Rebel Academy: Curse

Chapter Twenty-Three MAGENTA

Outside Crow Hall, I rested my head against the stone. The arched wooden doors had been thrown open for the Enchanted Ball, and the hall was lit by stars, as if the night sky had fallen and laced itself over the academy.

Sweet Hecate, it was beautiful like Lysander had promised.

I’d learned that beauty could be dangerous, but that predators could be beautiful.

Also, that I loved my wicked Rebels, as they loved me.

They were already inside the hall; the buzz of laughter and roar of guitar music spilled out as brightly as the puddles of light. Yet I needed a moment longer in the shadows.

Over a hundred years ago, this had been the night that mother had tried to force me to marry a fae prince. But instead, I’d kissed an orphaned mage, sealing both our fates.

Perhaps, all of ours.

Now the evening of the Enchanted Ball was being repeated.

Although, I didn’t think that our imaginative committee had planned it quite the same. It was only a hunch, but Fox’s gleeful laughter every time that he’d suggested one more detail for his Wizard of Oz theme suggested that the evening wouldn’t be as elegant and refined as the professors hoped.

For the first time, I smiled.

How perfect.

On the way to the entrance, I’d passed the dragons who’d been wearing costumes with curved ears and long tails. They’d flapped their wings in protest like it was a party trick.

Were they meant to be…flying monkeys?

I’d shaken my head at myself.

Why, what an absurd thought. Of course, they must be Halflings of some sort.

Then I’d blinked at Ambrose, Ezekiel, and Ty who were guarding the shifters dressed in the same costumes. Ambrose had clutched his tail in his hand and glared at me like he’d been daring me to laugh.

Candles and bells, how could a witch resist, when her dominant Seelie professor looked cute enough to cuddle?

“Aye, laugh it up,” Ambrose had said, disgruntled.

Ezekiel had slipped a wink to Ty, who’d flapped his wings and hopped (almost like he was doing a monkey impression).

When Ambrose had swung Ty onto his back with a chuckle, it’d been startling.

Fox trusted Ezekiel after what he called their walled up alive bonding experience, and Sleipnir trusted Ambrose would do anything to save his son.

I’d protect any Rebel who’d only become a professor to survive. When I quested my magic through the roots of the academy, I sensed that only ghost traces of the wards remained: thin, brittle threads that were ready to snap.

Tonight, I’d break them.

Tonight, I’d destroy my curse.

Tonight, I’d free all Rebels.

But first, I had to face the past that haunted me.

Taking a deep breath, I adjusted the choker at my neck, smoothed down my dress, and strode towards the archway.

“Hold the fuck up, boss,” Flair called.

I glanced at the dark specters of Flair and Echo, who were circling above me. “I’m late to the ball, and so are you.”

“We were looking for the chicken costumes that your foxy fuck said we should wear, remember?” Flair’s beak snapped in a warning series of clicks.

“Ah, indeed.”

“But then we realized that we didn’t have any magic to make them, unlike the pretty Princes, and that we’re invisible anyway,” Flair’s voice became steely.

“Invisible, invisible, invisible,” Echo sang; I winced.

“You don’t fuck with the crow twins.” Flair flapped to the entrance. “You don’t mind if we neuter the cat, boss? It’s the chicken’s turn to hunt the fox!”

Ah, sweet revenge.

But I had to hide my smile because my familiars loved Fox now the same as me, and once they loved, they were loyal. Of course, that didn’t mean his balls were safe.

“I do mind,” I called out. “As will he. No neutering of anyone. Do I have to make that a rule?”

“When do I follow rules?” Flair waggled his tail feathers.

Echo glanced down at me, before following his brother. “I’ll kiss foxy, after my brother pecks him. Don’t forget us…?”

I didn’t miss the insecurity that I’d leave the academy without them one way or another. “Never.”

All of a sudden, a cold wind blew down my neck.

“Robin…?” I whispered.

Please, please, please…

Then the gust of breeze circled me, catching me in its whirlwind embrace. I gasped, as it held me with one step into the hall and one foot still in the shadows.

“Robin…?” I screamed into the darkness.

