Neela

Neela

It was a miracle. A straight-from-heaven, thank-you-sweet-Jesus miracle. I woke up in the morning without a hangover.

“What’s a hangover?” Liz asked, and I danced a little jig as I explained how human booze made you feel like shit for hours—sometimes days.

“So why do you drink it?”

“For fun.”

My good mood didn’t last long because snapshots of memory dropped into my lap. Had Ronan walked me home? Had I held his hand and stumbled into his chest like a damn idiot? Yes, yes, and yes.

“Fuck.”

Liz shoved a plate of eggs and puffer muffins at me. “Something wrong?”

I put my head in my hands, refusing the food. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Liz scraped out a stool and sat at the kitchen counter. “My highly developed fae senses are telling me something is wrong,” she joked.

“I told Ronan I wasn’t fae. And when he told me how Seb was my brother…I think I winked. Oh, shit.”

Liz was practical, like a rock in a storm, while I was a damn origami bird tearing apart in the torrential rain. “He probably didn’t believe you. Your only move is to carry on as though nothing happened and hold your head high.”

I groaned and lowered my head all the way to the table.

My wrist tingled, and I slapped my other hand over it. “No, no, no. Not today. I’m not your Lady Fancy Bloomers, I’m just the bitch who stole you, and I want a day off.”

The bracelet ignored me. It really was evil. The tingling got painful, and I plunged my whole hand into an ice-cold glass of orange juice, but it didn’t relieve the burning.

“Fine.” I scraped my stool back with my butt and shouted into my wrist. “I’ll go. Is that what you want?”

The agony immediately disappeared, and I growled at my arm, “Stupid demonic tattoo.” It pulsed a warning tingle in response.

Before leaving for the forest glade, I checked in with Liz, who gave my outfit the nod of approval. Soft silk slippers that were tougher than boots, blood-red leather pants that looked rockstar, and a comfy loose black tank that never seemed to smell.

I tried to remember Liz’s advice to hold my head high as I walked into the forest classroom, but I think I overcompensated. I was practically staring at the canopy when I set foot in the clearing, refusing to fix my gaze anywhere near Ronan.

“You’re late,” Gabrelle snapped.

“And you’re a bitch,” I retorted.

A rumbling voice had me instantly on edge. “I thought you weren’t coming, tomcat.” I couldn’t avoid him any longer, but when I looked at Ronan, I wished I hadn’t. I’d never seen someone look so thoroughly disappointed at my arrival. His full lips were pressed tight into a grimace, and he rubbed at the back of his neck.

Our conversation last night was a mosaic missing most of the tiles, but even I could piece together that I must have said something to piss him off and make him hate me even more.

Relaxing my stance, I cocked out a hip. Hatred, I could work with. It was way better than shame. “Sorry to disappoint, princeling.”

He just stared at me with those fathomless black-hole eyes, which I couldn’t read to save my life, his cut jaw clenched.

I stepped back and almost tripped over Doug, who was crowding around my ankles. She always accompanied me to the forest, although she was happy enough to let me go into the city streets alone. Perhaps she sensed more danger here than anywhere else.

I collapsed onto a bush under the deep shade of a tall tree, hoping to disappear into the dark. If the thick scent of leaves and flowers could swallow me whole, I’d be a happy lady.

Leif and Dion were already here. Leif was bare-chested, wearing gray sweatpants that highlighted his silver hair and eyes—his usual uniform. Dion had milky hair and eyes that did not suit his Mediterranean ruggedness at all. He held a paper scroll, making me sag further into my bush.

It was the day of the second trial. Shit.

I slumped so deep I almost folded in two. “What’s this one? If it’s another twenty-mile run through the bush, I’m fucking walking.”

Ronan sneered. “This one has to be spellwork or inner power.” He didn’t need to add the silent word: idiot.

Dion read from the scroll. “Today’s trial shall test the heirs’ skill in spellwork.” Leif groaned, Gabrelle smiled softly and cocked out a hip clad in fawn leather, and Ronan nodded.

“Gaia will summon five demons, one for each of you to defeat. You have sixty seconds to prepare.” Dion looked up with a grin. “Battle skills.”

Ronan glanced at me and then away, probably hoping I’d die in whatever fight was coming.

