir’s voice was low and hard. “So, who are we hunting?”

I shivered. This was real. Could I become an assassin even to save Fox? When his wide blue eyes met mine in question, I forced myself to smile. I was lost to him and the other Rebels. I’d find a way.

Ambrose reached inside his jacket, pulling out a sparkling black bag, which was tied at the top with a cord. When he stepped towards me, I shied back.

“Stand still, daft witch. I need to hang it around your neck.” When I ducked my neck, Ambrose leaned in. He was shivering; I’d forgotten that Seelie Fae didn’t cope in the cold. Witching heavens, he must suffer, confined to this stable block. Carefully, he brushed back my hair, ensuring that the cord didn’t catch, as he tied a knot. His cheek was temptingly soft as it brushed mine, before he pulled back. “It’s a fae trick; Professor Crow would be displeased with me for making unapproved magic like this. You can tell her, but on my wings, I’d rather that you didn’t. It’s a Sleeping Charm. You only need to crush it between your fingers, and all beasts will fall asleep.”

For the first time, Ambrose appeared nervous.

“Why are you helping me?” I asked.

Ambrose shrugged. “When my son fell from the window and you caught him, you saved the most precious thing in the world to me. Ty is the only reason that I keep living. Plus, a fae pays his debts.”

To my shock, Sleipnir stalked to Ambrose and swung him around by his collar, tossing him into a snowbank. Then he pinned him down. Ambrose snarled, struggling beneath him.

Hot as their unexpected wrestling was, now wasn’t the time or place for it (which involved nakedness and oil).

“Do gods usually respond to gifts with violence because in that case you’re on the naughty list for Christmas.” I frowned.

Sleipnir glared at Ambrose. “By beasts he means dragons. Where’s the Gateway taking us, prince?”

Ambrose's eyes shone with a mix of defiance and apology. "The Gold Court of the Dragons."

Sleipnir gasped, rearing back. "I will wreck you."

Ambrose slipped out a black collar from within his coat. I shuddered, stumbling forward like the dark magic within the collar was calling to me. The wretched thing was cursed. It burned through me. The metal was twisted into the shape of crows’ feathers.

"You're the swaggering bastard who thought that he could take this off Marcus and free him without consequences." Ambrose shook the collar, and Sleipnir became ashen. "Now Professor Crow demands that you travel to the Archduke's Court and kidnap him back."

Rayn blew a burst of golden fire out of the stall in protest. Perhaps, not a Snuggle Dragon, after all.

Bask stumbled away, shielding his face. I choked on the stinging smoke, as the other dragons blasted their protests as well, before covering my ears as Rayn let out an anguished screech.

I didn’t blame them, since their brother had escaped from the academy and now we were being ordered to imprison him once again.

"Take it from a fae who knows," Ambrose spat, "the taste of freedom you gave my dragon, will only make his suffering worse when he's back here or did you only care about causing mayhem?"

Sleipnir slammed his fist into the snow next to Ambrose's head, but Ambrose didn't flinch. "We're not dicks like you. I'd never trap another shifter."

Ambrose shoved Sleipnir off him with surprising strength, and Sleipnir tumbled back. Then Ambrose scrambled to his feet, straightening out his uniform. When he tossed the collar to me, I caught it automatically and then almost dropped it. The cursed magic flamed out, searing me.

How agonising must it be for the dragons to wear these collars?

"Then I'll take Fox to be walled up alive. Do you want to watch?" Ambrose snatched Fox by his arm. “After that, Professor Crow will break your necks one at a time.”

"Stop!" I called out at the same time as Bask and Sleipnir.

Yet Fox had remained silent. Would he truly die, rather than enslave another shifter?

Ambrose raised his eyebrow. "Don't waste my time. Will you take the mission?"

I bit my lip. There’d never been any doubt. My duty was to protect the Rebels. I'd spent too many years aching, alone, and desperate to save them.

I couldn't fail this new mage like I had Robin.

I clutched the collar to my chest. "Am I the wicked witch with the bounciest bosom?"

Ambrose rolled his eyes. "Aye to the bouncy and nay to the wicked. But I'll take it that you need this daft boy then." He hurled Fox on top of Sleipnir, who caught him in his arms. "Saddle up the dragons."

Bask’s eyes glittered. "Do you wish us to be roasted alive or thrown off their backs mid-air? We're the bad bastards who are going to kidnap their brother. Whose side do you think they're on?"

Ambrose clenched his jaw. "Feathery heavens, then control them!"

Sleipnir prowled to his feet, before helping Fox up. "This isn't happening your asshole way. But will...any...shifter do?"

Ambrose nodded.

When Sleipnir caught my gaze, he flushed. It pinked down his neck in a way that made me wish to lick it and trace down further to his chest and hard nipples. I longed to turn his shame to desire.

Why was my god anxious?

Sleipnir glanced down, playing with his fingers. "Please," he murmured, and the aching desperation in his voice cracked my heart so deeply that I thought it might never be whole again, "still love me, when you've seen the monster."

Then he backed away from Fox with faltering steps, until he hit the back of the stable block. He closed his eyes, shaking.

What was happening?

Suddenly, I was both too hot and too cold at the same time. I wrapped my arms around myself. Was Sleipnir monstrous? Yet I didn't care; he was mine.

I hated that he didn't believe he could be loved.

In a blue spray of glitter, Sleipnir transformed into a giant horse with eight-legs. When I gasped, he ducked his head, whinnying sadly like I'd rejected him. He pawed the floor, swinging his head to face the stable roof like he could hide his ugliness.

Yet he was beautiful.

His mane and tail sparkled like crushed precious gems had been brushed through them. His coat was the same gorgeous aquamarine as his hair.

