I flushed. “I’m sort of collared myself. I was branded by this dancing Hecate, which means that I can’t escape the wards.”
When Marcus drew back, I was shocked by the gleam of tears in his golden eyes.
Nobody had ever cried for me before. Not even dad. Glow and I had cried for each other, but that wasn’t the same thing.
Marcus smiled, tracing down my cheek. “It’s kind of you to urge me to go, when you shall be the one to pay for it.”
So, he hadn’t been conned by my royal ploy…
I shrugged. “Someone did the same for me.” My throat was thick with tears; I struggled to swallow. “Drive safe.”
Marcus huffed with laughter. “You’re a funny little fox. But I like you.”
Then he kissed the corner of my mouth, before darting into the dark. Ambrose bellowed at him, but Marcus shifted into his dragon form, beating his wings and winding towards the stars and away, over the ancient woods.
My eyes blurred with tears, but I’d never thrilled with such joy, until Ambrose cracked his whip into the snow at my feet. I jumped, wrapping my arms around my middle. Ambrose panted, out of breath from his dash to catch Marcus.
Bask and Sleipnir were still sauntering after him. Had Sleipnir plotted Marcus’ escape? Why had he wanted me to be the one to witness it?
Ambrose stalked towards me, raising my chin with the butt of his whip. The hardness of his emerald gaze made me realize just how gentle Marcus’ had been.
If the Seelie were so tough, maybe the Princes should be saddling them up and riding their asses…?
“You let him go,” Ambrose hissed.
I licked my dry lips. “I lost him. Dragon beats fox. Sorry.”
Ambrose eased back, glancing between me and the other two Immortals. “You’re not yet. But you will be tomorrow morning.”
When I flinched, Bask dived for me, slinging his arms around my shoulders and fussing, whilst he checked me for injuries. Sleipnir stood between Ambrose and me, crossing his arms like he was my bodyguard — and I wasn’t the whipping boy.
Yet it didn’t matter how much they pretended that they could protect me because that was just another lie. In Rebel Academy, I sensed the truth that the professors held the power, and even though Prince Ambrose was male and an ex-Rebel, he was still a professor.
In my first morning in the academy, what punishment would I suffer?
Chapter Eight
SLEIPNIR
When you were the son of Loki, you had a duty to create the chaos moment. I’d spent my life by my dad’s side being hunted, and yet he’d still taught me that freedom was worth every sacrifice.
It sucked that my fellow Rebels, however, would be punished alongside me because I’d broken Marcus’ collar.
I was indeed the awesome warrior who’d freed the dragon. Omens and runes, I swore I’d find a way to free all of us who were trapped in this dick academy.
Who did they think they were, taking a god hostage…? Oh yeah, the most powerful witches alive…
When Damelza’s crow cawed and battered at the bedroom window in the West Wing, I awoke with a start at the punishment time of 5 a.m., after only a couple of hours sleep. It was still dark, and I winced at the House of Crows’ feathery alarm clock.
Bask’s arms were slung around the new whipping boy’s neck. They both wore pink and black striped silk pajamas like me, which had ridden up revealing pale glimpses of skin. Black hair mingled with white blond. I missed the way that Bask normally hugged me, searching out touch, as his sweet breath would gust across my neck, until I’d shiver.
I sprawled across the bed, pretending to sleep, even though I was cold with the sheets pulled off me. I slyly watched Bask and Fox wake up in each other’s arms as naturally as if they were family. I didn’t understand Bask’s easy offers of friendship and love like it was no different to choosing whether to press his hand to Fox’s cheek.
I didn’t need friends, but I couldn’t survive here without allies. Weirdly, I knew that I’d die for Bask, but was that love?
I’d never had a friend before, so how would I know?
When something soft tickled my cheek, I turned my head and realized that in the night I’d ended up snuggling on top of Bask’s crocodile plushie, whose reptilian eyes now stared predatory into mine. I stifled my grin; I might’ve been hunted all my life, but that’d honed me into one badass hunter.
I watched the way in which Fox stiffened like he suspected we’d kick him out of bed. Did he believe that we’d treat him as a true whipping boy? On fear of the Valkyries, I’d never hurt anyone under my protection, unless it was Bacchus and even then, I’d kick her ass in a fair fight.
I wished that Bacchus would take the cursed charms off my powers that dampened them, but fair fight was as much a banned phrase here as Loki Rules.
That’s why I’d pissed Loki Rules into the snow last term. My dick had almost frozen off, as I’d carefully looped each letter, but some sacrifices were worth it.
Last night, I’d watched amused, as Fox had built a wall of pillows between himself and us. Fox had ducked his head, struggling to ignore Bask’s pout. Yet at some point during the night, Bask had shoved the pillows onto the floor and snuggled into Fox’s side to spoon him.
This morning, Fox stroked Bask’s cheek. Bask’s almond scent wrapped around me. Then Bask’s eyes fluttered open, and his gaze settled on Fox. When Bask smiled softly, my breath hitched. I’d never seen him smile at anyone but me like that before, even Hector before he’d…died.
I clenched my fists but forced myself not to move.
Valhalla! For his part in Hector’s death last term, the fae prince would suffer torments worse than any… Okay, let’s just say that Prince Lysander was an asshole, and I was going to wreck him.
“Welcome to the Rebel Academy.” Bask’s hand tightened around the back of Fox’s neck. “Here’s the thing of it, you’re ours now. You belong here. And I want to wake up every morning like this.”
Bask hovered his lips over Fox’s. The whipping boy shook like he’d never been desired before.
I’d bet that he hadn’t.
“Pet me,” Bask demanded.
Huh, it appeared Bask needed feeding before the Discipline Run. Most incubi were fed by taking orders. If he was in the mood, Bask loved it when I became all commanding, but he was considered broken because he could feed on giving orders as well.
In his culture, being different truly was a crime.
Fox snorted. “Don’t worry, gorgeous, you’re in the hands of a professional. I won the Mage’s Pet an Incubus in a Wet T-shirt contest three years running.”
He cracked his knuckles, and Bask snickered.
I forced myself to remain still with a self-control that would’ve made Loki proud. Even my tattoos faded without a growl. My hair this morning was aquamarine like my eyes, and my lip was pierced.
I always liked it best this way. I loved my brothers (hey, you couldn’t get closer than being born a triplet), but when they appeared magically within me, their personalities flooded through with such dominance in their shifter identities that I wasn’t myself.
I was always a monster though.