Page 8 of Faeheart
I nodded, the memory still fresh in my mind. It was Rowan Hargrove that forced me to transform into my true fae form with a spell, and then locked me in a magical paralysis that would’ve eventually killed me. I’d been trying to forget it, but the memories still haunted my dreams now and then. It was the most terrified I’d ever been. And while I knew Caden was the reason I’d been saved, I never knew he had to kill his own father to do it. That part he’d kept a secret.
“Caden, I had no idea,” I said, my usual flippancy evaporating. I moved to sit beside them on the bed, placing a hand on his knee. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I couldn’t,” he whispered, his blue eyes watery. “I was afraid of what people would think. What you would think.”
“What I would think?” I squeezed his knee. “You saved my life. You saved Atlas. Your father was a monster who tortured you your entire life and then tried to kill the people you care about. I think you’re fucking brave.”
Atlas pressed a kiss to Caden’s temple. “That’s what I keep telling him.”
“And now his followers are using his death to fuel their hatred,” Caden said bitterly. “They’re saying his death was caused by magical creatures. That the Elder Council protected the shifters that killed him off and covered it all up.”
“They don’t know the truth,” I pointed out.
“And they can’t,” Atlas added firmly. “The Elder Council sealed the records. If people found out Caden killed his father, even in self-defense...”
“They’d use it against him,” I finished, understanding dawning. “Against all of us.” I paused for a moment, thinking it over. “But… they won’t even unseal it to protect themselves? It sounds like the Elder Council is getting caught in the crossfire.”
“We tried,” Atlas sighed. “Even my father reached out to them. They won’t budge.”
Caden nodded miserably. “So now I have to sit there and listen to them talk about my father like he was some kind of martyr for magical purity, when really he was just a sadistic bastard who spent years torturing his own son for something he couldn’t control.”
I flopped back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. “This is seriously fucked up.”
“Welcome to junior year,” Atlas said dryly.
“So, what are we supposed to do?” I asked, propping myself up on my elbows. “Just let these assholes spew their hate unchallenged?”
“For now, let’s just focus on the independent study,” Caden said, his voice losing its desperate edge. “We learn everything we can about wild magic. We get stronger. And maybe, if we’re really lucky, this whole thing will blow over and we can just be students again.”
“Right, because anti-monster movements have such a great track record of justblowing over,” I muttered, but I kept my voice light. No need to push Caden when he was already dealing with so much.
Atlas shot me a warning look over Caden’s head. “Wild’s right that we can’t ignore it, but we also need to be strategic. My father says these groups are still small, but they’re vocal. And they’re finding sympathetic ears in high places.”
“Like the Thorne family, apparently,” I said, connecting the dots. “And now we’re supposed to work with their golden boy on wild magic. That’s... convenient.”
Caden frowned. “You think Elias was sent to spy on us?”
“I think it’s weird that Blackwood would put us together,” I replied, standing up and pacing the small room. “A half-dryad witch whose father’s death is fueling anti-monster sentiment, a fae from the Seelie Court known for breaking every rule in thebook, and the perfect pureblood witch from a family that might be backing hate groups? That’s not a coincidence.”
“Maybe Professor Blackwood has her own agenda,” Atlas suggested. “She’s been different since what happened with Rowan Hargrove last year. Less rigid.”
I stopped pacing, a thought occurring to me. “Or maybe she’s trying to force a confrontation. Get everything out in the open.”
“I don’t think that’s what’s going on,” Caden said softly. He looked up at me, his eyes pleading. “Can we talk about something else?” he asked. “I… I just want to be a normal student again.”
I let out a long sigh and allowed the smirk to curl back onto my face. “Fine,” I said, stepping over and flopping down on the bed next to him. “So… how big is this werewolf’s cock?”
Chapter 4
Elias
Isat ramrod straight in the uncomfortable wooden chair across from Professor Blackwood. In the back of my mind, I heard my mother nagging me to keep my shoulders back and my chin high, sitting proud and tall to honor the Thorne family name. Even now, when she wasn’t sitting a few feet away, I still heard her voice. And after years of acquiescing to her demands, my body was too used to being stiff to even consider slouching.
The professor’s study looked exactly as I’d expected. It was full of meticulously organized bookshelves, ancient tomes arranged by subject matter, and not a speck of dust to be found. Her desk was polished mahogany, the surface clear except for a leather-bound notebook and a silver athame that caught the late afternoon light streaming through the stained-glass windows.
“Mr. Thorne,” Professor Blackwood said, her voice crisp as autumn leaves. “Thank you for your punctuality.”
“Of course, Professor,” I replied automatically, my voice carefully modulated to that perfect tone my parents had drilled into me, respectful without being obsequious.
