Page 51 of Tall Dark and Evil

I didn't ask Valina to get me out of my deal over the weekend. I had her rebuild Mar's mental shields, though. She did so, never hiding her contempt and disapproval. Power, according to her, is meant to be used. I'd say that makes her a little hypocritical, given the fact that she routinely chose to lie down and take hundred-year naps in the past, rather than deal with hers.

In his elegant scrawl, Reiks informs that I am expected at his joke of a "dorm room" after school tonight. My last time at his small court prepares me better for what I am to expect. With a sigh, I change from my signature jeans and tee combo to a more appropriate ensemble. My short-sleeved dark dress flares right over the knees, its shape and boat neck hiding my lack of curves. It's not exactly formal—I've worn it for no reason at all—but it's less casual, so I may not feel totally awkward. Besides, Reiks doesn't seem to mind when I'm out of place, so I don't see the need to make a point with my choice of clothing.

I try not to examine my feelings about seeing Reiks later today. In fact, I decide I don't actually feel any particular way about it. We fucked. So what? I fucked the lord of Summer and had no issues chatting with him at dinner the next day. I ignore the churning in my core, and try to focus on my work day.

I'm bored to tears in common healing, but by demi anatomy, I'm caffeinated enough to pay some attention to the class. We're working on the Wicked today, which I've always found fascinating. There's very little actual information about the family leading Dorath's league of assassins, except for the fact that they started as commons and made a deal directly with a shade primal force.

That sort of thing was never widespread, not even before the barrier separating us from the eternal realms was erected. We don't know why exactly, but primal forces, such as the sky, or the earth, or a star shining in the distance, can only make a deal once, which means that after they're taken, obtaining power directly from them is impossible--unless the last of the descendants of those who set the original agreement have passed away. Most relevant primal forces were claimed millions of years ago by the first gods. Occasionally, someone managed to make a deal with a smaller, inconsequential force no one had thought about before, like mushrooms or one particular weed, but it was always so minor the power they gained was irrelevant.

Then the Wicked appeared, just a few hundred years ago. Common mortals, already skilled in the arts of combat and deception, somehow gained the power of blending in the shadows, a trait of night itself.

We know almost nothing about the eternal realms, but no one believes the god of night to have died without any descendants, not when he and all his offspring had been so powerful before the divide.

Yet, what else could explain the existence of the Wicked family?

Our professor is as fascinated as I am, and drones on about the fact that we don't know anything about them. Not even their actual name before they started to go by the Wicked. They like it that way. He projects slides after slide, showing recordings of Wicked disappearing in a puff of mist, or walking away from a wound that should have been lethal.

After that lesson, I drag my feet to psychology. I'm in no mood to deal with the three Cs.

Lelland's lesson focuses on royal psychology—the repercussions of having a toxic monarch throughout history, the issues with royal children growing up with crazy expectations. Like I don't already think of Reiks too much for my own good. My mind drifts off, reminded of Dyfina as he speaks about the hardships of growing up in any court.

The poor girl has everything stacked against her: the attention that comes with being a royal, mixed with the issues of having a royal asshole for a father.

He assigns us a paper on the repercussions of a positive and a negative rule on the greater population, and I'm officially done for the day.

I linger behind my desk, taking my sweet time to pack my stone and notes, to delay the inevitable. I've just cleared all my stuff when someone bumps into me, shoving me with their shoulder.

"Oops. Didn't see you there," Chira snarls.

Camil and Caelin flank her, smirking. "It's not your fault, princess. She's just so irrelevant."

I breathe out slowly. I haven't missed these assholes. They more or less left me alone for a couple of weeks. They might have heard that I accompanied Reiks to his stupid club on Baltaday. That'd be too much for them.

"You think your ugly dress is going to make a difference?" Caelin looks me over from head to toe and grimaces. "You're so flat, you look like a boy whatever you wear."

"Oh, no, how will I ever survive not meeting your expectation?" I roll my eyes. "Wait. I don't swing that way, but even if I did, I'm not into venomous skanks, so I don't give a shit what you think."

I walk past their line of defense, between Camil and Chira. I've only taken two steps when pain flares, as one of them yanks a fistful of my hair.

I scream in surprise, but pain immediately gives way to sheer wrath. Oh, no. I'm not letting them get away with that.

I turn to face them, not really caring which one pulled my hair, though I see a few brown strands in Camil's hand. They're smirking. Not for long.

The lights flicker in the amphitheater as I strive to control how much power I'm releasing. I feel my brand-new shields snap, and I don't care. The floor shakes. The walls tremble and several fissures marble the painted stone.

The three Cs finally have the sense to look uneasy.

"I found our classes on pack animal behavior last year so fascinating," I say, feeling my mouth curve up. "They say wolves will always try to push for dominance. So true to life. See, the world is full of insecure, toxic little assholes trying to climb up the social ladder to improve their place in the world. There are only two kinds of animals who don't see the need to. Alphas and omegas. Guess which one I am." My hand flashes and grips Camil by the throat. I see dark threads crawl along her skin. She chokes, sputters and cries, not managing to get a word out. Her friends scream and flee the room, abandoning her to her fate, showing just how loyal they are to each other.

Trying to keep my power in check is hard, so I let go within seconds. I've made my point.

She falls to the ground, hands around her throat, crying harder, but she's breathing.

"Touch me again," I say, low and invitingly. "I dare you."

I’ve almost reached the exit when she speaks. "You're going to die, and I'll be cheering. You hear me? I'll cheer when they hang you!"

I laugh and shake my head.

---