Rebel Academy: Curse

Chapter Thirteen MAGENTA

I’d stood in this portrait gallery, as my magic had swirled in a whirlwind of anguish, and witnessed the walling up of two shimages who I loved. I’d believed in the bleakness of grief that I’d lost them forever. I’d never dared hope that I’d stand here, waiting to pull out one of them from the walls…alive.

Was that irony, symmetry, or Fate?

Truly, I didn’t give a flying bat’s back leg because my Immortals and I had earned Fox’s freedom.

And it had a cost that would hurt my princely lovers.

I glanced at Lysander who stood straight backed at my side but close enough for our shoulders to touch. Silver moonlight flooded through the arched window in the West Wing, illuminating the sharpness of his cheekbones and the bruising that shadowed along it.

I winced.

In this gallery, amid the portraits of every Rebel who’d ever been killed, in a place where Robin had died and Fox had been taken from me, it was wrong that it should be a fae prince who kept me silent but reassuring company.

Yet it was fair. Lysander had, after all, paid for Ezekiel’s freedom.

I studied the way that Lysander’s jaw clenched, and his pulse fluttered in his throat. He worked so hard not to show his distress, but why hadn’t I realized before that his protection of the Princes was admirable?

We were both Prefects. Perhaps, I’d spent too long alone to understand true responsibility.

I scrunched up my nose: my chest felt all squishy and squirmy that a fae had taught me something.

Bask certainly believed that we could teach interesting things to the Prince. Although, his idea of both teaching and interesting were quite different to Lysander’s.

Lysander caught my eye, before brushing his fingers against mine. My skin tingled like electric had jumped between us at even the slight touch. My heart beat faster. Our magic reached out, desperate to explore. I wrenched it back, although my hand crept into Lysander’s like I couldn’t hold it back.

Traitor hand.

Lysander’s eyes widened, but then he smiled in a genuine, soft way that I’d never seen before. This time, the squishy sensation traveled into my guts as well.

Perhaps, I had wind.

Lysander clasped my hand, however, pulling it tight to his chest like I’d change my mind and wrench away from him.

Typical possessive fae.

I tried to ignore Damelza, who was tapping at the wall beneath the magic mirror and pressing her cheek against it. It was disconcertingly either like someone checking for damp, an infestation of rats, or a medium calling to the spirit world. I didn’t know whether she was pranking me or truly trying to work on the spell.

Possibly both…?

With a hoarse cawing, Flair and Echo flapped through the open window. I winced, as they landed on each of my shoulders, and their scaly claws bit into me through my dress.

“We watched you win the tournament like a fucking legend, boss." Flair rambled a series of clicks with a sense of pride. Cauldrons and potions, I wasn't imagining the pride. "The freaky as fuck horse had almost as pretty wings as us."

I tapped Flair’s beak reprovingly.

Echo rubbed his pink feathery head against my cheek. "Why'd you drop the elf on his arse? His hair's even prettier." His eyes opened with horror. "You could've broken his prick."

I frowned. "I don't break pricks. I mean, I almost broke Sleipnir’s, but that was the one time…"

Lysander raised his eyebrow. "Good to know, although there is such a thing as overshare, especially about the Immortals’ private parts. One is reassured."

Sometimes,, I forgot that my familiars were invisible to other people.

I flushed, hissing at my familiars, "Why are you even here? Fly away."

Lysander's eyebrow raised so high that it disappeared into his hairline. "Well, if my royal personage isn't welcome, you only had to say."

He attempted to pull his hand out of mine, but I held on tight.

"Nosiness mostly," Flair replied, as if Lysander hadn't answered. "Plus, we couldn't bear another century stuck with you wailing and..."

"But she's so beautiful when she cries." Echo sighed. Was that sweet or disturbingly psychopathic? I could never decide with my familiars. "Because you love the fuckable mage, my Magenta. So, we do too."

My eyes burned with tears.

"M-my apologies," Lysander stuttered, dragging me closer. "One had no intention of distressing you. My noble self has much more cutting remarks prepared for such an occasion."

I huffed, wiping at my eyes. "I believe you. You have a spectacular talent for insults."

Lysander inclined his head, and there was that beautiful, genuine smile again that coiled warmth through me all the way to my curling toes. "My thanks." Then his gaze softened. "They've alive; I feel it."

My chest tightened. Against my will, I glanced at Damelza, who was now pressed against the wall with a look of intense concentration like a constipated starfish.

