Rosemary Johns - Rebel Academy - Crave

“ You look pale. As I have Fallen, are you quite well?” He asked, softly.

“I’m hooked like a worm. It’s the perfect answer to all my prayers.”

“You’re up shit’s creek all right, and sarcasm is useless as a paddle. Did no one teach your bouncy bosom to be careful what you pray for ?” Flair’s voice became steely. “ What’s freedom for one, is a prison for another poor bastard. Did you wish freedom from your corset, opera, or…? ”

My eyes widened. “True freedom is death.”

That was Number 21 in the Principal’s Motto Book.

I screamed, as the branch slithered around my ankle, loosening. I jolted down a couple of inches.

Had I risked everything to sneak out today only to ask for my own death by mistake…?

Well, Merlin’s prick.

My life flashed before my eyes: cup of tea — embroidery — cup of tea — piano lesson — cup of tea — reading — cup of tea .

My goodness, that was boring.

I clenched my jaw and forced myself to look up once again at the academy. Inside there, the men — Immortals, Princes, and their whipping boys like Robin — were allowed a magical education at Oxford’s secret college where the most dangerous witches from across the world taught those in most need of reform. An education that’d been denied to me, even though I was more powerful than all of them combined.

Today, the Rebels would be studying a class in Shifter and Familiar Training. Flair was lucky that I’d missed that. He wouldn’t like the methods, which the covens used to break unruly familiars like him.

But I didn’t want to break anyone.

“Go on then,” I hissed at Hecate, even though my breath was ragged, “drop me.”

Two could bluff like a goddess…

Echo flapped his wings, wildly cawing. “ Ignore the witch, Hecate. She’s got too much blood rushing to her head and doesn’t know—”

Hecate’s Tree let go of me.

I screamed, bouncing through the branches and wincing at each crack to my ribs, shoulders, or hips. In shock, I could feel the bruises blossoming.

Well, I’d make a battered corpse in a ripped dress. That’d horrify mother.

I almost smiled.

“ Oww , son of a mage...” I snatched at the branches as I fell to slow my descent.

The floor of the glade rose like a flowery grave. The bizarre thing about your last thought before you died, I discovered, was that you have no control over it. Mine was: I shall come back as a ghost to haunt Robin, so that he’ll have the satisfaction of saying I told you so . He’d always wanted to hold a séance to prove that ghosts were real.

Then I closed my eyes.

Only, I didn’t hit the hard earth in an explosion of agony but a soft cushion that caressed me in fizzing waves. I carefully opened my eyes. Then I laughed, and euphoria flooded me.

I wasn’t going to die…

My Blessed magic reached out of the earth and the plants to catch me on all sides, before lowering me to the ground.

Had Hecate known that my magic would save me?

I sighed, kissing the earth. Yuck. I grimaced, smacking my lips. Why did people do that? Oh yes, because I hadn’t splattered to my agonizing death from a great height like I’d always feared in my nightmares. But still, every inch of my bruised body ached. I groaned, rolling onto my back. My twin familiars fluttered down, landing on my chest.

Flair cocked his head, staring at me far too intently. I squirmed.

“ Well, paint me pink and call me a bitch, that was close. ” Flair blew out a breath in relief. “ One day I’m a free Fallen just minding my own business, and the next I’m transformed into a bird and saddled with a crazy witch, even if she is beautiful. ”

“Don’t dare a god,” I admitted. “I’ve learned that they won’t blink first.”

When Echo rubbed his soft head against my chin in comfort, I stilled in surprise. “ She’s still our crazy…beautiful…witch,” he muttered fondly.

I smiled, rubbing my thumb over his feathers.

“ Traitor ,” Flair hissed.

Unexpectedly, the pink around me glowed, before worming out like roots and tangling above my head into brambles that trapped me beneath my magic… and safe from Hecate’s Tree .

Yet the goddess’ tree had always been my refuge. This wood was forbidden to the Rebels, but that’d never stopped Robin and me sneaking between the trees’ hushed darkness whenever we could. I’d spent hours swinging from those branches, which had just swung me upside down and then dropped me.

Hecate’s Tree was the traitor…or had she been trying to ignite my magic?

Suddenly, I stilled. Something rustled in the branches of the yew tree. My breath caught, and my pulse pounded. Had I been followed?

Keep calm, Magenta, no punishment could be worse than being forced to marry, could it?

I squinted up at the branches of the tree. Then a bird darted overhead with a silvery burst of song like laughter. The robin circled the web of brambles that protected me, pecking at them like they were worms, as they in turn wiggled away from the bird’s sharp beak.

I squirmed myself at the strangeness of the sensation.

“Desist, Robin, you’re always hungry.” I chuckled.

I should’ve known that Robin would find me here in his bird shifter form. It was our secret meeting place, after all.

With a sweep of my gloves, the magic parted enough for the small bird to dart inside and settle on my stomach. My familiars swiveled their heads towards Robin with menacing intent.

Wait, did crows eat robins?

“I have a gentleman caller,” I tried for mother’s haughtiness but I’m certain that I failed, since I’d never admitted a caller in my life before, “so take your feathery backsides hence.”

Certainly, my etiquette was perfection. Then again, possibly not because Robin let out that silvery laugh again, at the same time as the crows cawed their outrage and hopped away to the edge of the glade.

I studied the pretty bird who was (with far too deliberate intent), pecking between my tits and up my neck. I sighed. If I imagined it just right, it could be kisses.

My eyes widened. Why was Robin’s beautiful red breast plucked of feathers?

Robin was the only mage who’d ever been allowed into the academy. He was also a rare and powerful shimage : A mage who could also shift into animals. Yet witches had rules, and they included that mages were their enemy. I’d long wondered if I was a failure of a witch, however, because Robin had been my best friend since I was a child, and for years I’d craved him as something more.

More meaning that I believed our immortal souls were knit together for eternity.

Yet how could you tell your best friend that you’d loved him for years as the one who made your heart and magic thrum with such excitement that flowers would burst awake from the soil? Especially when he was a mage and a Rebel. It’d be a crime for me to choose him.

Why couldn’t he be the man who I was marrying tonight?

In a spray of golden glitter, Robin transformed back into his human form. My breath caught, and my skin flushed hot and cold.

I always forgot how handsome Robin was. He caged me with his hands on either side of my head. His muscled chest pressed to mine. I could feel the too rapid thud of his heart through his thin whipping boy uniform: black shirt and trousers with a pink Rembroidered on the pocket. His tumble of red hair veiled me, and his intense emerald eyes caught me in their gaze.