I blinked against the sharp slice of the wind. An outline formed, which was first no more than a smudge of charcoal, and then like painted sweeps of green and gold, the ghostly outline was filled in, until Robin stood before me.

Hecate above, Robin had been returned to me.

I froze. When I should’ve rushed into my lover’s arms, I was paralyzed at the shock of his resurrection.

Well, now I knew how the Immortals must’ve felt at Hecate’s Tree.

Robin’s smile was soft, however, as he took the step towards me, sweeping me into his arms.

He could touch me…?

His chest was muscled. He smelled of sweet blackberries.

He was alive.

On my magic, if this was a dream, never let me wake.

Joy thrilled through me; my magic spiraled up to dance around the stars.

Robin slipped one arm around my waist to rest his hand in the small of my back, while clasping his other hand in mine. Then he led me in a slow dance to Sleipnir’s beautiful fuzzy guitar, which mesmerized like a trance.

I couldn’t look away from the emerald of Robin’s eyes. How had I ever broken his gaze?

“Am I doing this right, wife?” He asked, biting his lip.

When he stepped on my toes, I hid the gasp with an over bright smile. “You’re an excellent dancer, husband. Have you been taking lessons?”

Robin snorted, but his eyes creased in the corners in the way that I loved. “Liar.” Yet he was still smiling. “It was my greatest wish to dance with you at the Enchanted Ball, no matter how hard I was beaten for it after. I planned to give you the Your Hearts Desire Book as an official courting gift. I’d loved you for so long, and I don’t think that I even realized how much, not truly. Dying for you was nothing.”

“Not nothing.”

“Perhaps,” he conceded. “But letting you go tonight…that will be something.”

My joy died inside, becoming heavy in my guts. My magic fell like pink falling stars around us.

“How are you here tonight?” I demanded.

“Horn and hoof, just let me dance a little longer and then…” He rested his cheek against mine.

How was it warm?

I shook, clutching him like he’d vanish at any moment. Inside in the light, were my lovers, professors, patrons, and Titus.

Yet here I was, dancing in the arms of the man who’d been dead for decades.

Reluctantly, Robin drew back to look at me but he didn’t stop our slow dance. “Do you remember your papa’s peacock amulet?”

I blinked. “Well, aren’t you quite the Romeo. Do you wish to discuss mother’s hat collection as well?

Robin rubbed his nose against mine in a way that was so familiar it hurt. “Please don’t mention those appalling robin skin hats.” He shuddered. “Your papa was a good man. He cared for me when nobody else did and he taught me secrets of my mage heritage, including my god, Pan.”

I paled. “I remember, and he would’ve been whipped for such sacrilege. It appears that papa was quite the rebel, and braver than me.”

I loved the pride that swept across Robin’s expression because I knew that it was mirrored on my own. “The lie was that the peacock amulet was showy finery. In truth, it was a Blood Amulet to bind his magic.”

I stopped dancing, wrenching away from Robin.

My mouth was suddenly dry; I couldn’t swallow.

I didn’t believe it… I wouldn’t…

Mother had murdered my mage lover, while marrying her own?

“The hypocrite,” I howled.

Robin caught me, as my knees buckled. He soothed over my hair.

“Hush,” Robin kissed my hair in light pecks, “it’s done. Your mother and he were friends as children, and when he revealed his magic, she persuaded his family to give him to her, rather than to throw him to the wolves. Yet the deal was that he must hide his magic. Why not rejoice that he wasn’t killed?”

Hexes and curses, Robin was right but still, Bryon had hidden his magic from me. I knew that he’d loved me, but he hadn’t trusted me.

Why should he?

I took shaky breaths at the realization. He’d tried to show me that there was a different way to be with Robin. But what if I’d turned out like Henrietta, as soon as I’d become a woman, married a prince, and taken over the academy?

“Don’t blame him,” Robin urged. “Your papa helped me, even before you noticed me. I believe your mother turned a blind eye to it and his unusual views on equality because she knew how hard it was for him to suppress his magic. Plus, your papa loved you so much. You were his only joy in a miserably hard life. All he ever talked about was making your life brighter. Yet…pan’s balls…he was terrified that you’d end up despising him.”

