Chapter 21

Tristan

My father wantsto retain a semblance of normality, convince all the people – magicals and normals alike – that nothing has changed and anything that has is for the better. The chancellor may be locked away in a cell somewhere, along with other ‘enemies' of the state, but things will continue as they always have. Only now, under the Lord Protector's care, we'll all be safer.

Does anyone actually believe that bullshit? Or are they just too spineless to complain, to protest, to ask the obvious questions?

It doesn't matter. He wants me back at the academy and Ellie back at her father's house. I have little choice but to obey. He's having me guarded around the clock by the best of his men, and while I'm sure I could out-power them one-on-one, I face little chance one-on-four, especially when I'm still recovering, still building back my powers, still weakened by my separation from Rhi.

Perhaps when I'm back at the academy, I'll have more opportunities to slip away. More chances of finding out what's happened to Azlan and the professor, to Spencer and Winnie. To Rhi. I can feel her through the bond, distant, and though I strain with all my might to get a better read on her emotions, on where the hell she is, it's useless.

Yes, the academy is the best place for me. The separation from my mate has me feeling half mad; pain I can't understand lingers in my gut and the temptation to do something stupid, to tear down the world just to get to her, is severe and ever-looming. Acting normal – like I don't give a shit about anything – like I'm not dying inside because of this separation – is becoming harder and harder. Especially under my father's watchful eyes. At least at the academy, it won't be him watching me.

He has his men drive me back to the academy – one sitting either side of me in the back seats, as if they half expect me to jump from the speeding car. It's mighty fucking tempting. But I remain where I am, my nails digging deep into my palms, so fucking deep I'm drawing blood. I watch as the hill comes into view, the academy resting on its brow. Work to rebuild has already begun, scaffolding ringing what remains of the burned-out carcass of the mansion.

Once again, my mind is drawn to those dragons. Where did they come from? And more importantly where did they go?

It makes no fucking sense. The Western forces were winning, they were beating us. They had dragons for fuck's sake. Why did they retreat? There was no reason, no need. They could have overtaken the republic completely.

I'm beginning to suspect that nothing was as it seemed. That those soldiers weren't from the West at all. That the entire attack was all my father's doing. His chance to grab control.

It's a thought that's still niggling away at me as the car comes to a halt outside what remains of the mansion and one of the men opens the door, sliding out and then waiting for me to do the same. He stands guard beside me as the principal comes hurrying across the gravel towards me. She looks immaculate as always, dressed in her usual tweed suit, but there's something different about her demeanor. She seems skittish, nervous, she twists her hands against her skirt and she offers me a look of consolation.

"Mr. Kennedy, I'm so pleased to have you back but so very sorry to hear about your mother. She was a," she hesitates, "wonderful woman."

"Thank you," I say, "she was."

"Well, returning to the academy – to a sense of normalcy will help, I'm sure. Although, as you can imagine, we are all shaken." She lifts her hand and rests it on my shoulder, then turns to the guard by my side. "Mr. Kennedy will be safe from here. The Lord Protector has increased security at the academy. We are in no danger." Her eyes flick behind me and I twist my head to find a pair of soldiers patrolling the boundary of the academy.

Are they here to keep danger out or me in?

The guard gives the principal a courteous nod before returning to the vehicle. And the principal gently nudges me to walk around the perimeter of the ruined mansion.

"We're hoping it will all be repaired in a couple of months. Good as new with some added security measures your father has devised included. In the meantime, we've erected some temporary classrooms and a canteen." As we walk around the building work, I see tents scattered across the grounds including a giant marque I'm guessing is the new food hall. "Luckily, your dorm building encountered very little damage and it was repaired as a priority. I'll let you return there now, Tristan, and get yourself settled. Dinner will be served at the slightly early time of 7:15pm from now on to allow for your father's daily broadcast afterwards." She balks slightly, her eyes dashing to mine in alarm. I pretend I haven't noticed. "Mandatory attendance, of course."

"Of course," I say smiling, waiting as she turns and returns in the direction of the building works. When she's out of sight, I pick up my feet, racing along the academy pathways, passing students who gape as I pass them, crashing through the dormitory doorway and up the staircase.

I halt at the door, lift my fist and pound on the wood.

