Renegade: A Young Adult Dystopian Page 3

  Casting his eyes toward the floor, Brokk was unable to find his words. Nei’s sharp gaze flickered between them, and Roque murmured, “You are dismissed with a warning. But if I hear of this sort of thing again or you are brought to me, then there will be consequences.”

  Heat flushed his cheeks and Brokk dipped his head. “Thank you.”

  With that, he quickly found his feet, and turning, flew from the room. Clicking the door shut, fast low voices danced at him from behind it, and that strong sense of warning pulled at his gut again. Not right, not right. Ripping himself away, he sauntered down the hallway. He needed to find Memphis. Something wild and dark was churning for them all in the shadows—he could feel it. He tried to control his galloping pulse, but every step, every thought, brought him closer to his conclusion. The Faes and Strattons were hiding something at the heart of the Academy. He had every intention of finding out what it was.

  2

  Adair

  He was transfixed by the way Emory moved. Locks of her black hair trickled forward and her slender body was animated as she was lost in what she was saying. The words were a distant hum, never truly reaching him but wrapping his mind with their warmth. It felt so good to be talked to without the condescension from his parents or the withering looks of fellow students.

  The afternoon air brushed his cheek, bringing him back to his pressing thoughts. As usual, he was completely and utterly at Emory Fae’s mercy. She radiated with life, and Adair clung to it desperately. Chewing his inner lip, he tried to slow his hammering heart, his clammy palms. To suffocate the urge to lean over and run his thumb over her lower lip, to cup her face. To lower his lips on hers and just feel what it would be like, to know the possibilities they held together.

  But like every other day of his life, he pushed his roaring emotions deep down, chaining them in the restraints of his core. The afternoon had passed with their parents going over maps and possible borders his father would go to next with his brainless group. Roque and his father were constantly butting heads while Nei and his mother, Bresslin, talked quietly. He and Emory had sat in the back, watching and ever dutiful. But as always, he was watching her. Glimpses of her full lips quirking to the side in her crooked smile. How she tucked her long, ebony hair behind her ear. How her eyes reminded him of the forest at night, deep and full of secrets. How when she was excited or mad, her high cheekbones flushed deeply. Her laugh. Her scowl. Her stubbornness. Her entirely.

  Breathing in the deep scent of summer, he tried to relax as they sat on the ledge of the grey boulder they had scaled. Leaning back, he soaked up the sun, the afternoon passing in their favorite hiding spot. Overlooking the valley, the expanse of rolling fields and woods that encompassed their world was at their feet. He knew with every passing day the ownership of his heart was being whittled away. A slow warmth spread through him at the thought because when it came to Emory, there was no other way he wanted his story to be written. The first time they had met, he had known they were destined to be together. Her light had always complimented his darkness, and he was utterly—in every sense—entranced by it.

  “Adair?”

  Snapping out of his thoughts, he stole a glance at her and faltered, looking forward. The sun sat lazily in the sky and time seemed to stop, each stolen brush of fingers and sly smile tucked away for them both. He was her confidant. Who else could relate to what it felt like to uphold their family’s reputations? The pressure, the constant scrutiny. He internally cringed, echoes of his father’s criticisms filling him. You are the best and the strongest, Adair. We are elite. Better than the fools who occupy this place. You will understand, my son, there is more to life than a teenage boy’s desires. You will see that you deserve to rule. To be mighty. To grow out of this place.

  He sighed, wishing about a life not filled with kings, with power ruling over heart. That alone was dangerous.

  The bustle of the Academy had quieted, classes resumed, and the forest that surrounded them had slowed in the haze of the afternoon except for the gentle tousle of the wind. To him, Kiero was endless, the Academy acting as his prison. He yearned for more, to see the world, to experience what it had to offer him, to spend his days challenging himself, finding adventure and never stopping, never looking back. Not being a puppet for a life he had never chosen for himself.

  Adair sighed, murmuring, “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

  Emory gravitated slightly closer, only an inch, but to him it felt like his skin was ignited into flames. He clenched his hands, stopping himself right there.

