Rise of the Fey (23 page)

“What does the coot
²²
want now?” I hear Percy say.

“Another vote,” Hadrian says, the rest of his explanation abruptly cut off as they disappear up the staircase.

Keva and I look at each other for one long second then, without a sound, we move as one after the retreating knights to find out what’s going on. We reach the first floor in record time, and pause on the landing to make sure our coast is clear. Then, our soft-soled boots barely making a whisper on the floor, we head down the hallway after the knights’ retreating voices, past Arthur’s suite, and finally come to a stop before the KORT room as its carved door closes shut.

Immediately, Keva sets her ear to it and, after a moment’s hesitation, I follow suit.

At first, only indistinct murmurs reach me through the thick wooden panel, but after a brief period of adjustment, I make out a voice raised in anger.

“How could you even let this happen?”

“Arthur didn’t
let
anythin’ happen,” Percy’s distinct southern drawl answers back. “It ain’t like any of us knew what was bein’ done.”

“Exactly my point,” the first voice says, and I now recognize Hector’s clipped tone. “It’s his duty to know, but instead we have to find out there’s a traitor in our midst
after
the school’s attacked. That just demonstrates his lack of true leadership.”

“Methinks you are as guilty as the rest of us,” Gauvain says. “You are a KORT knight too, we should all be working together.”

“The crux of the matter is,” Percy says in a dangerously low voice, “that the smart ones are always doubtin’ themselves, while the sophomoric ones are over-confident.”

There’s the sound of wood scraping on stone, a fist slamming on the table, and several choice swearwords are thrown out.

I give Keva a questioning look, wondering if this is going to turn into a full brawl, but she shrugs in return. Then another voice rises above the commotion inside, and the hairs at the back of my neck stand up.

“It’s high time we got rid of all the Fey in Lake High to begin with,” Agravain says. “We all know they are the root of all evil. We need to weed them out, the sooner the better.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Arthur says. “You’re accusing all the Fey here indiscriminately. Yet those are people who have devoted their lives to this school, and now you’re telling me that you want to get rid of them?”

“People, Arthur?” Agravain’s razor-sharp voice replies. “You forget yourself. I believe you mean to say demons. And yes, they should be destroyed, every last one of them, especially now that we know without a doubt the wards’ fall was an inside job. Starting with those filthy Watchers that live beneath our school.”

“The Watchers are only passive players in this war we’re waging,” Arthur says, and even through the door I can hear his weariness. “They’ve vowed to remain neutral throughout any conflict. Besides, they’re an important source of information to us. Without their support, we wouldn’t have half the reports on Carman’s activities that we’ve received.”

“And with no Fey around the school ya wouldna get your food cooked, or your dirty panties washed, Agravain,” Percy says.

“Vows can be broken,” Hector retorts before another fight can break out. “And don’t you forget what they were like before this oath of theirs.”

“You can’t hold their past against them like that,” Arthur says. “Not when they’re immortal beings. And I think the last few millennia should be proof enough that they are true to their word.”

“It is precisely because they’re immortal that they can’t be trusted,” Hector says condescendingly. “For them, a promise is easily forgotten. Besides, one can’t change one’s nature, and theirs is one of blood and destruction. They cannot be trusted.”

“You forget yourself, Hector,” Arthur replies tonelessly, “that humans are just animals themselves who also thirst for power and blood. They’ve never needed the Fey’s help to wreak havoc on earth either, and they can’t be discounted in our investigation.”

“Look, we all know you are enamored with your pet,” Agravain says, “but the rest of us still haven’t lost sight of our purpose here!”

I move away from the door, outraged. Who is he calling a pet here? My hand is on the cold doorknob, already pushing it down, when Keva stops me, her index finger over her closed lips. She then points inside, mimics getting punched in the face, then shakes her head. I breathe loudly through my nose, realizing that she’s right: It would be best not to burst in, uninvited, and risk getting beat up. Or worse—sent back to jail.

So, with a distinctively bad taste in my mouth, I finally stick my ear back to the door.

“Each party has stated its arguments,” Lance’s collected voice says. “It is time now to cast the votes. Who is still in favor of Arthur as our President?”

I press myself further against the door, the carved dragon’s wingtip digging deeper into my cheek, as if that’s going to let me see what’s happening inside the room.