I’d died without being able to reassure Byron that I loved, admired, and would never despise him.

Why hadn’t I told him?

As if he could read my thought, Robin reached for my shoulder and pulled me back against his chest. “He knew that you’d turn out different to your mother.”

“How can you be so certain?”

“Because he trusted you enough to reincarnate me.”

I remembered Byron pressing his hand against the wall, after Henrietta had sealed Robin up, and chanting like an invocation. For a moment, I’d hoped that Robin would burst free, but instead, Bryon had collapsed like he’d used up all his energy.

I’d been too caught in my grief to understand.

By the branches of the tree, save your children, blessed be…

“He resurrected you…?” Magenta flowers sprung to life like a bridal bed beneath our feet. Bryon had saved Robin, after all. “This is real?”

Why were Robin’s eyes suddenly so sad?

“Silly sweetheart, I’m only an echo. I’m not truly here.”

I grasped his arms tight in my horror, and he grimaced. “I beg strongly to disagree. You can feel…and I can touch…and you’re real…you have to be…”

I choked on a sob, before my eyes widened.

Hadn’t he said reincarnated, rather than resurrected?

“A shimage is viewed as the wickedest form of mage by Hecate, but as the most blessed by Pan. Imagine your mother’s fear at what would happen if both Hecate’s and Pan’s most powerful were united. She wouldn’t have been able to control us. Hate is at heart fear.” He hesitated. “It was your papa’s duty to make sure that my spirit was reincarnated, even if it took many decades to find…”

He broke off, gazing at me searchingly.

“Fox,” I breathed.

My magic surged through me, and it told me that it was true that Robin had been reincarnated as Fox, in the same way that I’d sensed how special Fox was to me the moment that he’d walked onto the Rebel Academy grounds.

He’d connected the Immortals; his blood had resurrected me.

I’d needed Fox and been desperate to protect him. We’d gifted each other our virginities.

Tears slipped down my cheeks because while I’d been grieving for Robin, I’d had my second chance with him all along.

“But he’s not you,” I whispered.

Robin smirked. “I’d hope not. I’m unique, and so’s he. A Soul reborn is its own.” Robin curled his arms around my lower back again, and we danced like this was our ball alone. “But he’s getting weaker because I’m here. It’s why you can touch me. Mama would know why; the dead feed from the living. But I’m the shade. A shadow.” His eyelashes were matted wet. Don’t let him say it…please…don’t. “I love you like a crushing ache. I’d haunt you always. But I have to grant Fox life. I had mine, and now it’s his chance. Yours…together. This moment is enough for me. It’s more joy than I ever thought that a mage could experience. I’ll die with your name in my heart and on my lips. Will you kiss me one last time, Magenta?”

“Not last…” I begged.

Robin only pressed his mouth to mine, and it was just as intoxicating as our first kiss in the glade had been. My lips fizzed with magenta magic, which bubbled along the seam of his lips. He opened them, and his tongue danced with mine.

Never let the music stop.

But then, as the dreamy vocal died away, Robin faded in my arms.

The tingling feel of his lips on mine lingered, along with the scent of blackberries like lost summers.

I was alone. And Robin was gone. Forever.

I should’ve fallen to the floor. Screamed. Sobbed.

But instead, the cold ball in my stomach made me tilt my head and straighten my shoulders. I craved to wreck, curse, and tear the academy apart. My magic wanted to rip from me.

After all, I’d been shattered. Why should I battle to control my Wickedly Charmed magic any longer?

I stared unseeingly at the archway into the ball.

Then I heard Fox’s laughter and I remembered why Robin had chosen to fade.

I’d see this through. There’d be no more death.

I marched into the ball, glancing down at the yellow brick road that led like a red carpet down the center of the room.

I wiped the back of my hand over my eyes. I wouldn’t let Titus think that my distress was over him.

A fae’s ego was such that they believed the universe revolved around them. Just look how they made the stars come down from the heavens for their balls.

