Chapter Eleven

B y the end of the class, I could easily see what Rival was talking about. The lesson seems to be outdated, focusing on strategies that past commanders have used in their wars. Even if we have another war, the strategies that they’re teaching in that class wouldn’t necessarily be relevant. It seems to me that they’re keeping the wrong traditions alive. Lunch is a reasonably smooth affair, and by the time we leave, I’m grateful that we’ve had a relatively drama-free day.

“Farren, boys, can I speak with you for a moment?” Uncle Magnus asks, approaching us just before we enter the gym for combat class.

“Sure,” Storm replies with his signature frown.

The hallways are fairly empty now, but he still keeps his voice low as he talks, “Something big is going on. All of the Kings and Queens of the courts have been summoned to the winter palace. I don’t know if you are aware, but the head Seer is currently in attendance there before she moves onto the next court. Your father is attending as well.”

“What? Why? He’s not royal.” I reply, unable to help, stating the obvious thanks to the sinking feeling in my gut.

“No, but he is very well connected, as you know, and is in a couple of their confidences. Whatever is happening is not good, Farren. The last thing we need is for him to decide he needs you back home.” His warning makes a shiver of premonition go down my spine.

Ice freezes in my veins; going back there now, even after such a short amount of time, would be incredibly difficult, especially since I’ve been shown kindness and consideration here, far more than I ever did with him. I also know that as soon as he gets me back there, he’ll insist on punishing me despite the fact that he agreed to send me here. At the time, I don’t think he realised quite how incompetent his other enforcers were when it came to dealing with his problems. Of course, they didn’t have the threats hanging over them that I did, and any time one of the new hires seemed to question his methods or the things that were asked of them, they mysteriously disappeared. It happened so often that he stopped hiring new people, and his current enforcers have been with him for so long that they’re nearly as bad as he is and love to help inflict the punishments that my father demands.

“Farren, Farren!” someone calls, clearly having been trying to get my attention for a while.

My eyes refocus, and I look blankly at Reaper, who’s stood in front of me, his knees bent slightly so he can meet my eyes. He’s just that freaking tall. All the guys are surrounding me with the same worried looks on their faces, and my eyes drift over them all before catching on to Storm as he leans against the wall, separate from the rest of us and, of course glaring.

“Are you okay?” Reaper asks gently.

“Erm, yeah.” I reply awkwardly before deflecting with a question of my own, “where did Magnus go?”

“He said he had a meeting to get to and needed to go. He did say goodbye.” Loki replies with a slight frown and then continues changing the subject for me, distracting the others from my momentary lapse into the abysse that is my mind, “something pretty fucking big must be going on because the kings and queens wouldn’t all be in the same place otherwise.”

“Has your father said anything?” Mayhem asks, looking over to Storm.

His glare deepens as he thinks about the answer and replies shortly, “No.”

“If the meeting is as last minute as Magnus made it out to be, then I doubt he had the time to get in contact with you. Hopefully, it’ll be a big enough deal that he’ll be too occupied to come here or check in.” Kill adds, his expression dark. “Does he know I’m here?”

“I sure as shit haven’t told him, but that doesn’t mean the Headmaster hasn’t, or one of the students could have told their parents, and it could’ve gotten back to him that way.”

“Fan-fucking-tastic.” He replies grimly.

I’m not too fond of the looks on either of their faces. They’ve got the same haunted look in their eyes that screams of shared trauma. I hate that he’s still a threat to them even now, and if he does end up here, I might have to see what I can do to deter him from returning or bothering the brothers ever again. I can be pretty fucking persuasive when I need to be.

“Don’t, Farren. It’ll bring far too much trouble for all of us, trouble that we don’t need. He’s not just a random man; he’s a king.” Kill warns me, his face serious but a spark of pride in his eyes.

“What?” Storm barks, his eyes studying my expression closely and then flicking back to his brother. They widen slightly at whatever he sees in our expressions. “You’d go after him? For Killian?” he asks, seemingly somewhat perplexed, and it occurs to me that, of course, no one has ever stuck up for them where their father is concerned. He has even more power than my own, and no one who wants to remain in his good graces would go up against a king.

I turn to look at him fully and meet his eyes. “For both of you.”

Something flashes through his eyes, something other than the usual blankness that sits there, but it’s gone in a second, and his eyes revert back to the cold indifference I’m used to seeing.

“We’re late.” He mutters as he pushes off the wall and pulls the doors to the gym open, disappearing inside.

“Huh, I think you shocked him,” Mayhem mutters, staring after Storm before starting to follow.

“How can you tell?” I ask jokingly.

He smirks, “I’ve known him long enough now that I’ve learned to pick up on the little hints of emotions whenever he deigns to show any at all.”

My reply is cut off by the instructor yelling at us as soon as we step foot through the gym doors.

“You’re late! Get your arses changed now!” the instructor yells, and we instantly separate, rushing to get changed.