Adrenaline hit my bloodstream, and I jumped to my feet. “A demon? Your bitch goddess is summoning a demon?”

Leif rubbed his hands together. “Just minor demons, nothing serious. We should be fine.”

“You should be fine,” I shouted. “You’ve been learning spells your entire lives. What about me? I don’t know a single one. What am I supposed to do, just stand here and die?”

It was a rhetorical question, but it landed seriously, and the heirs glanced at each other, looking smug. Gabrelle gave Ronan a loaded look, and he finally met my eye. “Yes. That’s exactly what you should do.”

I looked around for a weapon and picked up a long stick just as five columns of smoke grew from the ground. The smoke columns solidified, forming five terrifying beings, one for each of us.

Mine was a massive cat with sharp fangs and fire instead of a mane that swished around as it moved. It smelled of ash. “Stay the hell away from me, fire lion,” I shouted, brandishing my stick.

The other heirs formed an outward-facing circle, their backs to one another so they couldn’t be attacked from behind. I was left on my own.

The fighting began. Each heir began mumbling incantations, and for a few hopeful moments, I tried to tune into what they were saying so I could repeat the spell, but it was no good. They spoke over the top of one another with rising and falling volume, speaking in a language I didn’t recognize and had no hope of reproducing.

Their four demons circled, a towering ogre, a dog-sized dragon, a warrior with horns, and a battalion of wasps that swooped and attacked Gabrelle as a single unit.

My fire lion lunged, snagging my attention and sprinkling sparks at my feet. I ducked as a sharp claw swiped through the air. My mind was blank. I couldn’t think of any way out of this. The other heirs were muttering and moving their hands, and all I had was a rotting stick.

The lion roared again, and flames shot out its mouth, so I hit the ground and rolled, just clearing the inferno. My heart was ratcheting out of control, hammering inside me, and my hands were sweaty. I’d lost my stick while rolling away from the flames, so I scanned the ground, desperately searching for something else I could use as a weapon.

The fire lion stalked me, and I somersaulted beneath another powerful swipe and picked up a rock, which I pelted at the creature to no effect.

I spared a glance at the others, hoping they’d come to help me once their own demons were defeated. The swarm of wasps was spinning in a cyclone that Gabrelle was controlling, and she siphoned them off one by one. Dion ducked as his warrior attacked and knocked his concentration, halting his spell. Leif didn’t seem to be faring much better, but Ronan had already defeated his ogre.

Ronan wasn’t coming to help me, though. Or anyone else. He leaned against a tree with a smug look on his stupid chiseled face, his bulging arms crossed over his broad chest.

I could sense him watching me. He knew exactly how much trouble I was in, but his face was expressionless, and he didn’t lift a finger to help.

The fire lion pounced and pinned me to the ground, its claws snagging my tank top on either side of my body. Its breath was like a furnace, searing, painful, and stank of the acrid pits of hell.

“I’ve got you now, faeling,” the lion snarled, startling me.

“You can speak?” Perhaps there was hope for me after all. “You’re not going to kill me, are you?”

“I’m going to slice your fragile neck in two,” the creature roared. “You woke me from my slumber.”

Now that was a sentiment I could understand. “But…” I racked my brain desperately for an argument that could save my life. “If—”

Two fierce creatures with fangs even longer and sharper than the lion’s growled from behind and pounced on the demon.

My heart leaped into my throat as Doug and Herb rolled and fought against the hellcat.

They were a blur of grassy green fur and searing fire as they tumbled and wrestled, each creature fighting for its life. My heart was in my mouth, and my lungs were frozen in fear.

Finally, the lion snarled, “Enough!” It pulled away from the snuffle tuffs, growling and dripping flames onto the forest floor like blood, which singed every leaf they touched. It looked exhausted and wounded, and with one final growl, it disintegrated into smoke, dispersing into the ivy-strewn earth.

I sprinted to Doug and Herb, checking them over for wounds, hoping all that dripping blood belonged to the lion, not them.

They were singed but would be okay, with surface injuries that would heal. I crooned and petted them until they reverted to their grass-tuft forms and snuggled together under a tree.

Then I whirled on Ronan. “You would really just watch me die?”

He watched me with his unreadable damn eyes, still leaning against the tree, not moving a muscle.

