Page 86 of Bound to Three Fae Beasts

If I didn’t keep going, they’d be killed in the trials anyway. I was in a lose-lose situation. And with everything else going on, what right did I have to be jealous that Freta touched Silas? Between what I knew was a mate-bond I had with Jasper and Seb, and this strange sexual pull I felt toward Gareth, was I really going to be possessive over her childhood friend, too?

“I’m going to go for a walk,” I said over my shoulder. “I’ll meet you guys up on the roof so we can practice some more defense.”

“Z,” Silas called after me, but I didn’t turn back.

He was right about one thing. I did feel unhinged. I avoided the three golden boys, all the while craving them. Seb avoided me, too, which I was glad about. Every so often in class I could feel his eyes on me, and when I looked at him, anger and jealousy warred in his gaze before he turned away. I was certain he knew what happened between Jasper and me.

Part of me wondered what he’d do if I went back to the Laurel room and waited in all that greenery for him. If I told him that I was on contraceptives now and wanted him to have me. I wondered how he and Jasper would react if I asked them to take turns sharing me. How they and Gareth would respond if I offered myself to all three of them.

I wandered the grounds, all my feelings tied up in my chest. Jasper was avoiding me, too. I didn’t expect him to try to be all romantic with me. It was for the best we keep our distance now, but I still felt … strange. Not used, but rather as though I wasn’t holding up my end of the bargain. But we hadn’t even made any bargains!

Soon, I found myself at the obelisk. The ashes surrounding it had already started to become overgrown with fresh grass. It was a lovely spot, I had to admit, with the tall trees around it. I leaned over the wall, reaching down to the ash-covered ground. If I could skim the form of Freta’s dead cat—

I snatched back my hand. The image of Penry’s shy smile filled my vision, and I stumbled into the nearby bushes and vomited.

Then I started to sob. I thought I’d cried myself out. I’d thought that I’d adjusted to this pain and regret living in my chest. But as I collapsed to my knees, sobs ripping through me, I wondered if it would ever ease.

***

Two days later, Court Manilow visited the Academy again. Freta and Silas hid away in the Alegro room, but I told them I was going to ask Seb to resume our mentoring lessons. Freta nodded encouragingly at me while Silas’s brow furrowed, a sharp look in his eyes that I didn’t like.

It was a terrible risk to use my powers with Manilow here. Maybe too much of a risk. But it wasn’t as though I was planning an assassination, as tempting as that was. I just wanted more answers. Despite that letter promising I’d get them soon, nothing had materialized.

I was so tired of always being on the back foot, not knowing what was going to happen. So I skimmed Lotmas’s form, since he was busy with a few students in his pavilion, and made my way into the teacher-only areas. The tracking magic on us students hadn’t caused me any trouble so far, so I didn’t worry about it now.

Once in the teacher’s wing, I glanced around, looking for where I might be able to sit in on the meeting with Court Manilow. As I was searching, Mr. Thatcher came out of one of the far rooms, scowling deeply. His scowl deepened even further when he saw me.

“So you decided to attend after all?” Thatcher asked, giving me a look of pure loathing. He was always so professional around Lotmas that the dislike caught me off guard. I only shrugged. Thatcher narrowed his eyes but snorted. “Fine, then. You’ll like what they’re talking about.”

He knocked into my shoulder as he passed me, and I skimmed his form. I waited until he was out of sight before switching to his face and heading into the room he’d just left. It all happened easily. Switching forms, fooling him. Too easily? Was this just luck, or was it a result of my hard work?

All the teachers except Thatcher and Lotmas were already present. None of them paid me any mind as I took an empty chair, instinct guiding me to the one near Atira. Quincy was currently serving tea and cookies to the Court Manilow representatives. They were all stunningly beautiful, androgenous, and wore identical robes.

“We are honored you chose to visit our establishment again,” Quincy said after he’d served out the refreshments. He took a seat at the head of the table. “To what do we owe—”

He paused as the door opened. My stomach dropped, certain Thatcher was going to step back in. Instead, it was Lotmas. He swaggered to his spot, bowed, and took a seat. Luck was on my side, then. If I’d still been wearing his face when he came in, it would all be over.

Quincy shot Lotmas a poisonous glare before he plastered a smile back on his face. “To what do we owe the pleasure of your visit?”

“We are concerned about the next binding trial. It is the last of the year, is it not?” the apparent leader of Manilow said. They had dark hair, unlike the silvery-blond of the others, and spoke with a high voice that sounded more feminine than masculine.

“It is. We have been considering what the best course of action will be,” Quincy said. “And your concerns over the strength of our first-years will be taken into consideration.”

Manilow lifted her teacup to her lips and blew on the steaming liquid. “The Academy has been too soft on this year’s students. You had over a hundred registered, and yet less than twenty have died. And you have had an unbinding among them. That student should not have survived the first trial with such a weak bind.”

Beside me, Atira lowered her gaze to the table. Her jaw clenched. Some instinct told me to reach over and brush my fingers against her tight fists. They loosened and her palm flipped toward me briefly before I withdrew.

“The binding trials have been within the parameters of past years,” Quincy said, sounding wary now. “The unbinding was … unfortunate, but the methods for first-years have always been more lenient.”

“And that leniency is why we have become so weak,” Manilow answered sharply. “Your registry indicates you have dozens of unbound and weak-bound students. They cannot be permitted to graduate and weaken us further. Court Manilow wants all unbound dead by the end of the year.”

My stomach clenched as I thought of Silas. Wasn’t that always the plan? Kill off the unbound as though they were nothing? And yet this fae was saying it out loud. Demanding it, really.

Mr. Quincy nodded. “Of course. We are considering several different trials that have been successful in the past—”

“Not successful enough. Put them through the Surrender.”

Atira gasped. Wren nervously twitched and Lotmas laughed under his breath. I kept my face blank, hiding my confusion.