Page 93 of Dragon Unleashed

“I have not forgiven you, Lorelei Bal.”

“The mark says differently,” she whispers, as she strains her face up toward me.

All I can focus on are her red lips, the little crease between her brows, goddesses be damned! I slam my mouth to hers, pushing her back hard, pinning her to the wall. The kiss is deep, punishing, and all the feelings I was suppressing rush to the surface. One little kiss, and I’m lost, again.

Hellfire.

With a grunt I shove her away.

I have not forgiven her. I haven’t.

Chapter Forty-two: Lorelei

I’d say it was my worst Solstice ever, except it wasn’t. I couldn’t leave the academy, but I wasn’t alone, not the whole day. Naeve stayed Solstice eve for eggnog and presents at midnight. It was like the childhood celebrations I never had. I hadn’t a clue what to get her. Then I remembered the hideous brown candles at Mabon. She’s now the proud owner of a magic candle-making kit, and there are other freaking colors than brown. And my knitted hat? It’s perfect for the cold right now. Who cares if stitches are dropped?

By midafternoon on Solstice, Zephyr arrived with a picnic basket overflowing with food pinched from the Virrey’s kitchens.

Ping.

Fates Academy Administrator: Please arrive at 9 a.m. prompt, in civilian clothes, to the Academy’s council room. You may bring an advocate.

My eye skips to the first line of the text message again. Incivilian clothes. They’ve made up their mind. They want me out of the uniform. And I don’t own smart clothes.

Naeve’s clothes fly out of the wardrobe at me, seconds after I voice my concern. She’s shorter, so pants are out. Half-mast pants scream borrowed clothes. If there’s even the tiniest doubt left in any of the panels members’ minds…I want tolooklike I belong.

Eventually I select a midnight-black A-line skirt with a giant buckle and a simple white shirt. It’s a little big at the waist, but I look put together. Chewing my lip, I let Naeve fuss with my hair. My stomach’s jumping like I swallowed a damn frog. My reflection stares back at me as the minutes count down.

I walk down the long corridor toward my fate, Naeve’s short little steps pattering behind me. I could have asked the rest of them. I should have. Suddenly I feel naked turning up without my allegiance.

“Stop it. I canhearyou worrying,” Naeve says. “There’s nothing we can do now.”

We come to a halt in front of the giant doors. Ornate metal weaves its way over the arch, winding its way between stained glass. Each panel depicts one of the Fates: Clotho, Lachesis, and Atropos. Typical—they’re facing me down now. I stand, frozen to the spot.

I can’t do it. I can’t ring the bell. I can’t walk in there. This is the end of my dream. Once I’m chucked out of Fates, I can wave goodbye to any hope of ever ascending and escaping Venez.

Naeve yanks on the old-fashioned bell and, with her hand on my shoulder, propels me forward. I step into the room and immediately want to bolt. It’s almost an exact replica of an old courtroom. All wood and formality. I gulp as two of the new angel professors step up on either side of me, ushering me none too gently toward what looks like a dock. I’m not on trial in a court of law. This is ridiculous.

I glance up, and my breath catches. They’re here. Val and Naeve are squashed into hideously uncomfortable-looking seats,flanked on either side by Zephyr and Farrell. I’m not even sure how Naeve got up there so quickly after shoving me in the door.

I swallow hard, a lump forming in my throat. They came.

The doors fly open and a slight figure stands in the entrance, silhouetted against the light. My shoulders slump. Not Chano. Hewie gives me a small screech and a giant thumbs-up. Alarick and Raff slink in behind him. These guys gave up the last day of their holiday to support me. They didn’t have to. I shouldn’t be disappointed they’re not Chano. I really shouldn’t.

A gong is struck, and the clamor dies back to a quiet rustling. Craning my neck, I watch them walk in.

My judgment. My future. My fate.

The dean strides forward. He’s wearing a brand-new academy gown and his stupid horn-rimmed spectacles are perched on his slightly graying hair. Without once glancing in my direction, he takes a seat behind the long oak table to my right.Why won’t he look at me?Behind him, Professor Maggo floats in, his robes billowing, and my pulse skips. My guidance teacher from last year. Hell yes, if anyone’s going to be on my side it’s him.

After a long pause, Lady Tenebrae walks in, her heels clicking angrily on the polished floor, and my hope sputters.

The ornate doors shudder one final time, pushing open infinitesimally slowly. This must be Professor Allegra’s replacement on the panel. I hold my breath, toying with the buckle on my skirt. After what feels like forever, Professor Maximillion slouches through. He’s barely bothered to brush his hair. His gown is stained and, from his split lip, he’s been in another bar fight. The guy seemed okay last year, under Chano’s thumb but a decent professor. Now he looks like he’s in a desperate race toward self-destruction.

He flops into his chair. It’s only like this, close up, that I see his eyes are pink-rimmed and bleary. He’s back on the fae liquor.Can he even form a coherent thought? Hellfire, I’d have thought Dean Emrick would make sure he was vaguely presentable.

The gong rings out again and an imp sitting off to the side scrapes his chair back.

“All stand,” he sings out.

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