Rosemary Johns - Rebel Academy - Crush

I’d feel all tingly inside, except I didn't want Midnight to be hurt.

I wrapped my shaking arms around myself.

Juni was pale, and her furious gaze met Magenta's. "I warned you not to hurt my Princes, but look..." She tangled her hand in Lysander's hair. "I wished to call you sister. We're family. But you...strip him…and now, they must be disciplined for their failure in the Cup."

"Have you been watching us?" Magenta's eyes flashed.

Juni snorted. "Do you think I've nothing better to do with my time?" Bad mouth, don't answer that. "Or that Lysander would ever take off his uniform without my permission? Unlike you, he knows the punishment he'll receive." Lysander winced. “ Of course it was you who tricked or trapped him into it.”

When Damelza tapped Midnight on the head, he spread out his ash wings. They were as beautiful as him...and so sensitive. It'd be like having his dick broken.

I winced. On my prickles, this wasn't right.

I'd been the one to fall in love with the ghost who'd been my first kiss. I'd been the one to resurrect her with my blood. Damelza had set those stakes on the Rebel Cup because of me .

All week, I’d been fighting to save my own life, but when it came down to it, I couldn't let someone else take my punishment.

And I'd never allow Midnight to suffer for me.

I dived forward, but Magenta caught me in her mists, at the same time as Sleipnir and Bask leaped forward to block me. Desperate, I struggled, but Sleipnir held my arms behind my back.

Magenta clasped me around the neck. "Believe that we love you enough to save you."

" Fight ," I hissed.

"Stop fussing," Damelza fiddled with the feather behind her ear, "or this will be a double punishment. I'm certain that I can squeeze you in, as you're so eager. The Rebel Cafe will repel all attacks on professors, as will the charms that we wear. Haven't you read your copy of the Rebel's Mottos? It's all helpfully explained for students in the back."

"Is there a section on breaking wings?" I snarled.

Damelza tilted her head. "Excellent point. I should add one."

Lysander's gaze ached like he was dying inside; he touched Juni’s knee. " Juni, please... "

Since when was he on first name terms with his Tutor? Did he have a sweet nickname that he murmured to her as well like Witchy Poo ?

Juni's eyes widened at the use of her first name, rather than professor, glancing sideways at her mum.

Then she smoothed Lysander’s hair, smartening him up as if out of habit. "How many chances did you waste to win? Sweet Hecate, you're Princes. Yet you allowed yourself to become...distracted. The responsibility and guilt for this lies only on you."

Lysander looked like he'd been slapped.

When Damelza reached out her hand towards Midnight's wing and magic crackled like black poison on her palm, it was Magenta who took a step towards her.

"Stop!" Magenta hollered.

"My patience is officially worn out." Damelza snatched Midnight's wing by the wingtip, dragging it up towards her palm.

I wished that I could see Midnight's face, but tremors ran through his shoulders.

Dizzy, my heartbeat raced.

Don't, don't, don't...

Suddenly, Lysander thrust his arm towards Damelza. "Break my arm, instead."

Midnight's head shot up in shock. "You mustn’t, my prince."

"Silence." Lysander's arm was steady.

Respect.

"Mother," Juni begged, "he's obviously under that Wickedly Charmed witch's spell. He doesn't know what he's saying."

Damelza ignored her daughter. She raised her palm with the spitting hex towards Lysander’s bare elbow. He didn't lower his arm. I stiffened, dreading the crack ...

When Damelza pulled away her hand, Lysander's breathing sped up.

She stared at Lysander in shock. "You'd really do it." Then she gave a sly grin. "But you don't own a dog and bark yourself, and you don't own a whipping boy and take his punishment. You're meant to care about them, which is why it'll hurt you so much when I do this..."

She snatched Midnight by the wingtips, before running her palms...and the hex...down both his wings at the same time.

I clutched my hands over my ears, but it still didn't block out the cracking of bones or Midnight's howls.

When Damelza let go of Midnight, and he curled into a ball with his broken wings quivering to cover himself like a blanket of feathers, Lysander hovered over him, unsure how he could even touch Midnight without causing him more pain.

Would she allow Bask to heal Midnight, after the tournament?

"Good luck on your mission this afternoon, Immortals," Damelza said like she'd just delivered a detention and not a hexing. "If you refuse to complete it, then I won't break your bones, I'll break your necks."

Hexing Midnight and sending us on the deadly mission wasn’t enough for Damelza, she also had to threaten us with execution.

So, it looked like I was right: Life’s a witch and then you die.

When I reached out with my magic, it curled through the academy's wintry grounds. Its roots burrowed beneath the academy and up into the trees of the Dead Wood. Out here, as I marched towards the dragon stables and the mission, I could sense my Wickedly Charmed powers in every crunching step, the snowflakes tearing from the leaden sky, and in the trembling of the breezes.

I was wicked, but now, I wasn't merely an explosion of primal rage, grief, and pleasure.

The curse was melting along with the snow, and the wards that trapped us all in the Membership were breaking down. If my dangerous Ice Prince could control himself, then so could I.

I clasped both Fox and Bask's hands, unwilling to let go. Fox shivered in only his whipping boy uniform, since Damelza hadn’t considered him deserving of a coat, even though she could be sending him to his death.

Sweet Hecate, never let me lose my Rebels.

Yet was it worse to hold onto them eternally or free them forever?

Sleipnir stormed ahead of me towards the huge stables with barred stalls, which looked more like a prison than the castle. His shoulders were stiff, and his hair was bristled to cinnamon red.

Music tinkled from around the corner. My brow furrowed. It was the same melancholy song about building snowmen (in my first life, I’d never have guessed that it was so hard for people to find play partners in the future), which my crow familiars had told me Willoughby sang with haunting beauty in the shower.

Was this where he’d learned it?

Ah, that made more sense than it being an elven ballad.

Yet I couldn’t shake the sound of Midnight’s howling, the crack as his wings snapped, or Lysander’s desperate Juni, please …

I hated with a witchy passion the sound of another woman’s name on Lysander’s lips.

One of the things about being burned alive and then trapped as a ghost, who was unable to escape Hecate’s Tree, was that it made me rather possessive of what was mine . Strangely, that now included Lysander.

One of the other things about being burned alive and so on, was that it clearly had driven me a little crazy because how could I care like my heart was in flames about two Princes and their whipping boy?

Had I captured them to our side or had they captured me?

I followed Slepnir around the corner and into the yard, which was in front of the stables. I wrinkled my nose against the stinging smoke. Then I narrowed my eyes at Professor Ambrose. He hummed along to the music, crouching over ranks of bridles, saddles, and spurs. I’d never ridden a dragon before, and I’d never been ridden before. Well, only the once. But losing my virginity to Fox wasn’t something that I’d forget.