I pushed myself onto my tiptoes, before pressing a gentle kiss to Lysander's bruised cheek. He gasped, staring at me in wonder. Then he pushed his fingers across the imprints of his guardian's palm that'd marked his face.

Had my kiss wiped away his uncle's touch?

By the way that his hand squeezed my hand tighter, I witching hoped so.

Flair's eyes narrowed in jealousy. "How long have we got before that witchy bitch pulls the broomstick out of her arse and frees the mage? I could peck off the fae's balls. It'd make a perfect gift for the mage: Prince's Balls as handy stress relievers."

I cringed, as Flair clicked his sharp bill.

"Stop talking nothing but balls." I shrugged my shoulders in a hint for my familiars to take their feathery behinds a safe distance from Lysander’s vulnerable (as well as impressively large if he was identical in all ways to Andro, his clone), privates.

Finally, the crows flew to the windowsill.

Lysander's expression morphed into naughty outrage. "It appears that I’m not the only one who’s talented at insults."

"Peck, peck, peck," Flair encouraged. "What's he even using them for? After all, you won't screw him, when he's dying for a fuck."

"I need the fae's balls, and I shall be using them soon," I blurted out.

Lysander's startled gaze met mine, and I reddened.

My witching goodness, was it possible that I’d forgotten the art of romance and courting? Once, I'd have announced my intentions with glove flirtation.

Was this what they called being corrupted by the modern world?

"One appreciates the advance warning." Lysander's tongue darted out and wet his lips. "My balls shall look forward to it."

Wait, had his privates just accepted my invitation...?

Before I could demand greater clarity on the terms, Damelza twisted to us. "Ah-ha! It appears that my theory is correct about how to break this spell."

I rushed forward, and my magic spread out like ivy across the surface of the wall, as if I could seep through and reach Fox. He was on the other side...alive...I could feel it the same as Lysander.

I knew it. He had to be. Please...

"Magenta," Lysander's voice was tight, "hold on. Just...a little longer. Control your magic, otherwise it won't be stable enough."

I should've hated him. For commanding and leashing me...for telling me the truth.

I closed my eyes, clenching my hands. Slowly, I wrenched my magic back inside. I hurt. When I glanced over my shoulder, Lysander was pale, and his breath was ragged. He hurt just the same as me.

"Thank you," I breathed.

He flushed, dropping his gaze, but not before I'd seen the spark of surprised happiness in his gaze.

Damelza waved her hand. "Now don't get your little hopes up. This is unprecedented. No mage has ever been released. They're our enemies, although clearly the new generation have a problem remembering that. Perhaps, I need to create new rules about fraternizing because there's a message in that somewhere. As one of my favorite mottoes states—"

"Take your mottoes,” Lysander drawled, “and stick them up your feathery behind."

Damelza's mouth fell open and then snapped shut in shock.

That was satisfying.

"It's funny how quickly you've forgotten that your guardian has authorized harsher methods," Damelza snarled. "My daughter always was one to have her head turned by a handsome boy. But I'll marry her into a respectable coven by Christmas and who then shall protect you, Dunce? You're nothing but a crush, who she'll forget like your entire kingdom has. If I were you, I'd remember your new position."

Lysander's lips thinned. "Thank my wings, you're not me."

"Open the wall and free my lover." My voice was hard and dangerous.

Damelza's eyes glittered, but she held her palm against the wall. "By the branches of the tree, free those who are no longer your enemy, blessed be."

I jolted. The incantation was so close to the invocation that Byron had said as he'd pressed his hand to this wall, after Robin had been walled up alive. Also, the one that I'd repeated. Had Hecate heard us...or had Byron been praying to someone else?

I'd hoped that it'd free Robin, but it hadn't.

Had Byron simply messed up one of the lines, or had he only known some of them? After all, he wasn't a mage.

Witches above, I missed Robin, Fox, and I missed father.

This time, let it work...

I held my breath.

Please, please, please...

I jumped, as a gaping chasm of black appeared beneath the mirror.

It was opening.

Yes, yes, yes...

Lysander dived forward, clutching my hand and crushing my fingers between his.

I wasn't alone this time. I hadn't been alone since I'd been resurrected. Yet could anyone survive so many hours walled up?

There was a tumble of violet feathers and bronze muscles through the hole. I stared down at Ezekiel's eerily still body.

Not dead, not dead, not...

Lysander wrenched away from me to crouch next to Ezekiel. He brushed Ezekiel’s hair away from his eyes and pushed him onto his back. Lysander’s troubled gaze met mine, before he leaned closer.

"Professor," he whispered, urgently.