At first there's no answer, and I pound harder, louder this time, the door shaking in its frame. Another minute passes and then it draws back and Summer Clutton-Brock stands in the doorway.

Her hair is shorter than the last time I saw her – the night of the ball – skimming her chin, and her skin looks so pale it's almost translucent – none of that usual bronze tan all the cheerleaders sport.

Her eyes land on me and several emotions flurry over her face – shock, jubilation, fear.

Yeah, she should be fucking scared. She should be fucking terrified.

She regains a hold of her emotions, pulling her face into one of excitement.

"Tristan! You're back. I'm so fucking pleased. The last few days without you have been–"

I shove her backwards and into her room, slamming the door behind me.

"You broke it. You broke the fucking binding promise."

The smile on her lips wavers ever so slightly.

"What? What are you talking about, Tris? I never broke any–"

"You did. I felt it. I told you I'd know if you broke it."

"I didn't break any stupid promise," she says, the smile turning sour.

I grab her by the throat and slam her into the nearest wall. She scrabbles at my fingers and I squeeze, squeeze until she's gasping for air.

"You think I'm stupid? An idiot? Is that it, Summer?" Her face turns bright red, her long fingernails scratch at my skin. "You broke it. We both know it. So who the hell did you tell?"

She scowls at me and sends a sharp zap of magic right into my gut.

I grunt, the pain making my eyes water, but I keep a hold of her throat, shaking her this time.

"Are you deaf?"

She blasts more magic my way, much more forceful this time, blowing us apart. I stumble backwards, watching as she gasps for air. Then I'm on her again, this time twisting her around, and banging her face-first into the wall.

She grunts, then scrabbles to break free, blasting magic my way which I bat away like it's an annoying fucking mosquito.

"Unless you tell me, right now, I'm going to fucking kill you, Summer Clutton-Brock."

"You can't!" she screeches. "You can't treat me this way. Your father promised to protect me. He promised you wouldn't be able to lay a finger on me."

"So it was him you told?" I laugh. "You really are fucking stupid, aren't you, Summer? You believed what my father told you? You trusted him? You should know Christopher Kennedy is a lying snake, one that will sink his poisonous fangs into you the first chance he gets."

"You're wrong, Tristan Kennedy," she taunts. "He admires me. He values me. So you'd better start treating me with respect."

"You have to earn respect," I snarl.

"Get your hands off me right now. I've already alerted campus security. Your father abhors violence towards women. His men will beat you to a pulp – just like your disgusting mutt of a friend."

"What?" I say, letting her go and stumbling backwards. "What did you say?"

She twists around, hugging her body to the wall, a cruel smile spreading across her lips – one I've seen directed at her victims many times before, never at me.

"Daddy didn't tell you? Your friend," she spits out the word like Spencer was never anything to her, "has been locked away – like all his kind – locked away where they can't do any harm. Frankly, I think they should be exterminated. It's what I told your father."

"Stars help me, Summer Clutton-Brock. I am going to kill you," I hiss, raising my hands, ready to strike her. And it's in that moment, with dark intentions – sinister, evil ones – swimming through my veins that I first feel it. Something dark in my magic. Something … scarlet.

Crimson magic.

A touch of crimson magic. Not mine. Rhianna's.

So this is how it happened. How we sealed the bond. When we were fighting side by side, her magic entered me – and mine? Did mine enter her?

The thought of it has me shivering from the top of my head to the tips of my toes.

In the distance, I hear heavy boots on the staircase. Summer wasn't lying. Campus security is on its way. Would they really lay a finger on me? Tristan Kennedy – the Lord fucking Protector's son. I don't know. I don't know what to believe anymore. The world has turned upside down. Everything I thought I knew unraveling before my eyes.

My mom dead. Spencer locked away. Rhianna gone.

"You're too late, Tristan Kennedy," Summer says with glee.

I peer down at my hands. Crimson magic? Could I wield it? Do I want to wield it? Because if I did, would I be any better than him? Would I be just like him?

I glance back up at Summer and something glints around her neck. A necklace. No. A locket. Piglet's locket.

I stride forward, the bravado vanishing from Summer's face as she cowers away from me. I grab a hold of the chain and yank it clean away from her neck.

Then I get the hell out of there before I do something I'll regret.