Chapter 29

Tristan

I sitat the desk in my old room, legs jiggling, staring down into the open drawer. Fuck, I want a joint. Fuck, I want one so badly. But I need to keep my head clear. Getting high right now, while it might calm all this raging anxiety in my body, may soothe the pain in my gut, is not going to help me think. And I need to think.

I rake my fingers through my hair.

I need to find my mate. I need to know she's safe. I need her with me. And not because of the unbearable pain in my gut, but because of the fucking ache in my heart.

But she's not the only one I need to find.

Was Summer talking bullshit? A load of crap simply to push my buttons? I've only been back in the academy 24 hours and the girl is worse than ever. Like she owns the school and everyone in it. And fuck, maybe she does, because it's not only Johnson kissing her ass now, all the fucking teachers are, including York herself. In fact, if I didn't know better, I'd suspect they're afraid of her.

I don't know what kind of pact she's made with my father, what bargain she made, but she obviously thinks it's a good one. One that gives her power over even me.

I slam the drawer shut and jump to my feet.

I've always been confident in my decisions and my own abilities. Yeah, maybe at times I've been over-confident – fucking cocky. I've never doubted myself before. But now, now I don't know what to do for the best.

Fate wants me with Rhianna. I want to be with Rhianna. But then there's Spencer. Doesn't fate want him with Rhianna too? Won't she need him as much as she needs me?

Is that how this works? And if that's the case, shouldn't I be trying to find my friend, trying to help him? If that's even possible.

I rake my fingers more firmly through my hair, tugging at the roots.

Should I talk to Summer again? Should I try to sweet talk more information out of her? Or should I reach out to my father, pretending to be supportive of his plans in the hope he'll supply me with information?

I decide a safer bet is York. She's never particularly liked me – I'm sure of that – despite the fact I've been her best student these last few years. She's always tolerated me. Plus, given the current circumstances and who my father is, she may be reluctant to tell me anything helpful at all.

I walk along the path towards the laboratories where York has set up a temporary office. There are few students out and those that are, clutch their books to their bodies and keep their gazes trained to the ground. Everyone is afraid. It's hardly fucking surprising. The authorities' security agents are patrolling the grounds and this afternoon two more students were pulled from our magical history and politics class for questioning. It's rare anyone returns from such questioning and unclear where the hell those students go, although my father's daily announcement yesterday gloated about the continuing number of traitors the authorities are finding and arresting.

What makes you a traitor is unclear. Although I suspect disapproving of my father is the foremost crime.

Lessons are in full swing – not that I've bothered to attend – and as I pass Dr. Johnson's classroom I can hear Summer pontificating in her high-pitched whine. The stupid girl is obviously unconcerned by the fact two of her posse are among those who have disappeared in the last few days.

How the hell did I put up with that girl for so fucking long? How did I ever think a girl like Summer was superior to a girl like Rhianna? Was I fucking stupid?!

I shake my head at my own idiocy and stop outside the principal's new door. I raise my fist and debate whether I'm doing the right thing. Unsure a-fucking-gain.

The decision is taken out of my hands.

"Come in, Mr. Kennedy," the principal says from behind the door, even though I haven't knocked. I push open the door and step through into the old lab. The tables and chairs have all been stacked in one corner, leaving only one behind in which the principal is sitting, papers, that have obviously been salvaged from the wreck of the mansion, stacked by her feet. "What can I do for you?" She removes her reading glasses. "I understand you haven't attended any of your classes today, not even gym class."

"I'm not interested in using real, harmful magic against my classmates without the proper protections."

"Your father believes such adjustments are needed in our teaching practices in order to …" she smiles flatly, "toughen up our students. He is quite certain if such teaching techniques had been in place before the enemy forces attacked the academy, they would not have been able to overrun the school."

So I didn't imagine that? We were losing the battle – we were vastly overpowered and overrun. I still don't understand why those forces withdrew, how the authorities managed to regain control despite the council also falling. It makes me all the more suspicious of my father.

"I don't agree with everything my father believes in."

The principal stands up and walks to the window, her hands clasped behind her back.

"A very dangerous position to hold, indeed," she says so quietly I barely hear her. "Even for his son."

Am I wrong about this? Are the principal and my father allies? I always thought her to be an independent woman who didn't bend to the rules and stood up to the chancellor when the occasion arose. Am I wrong?

"Everything seems dangerous these days."

There's a ceramic laboratory sink in the corner of the room and the tap drips into the basin. It's like the quiet beat of a drum. Somehow ominous and it makes my skin prickle.

"So you're not here for information on your fellow students? I thought perhaps your father had sent you. Although, what more he could possibly hope to glean, I don't know. I understand Miss Clutton-Brock has become a very useful source of information to him."

"No doubt." I hesitate. Then decide I'm already in up to my neck. I don't have a lot to lose. And fuck it, I've been an arrogant selfish asshole all my goddamn life, and it's about time I did something about that. Like Ellie said, time to be a better person. For Rhi. For my mom. "Actually, I am here to ask you about another student. But it isn't for my father."

She twists around to face me and pierces me with her glare. "Who?"

"Spencer Moreau."

She looks a little surprised. I bet she thought I would ask about Rhianna. I bet my asking her to the ball didn't go unnoticed.

