Page 48 of Bound to Three Fae Beasts

Our positions held power, but our power came with a price. Better than her, though. Half-fae. Unable to reliably hold on to her beast form. Getting our interest only put her in a more dangerous position. If Flora decided Azriel was the reason Seb refused to seal the deal, for instance, how difficult would it be to bribe another lowly student to slip something into her food?

“Why did you come back?” I asked, and this time my voice was softer, more curious. More me.

Azriel scowled openly at me. “Because you were decent to Penry at Phineas’s fake party thing, so I thought you wouldn’t beat me up for daring to think you needed help.”

“And what do you want in return?” She opened her mouth and I leaned forward, putting my palm over it. Her skin was damp from the water, cold and warm at the same time. It sent pleasant tingles through me, which made me want to jerk my hand away. “Don’t insult me by saying nothing.”

Azriel pushed my hand away. “Fine. I won’t. I’ll hold on to this for a later date.”

I stood. “Fine. Just don’t wait too long. I don’t pay debts to corpses.”

With that, I gave her a two-finger salute and walked away. I was far more fascinated by her now than I had been just an hour ago. Hmmm. What a dangerous place to be.

Chapter 22 - Azriel

Each day that week held the binding trials. The second day was the second-year students, the third day the third-year students, and so forth. In the end, there were a total of forty-nine deaths. The only ones that got any sort of memorial were members of royal courts.

Attendance to view the binding trials was mandatory, but I refused to actually watch it. I sat up in the stands with my friends, my face in a book. Silas, Freta and Penry all tried to read, too, but they kept getting distracted by the violence. I supposed this was a blessing from growing up in the orphanage. I was used to so much constant noise, I could easily block it from my mind.

Instead, I read everything I could about shape-thieves. There wasn’t much about them in the official books, but I found a book of folk tales that often had a shape-thief being outmaneuvered and killed as the highlight of the story.

I couldn’t find anything about how they worked or what their magic was like. Not that it would help me. My mother might be fae, but the instability of my wolf form had to be because I was half human. I wasn’t a shape-thief.

After the final trials, all students were given three days’ rest. Celebrations continued, and when I wasn’t in the dorm, I hung out either in the library or the Alegro room. I was still getting more attention than I wanted.

Freta had survived, but hadn’t received any rank. She’d hidden herself away rather than attempt to fight, and had avoided attention from either fellow students or the beasts. Silas had gone looking for the rest of us, only to be ambushed by a monkey-like thing that broke his ribs. He’d used a potion to melt its flesh. Penry had also tried to look for us, but had been caught in a trap when the bear-bull thing attacked her.

They all seemed impressed by my story, and speculated I must have some relation to Court Laurel. Penry even suggested maybe Seb would soften toward me for it.

I doubted that. The brutality of Robert’s death showed me that this world was far worse than I realized.

When classes resumed, Lotmas made sure to punish me for stealing his spear, but the rest of the teachers treated us all exactly the same. I was glad to get back into the routine of classes, even if I was distracted in them.

Two weeks after the trials, Miss Atira called on me in class. I didn’t notice until Freta elbowed my ribs. I jumped to my feet.

“Yes?” I asked.

“You have your beast form now, so you have gotten access to your magic. Please come up here and light this candle,” she said, gesturing to a thin, white tapered candle next to her.

I stared at it, then slowly headed to the front of the class. Those other students who had gotten their beast forms could use magic now, but every attempt I’d made had ended in failure. Maybe my beast wasn’t strong enough. Maybe I had a mental block. Maybe I didn’t have magic at all.

“Concentrate on the wick, and reach out to your beast,” Atira instructed. “You’ll feel the fabric of magic and be able to ignite the candle with your mind.”

I stared at the candle, trying to think of how it felt to be in that wolf form. It had been like wearing someone else’s skin. A shudder ran down my spine as I tried to feel the fabric of magic. But there was nothing.

“Miss Azriel?” Atira prodded.

Desperation rose up in me. Even if I did manage to access this magic, it would be obvious to everyone watching that it was wrong. So I picked up the candle and hurled it into the wall.

“Miss Azriel!” Atira scolded. “I’m going to have to give you detention for that. Come see me in my office after your classes are done for the day. This sort of childish tantrum has no place in our establishment. Go to your seat.”

I slunk back to my seat, where I slumped until the end of class. When Atira dismissed us, I started to gather my things. A hand suddenly appeared on my desk. I looked up sharply to find myself staring in a scarred face with icy blue eyes.

“So how did your trial go?” Jasper asked.

I stiffened. Had he been sitting next to me this whole time? The other bullies were in their normal spot, with Red sending furious glances over in my direction. Seb scowled, too, but didn’t look at us. My gaze shot over my shoulder to Freta, Penry and Silas. They were tense.

“Go on,” I told them as I got to my feet.