Chapter 53

53

T ristan

“Piglet?”

I rest my hand against her cheek. Her body’s warm again now, her magic as strong and as vibrant as it ever was.

Her eyes flicker open and focus in on my face. It takes a moment and then her brow wrinkles.

“Is he dead?” she asks me.

“Not dead. Just, you know, impotent.” I can’t help smiling. Utterly powerless is probably a fate worse than death when it comes to my dad.

“Wh-what happened?” she asks, attempting to push up onto her elbow. I encourage her back down onto the mattress, stroking back her hair from her face.

“You drained his magic.”

“Then why isn’t he dead?”

I shrug. “It seems, Piglet, that you have the ability to drain a magical’s magic – drain it completely so it’s not coming back – without killing them.”

“I do?” she says in wonder.

“Yes, and he can’t hurt anyone any longer. He’s currently locked down in the mansion basement. Along with his,” I make a face, “girlfriend.”

“Summer?”

“Yep, someone tied her up and left her on a path.”

Piglet’s lips twitch and my suspicions are confirmed.

“Are they being guarded?” she says, with a sudden alarm I can understand. My dad is still cunning, even without his powers, although it’ll be a lot harder for him to hurt someone now. He may have been magically strong, but he was never physically. I could knock him out with one swing of my fist. I suspect Summer could have a good go at it too.

“Yes, Coach Hank is seeing to it personally. Just until we can work out what to do with him. His army surrendered just as soon as the spider rot spell broke. Although, there will be work to determine who among them remain threats – true supporters – and those who were coerced.”

“Why isn’t Principal York guarding him?”

“Ahhh,” I say, “York … York didn’t make it, Rhi.”

“What?” she says, aghast. “You mean …”

“She’s dead.”

This time she snaps upright. “Azlan, Stone, Spencer, Renzo?”

“Are all just fine,” I lower my voice to a whisper, “although that crazy bastard seems to have gained three more scars on his face. It’s like he deliberately walks into oncoming magic.”

“Where are they?”

“Right here,” several voices call out from behind me and then her other mates step forward, assembling around her bed.

“Hey,” I say, “don’t crowd her.”

Her eyes skip over all her mates and, seeing them all okay, relief momentarily flickers over her face. Then vanishes.

“Winnie?” Rhi asks, her voice shaking. “Trent? Ellie?”

“They’re all just fine. Everyone else is fine. Thanks to you.”

She settles back down into the cushions. “I don’t feel so good. Did I pass out or …” She rubs at her forehead.

“All of you out,” I say, turning to the others. “She needs her space.” They look at me skeptically, probably aware that’s only half my motive for throwing them out of the room. “You heard the woman. Besides, someone ought to check what’s going on out there.”

Azlan ignores me and leans over to kiss Piglet on the cheek.

“I’m glad you’re all right, sweetheart. You had me worried there for a moment.” She smiles at him weakly. “Get some rest. We’ll go check on our … prisoners.”

Stone kisses her next, whispering something I don’t catch, and then Spencer wraps her in a big hug. Barone hovers by the end of the bed, fidgeting and looking nervous.

He scratches at his head and then follows the others out.

“Are you sure they’re okay?” she whispers, watching them go.

“We’re all fine. It’s you we’ve been worried about.”

“What happened?” she repeats.

“You drained his magic, took it inside you, and I guess he really is as sick and twisted as we suspected because it poisoned you, made you sick. Nothing I couldn’t fix though,” I say, unable to help the pride in my voice. I’ve always been a good healer. “May take a day until you’re feeling yourself.”

“And the dragons?” she asks, clearly still more concerned about everyone else.

“One got hit – one of the green ones.”

“Yeah, I know,” she says, “and the others?”

“As far as I know, they’re okay. They took off once they saw us arrive and take you.”

“How did you find me?”

“The bond.”

She nods, her hands resting over her belly. “It’s pretty handy.”

I rest my hand on top of hers and electricity skates between us at the contact. For the first time, I can see a future. A proper future – one where we’re happy and safe and I’m laying my hand over her rounded belly, full with our child. Or maybe Spencer’s. Or Azlan’s. I can taste that future now.

“Is it really over?” she asks, threading her fingers through mine.

“It is, Piglet. In fact, there’s one hell of a party starting up out there.”

“A party?” she asks, sitting up straight.

“You’re too weak to go to a party. You need to rest and–”

“Tristan Kennedy,” she says, “I missed out on a shed-load of parties on account of all the running and hiding from the authorities. I didn’t even get to party at the last Founders’ Night.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry about that,” I mumble.

“And so I’m not missing out on another party now, even if you have to carry me around all night.”

“Gladly. ”

She grins at me. “Got anymore of those nice dresses, Tristan Kennedy?”

“Actually, I’m thinking of changing that.”

“Changing what? Your name?”

“Yes, my name.”

“What to?”

“I dunno, but I kinda thought Tristan Blackwaters had a neat ring to it.”

She grins even wider. “You know it does. I like it.”

“Sort of cool and mysterious.”

“Unlike you, but, hey.” She shrugs.

“Hey!” I say, diving in to tickle her. And then I’m kissing her and her arms wrap around my neck and I’m so happy I could fucking explode.

“I haven’t forgotten about that party,” she murmurs against my mouth.

“Just five more minutes … resting,” I say. I kiss her harder. “Actually, make that ten.”

I beg, steal and borrow and eventually I find a dress worthy of her. Okay, it’s not like the one I gave her for the Victory Ball, not like the one she wore at the feast in the West, but damn it looks good on her. Something that scoops down low at her cleavage, nips in at the waist and then floats out in netting and shit.

