Fae of the South (Court of Crown and Compass Book 3) by E. Hall (libby ebook reader .txt) 📕

“I didn’t know you liked dancing.”

“Exactly. You hardly know me at all.” Lea turns and storms away.

More than a few pairs of eyes stare at us, but I don’t care. What concerns me is that the best thing in my life just left it.

Chapter 11

Leajka

It turns out that it’s possible to be boiling mad and completely flustered at the same time.

I exit the cafeteria after fighting with Tyrren. He’s never stood up to me like that and if the red-hot fire from dancing with Emeric wasn’t still in my veins, I’d have swooned. I’m not the swoony type, but Aina, who I worked with at the bookstore, encouraged me to read a few romance novels. I didn’t hate them.

It’s true, Tyrren has always been there. But right now, I want to be anywhere but here. My thoughts drift to Emeric. The way he looked at me. How he said I’d summoned him. He’d be whatever I wanted him to be. The temptation, the pull to him, was as strong as the magic that simmers inside of me.

Outside, I try to catch my breath. The sun burned away the fog and bathes the stone on the east side of the buildings in a magnificent gingery gold. Last night, while dancing and lost in Emeric’s embrace, I faltered, almost fell. Tyrren was there to help me up but there was no denying Emeric’s hold on me. Possessive. Complete.

I’m on the verge of losing my mind.

What is going on with me?

After returning from the meeting last night, whatever magic seduced me into thinking what I’m doing here made sense, wore off during the long wakeful hours as the clock teased me by not keeping the correct time. I swear it was three in the morning for three hours.

Doubt crept back in, knocking into the shadows of thought. Then irritation grew into straight-up outrage at not having clear answers to—well, to the questions that I haven’t yet asked.

Who am I? Why am I here?

Maybe this is an existential crisis?

If I hadn’t just stormed away from Tyrren, he’d know what to say. But I wasn’t wrong. He doesn’t understand. I’ve never felt like I belonged in my skin or here, in this realm. After learning about Terra and Borea, it’s starting to make a strange kind of sense.

I push against confusion, letting rage back in.

I steam forward along the sidewalk, but my train wreck of thoughts derails when I realize I have nowhere else to go. I stop.

I have no family. No one. I’m alone. A tear escapes, but I quickly wipe it away along with the notion that I can leave this campus.

I shouldn’t have gotten so upset at Tyrren.

A bell signals breakfast is over. I hurry back to the dorm so I have time to change before classes.

First up, I have Magical Management. Within the first five minutes of Professor Porter’s instruction, it should actually be called, Suppress your Magic. I’m good at that. She hardly seems like she enjoys the topic though.

Tyrren stumbles in late. That’s unlike him. Even though he wants to be a blacksmith, his grades could probably get him into most colleges. Even with school, his job, and working at the forge, he also managed to hang out with me. His expression is pure iron and he hardly takes his eyes off the window.

As if reading his mind, I think Yeah. I want freedom too. Maybe some of that will be found in information. I raise my hand.

“Yes, Miss Vladikoff.”

“I want answers.”

Professor Porter adjusts her glasses. “Then ask questions.”

“What is this place? Why are we here?”

“Riker’s Reformatory School,” she answers as though it’s obvious.

“I mean before when this was a place for gifted supernaturals.”

She frowns. “Being called to Amsterdam Island Academy was an honor. You’re right, it was for the intellectually and magically gifted. It was a way for supernaturals to align with, cultivate, and learn how to use their gifts to serve the world.”

“Now, we’re being locked up, taught to restrain our magic.”

“You’re here so you’re kept safe.” Her lips form a prim line.

The bell rings as though calling that out as a lie. As we file from the classroom, I sense two sets of eyes on me—Tyrren and the teacher’s. I avoid them both.

On my way to my next class, a crowd gathers in front of the common quad. Across the door is the word Faetcher with a big letter X blazing through it.

Rumors spread quickly about the vandalism. I hope this isn’t strike two. Then again, I have an alibi. Professor Porter can testify that I was annoying her in class. I spot Amelia.

“What’s it mean?” I ask. “Rizon used the word yesterday.”

“It’s the worst kind of insult for fae.” Amelia wrings her hands.

“Any idea who did it?”

She shakes her head. “Pick a vamp, any vamp. Hopefully, they’ll still let us have the Fae Court Masquerade Ball this weekend.” She goes on to explain how some of the traditions when this was a magical academy have been maintained. “It’s like prom, but similar to the balls from the Fae Courts of Borea and just about the only fun to be had. Our little midnight rendezvous was a little taste.” She winks.

I swallow, thinking of my recent prom fail. “Do we have to go with a date?”

“Of course, and I know who your date is going to be. Never mind the way Tyrren looked at you. You were practically drooling over a certain hot mage.”

“A what?”

“A mage. The youngest and wisest so I hear. He came here from Borea when we started having troubles.”

“Do you mean Emeric? How did he end up here though?”

“He’s a champion for the fae. Doesn’t