How had I ever called Mist a monster?

I was wicked because Sleipnir had been hiding a real Mist inside himself, believing that he was a monster, when he was truly divine.

Bask bounced forward like Sleipnir was a special gift just for him, throwing his arms around Sleipnir's huge leg, before jumping up and down to pat his flank. "Bad Slippy, keeping the big Mist hidden from me. Think of all the lost petting opportunities."

Sleipnir's head swiveled around in shock. His ears raised from where they'd been flattened on his head.

Fox laughed, sauntering to raise his hand for Sleipnir to duck his head and nuzzle at. "Sorry I don't have an apple or any industrial sized sugar cubes. Do you know, I was desperate to ride as a kid, but boys weren't allowed that privilege in the House of Jewels. Mum would have a fit that I was riding you. This is going to be brilliant."

Sleipnir let out a low, breathy nicker at the attention.

When Sleipnir nudged Fox, Ambrose watched with an inscrutable expression.

"I believe that your new," if Ambrose said beast, then I'd cast a Feather Itching Hex, "ride wishes you to mount."

We'd played games to strip back to the truth but in his transformation, Sleipnir had shown us the deepest part of himself. He'd risked everything, and trusted that we'd still love him. After Robin, I hadn't believed that I'd discover a love this powerful. Yet these Rebels shook me with their love.

I swallowed, shaking. Then I tied the cursed collar so that it hung from my pearl choker and next to the charm. I paled at the sensation of it touching my skin. Truly, it was a pity that these dresses hadn't been designed with pockets.

Then I dematerialized thread by thread, appearing again in a dizzying rush on Sleipnir's back. I lay low, winding my hands to hold tight in his mane, which was silky soft. His back was hot beneath me like a furnace. He was on fire, and so was I. My pink magic wound out, sparkling around him. He trembled beneath me with excitement.

My body was close to his in a way that it never had been before. This wasn't like riding the dragons with the collars, whips, and spurs. Sleipnir had offered me this service.

I reached to stroke his ear. "You're a warrior and not a monster," I murmured. "This is a power like mine. I love this side of you because I love all of you.”

Witching heavens, didn't I also need to say those words to Willoughby?

Sleipnir's body became tense like he still couldn't believe it.

I laid my cheek against his mane.

Fox hollered, as Ambrose scooped him up under his arms. Then Ambrose flew to settle Fox behind me on Sleipnir’s back.

"Fae Airways," Fox smirked. "Always my favorite way to travel, apart from on a giant eight-legged horse." Then he cocked his head. "This academy actually has opened up opportunities for me."

He settled his arms around my waist with a smile; I enjoyed the close feel of him and the way that his crotch pressed against me.

"Indeed," I replied, "like the chance to be walled up alive if we don't kidnap an Archduke dragon from his own Court."

Fox's expression clouded. "Okay, some opportunities are better than others."

Bask yelped as he was dropped behind Fox by Ambrose. "If it pleases you, it takes work to get an arse this pettable. You've only gone and bruised it."

Fox shoved his behind against Bask in a way that made Bask groan. "Grab hold of me. I'll kiss your ass better later."

Bask still shot a glare at Ambrose that even made him pale.

“It’ll be your balls that’ll be bruised for not using a saddle,” Ambrose pointed out.

Bask cupped his crotch protectively, whispering to his balls, “Your sacrifice won’t be forgotten.”

Ambrose fluttered in the air beside us; his golden wings glinted in the light. "It’d drain the gold from my wings if you fail this mission. I promise, I won't punish Marcus for escaping and..." His wings beat even faster. "Look, I'll think about how the dragons are treated. Now get your daft selves to the ruins and the Gateway. Your twenty-four hours starts…now."

Fox glanced at his watch. “It’s 1:17. If we don’t return by this time tomorrow afternoon, then I’m…”

Don’t say dead. Please, don’t say it.

“We will,” I said, firmly.

Sleipnir neighed, pawing at the ground. Then he turned and started out of the yard at a speed that almost knocked me back. I grinned, grabbing more tightly onto his mane and winding my mists to tie Fox and Bask to both Sleipnir and me. Now they couldn't fall from his back or away from me.

I took a shuddering breath and allowed myself to simply feel.

Sleipnir galloped away from the stables and through the wintry grounds. His hooves crunched on the snow, churning it up in freezing waves. Bask cried out in excited delight, and Fox laughed. A glimmer of sun broke through the gray clouds, warming my face as I raised it to the sky.

This was freedom.

This. Moment. Now.

No professor could take it from us Immortals. We were united together, riding through the grounds. My pink magic wound out of the floor and sky in a tunnel, guiding us on like life, death, and love.

It was everything that I was, and our connection together through the veil.

My heartbeat thudded against the beat of Sleipnir's and the thud of his many hooves.

Yet the Immortals and I rode towards the ruins, where another Blessedly Charmed witch had once been imprisoned, a Gateway to mystery realms, and a deadly mission to kidnap a shifter. I could feel the flaming magic of the collar, which hung from my pearl choker. It’d crush the shifter, trapping him, as much as Willoughby's suit or Sleipnir's shame did.

I urged Sleipnir on even faster, closing my eyes and losing myself in the sensation of my Rebels’ love because ahead lay the Dragon Court.

Then all of a sudden, Sleipnir reared back. His eyes were wide and startled.

A stone block crashed down, blocking the path. It was ancient and dangerous. Shocked, my magic faded. I lost my grip on Sleipnir's mane, Fox and Bask tumbled from his back, and I screamed.

Continue Magenta’s adventure in the final book of the trilogy REBEL ACADEMY: CURSE, WICKEDLY CHARMED BOOK THREE HERE NOW