She loves it. Winnie loves it. Spencer most definitely loves it. Unfortunately there’s no hope of actually getting to enjoy the dress up close and personal.

Everyone wants a piece of her tonight. To hug her, to thank her, to talk with her.

The party has spilled out into the academy gardens. The winter chill has thawed. There’s the first hint of spring’s warmth in the air tonight, the first buds of blossom on the trees and flowers beginning to poke their heads through the soil.

I follow her around like a love-sick puppy – we all do – just as goddamn entranced by her as we always are.

At some point I find myself next to Coach. He’s nursing a bottle of beer and he has a bandage strapped to his forehead.

“Who’s guarding my dad?” I ask him. The sooner they’ve sent him to the Northern Labor Camps – where I’m sure he’ll be meeting many of the prisoners he sent up there himself – the better.

“Couple of lads from the dueling team are taking a shift,” he says.

“Is that wise?” I ask.

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Rhi asks, turning around to join in the conversation and leaning into me. I hook my arm around her waist and draw her close.

“I don’t know who we can trust,” I say, eyes scanning over all the people out here partying.

It’s not like the old dueling parties. Everyone’s still clothed – which may be partly because it’s still not that warm out – or more likely because tonight isn’t about getting wasted and hooking up. People seem genuinely elated, genuinely relieved. There’s dancing and singing, quite a bit of hugging and crying and several kids just standing to one side talking to their family on their cell phones.

Yet, I know for some this is performative. They supported my dad. They snitched on their friends and on their teachers. Summer wasn’t the only one. They believed weres like Spencer should be locked away for ever – possibly exterminated. They were convinced some magicals were enemies of the republic and should be dealt with accordingly. It makes me sick to know they are among us.

“People make mistakes,” Rhi says simply, looking up at me. She’s referring to the way I treated her when she first arrived at the academy. As well as probably all the other stupid mistakes I’ve inevitably made along the way. “They get sucked into certain ways of thinking, carried along by the masses, or they just, you know, fuck up. We have to find a way to forgive them. We have to find a way to let them show us they are sorry. We have to let them gain our trust.”

“I’m never forgiving my dad,” I mutter.

Her eyes harden. “No, I don’t think I will ever be able to forgive him either. Or my own dad.”

“Maybe not right now,” Coach says, watching us both, “but give it time. Hate is a heavy burden to carry around in your heart. You may find you don’t want that weighing you down. You may find it in yourself to forgive.”

I snort. “I doubt it.”

Coach chuckles and takes a swig of his beer. “You always were a stubborn bastard, Tristan. It’s why you never made it to captain.”

“That and Spencer is a better duelist than me.”

“You both have your talents. And you kids both did well today. And you too, Rhianna. I’m proud of you all.” He pats me on the shoulder and I realize his praise has always meant more to me than my dad’s ever did.

“Prouder than when they won the Crosslantic cup?” Rhi asks, teasing the old man.

“Much prouder,” he says. He leans in a little. “Don’t tell anyone I said this, but dueling’s only a game.”

“Erm,” I raise an eyebrow, “that is not what you said during countless training sessions. You said dueling was a matter of life and death, of honor and–”

“You shouldn’t believe everything I tell you,” he says. “What you did out there today, how you rallied the other students,” he looks at Rhi, “the bravery and initiative you showed, that was really something. We should have had you on the dueling team.”

Rhi grins. “I mean you still could, couldn’t you? I haven’t technically graduated the academy yet – I don’t think I have enough points to.”

“Piglet,” I say, “you just earned yourself about a trillion points helping those magicals in the West, taking out my dad.”

“You think so?”

I laugh. “Of course, you did!”

Some kid from our Practical Magic class taps Rhi on the shoulder and she steps away to talk with them.

“That girl’s special. You need to look after her, treat her well,” Coach says, peering at me over the top of his beer bottle as he drinks again.

“That’s what I plan to do, Sir.”

“Good, she’s been through a lot. She deserves some happiness now.”

I nod and he wanders off, Azlan and Stone coming to take his place.

“What’s up?” Stone says, reading the unease on my face. “Did Hank not give you the ego massage you’ve come to expect?”

“It’s not that,” I say, distracted, gaze drifting back to Rhi. “She deserves happiness, right?”

“Yes,” Stone answers. “Everyone does. Or peace and contentment at the very least.”

“Do you think that’s possible?” I look up to my cousin. We were so close before. I hero-worshiped him. Then the distance grew between us and we hardly spoke. That distance has shrunk again now, and while I don’t have that same blind-sided awe for him that I once did, I still respect him more than anyone else. After all, he stood up to our shitty family and went his own way – even if that way didn’t prove to be much better. He did what he thought was right.

“Why not?” Azlan asks.

“My dad may be out of the picture. Things may be changing in the West. But you know how things go. You cut off the head of the snake only for another five to come slithering out of the woodwork. There’s too many powerful people invested in the status quo for things to change.”

“I disagree,” Stone says, resting one hand on my shoulder and one on Azlan’s. “Things can change, if you two force them to.”

“Us?” I say.

“Who else?” He shakes us slightly. “You’re the two heads of the famous and powerful Kennedy family. Now is your opportunity to change things.” He peers Rhi’s way. “And I have a feeling that Miss Blackwaters may have a few ideas about how things should change too. Fuck, I think Barone may even have one – just one mind you – good idea as well.”

“Ellie too,” I say. “She’s always understood people better than we have.”

“That’s true,” Azlan says, with half a smile. “Our dads always saw her empathy as a weakness but I think it’s her strength.”

“They got a lot of things wrong,” I say, gazing Rhi’s way again. “Time for us to put them right.”