Rosemary Johns - Rebel Academy - Curse

Firmly, I shook my head, hushing Fox’s protest.

I clenched my jaw. I’d been given to the Princes. If there wasn’t love, it was a violation to become Midnight’s Blood Lover. Wasn’t it as close a bond as marriage? I’d never force that on Midnight, unwillingly.

Did Midnight love me?

Sweet Hecate, I was no longer a virgin but I’d never experienced the sensation of a vampire sinking his fangs through my skin and drinking my blood.

Tonight, I’d belong to the Princes. Would they both love and savage me?

I squirmed in the uncomfortable basket next to the counter in the Princes' bedroom in the East Wing. It was oddly disconcerting to look up at the grand wardrobes with their mosaic battles between Immortals and Princes, Willoughby's bed that was carved out of ice with columns twisting to the ceiling, and Lysander's obsidian four-poster.

Everything was so much bigger than me; I was nothing at the feet of these Princes.

Was that how Midnight felt? Did Lysander insist on it?

Ah, the ego of fae.

My heart beat more rapidly because from down here, the Princes were caught in a twisted fairy tale.

As Blood Lover, I expected blood or kisses, possibly both at the same time. Belonging to the Princes could either be an exceptionally good or bad thing.

Tea would be part of their usual evening ritual, I was assuming?

Will bleed for tea. Was that not fair?

Echo would peck my behind for such an offer. But then, Echo would bleed for a kiss from the elf.

Flair’s demands would be cruder.

Juni had led me up here in stony silence, before shoving me into Midnight's bed like I was a treat for him or his supper.

Then she'd fixed me with a steely glare. "Do you remember how I once begged you not to harm my Princes?"

"Was there begging involved? I don't remember you saying please ."

Juni's cheek had twitched. "Then please believe me that your presence has harmed Crown. It was my mistake for thinking that you could care for him like you do your Immortals or wish to protect him from his guardian. Instead, you've destroyed him." Had I? Once, I'd have been thrilled to have ruined a fae prince. Now, the thought had made my magic scream through me in distress, until it’d rained snowflakes. Juni had blown the snow off her nose. "Do you believe Crown can recover from the disgrace of being marked Dunce? Don't fail at the Enchanted Ball or you'll discover Titus’ true..." She’d glanced around the room uneasily, before turning on her heel and storming to the door. Then she’d hesitated. "You weren't the one who put Crown together, after he first arrived here." Her voice had shaken. Black cats, she wasn't crying...? "I was only a teenager, and mother put me in charge of the Princes so that I could have hands on experience of our business. Titus broke him, and I mended him. On my magic, I swear that if you break him again, then I don't care if you claim to be the wickedest witch, I'll destroy you."

Then she'd slammed out of the bedroom, and I'd blinked.

Well, I was most certainly spanked.

I curled my legs in the small basket, dragging the blanket over me.

Did Juni care for her Princes like Emerick cared for the animals who stumbled into the academy? Of course, it involved more controlling food privileges and monitoring the creases in their blazers, and less rectal examinations.

I hoped.

If I'd been raised by Damelza without Byron to guide me, would I've viewed the Rebels any differently to robins with broken wings?

A stray ash feather on the blanket tickled my nose, and I smiled. I stroked its softness. Then to my surprise, I felt the outline of something harder, tucked beneath the blanket.

Carefully, I unraveled the edge of the blanket and scraps of paper, which looked like they'd been collected from broken exercise books, fell onto my palm.

Of course, whipping boys weren't allowed to own anything. Perhaps, Midnight had found these scraps on the floor and hidden them.

Why?

I should put them back. They were secret. Willoughby's Crystal Diary had been private, and I'd been awfully strict with both Flair and Bask about reading it.

Yet, I hadn't received correspondence in... forever . Was it so terrible to wish to see who was writing to Midnight and whether they were love letters, his fang club, or hate mail...?

For all I knew, he was a train enthusiast or birdwatcher and had a penpal. Possibly, Fox knew. In Bacchus’ class, while they hung around together like bats, they were always whispering together.

Whipping boys stuck together.

I wished that there’d been another whipping boy who could’ve supported Robin. Yet how long had Midnight also been alone?

I sighed. Of course, I wouldn't read Midnight’s letters. I'd had my memories torn from me. I wouldn't read someone else's mail.

It might just take a little time to convince the nosy witch in me.

I wished that I'd known someone outside the academy who'd cared about me and my life enough to write. But I'd been the girl in the Bird Turret; nothing had mattered to anyone apart from my Blessedly Charmed magic.

Oh, and then I'd been dead .

That rather put a crimp on making friends, although I'd discovered, not necessarily lovers.

I started to shove the letters back into the blankets, when the words that were scrawled on top caught my eye:

To my king, Fox, and future queen, Magenta,

Your love makes my blood sing.

Please, let me serve you.

I froze.

These letters were written by Midnight to Fox and me.

And he loved us and wished to serve us…?

I swallowed. Hecate's tit, didn't that rather blow down my moral house of cards on why I shouldn't sneak a peek? Yet Midnight hadn't given these letters to us. So, did that mean he didn't want me to see them?

Yet his love screamed even from the single line that I'd accidentally read. How could I unsee it, along with the despair that threaded through his unrequited love?

Because it wasn't a crush. I loved him too.

Why had he hidden this?

My hands shook. I had to save the Princes, including Midnight, and it needed to be at the Enchanted Ball, before Titus wrecked us all. I'd been delivered here as Midnight's snack.

Surely, I had a right to discover what I could?

Titus or letter morals? I bit my lip. How about a single peek?

I forced Fox's disapproving expression out of my mind because he'd never looked at me with anything but love before, and my magic sparked with displeasure that even imaginary Fox would glare at me.

"I beg your pardon," I muttered to the empty room. " Whoops , look how the letter slipped open on my knee... I’ll just gather it up again, shall I?"

Midnight's handwriting was as beautiful as he was. Yet the words made my stomach cramp with guilt:

I don't deserve love. I was born to obey. I'm nothing but a curse.

I winced at the sharp pain, as the thought lanced through me.

"Like I'm born to serve," I replied.

Lucifer's expression darkened, and he pressed his hand to my forehead. "Who made you think like that? Who caged your mind?"

I shoved the letters away from me, hurriedly wrapping them up in the blanket. I'd known... of course I'd known that I shouldn't have read it.