Balling my fists in rage, I whirled around to see how the others were faring. I hated all of the sniveling prats, but I would help them defeat their hellish opponents rather than stand around watching them die.

But nobody needed my help. All the demon creatures were gone, and the heirs were standing about, panting. Except for Gabrelle, who looked composed and neat, with her pink hair flowing over her shoulders and her fawn leather pants not even showing a smudge of dirt. She was watching me with an orchestrated smile.

“Glad I’m entertaining you,” I muttered to her.

A silver number appeared above each heir’s head, shimmering in the dappled sunlight. A five for Ronan because he defeated his demon first, four for Gabrelle, three for Leif, and two for Dion. I glanced above my own head and saw a shimmering number one.

I felt lightheaded. I’d scored a point? I’d scored a point! Me, a trashbag orphan from the Docklands, I’d participated in a fae trial and scored a damn point. I rounded on the others. “Sucked in. I scored a precious point and didn’t die.”

I looked around, searching for the smug grin on Ronan’s face but finding him stony and expressionless instead. “I didn’t want you to die,” he gritted out. “I would have intervened.”

My hands flew to my hips. “Oh yeah? Before or after the lion bit off my head?”

The silver number five disappeared from above his raven head, and his jaw ticked, but he said no more.

Leif trotted over and threw himself onto the jasmine mattress. “Suck it, big D. You’re definitely gonna be below me in the final rankings.” He glanced up at me. “Fae gotta do shit themselves, babe. We’re not allowed to help each other. That would influence the rankings.”

Gabrelle crossed the clearing and pulled herself onto the stone ledge, making it look effortless. She crossed one leg silkily over the other. “No fae can sit on a throne who hasn’t won her place.” She cut me a hard-edged glance. “That means you win your own way, you don’t have it handed to you. If you can’t tell by now you don’t have what it takes, you never will.”

“You know, I actually agree with you,” I said, rounding on her. “I don’t need help from anybody. Never have. My whole life, I’ve done everything by myself and for myself. I didn’t even need your help to score a point in the spellwork challenge when I don’t even know a single damn spell.”

I was overjoyed to see a flicker of displeasure cross the ice queen’s brow. That was the human equivalent of laying down and weeping. But she smoothed it over fast. “You scored one point and only because of your grassy friends.”

Doug and Herb growled from the corner.

“And who scored the single on the spellwork trial last year? One of you must have.”

Discomfort simmered through the glade, and I bloody loved it.

Ronan broke the silence. “Last year, Sebarah scored the single. That’s where House Flora always finishes. Dead. Last.”

“He got one point, I got one point, so I belong here just as much as he ever did.”

Dion was chewing on a bar that was turning his hair dark green, starting at the roots and flowing down. “Flora didn’t come last in our parents’ cohort.”

Ronan snapped his head. “Yes, they did. House Flora is ranked bottom among our parents.”

Dion crossed and sat heavily on the mattress beside Leif, offering his friend a second muesli bar. “Flora chose that position. They came in second behind your parents but elected to take last place. Seb’s mom didn’t want the power, didn’t want the responsibility or something.”

That information obviously meant a lot to Ronan. His tanned face darkened, reddened, and his entire body went rigid. “So why was Sebarah so weak?”

Leif took a bite of the muesli bar and groaned appreciatively, speaking with his mouth full. “Because most of their power went to someone else, dude.”

Every pair of eyes in the clearing landed on me, even Doug and Herbs’. I tried my hardest to channel fae stillness and not move a muscle, but I shifted uncomfortably under their attention.

The funny thing was, they thought this information was meaningful to me, that it somehow made me more powerful and likely to kick their asses. Because they didn’t know the truth.

I wasn’t fae. I stole the damn bracelet, and their dead friend had nothing to do with me. The only decent news was that Ronan hadn’t believed me last night when I confessed I wasn’t fae. He’d just thought I was a drunken fool…which was hard to deny.

I scooped Doug and Herb into my arms and headed home. But I had to have the last word. “I guess you guys will rank below me.” I locked eyes with Ronan. “I include you in that, princeling. I’m coming for you.”

I loved the ringing silence…but not the fact I had no way to back that up. I was all mouth and no action, as usual.