After a long, strained silence, Lance speaks up again, “Very well. You’ve all witnessed the results. The meeting’s adjourned.”

I barely have the chance to straighten up before the door smacks me in the face.

“What’s this?” Gareth’s rumbly bass asks. “Looks like there’s gerbils roaming about!”

Gauvain pushes past his cousin then breaks into a wide grin at our sight, Keva and I both rubbing our sore noses.

“No need to worry,” Gareth says, thumping his chest with his fist, “everything’s back to normal.”

I let out a small breath of relief at the news—though Arthur can be the most annoying prat sometimes, he’s still loads better than having the two psychos Hector and Agravain lording over us all.

“’T was a close call though,” Percy says, striding out.

“How many votes?” Keva asks.

“Just two,” Hadrian says, stepping out next, fuming.

Keva’s habitual smirk melts off her face as Hadrian grabs her by the ear. “You and I need to have a talk,” he grunts. “I won’t have you eavesdropping like a petty thief!”

“Eavesdropping?” Keva says, trying to remain dignified despite the ear-pull. “I was coming to get the key to your room. In case you forgot, I am your squire.”

“Sometimes, I wish I could forget that fact,” Hadrian says, herding her away.

My sight of Keva gets suddenly blocked off as both Gareth and Gauvain move in front of me, pinning me to the wall behind their bulk.

“Wha—” I start.

But Gauvain’s large hand whips out to cover my mouth.

“Always a pleasure to deal with ya, Hector,” Percy says, as two shadows emerge from the KORT room.

“Laugh all you want, you wacko,” Agravain says, “we’ll see who has the last laugh.”

“Sorry about the unmanly handling,” Gareth says, when Hector and Agravain have retreated beyond hearing range.

“Yes, sorry about the manhandling,” Gauvain adds. “But we couldn’t let them see you. Hector’s temper is rather volatile in the best of times, and Agravain hasn’t been much better since he lost his leg, as you readily saw up in the library. And now that they’ve just lost their little coup…”

“Yeah,” Gareth says as the remaining knights file out of the room, “you don’t want them to blow away in your face.”

“It’s blow up, moron,” Gauvain says. “Unless they’re a bunch of flying pigs caught in a gale.”

Gareth snorts out a laugh. “Who says they aren’t?” he asks, as Arthur and Lance finally make their way out.

“You should be more careful with what you divulge to others,” I hear Lance say. “It’s dangerous to have them question your authority all the time.”

“I know,” Arthur growls. “But I find it hard to keep my temper these days. Everything and everyone seems to be conspiring against us. Hadrian’s just found out Sir Freyvidh’s been reporting straight to the Board, leaving us floundering behind. He could’ve saved us months of work if he hadn’t treated us as imbeciles!”

“Well at least ya’ve one-upped him now, thanks to Hadrian’s lil’ sis,” Percy says, playfully punching him in the shoulder.

Arthur’s frown doesn’t lessen, however. “We’re still far from repairing our wards,” he says dourly, “and we don’t know when Carman will strike again.”

“Hell of a way to dampen our spirits there, Artie,” Percy says, kicking at a non-existent stone.

Arthur takes a deep breath. “Sorry guys,” he says, cracking a tight smile, “I’m just tired. I’ll see you later at mass.”

But as the cousins leave, Arthur finally notices me standing there and his smile drops. “Not now,” he says, “I don’t have the energy to deal with your temper.”

“What do you mean you have to deal with my temper?” I ask, trailing him down the hallway back to his suite.

But without a look at me, Arthur slips inside his room and slams his door in my face.

Bubbling with indignation, I start pounding on his door. “Get out of there and apologize!” I shout, my fist throbbing with every bang. “I won’t have you treat me like a slave! Arthur? Answer me!”

I suddenly stop as I become aware that someone is standing right behind me. Slowly, I turn around and come face to face with a very grim and disapproving Lance.

“A squire is supposed to lighten his knight’s load, not increase it,” he says, and I cringe at the rebuke. “Not only that, but Arthur’s walking on eggshells right now, as you may have noticed, and any misstep on your part is only making his position here more precarious.”

“He’s the President,” I retort, “he can do whatever he wants.”