  Breathe.

  “What did you take away from the meeting?”

  Rolling his eyes, he whispered, “That my dad is a prat.” Her eyebrows shot into her hairline as she stifled a choked laugh. He slyly poked, “Oh come off it, Em. I know you agree.”

  Her silence was answer enough.

  “He won’t stop, you know. Until he has what he wants. That’s what I took from the meeting today, Em. The division of the world, of our parents, of this place, is all boiling down to something.”

  She huffed. “But what’s the point now? Why fight about what kind of freedom people have the right to? Our parents have been best friends for over a decade. What would come between that?”

  Jealously. Power. Status. Greed. Expectation. “Things change, Em. Sometimes there are things people can’t come back from.”

  A shadow flickered across her face as she sucked in both cheeks. “Your dad wants to build a new monarchy. My parents want to uphold the gains they have made, not by force, not by titles. We are the peacekeepers, the protectors of the borders. But what exactly will that mean for us? What are we being groomed to be?”

  She was stricken, and he wanted nothing more than to fold her in his arms and whisper that it would be okay. That they would be okay. He didn’t move, wrapping his arms around his knees instead. She’s not yours. Not yours. It was a vicious pull, his gut twisting and his ears burning. He had never been one for knowing how to navigate being forward about his feelings. Three years ago, he had tried and like most things Adair tried to make good of, it withered and burned, her rejection still stinging him. But there wasn’t one day that passed that he hadn’t wanted more. That he didn’t dream of it. Sighing again, he leaned forward, running a hand through his hair.

  Hooves thudded in the distance, rolling across the forest like disjointed thunder. Both of their heads snapped up, the hazy afternoon spell over them broken.

  “What the?” Emory breathed, standing fast.

  He stilled, everything within him becoming quiet. There was no movement, but the noise grew, rolling toward them like a wave crashing to shore. Standing slowly, his hands flexed by his sides, brushing against his ability churning beneath his skin. Then a flash of deep green and their visitors made themselves clear.

  Fifty stallions pushed toward the Academy, galloping under the sigil of broken steel and a churning sea. Ice cut through him the same time as her skin drained of all color. They were scrambling to run as he looked at Em, the shock etched into her features. The Shattered Isles. The Shattered Isles. Scaling the hillside, his muscles screamed with the sudden movement. Pins and needles made his legs feel numb, but he pushed, weaving in between the various buildings in a blur. There could only be one reason the Shattered Isles would come here. The world stilled, and all he could hear was his pounding heart, his ragged breath.

  She was his shadow, her voice ragged as she gasped. “Move!”

  Adair sucked in humid air, his lungs clotted with the thickness of it. The world remained oblivious to the fact that their nonexistent gates were being charged by people who were bred for war, for the bloodlust and the thrill of the fight. By people who, he knew for certain, would not play fair.

  They were about twenty yards from the main building, their curt breaths marking their tempo as they pushed faster. Men’s and women’s voices floated behind them, their catcalls and untamed hollers chasing on their heels. Ten yards, that’s all. He could make it. A
dair’s ability floated around him like a cloak, begging for release, to slip into someone else’s mind and overtake them. To fight, to get help, to do something. Five. Emory flew past him, wanting to reach the door first, her determination plain. If she was afraid, he couldn’t see it, and he admired her for that. They should be afraid.

  He desperately tried to shut out the hooves booming behind them. Colliding with the door, they scrambled as she slammed it open. Breathlessly, they skidded to a stop, scrounging the empty hallway.

  She panted. “Come on. We must find someone—anyone. Now.”

  His hands slightly shook, and he looked at her, not needing to ask. Exhaling, he let go of the restraints and with each snapping cord, his ability billowed from him. He always imagined it like smoke spilling from him and searching for what his heart sought. What his soul sought. His strength wasn’t one made from pureness, it wasn’t a gift. It was one of darkness, of control, of desire. One that he had at his constant disposal. One that Adair couldn’t get enough of. He was lost in his darkness, in the hunt of the person he was searching for. There was no distinction between his ability and man, not in this. A trigger flared in his mind as his ability brushed against Nei and Roque’s energy.