Ezekiel's eyes fluttered open.

Thank Hecate.

"W-where's the p-pussy?" Ezekiel broke off, coughing.

That was no euphemism.

Lysander awkwardly cradled Ezekiel onto his lap, even though he was twice as large as him, patting him on the back like he'd never helped anyone in that way before.

I fell onto all fours and peered into the darkness. Why wasn't my Fox crawling (or falling out unconscious) after the professor? If he wouldn't come out, then I'd go in after him.

When I started to edge into the wall, however, Damelza let out a squawk.

"Hecate above, do you have no idea what impact your magic would have inside a spell such as this? Do you wish to tear this entire academy apart?" Damelza demanded.

Ah, rhetorical questions.

In fact, yes, I did wish it. Truly to the depths of my wicked heart I did.

Lysander raised his wing to Ezekiel’s lips. How inappropriate. Did the prince believe that now was the time to offer the professor an aphrodisiac as he had to Bask in the magical game of Russian Roulette in the traditional fae way? Hard pricks were not a conventional medical cure, unless they were in the twenty-first century….? This world nowadays was, after all, strange; cum could be the new penicillin.

Perhaps, Lysander had simply misunderstood the pussy reference…?

When Ezekiel licked Lysander's feathers, however, I realized that he must've offered him something far more refreshing.

What a handy spell.

Was he creating water? Lemonade? Witches above, could he produce tea on his feathers because if so, I'd never allow this fae out of my bed. Those tea-infused feathers would be mine alone to lick.

I choked on a sob. I craved to lick my raspberry scented mage. Without him, everything else would taste of dust.

I huddled over, clutching my arms over my churning guts. I was crumpling, falling apart, dust.

Then Fox stumbled through the darkness in the wall, and I caught him in my arms. He was breathing, warm, alive. The sweetness of his scent was everything.

Dust coated his curls, dirt smeared his cheeks, and purple shadows smudged under his eyes. He was exhausted and pale. I shuddered to imagine how hard this last day had been for him.

Yet right now with the way that Fox’s arms curled around my shoulders and his cheek rested against mine, all that mattered was that I'd saved him like I hadn't been able to protect Robin.

I could never forgive myself for Robin’s death; I understood that now. Reaching for redemption as the Princes did, was a false hope.

But I could make different choices, and it started with Fox.

My magic burst out of me in an explosion of intense joy. It grew in brambles out of the floor and walls around Fox and me, protecting us in a glowing womb from the rest of the academy. I ignored Damelza's hollers, and instead, wrapped my arms even tighter around Fox. He raised tired eyes to mine, but I shivered at the strength of his love.

I kissed him, licking across his dry lips, and the breath rushed from my mouth into his. The way that his tongue pushed desperately deeper, before curling around mine was like it belonged there and always had.

It was...life.

I grasped Fox’s hair, twisting my hand in his curls. Then I drew back, panting. We rested our foreheads together.

Alive, alive, alive.

A laugh bubbled up, and I couldn't hold it back. Fox pressed kisses against my smiling lips, before slipping his palm to the hollow of my back, as if I was just as much a miracle as he was.

"I breathed for you," I murmured.

"Well, it worked." Fox's gaze was fragile, and his voice raspy, but then he smirked. "Pfft, I told you that I could hold my breath for a—"

"Really," I nipped his lower lip on each word, "really, long time."

"Don't hog the mage," Echo called from the other side of our magical briar.

"We won't peck his balls," Flair promised. "We know that you need his fuckable behind whole, boss."

"Tell him that we're glad he's not dead," Echo added. "We'd have missed his curly hair. It shines like moonlight."

When I spluttered with laughter, Fox raised his eyebrow at me. Had Lysander and him been taking lessons together?

"My familiars wish to tell you that they're glad you didn't smother to death in the walls because your hair glimmers like moonlight."

Fox bit his lip hard to hide his grin. "Wow, they're warming up to me. But then, who wouldn't wax lyrical about a mage like me? After all, I did win the Shiniest Hair Awards Five Years running and have the ribbons to prove it. I had several offers to pursue a career as a hair model, but that's a crazy lifestyle, and I didn't want it to turn my head."

Ah, my adorable pathological liar. How I missed you.

Then the tips of Fox's ears reddened, before he offered, "It's hard to explain...okay, the truth is that I don't want to explain yet but...I've sort of discovered a whole new perspective on this ghost business. I understand being shut away, invisible, and ignored, but I'm free from the attic now. Your familiars aren't free. How about we let them into our love nest?"

