MAGENTA
When my three wickedly delicious Immortals freed me from Hecate's Tree, resurrecting me, I'd been granted a second chance at life.
I hadn’t guessed that Robin had already been blessed with his or that I’d be lucky enough to also have a shot at my second chance at love.
But even second chances required sacrifice.
Willoughby knelt before the head table this night of the Enchanted Ball, as his younger brother towered over him, strangling him with the cursed silk. Darby had bound Willoughby in the uniform to control his body, mind, and magic. But he hadn't been able to break his brother: the prince who should be king.
My magic billowed out of me in furious waves, rattling the windows. The Rebels, both Princes and Immortals, were only held back from throwing themselves forward to protect their lover by Lysander's restraining hand. Sleipnir broke off his song, looking ready to chuck his guitar at Darby's head, despite treating it almost as a lover only a moment before.
I couldn't help the shiver at the thought of his hot fingers playing down me with the same talent that he'd stroked sounds from that instrument.
I'd never seen such an enraged scarecrow as Fox made.
Lysander's gaze met mine, and he nodded at Titus, whose gaze hungrily devoured the scene in front of him.
Lysander knew Titus better than anyone. I had to trust my fae lover. He'd protected Willoughby for years. If he believed that Willoughby needed to face his own haunted past, then I had to let him.
After all, I'd faced mine.
Titus lazily tipped his goblet at Damelza. "Is an eleven execution the traditional start to a Rebel Academy ball? It makes an improvement on that atrocious so-called music."
"Hey," Sleipnir protested.
"Last time, I only had to endure being stood up at the altar and my total humiliation in front of my Fae Court and witch society alike, destroying all my dreams. I'd hoped this time would be an improvement.” Titus eyed Darby. “Sit down, would you, boy?"
Darby stared at him in shock. "I'm a king."
"You're a petty sadist who breaks his toys." Titus' lips pinched.
Willoughby gasped desperately for breath, clutching his neck.
"You're spoiling our enjoyment of the wine." Bacchus' eyes swirled amber, as she slammed down her goblet. Her wine spilled. I scrunched up my nose at the intoxicating spicy scent. Juni slipped her hand over Snow's, edging him further down the table away from Darby. "There's chaos and darkness, and then there's being a brat, darling. Guess which you're being?"
Bask whispered proudly, "She calls me a wild panther."
Darby opened and shut his mouth, all of a sudden looking stripped back to the teenager that he truly was, despite the sting of his powerful magic and the trappings of kinghood.
Damelza slipped out of her seat and stalked to him, closing her fist around his hand. "One of my favorite mottoes is: It never kills to be polite. But your rudeness is killing one of my students, and you've no idea the paperwork that an execution at a public event entails."
Sweet Hecate, was that the first time that I'd been pleased to hear one of the academy’s mottoes?
With a frustrated sneer, Darby let the silk drop away from Willoughby's neck, and Willoughby fell forward.
"Who sent the assassins, brother?" Willoughby demanded with a voice as rough as sandpaper.
Darby raised his chin. "Dark Elves...like you."
Willoughby's eyes were slits of ice through the frozen waterfall of his hair. "You're lying."
"How dare a monster speak to me like that."
The tips of Willoughby's hair tinged to ice, as he straightened his shoulders and raised his head; my heart sped up because I'd never seen anyone so regal on their knees before. "I wish that I'd realized I wasn't the only monster in our family. But I was too destroyed by grief and guilt. Now I can see clearly, however, and I know that I'm a killer. I shall always repent that. But you're a traitor—"
"Silence!" Darby reddened, leaping towards Willoughby.
To my shock, however, Damelza's eyes glittered pink, and she froze Darby with her magic. When he struggled against the paralysis (his eyes wide with alarm), she only patted his arm in the parody of reassurance.
Was paralyzing your guests a type of ball etiquette that I hadn't learned?
Willoughby pushed himself to his feet. In a sudden rush, us Rebels dove to his side, clasping him in a cuddle of lion ears, feathers, and ruby slippers.
"Don't scare me like that again," Bask commanded. "Pet me."
Willoughby tenderly stroked Bask's hair.
Damelza tapped her teeth, looking Darby up and down appraisingly, before glancing at Juni. "It appears that we will have a late night of paperwork, after all. Now there'll be two eleven princes in my academy."
Willoughby stiffened, before meeting his brother's gaze. Despite everything, Willoughby's expression was flooded with compassion.
I rather thought that mine expressed my thought of ha! Irony!
"Let me go." Darby's eyes were wide with fear; he'd have been struggling if he could. Instead, he'd been transformed into just another ice sculpture. His magic lashed around the room. At once, he looked achingly young and like he'd finally understood that he'd waded out of his depth. "I'm not one of your Rebels to be held against my will. Nothing has been proved. You can't do this without a contract..."
Parchment materialized out of the air, and Damelza caught it with a sharp smile. "A contract like this…? All I need is someone to sign it with Blood Magic, and then you're all mine. For something as serious as treason, attempted regicide and patricide, you'll be with me a long, long time."
Titus straightened a crease out on his trousers with supreme casualness and not in the least as if a fellow guest was about to be sentenced to the academy.
"It's only his word," Darby hissed. Then he turned a plaintive look on Willoughby. "Please...brother...tell them that you're making it up. I'll let you home. I see now that this place isn’t fit to reform you."
For a moment, Willoughby's expression softened, and Darby's look became more hopeful. "Am I now your brother?" Then his gaze became icy. "Your guilt doesn't absolve mine. Both are real."
Darby roared in fury.
Damelza turned to Fox. "It's charmingly simple to settle this. Confess, use your power. Is the elven king...I apologize for the slip...soon to be ex-king...guilty of sending the assassins?"
Fox cracked his knuckles with a satisfied smile. "It makes me all tingly when you ask me to use my powers. Yeah, it's the truth, traitorous little dick."
Damelza's smile was wickedly gleefully, as she placed the contract in front of Titus. "As you're our patron, could you be kind enough to sign for him?"
Titus’ smile was predatory, as he sliced his own nail across his palm and blotted the blood across the bottom of the parchment. Then he flapped his wings and swooped in front of Darby. He landed with an intimidating thump.
He grasped Darby by his hair. "You're one of my Princes now."
Lysander gripped Willoughby by the arm, and Midnight by the other, before dragging them both towards Titus.
I stiffened. What in the witching heavens was Lysander doing? Had this fae ball and his own uncle's dominance seeped back into him, so that he'd forgotten that he didn't hurt any of my Rebels?
Yet Lysander had been right about Willoughby. I had to trust him now.
"My noble self has failed you, bringing shame on my kingdom. One is worthless," Lysander said. "Yet as Prefect, I guarded this elf effectively, as well as my whipping boy." His gaze darted to Juni. "If you ask my Tutor, she'll give good report in that at least."