  Consume, consume, consume.

  It pulled at him, drowning him in his want. Having the power to possess another’s will was intoxicating to him. He could feel it expand, circling around them like a predator stalking their prey. Sniffing and weighing its options right before landing the killing blow. Snarling, Adair pulled back, being slammed into the present moment.

  “The library,” he wheezed. Emory took off, her footfalls echoing down the hallway, not looking back once. Pumping his arms, he followed, seething low under his breath.

  Low laughter echoed behind them through the doorway. He swore, stumbling as his knees grazed the unrelenting floor. He felt the skin on his kneecap tear, and warm blood trickled down his leg. Pushing himself back up, his legs shook from the defiance of gravity, but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t. Gaze forward, do not look back. Do. Not. Look—

  A sharp tugging sensation caught his left wrist and gravity left him once more as he slammed into the cold stone floor. Black dots tinged his vision, threatening to pull him into unconsciousness as the cutting taste of iron filled his mouth.

  “Adair!”

  Emory’s scream seemed distant, like he was below water and being pulled farther away from the world above. Throwing his weight forward, he scrambled, nails breaking as his fingers tried to find something to hold onto. Pain, hot and consuming, surged up his shoulder and down his side. Laughter cackled, and he vaguely realized that he was being dragged backward. Rolling, he looked at the leather whip cutting into his skin, the crimson blood trickling down his wrist. He looked to where the group of pirates waited for him. Their leader held the end of the whip, his smirk holding the promise of malice. His pale green hair was braided back, his deep eyes flashing as Adair stopped before him, gasping and shaking. A boy around his age peeked around his father, his emerald hair glistening like gems, his pale, freckled skin making his eyes look too big for his face. He begged with his eyes for mercy, for the boy to do something.

  Jutting his chin out, the boy slightly shook his head, so fast Adair almost didn’t catch the movement. Pain flared in his chest as he felt a heavy boot crunch against his sternum, pinning him flush to the cold hallway floor. Gasping, he tried to get up, to move, and the man only pressed down harder until he was sure he was going to break his bones.

  “My, my, this place is interesting, isn’t it?” The man’s voice was dry and full of authority, and he flashed Adair his gold teeth, searching his face. He leaned closer. “Now what should I do with you?”

  He couldn’t breathe. The walls seemed closer, the hallway blurring. Shouts filled the space, and he looked up to those leering faces. Teeth snapping, laughter clawing at Adair’s edges. Their taunts. Their insults. And the boy standing in the middle of the throng, doing nothing but watching him as the distant words became a sharp humming in his senses. The humming becoming a madness.

  And he snapped.

  His ability shattered through him, and with its inky claws, he sank them deep into his victim, relishing on how fast the boy’s mind bent to his will. Flashing open his new perspective and looking at his still form still pinned on the floor, his eyes rolled into the back of his head. The man paused for the briefest of seconds, looking at his lack of struggle. The boy’s voice was smooth and he started to laugh slowly, and the man looked at his son, his back stiff, only to find that his once emerald eyes were now pitch black.

  “What the—?”

  Adair didn’t wait. He didn’t care that he was extremely outnumbered. Snarling, he launched himself at the man, aiming low and throwing all his weight forward. The man dodged his attack easily, chuckling darkly. “Oh boys, we have a fighter. Shall we entertain his idea?” Mocking laughter rippled around the group and the leader lazily took in his son’s imposter. “You need to leave my son out of this. How about a fair fight in the body that’s yours?”

  The boy’s thin lips pulled upward. “You won’t fight fair, why should I? You wouldn’t dare hurt him. Now tell me why you’re here. What do you want?” The man paused, tilting his head as he assessed him.

  Adair tensed, his muscles pulling as he prepared to fly forward, to claw and bite and tear. To fight. The man bared his teeth at him, stepping forward as he flinched. Before he could say anything, a low hissing filled the hall. Spears of ice flew past Adair, lodging themselves firmly in the man’s cloak, the force throwing him back and pinning him to the wall.

