Rubbing my sore throat, I stare at myself in the mirror. My skin is paler than I have ever seen it, and my magic feels like it’s been drained, but the thing that freaks me the hell out? The bruises on my neck. Thick bruises litter my neck in all different colours as my body tries to heal, and it’s very clear the dream I had wasn’t just a dream at all. I don’t remember all of the songs the man was singing, but one sentence is embedded in my mind.
The forbidden child holds the cursed rune.
I’ve heard it before, I know I have, but I just can’t remember where exactly I have heard it. Maybe my mother told me of it. I know one person who mentioned a song about the fae curse. Ryker. Lowering my hands from my neck, I wash my face and make sure my black wavy hair covers most of the marks before heading out into the living area, looking for the coffee I can smell. Sword has a massive cup of coffee right in front of where I usually sit, and I grin at him as he disappears. I’ve figured out Sword doesn’t like to be thanked for cooking or cleaning. He even washes all our clothes and bedding. I’m going to have to figure out a way to say thank you without embarrassing him.
“Where have you been my entire life?” I wistfully sigh, skipping over to my seat and wrapping my hands around the hot cup. I breathe in the steam, which smells better than anything on Earth, before taking a long sip. I welcome the burn as the coffee is just so damn good. It’s not the cheap stuff that I usually have to buy in my shitty apartment back on Earth, oh no, this stuff is good. Sword has made breakfast for kings with everything from toast to pancakes, and even waffles. I’m spoilt for choice, and I end up picking a few waffles with some fruit just as Poppy comes out of her room, with Mossy on her shoulder. A little surprised to see Mossy so close to anyone else, I smile at her.
“How are you feeling?”
“Thankful. They said you nearly drained yourself of shadow magic to carry me up a mountain, and you fought off a creature of hell that had killed twenty-five other students. You know, in the past. The teachers are mad because you made it easy for everyone else,” she says, staring at me in wonder. “I owe you my life.”
“I said I would protect you, and I keep my promises,” I say, shrugging a shoulder. Mossy jumps off her and onto the table, picking up a pancake and literally pressing his face into it. Poppy giggles as she sits on the stool next to me and starts picking at her food.
“I’m going to pay you back. I don’t care what you promised me, you went above and beyond it in Hell,” she sternly replies. Well, well, well, my Poppy is finally growing a backbone.
Before I can reply, the lift makes a beeping noise that it always does before sliding open, and a woman steps out into our apartment. She has soft brown hair, wide lens glasses resting on her nose, and a white suit dress on that fits her to perfection with her narrow hips and thin waist. She’s topped off with high heels and not a speck of dirt on her. Mossy slides under the counter, hiding near the tree and out of sight for now.
That was too close.
Words blurt out of my mouth before I’ve thought about it. “Who the hell are you?”
She starts to laugh, a melodic laugh, before answering me. “I’m not from Hell, my dearie. My name is Professor Nordvik, and I am the head royal stylist and dressmaker.”
“Not dresses,” I groan, turning back to my food while Poppy practically jumps on the spot.
“Oh! I’ve heard so much about you! I adored the dress our queen wore to the Mayday celebrations earlier this year,” Poppy gushes. In the corner of my eye, I see Professor Nordvik bow her head slightly.
“I am beyond excited to make so many dresses for all the lovely ladies in the academy,” she replies with a slight laugh. “Who wants to go first? I will simply take your measurements and then design and make you the perfect dress for each occasion.”
“I will!” Poppy exclaims. I finish my food as Professor Nordvik uses her magic, and it’s quite interesting to watch. The professor stands very still as lines of shadows escape her hands at her sides and wrap around Poppy from her neck to her waist before disappearing.
“All done. With your complexion, I have a perfect idea in mind,” the professor claims, and Poppy looks so happy as she runs to her seat. After drinking the rest of my coffee, I take Poppy’s space, and the professor does the same to measure me.
