Chapter 6: _ Raice, The Fae Lunatic

Elira No-One

...

My mind did not process what I’d just learned in an orderly fashion. First, it went blank. Then it exploded.

I had been here less than an hour. And somehow, I had already managed to vex royalty.

Excellent.

I was thriving.

"Raice Ignis-Dominus, step forward... my son," the High Rector commanded.

The effect of that name was instantaneous. Initiates who had been slouching immediately stood straight. The murmur of the crowd died into a breathless dread.

Raice casually stepped past me like he hadn’t just disoriented my world with that one sentence: That’s a shame. I was really enjoying your opinion.

"Look at him. He looks a ruin." a Fae girl behind me whispered in awe.

"A beautiful ruin," another girl breathed, leaning forward so hard she nearly pitched over the stone railing. "They say he leveled half the east wing before twenty-seven Wardens managed to pin him down."

Up on the dais, High Rector Maddox stared down at her offspring icily. "You stand before the five academies not as a prince, but as a criminal. The filth on your garments, the blood on your cuffs, and the bruises on your skin are the representation of your dishonor."

She didn’t sound like a mother. She sounded like an executioner reading an inventory.

"Your penance is far from concluded. By decree of the High Council, you are stripped of your rank, your privileges, and your quarters. You will be deployed immediately beyond the warding stones to clear the eastern perimeter of feral beasts. Unassisted."

Every initiate gasped.

Beyond the wards, the wild land was crawling with corrupted feral beasts. Sending anyone out there alone was practically a death sentence.

Sending her own son proved one of two things: High Rector Maddox was either the greatest champion of ruthless justice in the realm...

...or a terrifying sociopath who ate her own young for breakfast.

I voted for column B.

"Feral beasts?" a broad-shouldered Lion initiate muttered near my left elbow. "He’ll be torn to shreds."

"Are you insane?" a tiger-shifter sneered back. "That’s Raice. He’s obsessed with the Borrowed—he spends half his time creeping around dark ruins looking for things that don’t exist. His ability is dangerous. He sees things nobody else sees. The guy is completely unhinged."

"I don’t care if he’s unhinged. He was talking to her. That dragonless gutter-rat." A girl glared directly at the back of my head with contempt.

I kept my spine stiff and stared straight ahead, pretending I was a statue.

"If that common trash becomes a distraction to him," the girl hissed to her friend, loud enough for half the row to hear, "I’ll serve Raice her head myself. Perhaps then he’ll finally notice me."

Fascinating. I hadn’t even been on the Concourse for an hour, and I was already being slotted into someone’s romantic murder-manifesto.

Down on the dais, two armored Wardens stepped up to escort Raice away. Before he turned to follow them toward the outer gates, Raice paused.

Slowly, he turned his head.

Across the wide expanse of marble, his silver-violet eyes locked onto mine. That same devilish smile curled the corner of his lips. It was a look that spoke volumes: I am not done with you.

Right, I thought, my stomach dropping into my boots.

New rule. Rule number one of surviving the Academy: Avoid Raice Ignis-Dominus. Avoid the High Rector. Avoid desperate girls with a murderous romance vendetta.

In fact, avoid the entire neutral Concourse forever.

The High Rector raised her hand, ending the assembly. "Initiates of the Five Academies, go now with your headmasters and headmistresses."

The Concourse erupted into motion. Iron gates shuddered open along the perimeter as horns sounded and banners unfurled.

The five races: Dragons, Wolves, Lions, Tigers, and Fae, began separating into their respective factions.

I backed away from the surging crowd, trying to find the tail end of the dragon line, when a voice spoke right beside me.

"You shouldn’t stand alone."

I flinched, spinning around.

Standing a few feet away was a boy who looked like he had been built from woodland earth and moss. He was small... much smaller than the towering wolf-shifters or the broad-shouldered dragons.

He had large hazel eyes, and dark, textured hair peppered with tiny, natural silver highlights. His ears tapered into subtle points.

He was a Sylven. I’d never seen one of his kind apart from Kaelen’s drawings back in the village. I also knew they were creatures from the woodland realm.

"I like standing alone," I said defensively, taking a half-step back. "It keeps me from getting murdered by spoiled noble girls."

The boy chuckled. "Fair enough. But out here on the Concourse, being alone just makes you look like easy meat. I’m Tobin."

"Elira. Why are you talking to me?"

"Because I’ve been watching," Tobin gestured vaguely toward the mass of noble students shoving past us. "The nobles are already claiming the high ground. Look at them... dividing the weak from the strong before we’ve even walked through our respective gates. People like us are going to get crushed if we don’t look out for each other."

I eyed him. "People like us?"

"The ones at the bottom," he said plainly. "I’m forming a group. Nothing official—no blood-oaths or rebellion nonsense. Just a mutual-protection network. Initiates sharing information, warning each other about sadistic upperclassmen, stepping in when someone gets cornered in the common areas. I’ve already recruited six people from the Wolf and my fae race."

"You’re a Sylven. Isn’t your race known for early awakenings?" I noted, sensing something strange about this invitation.

Tobin offered a bashful smile. "My beast awakened when I was twelve. Magic comes early to the roots."

I stared at him. An early-awakened beast was a golden ticket in this world. A mark of immense, rare potential. A boy with that kind of power could easily curry favor with mid-tier noble houses, yet here he was, wearing simple linen and offering to babysit commoners.

"If you’re already awakened," I narrowed my eyes, "you don’t need a protection group."

"Power doesn’t stop a pack of five wolves from jumping you in a dark corridor, Elira, numbers do. Besides... you caught his attention."

My stomach did a sickening flip.

"Whose attention?"