As I rush back out, I smack into a hard chest and meet the eyes of a very serious-looking Killian, his tail wrapping around my thigh to keep me where he wants me. Darkness starts to bleed across his eyes as his gifts try to take over.

“Don’t think I didn’t realise that you didn’t answer me.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I grin.

“Farren,” he growls, his voice deepening.

Before he can say anything else, I yank his head down to mine and kiss him firmly. His hands tighten on my hips as his tongue parts my lips, and I push myself closer to him; one of my hands goes to the back of his head and pulls on his hair roughly. His chest vibrates with a growl that I feel all the way down to my toes. Fuck, it’s hot when he does that.

When he finally releases me with a chastising bite on my lip, I’m breathing embarrassingly hard, considering it was just a kiss.

He smirks, “That didn’t go quite how you planned it to, did it?”

“Fuck you,” I breathe back, amused despite myself.

He shrugs, “Alright, if you insist.”

He makes a grab for me again, and I bat his hands away with a chuckle. “Not what I meant, and you know it.”

His eyes spark with happiness at my teasing before he falls serious again, “Farren, please promise me you won’t go after my father if he comes here.”

I frown, “How about I promise to keep you informed of all my plans concerning your father?”

“All of them? You’ve already got plans for him?” he asks incredulously.

“Just a vague idea. Come on,” I grab his hand and pull him towards the class.

He lets me pull him forward, but I know he’s going to bring it up again.

The instructor glares at us before separating us and setting us up for sparring. I have to ensure that I hold back, especially now that Loki has healed my back and I’m back up to full strength. I’ve also noticed that my magic is playing up, and I have no idea why. When I come back from the Void, my magic is barely contained, and I normally have to fight it out somehow, but this feels different. It almost feels like when I’m in a dangerous situation, in the middle of an assassination, that buzz of anticipation and excitement. Still, there’s no direct danger right now, and I’m definitely not assassinating anyone. I’m probably safer here than I ever have been; it just doesn’t make sense.

It makes me wonder if maybe there’s a different kind of anticipation that my magic is aware of but hasn’t decided to fill me in on yet. It feels excited. I’ve learned over the years not to dismiss anything, so it’s definitely something I’m going to keep an eye on. I might even check in with the guys to see if their gifts or supernatural sides have been giving them any grief, but for now, I need to focus back on my class.

My third opponent in the class gives me a bit more of a challenge than my previous ones. We were told to use everything at our disposal, stopping just short of death. As we circle each other, I watch him closely, trying to pinpoint what kind of supernatural he is and whether he leans heavily on his supernatural side or the magic he has or whether he can actually fight as well. It’s never a good idea to rely on just your supernatural gifts. It can leave you at a severe disadvantage if, for some reason, you find yourself without the magic or the supernatural side that you’ve been used to relying on in a fight.

It surprises me when I realise that he’s watching me as closely as I’m studying him, so it stands to reason that he’s at least been listening in this class and taking it seriously. He suddenly strikes out with his left fist, and I move just in time to miss being hit by it. A bubble of excitement fills me at the prospect of a proper fight. I strike back quickly, knocking his head to the side and feeling impressed when he just shakes it off and instead of getting mad that he got hit like so many people tend to do, he just keeps his cool.

We exchange attacks for a while, both of us sticking to using only our fighting skills. For me, it’s because if I use one gift in a combat situation, the others tend to want to come out and play too and whereas usually, I can hold them back with my magic behaving oddly at the moment, I don’t want to risk it. I’m not entirely sure why my opponent isn’t using his magic; either he likes to fight the traditional way, or his magic is not the kind that can be used in a combat situation which is entirely possible, but I’m guessing reasonably rare at the academy since our whole education is pretty much based around combat.

If that’s the case, it means he must have some mad fighting skills to get accepted, even if he has his parent’s money behind him.

I’m beyond curious, so I step it up, moving quicker and more precisely. He blocks as many hits as he takes and lands a fair few on me, which is pretty fucking impressive. I start to strike out with my right hand before changing my mind and bringing my leg up to kick out at his stomach. I’m distracted momentarily as his previously dark green eyes flash white, signalling him as a seer and a pretty fucking powerful one if he can use his gift with such preciseness. The distraction costs me, and I end up on my ass. He grins down at me, clearly proud of himself, as he holds out his hand to help me back up.

I take it and return his smile as he lets go as soon as I’m standing, “It’s pretty impressive that you use your gift to predict your opponent's next moves.”

His grin broadens, “Thanks, I’m still working on it. You managed to get quite a few hits through.”

“Not as many as I normally would.” I reply honestly, “If you ever want to practice and help me learn to defend myself against your particular skill, let me know.”

“Sure, that’d be great, actually. Everyone else tends to avoid me.” His smile never leaves his face, and I get the feeling that he’s more amused by that than hurt.

“Why?” I ask bluntly because, other than the guys, he’s the first person I’ve actually been remotely interested in talking to, and I’m curious.