I stared at him in surprise, and Echo cawed hopefully

"Well, fuck me," Flair gasped.

No one had never loved me enough to also see my familiars. Admittedly, they were kinky, loud, and possessive, but they were also smart, loyal, and mine. Now Fox wished to include them.

I hadn't believed that I could love Fox anymore, but yet, I could.

My magic dissolved, and for a moment, I thought that I'd made a terrible mistake.

Were my crows too possessive to love Fox back?

Flair and Echo barreled into Fox's lap. Crack my broomstick, they were going straight for his privates...

I was quite...extremely...fond of those balls. I had plans for them later.

I shot out my magic in a protective shower of sparks.

Yet instead of pecking, my familiars cuddled Fox, as if they were on my knee, nuzzling in their own version of crow kisses. After a moment, Flair appeared to realize what he was doing. Embarrassed, he turned his beak up like he was only using Fox as a pillow.

My magic fizzled out, and I leaned forward; Fox and my breaths' mingled.

"I love you," I murmured against Fox’s lips, "for your kindness and your courage. And I believe, that you've just earned the eternal love of my familiars. Be grateful, since they're now on your lap and they have an awful tendency to peck."

Fox stiffened and gave a nervous laugh. "I have an Anti-Peck Certificate. It indemnifies me against all crow attacks. I'm bullet proof."

"I'll show our foxy bullet proof..." Flair dived for Fox's prick like it was a worm, but I snatched Flair by the wing, holding him back.

Then I noticed that Fox was hugging something to his chest by one arm. He hadn't been carrying anything when he'd been shut in the walls. I froze. Through the haze of safe, safe, safe, I recognized the book, which wasn't safe.

It shouldn't even have been in the walls.

How was Fox holding it?

How, how, how?

Now it was me who couldn't breathe.

Fox gently held out Robin's Your Heart's Desire Book to me.

Robin had gifted the book to me in Hecate's glade on the night that he'd died because of our first kiss. It was no more than sheets, which had been ripped out of other books because orphan mages weren't allowed to possess anything. But Robin had risked creating it for me, intending to give it to me at the Enchanted Ball. Such gifts were for those who you planned to court and marry.

Instead, I'd been bound to a fae prince, Titus, who’d been a stranger to me. Robin had still gifted me the book, as well as his first kiss, while knowing that I was to marry another.

It was to be our only moment as lovers together.

It'd been the best kiss of my life.

And it'd killed Robin.

I pressed the back of my palm against my mouth to hold in the sobs.

Fox clasped my other hand, entwining our fingers, before he brushed them over the soft red feathers on the front of the book: the ones that Robin had plucked from his own coat. Robin's bittersweet birdsong magically sang out.

Despite myself, I laughed, as my crows joined in with their own tone-deaf songs. Then I was shocked to silence as the aroma of sweet wild blackberries gusted across my cheeks.

It was too much...

Don't take me back there...to the woods with my best friend and first lover...searching out berries and feeding them to each other, as the juices stained our chins. To the life, joy, and every snatched moment of forbidden freedom. To the sensation of Robin's strong finger tracing my cheek, his emerald eyes, and how he'd awakened me.

Cold prickled against my neck like kisses, and I shivered. My eyes widened.

"What in the witching heavens have you done?" I demanded.

Fox edged backward; he looked half proud and half worried that he was about to be cursed with a Nipple Pinching Hex. "Yeah, about that. I might have freed another ghost. It's my new habit. But it's not a bad one because this one loves you. I can feel it in my bones, blood, and heart. He crushes on you like Tinker Bell does on Peter Pan. Oh, and he's a mage. So, mage solidarity and that."

"Robin," I breathed.

I shook, and I didn't hear Lysander's concerned calls or Damelza's sneered commands. I was lost: to the past and my personal ghost. I craved nothing but the cool breeze embracing me with a love that I hadn't felt for over a hundred years: Robin.

When the breeze swept away down the corridor, I snatched the Your Heart’s Desire Book. Then I leapt up and followed Ghost Robin. We'd spent our childhoods following no one but each other through the Dead Wood, into the Dreaming Space, or sneaking out at night to lie on the castle’s roof and stargaze. I'd imagined that we'd had our lives together to chase after each other on adventures, even if we were caught within the wards of Rebel Academy.

The span of our lives would've been enough.

But my prayers to Hecate had stolen it from us, along with my mother's attempts to marry me to Titus.