Lance grabs me by the shoulders so that his deep blue eyes can bore into mine with cool condemnation. “He can be voted out at any time,” he says. “And taking you under his wing has set a lot of people against him. He barely kept his post tonight.”

“That’s his problem, isn’t it?” I flare up. “I never asked him to do anything for me!”

“You little fool,” Lance whispers harshly, his fingers digging painfully into my flesh. “Who do you think will protect you from the Board if he’s ousted? Heed my words if you don’t want to spend your life at their mercy, and be a proper squire for once!”

A stifled gasp has us both turn around at the same time, and my gut clenches. Glaring at us from down the hallway is
Jennifer. Her eyes flicker between our faces and Lance quickly pushes himself away from me. But it’s too late: She’s locked onto her target—namely, me.

“What were you two doing?” Jennifer asks, prowling towards us.

My jaw tightens as she stops inches from me.

“I see what you’re trying to do,” she says sweetly. “You want to emulate me, don’t you? First, you go for my fiancé, then you move on to the best knight in school. Isn’t that right?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I say.

“Don’t you dare deny it,” she hisses in my ear. “I’ve seen the way you look at them.” She throws Lance a significant look and an evil smile raises her luscious lips. “Now tell me, don’t you wish Lance would only look at you the way he looks at me?”

I ball my hands into fists. “Not at all,” I say.

My insides feel like they’re about to get yanked out my constricted throat, and beads of cold sweat pearl on my forehead.

Jennifer’s smile grows bigger. “Do you know why it is Fey can’t lie?” she asks, guessing the reason for my sudden discomfort. “It’s because they have no souls.”

I glare at Jennifer’s beautiful face, my vision growing blurry as anger boils within me. My hands shake with the effort not to punch that smarmy face of hers.

“So you see, Morgan,” she continues, “however you may try to hoodwink us, you won’t succeed”—she gives the door behind me a pointed look—“unless people are too stupid not to see through it.”

Slowly Jennifer’s hair starts to rise in the air, sticking out from her head like thousands of tentacles, as if she’s suddenly been caught in zero gravity. And for the first time since I’ve known her, a look of deep confusion crosses her fair features. Lance’s frown deepens as his gaze travels between Jennifer and
me. Suddenly, the door behind me swings open as Lance springs in front Jennifer.

“Morgan, don’t!” Arthur shouts.

He grabs me by my waist and throws us down as a loud
crack
resonates in the hallway, shaking the walls. We land on the solid flagstones, and I hit my head on the floor, white sparks bursting across my vision at the impact, Arthur’s breathing loud in my ear.

An acrid smell reaches me and I cough. Finally, Arthur rolls off me and my mouth runs dry as I see the state of the hallway: The spot where I was standing a moment ago is singed black, as if it’s been hit by a massive lightning bolt, the torch that had been lighting the area disintegrated.

On the other side of the long, black stain, I see Lance trying to restrain an irate Jennifer.

“She tried to kill me!” Jennifer screams, pointing her finger at me, the whole front of her uniform covered in burn marks. “You little witch! You ought to be shot! Hanged! Flayed! Burned at the stake!”

She lets out a strangled cry of outrage as Lance grabs her into his arms and carries her away.

“I didn’t do it,” I murmur, crossing my arms tightly around myself to stop shaking. “I didn’t….”

But I’m not so sure of it myself. I felt something there for a second, rearing inside of me like a wild beast wanting to get out. And now it’s gone, leaving me an empty husk.

“Morgan?”

Arthur tries to grab my arm but I flinch away.

“Don’t touch me,” I say.

“But you—”

“No,” I say, afraid to meet his eyes, and I run away.

I burst through the western gate and into the cool night without once breaking my speed.

I run to forget what’s just happened, forget the fear that’s now lodged in the pit of my stomach and growing bigger every time my feet hit the ground.

How could I have ever believed that having powers was cool? There’s a reason everyone around here thinks the Fey are monsters, it’s what we are!

It’s what I am. Twice now I’ve caused an explosion, and just now I…

I come to a sudden stop, gasping for breath.

I could have killed someone, I realize with a shudder. If it hadn’t been for Lance and Arthur, Jennifer’s brains would have been splattered all over Lake High’s walls by now.