Page 7 of Bound to Three Fae Beasts

“Thanks,” I said, handing it back. With a comb like that, why was her hair so frizzy?

As I looked around, I was relieved to find that I wasn’t the only one that looked nervous. While there were some groups of students who were laughing with each other, there were others that kept looking around as though they expected to be jumped. I caught more than a few nasty looks being thrown at those students, so I made the effort to stand straight and put a bored expression on my face.

Nobody knew me as the daughter of a fae killer here. With any luck, they never would.

“Let’s get to the great hall,” Freta suggested. “My older brother just graduated, and he told me that the food is best on the west side of the hall.”

I nodded, letting her loop her arm through mine. Somehow, without meaning to, I thought I made a friend. With a fae. Would wonders never cease?

Chapter 4 - Azriel

The great hall was a huge space with vaulted ceilings that reminded me of a cathedral that the orphanage had taken us to when I was fifteen. This hall dwarfed that cathedral. Stained glass twice as tall as I was lined the walls every few feet. Each one displayed a different image. One contained a woman who was half in light, half in dark. She held a pomegranate in one hand, a skull in the other. The one next to it was a tree with piles of skulls at its base.

The next one was so red I had a feeling it was going to be a violent, bloody scene, so I stopped looking. There were about a half-dozen lines of tables running the length of the hall. Each table was twenty feet long, and had a gap just big enough to squeeze through before the next one in the line. A quick count added up to five tables in each line.

Freta led me to what was presumably the east wall, where we found two open spots right about the middle of the group. Empty silver dishes lined the tables, and there were fine ceramic place settings with a dozen forks and spoons at every chair, along with two crystal goblets.

“Fancy,” I mumbled.

“This is nothing compared to court dinners,” Freta told me with a short laugh. It sounded strained.

The hall filled with a general hubbub of noise and chatter as the students from outside slowly filled it up. I did my best not to stare. Nobody was looking twice at me, but if I showed particular interest in anyone, I was sure that they’d give me particular interest back. The last thing I wanted was to paint a target on my forehead by being too curious.

Along the head of the room were another two tables, at which sat people who were distinguishably older than anyone else in the hall. They must have been of some importance, but nobody paid them much mind, so I made sure not to study them too hard, either.

What surprised me most was that, despite being from one of the royal courts, Freta was just as ignored as I was. She pulled out a sketchpad from her messenger bag and idly doodled in it. So she also was relaxed enough not to pay too much attention around her. It was odd. I longed to ask her a million questions and figure it out.

A man wearing black stood. He had a tunic and trousers on, but overtop was a sleeveless robe belted at the waist. With his long, salt-and-pepper hair pulled into a ponytail, he looked quite severe. From my seat he looked fairly youthful, but there was also a severe appearance to his face.

“Welcome, students, to the Binding Academy,” he said. His voice boomed through the hall. Instantly, everyone went silent and all faces turned toward the front of the room. He held his hands clasped together as he surveyed us. “I am Mr. Quincy, your headmaster.”

Headmaster. That meant he was the one I had to make sure to avoid, the same way I avoided the matron at the orphanage.

“I see many faces have returned to us from previous years, and many new faces who have not come to the Academy before. To our first-year students, I give a special welcome, and a warning. Miscreants and rule-breakers will not be tolerated. Any killing outside of the binding trials will be grounds for immediate expulsion.”

A group of students a few tables away all laughed at this.

“Just expulsion?” I whispered in shock.

Freta shot me a startled look. “Expulsion means life imprisonment or execution.”

I turned my face back to Quincy, fighting not to show my shock. My hands gripped together under the table. That was more what I expected from the fae. I concentrated on Quincy, wishing I had a notebook to take notes.

“The list of rules was included in your welcome package, as well as the dorm room you are assigned to and a map of the Academy grounds. Any further information you need will be updated periodically, so make sure you do not lose your pamphlets.”

At his words, I sneakily checked the papers in my knapsack. To my surprise, a map had appeared on the back of one of them. More magic, it seemed. Well, at least I’d get some information that way. I put my pack back.

“The schedule for the binding trials will be listed in every common room. Make sure you stay abreast of when your time will come,” Quincy said.

At this, one of the teachers behind him winced a little. She had a cheery smile on her face, but before I could wonder too much about her reaction, she leaned to the man beside her and said something that made him laugh. At the mention of the binding trials, the same group that had laughed at the no-killing rule burst out into chatter.

Quincy ignored them, continuing to talk, but I found it impossible to keep paying attention to him. Periodically, one of the teachers would stand to a smattering of applause, so I presumed they were being introduced.

My body thrummed with anxiety. My focus landed on the group of students that seemed to be so excited about the trials. My gut said they were the ones to steer clear of, the ones that were most likely to start killing people for the fun of it.

They also happened to be the people I thought had the most aura in the hall.

I spied the redhead that had knocked me over in their midst and my stomach knotted. I leaned closer to Freta. “That girl over there is Flora, right?”