She hums to herself, her eyes making clear calculations. “You are quite beautiful and elegant for your height. I am excited to see a dress on you.”
“Thanks,” I manage to sarcastically mutter, and Poppy glares at me.
“My sister isn’t a fan of dressing up like I am,” Poppy explains. “But I personally think she would look pretty in dresses.”
“Dresses are hard to fight in and get in the way, that’s my issue,” I tell them both.
“We all have our likes and dislikes,” the professor agrees. “Now, I must take my leave, and I have a message for you both. The second test begins at midnight tonight, and to enter, you simply have to go to the top floor of the lift. One at a time. Until then, you are not allowed to leave your room.”
“A little cryptic, huh?’ I ask, even when I feel Poppy’s eyes on me about the whole going on our own, and the professor smiles.
“There are seventy-two students, and the queen does not want more than fifty left by the end of the first week,” she tells me. “I do hope you two survive until the end.”
“So do we,” Poppy sourly replies but calms herself somehow. “Thank you so much.”
“Anytime,” Professor Nordvik replies with a little sadness in her eyes and heads back to the lift. I wait until she has stepped in and the door closes before relaxing a little bit.
“I have a clue about the next test,” I explain to her. “When you’re alone, look for the mirror that shows you nothing but the truth.”
“Where did you hear that?” she questions, and I don’t answer her, pushing my stool back in. I go to pick up my empty plate, but it is gone, and I look over to see Sword is already running the tap over it and filling the washing bowl up with soapy water.
“We might be stuck in here, but we aren’t wasting the day. Get ready, and in half an hour, we are training you how to fight, as it seems the next test we are doing alone.”
“Awesome!” she replies, and I try not to smile in a creepy way at her. She is so fucked if she thinks anything about training is awesome. I’m going to kick this girl into fighting shape and make sure she can handle herself like her father should have done. If I ever have kids, they are going to know how to defend themselves. I wish my mother and uncle had taught me how to fight rather than filling my head with fae songs and hiding me for eight years with no explanation as to why. I remember my uncle and mother arguing about training me to fight, and my mother would have none of it, wanting to keep me innocent. My uncle tried to teach me a few times how to defend myself, but it was hard to sneak away from my mother.
Swallowing down the grief, I get to work pushing the sofas out of the way and making room. When I look back, Mossy is grinning at Poppy and making a funny face with two oranges. Maybe I might have found a little family, and I’m going to make sure she doesn’t die.
“If I don’t make it back from this,” Poppy states, waiting for the lift to come up with me, “I want you to tell my family it wasn’t their fault. Tell them to look after you as you need family, Dae.”
“I’ve had family, and they are gone now,” I tell her, clearing my throat as the doors slide open to the empty lift. “Get your butt in there and be the badass I know you can be, Poppy.”
She nervously smiles at me, most likely for my benefit, and steps into the lift. The doors swing shut, and it goes up.
“Poppy has powerful magic, I can sense it. She doesn’t use it because she fears it,” Mossy tells me from his spot on the couch.
“And mine is out of control most of the time. We are an interesting bunch, huh?” I reply.
“I heard the angel fucker talking with the prince. This is the last test for a few months,” he tells me, and I try not to smile at his nickname. “You can finally learn to control half of your powers.”
“And continually hide the other half of me,” I reply. “Story of my life. Be good, Mossy.”
“Always,” he replies, but I don’t believe him for a second. That monkey is nothing but a troublemaker, and I love him. I press the lift button, and the lift slides down, the doors opening up. I go inside, and there is a new glowing black button on the wall above the normal floors. I press it and place my hand on the handle of my whip that is clipped to my hip, watching as the doors shut. The lift starts going up slowly, then it rapidly speeds up until I’m left groping the sides of the walls for anything to grab. The lift goes so fast, and I try not to scream as I cling to the wall, dizziness and nausea filling my throat. Suddenly the lift comes to a halt, slamming my body up off the floor and back down in one smooth movement.