  “Try touching my son again and I will make sure I don’t purposefully miss.” Bresslin Stratton stalked forward, malice flashing in her eyes. The group tensed as their leader laughed, sizing her up.

  Smirking, her gaze as cutting as a sword, frost spread down her fingertips and hands. “Wrong answer.” His mother was fluid as fire as ice shattered their trance.

  Ducking, Adair let go of his hold on the boy. Slamming back into his own body, he scrambled to get out of the way.

  “Adair!” Emory ran up to him, dropping to her knees and clutching his bloodied hands. She sputtered, “Are you okay? I went... I got...” She was gasping as she took him in with shaking hands, unable to finish her sentence.

  He panted. “Em. I’m okay, it’s going to be okay.”

  He faltered, adrenaline encompassing him. Her eyes flashed as he cupped her face for the briefest moment, breathing hard, before strong hands wrenched him upwards. His father’s face was contorted in anger as spittle flew from his lips. “What did he do to you? Adair, what did he do!”

  Emory blanched behind them, unaware that his blood was smeared on her cheek. Cesan shoved him back, his silent rage rolled from him in waves.

  “Dad, no!” Adair’s voice cracked and landed on deaf ears as his father stalked to where the intruders were now pinned by his mother’s enchanted ice. Bresslin stalked back and forth, her piercing gaze making their visitors wary and, for the first time since arriving, silent. Lurching forward, Adair found himself grappling at thin air, his vision spinning violently. One more step. One. More.

  Everything happened in clips of violence. Cesan prowled up to the rover, not giving him a chance to explain before bones cracked and more blood was spilt. Fists against jaws, might against might. Adair tripped, landing hard on his knees.

  Yells, protests, and the one voice who could stop his father’s wrath. “Cesan, stop.”

  That one voice, and the room was immediately harnessed. Roque Fae stalked past him and Emory, not giving them a second glance. Nei followed at his heels, her expression dark and unyielding.

  Dry laughter filled the hallway as Cesan spun, his dark eyebrows lifted in surprise. “Roque, I thought this is the thing we are trained to do when someone threatens our children and our home.”

  Spittle and blood flew from the man’s mouth as he barked out a choked laugh. “Threaten? I didn’t know that stepp
ing foot inside your precious Academy was a threat. We were here to talk when your son threatened us.”

  Lies. Shakily standing, he forced his legs forward. His dad had to believe that he wouldn’t use his ability for anything but self-defense. He had to see reason.

  Cesan grabbed the man’s jaw, forcing him to look at him. “I’m glad my son threatened you. I only wish he had finished the job.”

  “Cesan!” Roque shoved him back hard with a pointed looked.

  The two men stood in a silent battle before Cesan shook his head, growling, “You will condemn us all, Roque. This is my line. You can’t possibly expect me to sit back while you reason with these people?”

  “That is exactly what I expect you to do.”

  Cesan’s skin flushed, his clenched hands shaking. It was a moment suspended in air, the defiance and the betrayal plain in his father’s features. Adair’s heart stuttered as Cesan bared his teeth and turned away, his anger a wild and tangible thing. He didn’t look back at his wife, his son, or his best friends. It was like a cord snapping, the frayed edges that had held on for so long now unable to bear the weight.

  Dread spread with a fury through Adair, cold and numbing, and he did nothing but watch. Roque sighed and pulled his attention to the group still pinned to the wall, looking at them with curious interest. Slowly he said, “Bresslin, if you could.”

  Adair’s mother snapped her frost-bitten fingertips and the deadly spears changed to water, icily crashing down on their guests. Sputtering, their leader recovered first, appraising not Roque but Nei.

  “Why are you here?” Roque’s voice rang with authority, and the man flickered his attention back to him.

  Adair felt Emory brush up beside him, tugging his fingers gently, but Adair was entranced, watching as the man gave Roque a bloody smile, chips of broken teeth and bruised skin making his skin look distorted.