I was truly alive and I was back in the Rebel Academy.
When Fox’s gaze met mine, it was soft and understanding. Yet why didn’t he understand the danger that he was in?
All of a sudden, my heart beat so hard in my chest that I thought it’d break my ribcage. How did anyone breathe with such a wild creature inside them?
“I’ve only just found you,” Fox whispered, drawing me closer. “I won’t let anyone hurt you. I’m actually Lancelot in disguise. This R on my hand doesn’t stand for Random but Renowned.”
“Renowned liar?” I teased.
Fox winked. “Renowned and unreformed liar.”
I couldn’t help the snort.
“If you’ve quite finished flirting on my time with the wickedest witch to ever live...” Damelza coiled her silver blond hair around her finger. She didn’t look up from the thick file that lay open in front of her.
I pushed myself away from Fox and onto my tiptoes to squint at the file.
Hmm, maybe if I cast a Reading Upside Down Spell…?
Fox shrugged. “How do you know that she was the wickedest? There must be some stiff competition. Is there like a Wicked Witch Contest each year with rosettes awarded and…?”
“You truly have no understanding of the term thin ice, do you?” Damelza still hadn’t looked up from my file or acknowledged that I was in the room, as if I was still an invisible ghost.
I’d take great delight in teaching her that I’d no longer be treated in such a way.
“I really don’t.” Fox bit his lip like he was trying to force himself not to say anything else.
This mage could talk himself into trouble with a coven under a Peace Spell, and they were even compelled to be kind to vampires, spiders, and mime artists.
Damelza fiddled with the feather behind her ear, which she’d used to slice Fox’s cheek. “This academy has a reputation to uphold.” She pointed at the far war, which sparkled beneath the RA crest with alternating pink and black motivational slogans, which were carved underneath the scrolling:
Rebel Academy — Blessing the Wicked Since 1870
I cocked my head. “Am I not wicked enough then?”
At last, Damelza’s sharp gaze snapped to mine. “That depends if even half the stories my grandmother told about you were true.”
I narrowed my eyes. “It’s rude to listen to gossip.”
In turn, Damelza narrowed her eyes, which was weirdly like seeing myself in an evil mirror. “And it’s rude to become a rogue witch, be burned alive, and then be born again just before term starts. Do you have any idea how much paperwork is involved in running this place?”
“My apologies, next time I’ll choose a more convenient stage in the university year,” I drawled. “Although, if it’s any consolation, I appear to be still part ghost. It’s perfectly exciting that I get to name a new species: what do you think to Ghost Witch?”
“Do you suppose that I shall let there be a next time?”
“Don’t kill her.” When Fox slammed his palms down on the desk, I jumped in shock. Fox appeared to have surprised himself as well, quailing under Damelza’s cool look. He wet his lips, before carefully removing his hands from the desk, whilst pretending to give the skulls a polish. “Or me. Okay, I have strong feelings about killing us both.”
Damelza glanced between us. “Then what does my snared fox suggest? I know that it’ll be a struggle for your small brain, mage, but don’t let it be said that I don’t encourage all my students.”
I winced, but Fox didn’t even react like he was too used to being seen as less. My hands curled into fists; that was going to change.
Fox sneaked a glance at me. “Make her the third Immortal. She’s this rogue witch, right? You’ll have to make her a Rebel because I get that you’re not keen on her showing up to take over the family again.” When Damelza blanched, Fox smiled. “Yeah, I’m a P.I in disguise, and your dead relative is back for her claim to the castle.”
“You’re a pain in my witchy behind,” Damelza muttered, “and this isn’t Magenta who was declared Blessedly Charmed. It’s…” She paused, thoughtfully, “…Crow, who’s decidedly Wickedly Charmed.”
“How about a DNA test?” Fox demanded.
Damelza’s smile was dangerous. “How about a fox hunt?”
I snatched Fox’s hand, dragging him closer to me. His heart was thudding too rapidly in his chest, but he still squeezed my hand like he understood that I needed to feel that I wasn’t alone in this battle.
I shook at the thought of Robin walled up in the dark. How long had he been alone before he’d died?
When Fox’s thumb rubbed circles on the back of my hand, I wished that I wasn’t wearing my gloves, so that I could feel the deliciousness of his touch. I loved that in this age there was such intimacy and that it could mean love in so many ways: comfort, understanding, and connection.
I craved to feel alive.
When my stomach rumbled again, I pinked. Fox’s scent of raspberries was driving me mad. I couldn’t touch him with my hands, but I wasn’t living in the Victorian age any longer, and I had other body parts that were unclothed. It hadn’t been possible to live with Flair and his vivid descriptions of the Rebels’ passion and not learn a trick or two. When I nuzzled my cheek against Fox’s, he flushed. Then he relaxed against me with a soft smile. Encouraged, I nosed along his jawline. Then I had the sudden impulse to lick down his neck.
“Mages aren’t lollipops,” Damelza chided.
I froze. “I’m simply hungry.”
For the first time in over a century, I could eat. For all these years, I’d been tormented by the memory of food that I’d never taste again but now… Oysters, roast duck, cranberry tart with cream, and a cup of tea…
Fox sighed. “Only the Princes get treats like lollipops.”
My dream feast shattered.
On Hecate’s tit, hadn’t Fox said something in the glade about the luxury food being locked away in a special larder? I clenched my jaw. No matter how much I desired those treats, I’d never ask the fae prince for a favor. Although, there was also Prince Willoughby, and if Flair’s crush was based on more than the elf’s pretty hair and prettier voice, then perhaps there was a way to persuade the Princes to share their food.
I wouldn’t let my Immortals be starved any longer.
I delighted, however, in the chance to try Fox’s specialty and the food of kings: a crisp sandwich.
“I’m about to say something that breaks every one of my beliefs.” What in the name of Hecate was Damelza about to tell us? Had she changed her entire outlook on mages? Had the bravery of my men broken her prejudiced view that the Rebels were broken? “The mage is right: you should become an Immortal.”
Well, baby steps.
Fox ducked his head, but I didn’t miss the way that he was struggling to smother his smile.
The small brained mage had just outfoxed the Principal.
“This is your sentence and punishment. I hope that you’re overwhelmed with the shame of becoming the first witch (and one of our prestigious House), to become a student here,” Damelza scolded.
“Oh yes, I’m quite ruined…the shame…” I gasped, holding my hand against my forehead as if I was about to faint.