On an ice pedestal in the corner, Sleipnir rocked out to a song about how bad he was, while looking like he was having sexy times with his guitar and any moment would need to go somewhere more private with it, which was a decidedly perfect entrance for me (and what Fox would’ve called subversion, I believe). Mist headbanged in Sleipnir’s trouser pocket with aquamarine mane to match Sleipnir’s hair.

Well, Titus had wanted entertainment, hadn’t he? Possibly, he’d imagined more Mozart and opera.

Damelza, along with the other professors and patrons, sat at a long obsidian table at the back of the hall. Damelza appeared caught between constipated and horrified at the choice of song.

She crossed into outrage at my grand wicked witch entrance.

If I hadn’t been shaking from the effort of not showing my anguish, I’d have delighted in the way that Titus’ elegant eyebrow arched.

For him, that was quite the reaction.

Snow and Emerick served the Head Table, passing out crow-shaped goblets of wine. They wore bizarre blue robes with pointy hats.

Frogs and toads, for once I was glad that I couldn’t change out of my dress. Who knows what Fox would’ve dressed me in for the ball?

Emerick shot me a sardonic look, before bending to refill Bacchus’ goblet.

One side of Crow Hall was entirely glass and looked out over the academy grounds and the weird flying monkey dragons. In front of it was a table groaning with a feast: sides of beef, pies, fruit, and chocolate cake.

The roof itself twinkled with stars, the dance floor was surrounded with tree ice sculptures that glittered like crushed diamonds, as if I’d wandered into a frozen forest.

When I crossed the dance floor, I skidded. It was covered in ice. Well, who wanted to make dancing easy, anyway?

Ah, everybody.

Fox bounced excitedly to greet me, twirling me around.

“Oww.” When something sharp poked me in the side, I batted him away. “I know that you’re pleased to see me, but Titus is just over there…”

Fox grinned. “I’m always pleased to see you, but it’s my straw.” He hefted the straw belly of his costume up and down.

“You’re a scarecrow,” I deadpanned.

“All the better to finally scare the witches of the House of Crows.”

I squinted at Bask. “And you’re a pretty alien…?”

Bask preened, running his hand down his metallic costume. “I’m the Tin Man.”

Willoughby raised his eyebrow. “I’m the Ice Prince. Elven princes don’t do dressing up.”

“Pfft, you just didn’t like my suggestion of Toto,” Fox sulked.

Willoughby’s lips twitched.

I studied Midnight, who was wearing a lion’s tail and mane; his eyes were still circled with shadows, but he was trying hard to mask his exhaustion. “And you make the fiercest king of the animals.”

Midnight smiled, puffing out his chest. “Thank you, my queen.”

“Way to miss the point,” Fox muttered.

When Lysander prowled over from checking on the feast, there was something…awkward…about his prowl. Confused, I glanced at his feet.

Well, I had no idea that he enjoyed wearing ruby women’s shoes as well as panties. What bravery to do so in front of his guardian.

Lysander, however, narrowed his eyes at Fox. “You told me that everybody at Oz balls wore ruby slippers.”

“Did I?” Fox asked with pretend innocence. Bask snickered. “Yeah, I did. But then, I lie for comic effect. And don’t tell me that you don’t look good in them. Have you ever tried a Tinker Bell costume?”

At Lysander’s growl, Fox dived behind Midnight. Midnight’s knightly protection surely wasn’t meant to be used for pranks. Although, as I spied Flair and Echo like gargoyles perched on the window ledges plotting their fox hunt, he needed it.

The breath caught in my throat.

Fox was Robin, and I loved both men.

I dived around Midnight, catching Fox in my arms. He let out a surprise oomph, before stroking up and down my neck.

“I’m not really scared,” he admitted softly against my hair. “The prince is noble, even if he’s a dick.”

“I’m right here,” Lysander protested. “I can literally hear you.”

“Of course, otherwise it wouldn’t be fun.”

I pulled back, pushing Fox away until I could study him. “How are you feeling?”

Fox bounced on the balls of his feet. “Pan’s cock, it’s brilliant. It must be Sleipnir’s epic singing or my even more epic dancing but I no longer feel half dead. It’s like coming alive again.”