"Spencer Moreau is no longer a student of this academy. As you well know, he left before the attack on the academy."

"Yes," I say, stepping towards her. "But do you know where he is? What's happened to him?" The principal continues to stare at me, her mouth closed shut firmly. I plow on regardless. "Summer – Miss Clutton-Brock – seems to believe he's been locked away." I lower my voice, even though it's no longer a damn secret. "That all werebeasts have been."

"Yes, that is what I've heard too."

"There have been no announcements about it. Nothing in the press."

"I assume your father has no need for all his activities to be reported, nor all his decisions to be announced."

"This is meant to be a democracy!"

"This was never a democracy, Mr. Kennedy. I'm sure you are aware of that."

"Do you know where Spencer is? Where he's being kept?" The principal's brows leap up in alarm. "I want to see him … he's … he's my best friend."

The principal returns to her chair and sits herself down. She looked nervous yesterday, today she looks tired and older than she did. "You're not the first student I've had in my office asking questions after their friends. I had a girl in here sobbing only an hour ago. What am I meant to say?" Her face contorts in pain and she spreads her hands out, palms up on the tabletop.

"Please, if you know where he is, can you just tell me?" I place my hands on her desk and lean forward.

She twizzles her hand in the air and the Bunsen burners lined up at the back of the room all light up and the tap turns on full force. It means when she speaks again, I struggle to hear her over the noise of the burning gas and the pouring water.

"I can't be certain, but I've heard rumors the werebeasts under arrest are being kept in the swamp fortress." I nod and stand up straight, about to turn and leave. "Mr. Kennedy, you didn't hear this information from me."

I look at her with my practiced bored-ass expression. "What information?"

She smiles. "Be careful."

I decideto leave after dinner. While nobody may care if I skip classes, my absence at dinner will be noticed – not least of all by the royal fucking queen bee herself. And I don't want her reporting that to Daddy's little helpers. Maybe even to Daddy himself.

I sit with what remains of the dueling team. Dan's in the clinic recovering from a ruptured spleen – the college infirmary destroyed along with the rest of the mansion. Zach and his family are said to be on the run. And Maddock went in for questioning yesterday afternoon.

The mood is somber – although Josh tries his best to throw a few wise cracks around. Most of them fall flat and in the end we eat in silence, forced to listen to more of Summer's endless chattering.

I don't have an appetite. The constant pain in my gut has wiped away any desire to eat, so I swivel my fork through the stew and wait for the minutes to pass.

At eight o'clock exactly, my father's now nightly broadcast is projected onto the far side of the canvas wall, his face staring out at us all. Most of the students visibly cower away, some staring down at their plates. Not Summer, she sits up straight, clapping her hands with glee as if we're about to be treated to an evening of cabaret.

My father's announcements travel straight over my head and I barely register any of the words about new measures, tighter restrictions, more arrests. Instead, I stare straight into his harsh eyes, convinced he's staring right back at me, convinced every warning he issues is directed at me personally.

My ears only perk up when he flashes the faces of several fugitive magicals he says are wanted by the republic. Among them are Piglet, her roommate Winnie, and my cousin himself. The rest of my father's words are lost to the shocked gasps and murmured whisperings of the students in the dining hall as well as Summer's cold cackle.

"Oh my God, Pig Girl! I knew she was trouble. I've been saying it for months. That girl is clearly deranged. I'm so glad the Lord Protector has seen it and is going to deal with her at last. She should never have been let into this school."

She tosses her hair, then twists her head to peer over at me, her smile not only cold but sinister.

I stare right back at her with such fucking hatred, I'm surprised my magic doesn't spring straight out of my fucking eyeballs and annihilate the little bitch.

Unfortunately, I have far too much control and blasting Summer into a thousand tiny pieces isn't going to prove helpful, even if it would give me a ton of fucking pleasure.

I swing my jacket off the back of my chair and onto my shoulders. Then I shove my chair backwards roughly, the legs scraping along the ground and cutting through all the chatter. Every student in the dining tent turns to look at me as I stand to my feet. There's a hushed silence as if they're all waiting for me to do or say something.

"That girl is worth one hundred thousand of you," I tell Summer and then I leave before she can throw some retort back at me.

As soon as I'm out of the dark path, the winter's wind howling through the campus, I regret that remark. It may be true – hell, probably everyone but Summer knows it's true – but there's no doubt it will be reported back to my father and I don't need him on my case. I don't need him asking me any more questions about Piglet. Yeah, it's time to leave.

I check there's no one following me on the path behind me, and then I let myself merge into the darkness, disappearing into the shadows where I belong. Invisible, I should be able to slip unseen past the guards. However, I suspect there are trackers among them – magicals with the ability to sense the presence of other magicals – unseen or not. I can't leave by the front door. I'm going to have to go out the back.

I gaze up at the ghostly trees of the forest, their branches rattled together by the wind, swaying like ghouls. There're all sorts of tales about the forest – about what lies in its heart. It's said to be impassable – a natural protection for the academy, far more effective than any guards or security force.

It's said to be impassable to any ordinary magical. But I'm no ordinary magical. Maybe that's fucking arrogant. It's also true.

I zip up my jacket, lift up my collar, lower my chin and head under the trees.

I'm going to find Spencer and then together we'll find our girl.