I burst into the Bird Turret, as Ghost Robin danced playfully around my shoulders. He traced cool fingers under my choker to the sensitive skin that tingled at the frosty touch.

I'd missed his touch.

I'd missed him.

"Robin," I called, clutching Your Heart’s Desire Book closer to my chest.

In response, the wind swept in a whirlwind around the room that I'd been shut away in as a child. The magical mural on the walls sprang to life, and I shuddered at its pulsing magic. Hecate's Tree swayed, and frogs hopped in celebration at their base. The sweet scent of the lilies of the valley filled the room.

I tipped my head back and stared up at the indigo roof, as Ghost Robin spiraled higher.

I laughed in shock, as the robins who'd flocked like crimson tears and had been silent as if grieving since Robin and my deaths’, burst into wild life with silvery song.

Tears chased down my cheeks, as I twirled around.

Dizzy, I spun to the robins’ song, part of the whirlwind. My magic coiled out in pink threads around Ghost Robin, entwining around him.

I'll never let go again.

When the Your Heart’s Desire Book burst into song as well, I stilled and glanced down at it. Magic vibrated through the cover. My hands shook.

When Ghost Robin had given me the book, he'd told me to open it, when I was alone. I'd been burned alive before I had the chance, which I believed was a reasonable excuse.

But wasn't now the perfect time?

I bit my lip. Sometimes, courage meant far more than facing dragon shifters, deadly missions, or even death.

Robin was my greatest regret but also my greatest love. I had to face the past that haunted me.

I flipped open the book.

I froze, and my breath hitched.

A miniature version of Robin stared out from the page. He wore his whipping boy uniform of black shirt and pants with a pink R embroidered on the pocket. His muscled chest was tight against the thin material. His red hair tumbled over his eyes, and his emerald eyes watched me intently.

My heart clenched. I'd forgotten how bright his eyes were. How had I forgotten that? How had I forgotten anything about him?

My breath became ragged.

I shouldn't have forgotten.

Paper Robin shot me a cheeky grin. "I told you so. It turns out that mama and I were right about ghosts."

I smiled. "How long have you been waiting to say that? Was it satisfying?"

Paper Robin's eyes crinkled as he smiled, and my stomach flipped. I remembered when I'd lived for those smiles. "Wonderfully. Although, I was also right that ghosts eternally crave, and I've only craved you. You're my best friend, and I've loved for you so very long. To see you again is more than I ever hoped."

I swallowed, and tears slipped from the corners of my eyes. Because he wasn't seeing me, was he?

This Paper Robin was my Heart's Desire...but was he real?

Paper Robin's brow furrowed. "Hush, silly sweetheart." Ghost Robin settled on my shoulders, caressing. Please, let him truly be here with me once more. "I told you that a part of me would be in this book. We'll always be together."

Always.

I sobbed, stumbling to the window seat that overlooked the bailey. How many times had I sat here as a child, watching the Rebels who I wasn't allowed to even play with? Who I had to witness being beaten and couldn't protect? Who I couldn't love, until Robin?

Father had taught me equality, fairness, and friendship. He'd suffered for it, and Robin and I had died in their name.

I knew now: I didn't regret any of it.

Paper Robin raised his hand, and I licked away the salty tears on my lips, as I in turn, raised mine to meet his paper likeness.

It should've been enough.

It wasn't.

It could never be enough. I'd forever lost the feel of his warm chest as he caged me beneath him, the feel of his lush lips, and the rapid thud of his heart against mine.

But I had this, Hecate above, I had this. And it was more than I'd ever thought that I'd have again.

"I love you." I leaned into Ghost Robin's cool embrace, as I traced his paper twin's cheek, "I've always loved you. When I first saw you down in the bailey, transforming into a cute squirrel, before I even knew what a shimage was, I knew that we belonged together. And by the way, I'm more than aware about ghosts. I'm still partly dead. Wait, that didn't sound particularly seductive."

I melted my legs to black mists, and Paper Robin’s eyes lit up.

"Only you could talk about hanging between life and death so casually. Believe me, you've never needed to attempt seduction with me. You're beautiful, in spirit, mind, and body."

"My, are you flirting?"

Paper Robin barked with laughter. "I wouldn't even try, unless I wanted to make a mage's prick out of myself." Then he sobered. "Did you wait for me?"

I stilled. Ah, was now the time to explain the whole non-Victorian view on virginity...?