I bit the inside of my cheek, but I couldn’t hide the tremor that ran through me.

In turn, Fox studied me, before he asked, “And how are you? Are you okay, our Rebel Prom Queen?”

“I will be.” My gaze became frosty. “As soon as we’re free.”

When I caught Willoughby’s gaze, he couldn’t hide his agony or the way that his lips pinched and his fingers stiffened.

Something was hurting him.

Somebody.

I twirled to the Head Table.

Darby slouched in his seat. The stars’ light glistened off the crystals in his hair, which should rightfully have been Willoughby’s. His magic stung mine. His dark gaze rested on his brother like a threat.

Darby’s fingers casually twirled round and round, twisting Willoughby’s suit tighter and choking him, slowly. Darby’s cruel lips were curled with delight at Willoughby’s attempt not to reveal each tiny tightening.

I hated how similar Darby looked to Willoughby, when he was nothing like his brother.

The brat believed that Willoughby was still alone, but now he was messing with Immortals, Princes, and their Rebel witch.

He had a broomstick up his behind situation coming his way…

Except, then Willoughby’s expression stopped me. His hand rested on his neck like he wanted to pull at the cursed silk but knew that it wouldn’t help.

Nothing would.

His brother could punish or kill him from any distance.

Willoughby couldn’t escape with us, while he wore his brother’s curse, and Willoughby had always known.

Yet he wouldn’t let himself be the reason that we remained.

Bas had said that if you love someone you always want them to be free, even if…you die, fade away, or are left behind.

My magic spun out, dragging Willoughby to me. His wide gaze met mine.

We were the Ice Royalty: the same.

I couldn’t live without Willoughby, and I wouldn’t lose anyone else.

If Darby was ruthless enough to hurt his own brother in such a way, then wouldn’t he also be ruthless enough to kill a father to steal the throne?

Unlike Willoughby, I wasn’t blinded by brotherly love, nor by the dark magic that’d forced his mind into a hazy fog. Perhaps, Darby had used such sorcery partly to make sure that his own treachery remained hidden and he could turn his brother into the scapegoat?

Now I’d met him, I could see that Darby was (as Flair had already announced to me loudly), a little traitorous prick who’s begging for a spanking.

I soothed my magic down Willoughby’s sides to ease his pain. “If you don’t wish to doubt your brother, then it’s your choice. But I won’t leave you behind.” Willoughby took a sharp intake of breath. “Together, we’ll fight this.”

Willoughby’s expression hardened, and he nodded.

My shoulders slumped with relief.

Witching heavens, how did I tell someone that their brother could’ve destroyed their life?

“Who sent the assassins to attack you?” I asked, carefully. “Surely, such a sacred pilgrimage to receive your Crystal Diary was secret? You’ve been kept so busy blaming yourself and paying penance. But what you did was an accidental loss of control. Who ordered the assassination?”

Willoughby’s eyes cleared for the first time, as if he was shaking off the bonds of Darby’s magic through fury alone. Yet as he did, the full realization of everything that’d been done and what he’d lost shook through him.

Even the loss of his innocent childhood.

He’d loved his brother. How much easier would it’ve been if he’d hated him?

I drew my magic back from Willoughby. He touched my cheek, as if in thanks, before turning to face Darby. When Willoughby stalked to the Head Table, Darby startled, sitting straighter in his chair like he was a schoolboy who’d been caught out for bullying.

Then he appeared to remember that he was king, and sneered at Willoughby, “Do you wish to kiss the crystals of your rightful king?”

Willoughby crossed his arms. “Who would that be, brother? The man who tried to kill father?”

Darby coughed, nervously. “Are you also crazy now? You didn’t try, you did kill him.”

“Not me,” Willoughby replied. “You.”

Titus rested his chin on his hand, watching the exchange thoughtfully. But there was something predatory in his gaze.

“Silence, monster,” Darby snarled.

Willoughby’s expression was icy. “So, you did send those assassins to kill father, but you let me believe…”

Darby burst out of his seat and pointed at Willoughby.

The silk of Willoughby’s suit wove around his neck.

Willoughby spluttered, desperately falling to his knees, as the silk choked him.