“Because I come from poverty, I used my skills to get in here and not mummy and daddy’s fucking money. I’m here on a scholarship.” He answers defensively, crossing his arms over his chest and staring down at me.

“They’ll all be fucked if we actually have to go to war.” I shrug.

He blinks at me in shock for a moment, clearly expecting a different reply before that broad grin of his settles back on his face, and his posture relaxes again.

“I couldn’t agree, mo . . .” he stops midsentence and simply freezes.

I wait for him to finish his sentence, but his eyes cloud over white, and it becomes clear that he’s having a vision. I step back slightly and wait. I’m used to witnessing Kill having his visions. What I’m not used to though, is the sudden breeze that whips around him, lifting his shoulder-length silver hair and tangling it around him. His feet slowly lift from the floor as the wind continues to circle him.

“Whoa,” I mutter in shock.

“Alright, everyone, step back. He’s having a vision!” the instructor yells, moving everyone back to their own spaces again.

“Fucking orphan freak,” someone mutters as they walk past me back to their mats and more people than not laugh at his comment.

Without looking in their direction, I send a thread of my air magic towards the voice and grin as I then hear the satisfying thud and grunt of someone landing hard on the floor.

“I saw that,” Mayhem says quietly as he comes to stand next to me, his arm brushing against mine, something that I shouldn’t be aware of as much as I am.

I simply smirk, choosing not to respond and feel the others move over to us. The instructor glares at us but considering we’re the only ones currently looking out for the guy having a vision, he seems to let it slide. In theory, his magic should protect him if someone tries to attack him while he is vulnerable but in reality, that can get a bit iffy, so it’s best to watch out for him. Although they all do as they’re told and go back to sparring, most of them still shoot curious looks this way. They may hold a certain level of disdain for him and think that he’s beneath them, but they’re still nosy fuckers.

“Is he okay?” I ask, glancing at Kill before my attention goes back to a still floating, white-eyed guy with his hair whipping around him in such a frenzy that he might actually have to shave his head to get the knots out.

“He should be. It looks like he’s having a pretty fucking severe one.”

“I’ve seen him get a vision in class before; usually, his eyes just flash white, maybe a slight breeze, but nothing like this,” Loki adds with a frown.

The guy drops to the floor suddenly, landing hard on his knees, and the guys and I rush over to him to help him back up. He lets us pull him to his feet, his hands shaking, and all of the colour drained from his face. I’m hoping that’s from the toll the vision has taken on him and not because he’s seen something horrendous.

“Are you alright?” Kill asks, “that looked like a big one.”

He brushes his hair back from his face, his hand getting stuck in the tangles, and he gives up with a frown, his eyes darting everywhere like he’s still in the vision. “I, fuck,” he replies and then rushes towards the door.

“You can’t just leave!” the instructor yells after him, not bothering to ask if he’s okay.

“I need to see the Headmaster,” the guy yells back, not even pausing in his stride as he pushes his way through the door.

“Pretty big coincidence that Magnus warns us of the Head Seer calling all the royals to the palace, and then he has a vision like that and rushes to see the Headmaster,” Storm points out grimly.

“We could try and ask him what he saw?” Loki suggests.

“We could, but I doubt we’ll get anything out of him. We all know how secretive Seers are,” Reaper replies, shooting a glance at Kill.

“Speaking of, have you seen anything?” Rival asks Kill.

“You know I wouldn’t be able to tell you specifics even if I had, but no, I haven’t seen anything. Nothing that would mean the need to involve the royals.” He pauses for a second before continuing, “but the fates may have deemed that this vision wasn’t one that was necessary for me to see.”

“Fair enough, I guess we can try to catch up with,” I frown, “shit, what’s his name? Do you guys know?”

Mayhem smirks, I’ve just spent most of the lesson fighting with this guy, and I don’t even know his name. Damn, my people skills are rusty.

“It’s Zev,” he answers me.

I nod like I knew it, and I was just testing them; judging from their amused looks, I don’t fool any of them, “Right, Zev. As I was saying, we could try and catch up with Zev and see if there’s anything he can tell us.”

“There’s no harm in trying. I want to talk to him anyway, he’s fucking strong, and I don’t understand why he’s been put in some of the lower level classes.” Reaper frowns.

“What do you mean? I didn’t realise you knew him?” Storm asks.

“I don’t, not really, but I’ve seen him around, and other than this class, he’s in the bottom set for almost everything. Just from his use of his gift fighting against Farren, I can tell that’s not right.”

“He said the other students have been giving him shit because he’s lowborn,” I sneer at the phrase, “is it possible that the teachers are doing it too?”

“They shouldn’t, but too many of them have forgotten the original purpose of this academy and now take bribes from various nobles, so it wouldn’t surprise me.” Reaper replies.

“Well, add it to the list of shit we need to talk to him about.” Storm grumbles.