"Ehm, there's a philosophical and a technical answer..." I hedged. Then I leaned forward, kissing the page. Paper Robin gave a gentle laugh, as my lips sucked over his entire head. Ghost Robin kissed down my cheeks in kissing retaliation. "I'm sorry," I whispered. "You were walled up, and I couldn't... I'm sorry, sorry, so—"

"Stop," Paper Robin ordered. His emerald eyes gleamed with anguish but also determination. "What happened to me wasn't your fault. I died willingly for you, and I would again. I loved you as a friend, and if I'd been more than a mage, I'd have asked you to marry me. It was wicked of me to crave more than my station deserved. Yet I hoped... Perhaps, change in witch and mage relations could've started with you. Your dad, who was a good man, he hoped it too." Then his lips curled into a smile. "Now I'm a ghost, did I miss my chance to marry you?" My magic burst out in confetti sparkles. Paper Robin smirked. "Is that my answer?"

Why should I not take this happiness now and steal a long-awaited love?

Who was there to stop me now?

Was it karma that mother was fully dead, while I was enough alive to go against her wishes?

My knuckles whitened around the book. "Well, as I'm half ghost as well, it's not conventional, but we'd match. Yes, oh witching heavens, yes, yes, yes..."

Ghost Robin wrapped around me like he'd never let go.

Never let go.

Paper Robin's eyes widened, and he paled. "You mean that? But I can't even touch..."

"Neither could I, but the Immortals still loved and resurrected me. Why should we not have this too?"

Paper Robin looked at me searchingly. "You're bolder now. I like it. Before, you could only tell me that you loved me through the art of Glove Flirtation."

"I was a proper lady then."

Paper Robin snorted. "Says the witch who went swimming naked in the lake with me."

"We were eleven!"

Paper Robin tilted up his chin. "And who was seventeen when they went climbing trees with me in the Dead Wood?"

"I wanted to know what it felt like when you were in Mr Tailsy form. You were training me as an honorary squirrel."

He smiled at me fondly. "You made an exceptional squirrel, and I promise to make an exceptional husband."

This time, I didn't try to stop the tears. But then, movement in the cold darkness of the courtyard below caught my eye.

I frowned, as I glanced out of the window.

The Duchess who was wrapped in a sweeping coat stalked past the statues of the three Hecates towards the exit of the academy.

Black cats, she was tall.

Behind her, trailing like a smaller shadow, was Bask. His shoulders were slumped, and his head was ducked. He looked...crushed. He dragged a large suitcase behind him through the snow.

I stared at them for a moment. Then it struck me. Damelza had promised to free one of the winning side from the academy. Yet she'd never had any intention to truly free them, only return them into the hands of their cruel families, who'd first sentenced them to the academy.

I couldn't let Bask return to the incubi harem and the succubi who'd broken him. How could I fail to protect him like I had Robin?

The Duchess had said that she was inspecting Bask today but wasn't she staying for the Enchanted Ball? I'd thought that I had time to break the wards. Time to save Bask. Time to save the Princes. Time to save all my lovers.

I stood, as rage flooded me. At my side, Ghost Robin rushed around the Bird Turret in agitated gusts. The robins called out in alarm; Hecate's Tree reached its branches towards me.

I dropped the book onto the window seat. My eyes glimmered; my magic sparkled along my skin.

I'd gained Robin but I was losing Bask.

I. Would. Not. Lose. Bask.

My magic tore from me, wild and unleashed. I wrenched at it, but I wasn't in control. Was this how it'd been for Willoughby?

Would I at last become truly wicked? Was this the chaos moment?

I didn't care.

This was for my lover. I was wicked, and I'd pull down the storm if it meant protecting Bask.

I hollered, as my magic burst from me, dragging at the threads that ran through the entire academy. I was connected to all of it at the same time. Nature screamed with me, answering my despair.

Roots burst up around the Duchess, and she wailed, trapped.

Bask stumbled back, but my magic surged through him, calling to the bond inside. If we bonded, then no one could take him away.

Even out of control, my magic held back, before Bask's magic answered the request to bond, binding eagerly. He tipped back his head, and his ruby gaze met mine. They gleamed with worship and thanks.

This was it: he was mine now, forever.

I married ghosts, was the first ever female Rebel, and loved mages. I gave a witch's tit for tradition or rules on who could bond with incubi.

Bask was mine and safe from the bitch who'd broken her own bond with him, and I'd never be parted from my lover.

All of a sudden, Bask collapsed.

Shocked, I banged against the glass. My magic continued to surge through the academy.

The Duchess screamed.

Ghost Robin entwined around my magic, soothing and calming the whirlwind. But I was lost to the storm, and it was tearing me and the academy apart.