Renegade: A Young Adult Dystopian Page 7

  Roque ran a hand through his hair, exhaling hard. “This should result in expulsion, Foster. Attacking a teacher? Now a student? Adair’s actions are his own consequences and will be dealt with. Memphis is fine. You’re executing penalties, leading with your heart and not your logic. Trust me, it’s a dangerous dance to take part in.”

  Brokk snapped his gaze to behind him, focusing more, and he spotted Memphis wide-eyed but standing meekly, more embarrassed then anything.

  “What’s going on with you?” The question caught him off guard, Roque having never shown him any special interest, let alone any sense of being able to confide in him. Hanging his head, he chose the safest route of not saying anything at all. Roque stared at him, searching for something that wasn’t there. Sighing, he stood, giving him one more puncturing gaze before raising his voice. “Brokk Foster, you are hereby expelled for the act of already assaulting a teacher and now trying as well with a student.”

  “No.” Adair pushed past Emory, limping, a bruise flowering on his jaw. He flicked his gaze to him, pleading, before refocusing on Roque. “This is a misunderstanding. Brokk shouldn’t be punished. He is just being a loyal friend. Isn’t this what the Academy teaches, to above all protect others?”

  “Yes, but not to reprimand with violence,”

  “The world is being ripped apart from its core by violence! Right now, Roque, there are dark forces working against you, to destroy any sense of good that the Academy has built.” Adair flushed, but his words struck true.

  Roque looked to his best friend’s son, his features stony. “But to respond with such a reckoning, we will ensure to tear apart the moral we have built.”

  Adair seethed. “To sit and do nothing is going back on your word to protect Kiero. We have to fight.”

  “He’s right.” Tadeas stepped forward, making all of them instinctively step back. “Roque, follow through with what we have decided. Together, we will stop Cesan and make sure Kiero will not fall into another darkness. These are your people, your land. Take your claim to protecting them.”

  Roque growled under his breath. “I will deal with both of you later. To your rooms. Now.”

  Turning to Tadeas, Roque snapped, “Do not tell me exactly what I should do or how I should feel. If this alliance is to work, you must earn my trust. I am not quick to forget the way you came here, Tadeas. To tell my wife her father had been killed? That our peace treaty is no longer recognized? That our fabrication of a government is pitiful? Don’t overstep yourself.”

  Roque spun away, leaving Tadeas to follow him. Brokk stood shakily, turning to Emory and Adair. Adair glowered at him, not saying a word before limping down the hallway, Emory snapping at him, “Just don’t, Brokk. Just go.” Emory shot him one more look, disappointment shining in her eyes, before catching up with Adair. Linking arms, they left, Memphis joining them. Leaving Brokk alone in the hallway, his heart in his throat, his fear consuming him. He swallowed down his disappointment, making his way back to his bunker.

  6

  Memphis

  They walked in silence, unsure of what to say to one another. Adair’s shoulders were slumped, curved inward, like he was protecting his heart. Emory was pure energy, each bounce of her step deepening her frown and the pinch in between her eyebrows. Memphis looked to the bland hallways that contained his life, his hope, and his future. This school was so much more—it had been a symbol of change, a promise of a way of life that could get him back home. That would mend the displacement Roque’s father had created. Back to his parents. To be a part of his family once more. He had thrived off this, thrown himself into his studies, private tutors and endless sleepless nights just thinking of that wish. And now?

  It seemed to be all spiraling, slipping through his fingers faster than he could grasp. He shot a glance at Adair, wanting to say something. Clenching his jaw, he looked forward, his drained body choosing for him. Adair had slipped. His fellow classmates, even some teachers had let their skepticism of Adair be known, that he truly was dangerous, that his family shouldn’t be trusted. They were so powerful and were so close to the Faes that is was a risk.

  He had always scoffed at this; their judgements were harsh and without reason. Everyone at this school was a risk, to themselves and to the people around them. Why should they single out just one? Finding his gaze drifting once more to his friend, doubt clawed at his mind. Emory caught his gaze, and Memphis flushed, quickly looking forward. The hallway curved, they were coming to their crossroads. Say something.

  Adrenaline made everything look sharper than it appeared, like fragmented shards awkwardly pieced together. The lighting along the walls seemed too bright, a strange hissing noise coming from them. The classrooms they passed too distorted, too empty. He felt the air grow thicker, more humid. Gulping, Memphis quickened his pace, knowing he didn’t have long.

  “Memphis wait!” Emory and Adair’s voices overlapped, a strange harmony throughout his mind, and he stopped, his body shaking. Sweat slicked every ounce of his skin, but Adair pushed in front of Emory,

  “Memphis, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean... well actually, I did mean to, but I can explain!”

  He shook his head curtly. “Just leave me alone, Adair. Go.” Turning away, he didn’t look back. He couldn’t. Anger seared through him as he wiped his eyes, practically running to his room.

  “Memphis!” A cold, strong pressure on his wrist made him falter, and he looked up. Emory stood, wringing her hands and looking more nervous than he had ever seen her. To him, she was fearless. “Memphis, I’m sorry for what happened. Are you okay?”

  A pressure had built so fiercely in his mind, trying to break through and overtake him. Blinking hard, he gruffly shook his head “Em, don’t worry about it. It’s Adair, right? He wouldn’t do anything to hurt me or any of us. It’s just been a long day. You know, a lot happening at once?”

  She chuckled darkly, running a hand through her ebony hair. “I guess it is, isn’t it? You know my dad is announcing our family’s regency? That as of tomorrow I will be Emory Fae, Princess of Kiero? That as of tomorrow, everything my parents built will shift back into the mold it has been in.”

  He took her in, weighing the truth in her words, afraid of what exactly this weight would cost. Grimacing, he said, “All we can do is make sure we have each other’s backs. And that the decisions being made are ones that will only better our lives.”

  “And how exactly do we dictate that at fifteen and seventeen?”

  Memphis arched his eyebrow. “We make sure to find the truths in this world and follow them. No matter the cost.” He took a step back, and the walls dipped. “Emory, I’m sorry, but I have to go.” His footsteps echoed around him, pushing faster and faster toward his room. Hold on.

  He couldn’t remember the last time he had two episodes within the same week. It had been years. That familiar panic set in as each hanging light on the wall flickered as he passed, the whining energy pushing against the frame that held the magic in. It begged for release and knew he could do it. Everything in the Academy was constructed by the Faes, the Strattons, and the teachers and their abilities. From the steel framing, to the concrete, to the lights, to the desks and the beds they slept in. Every particle, every structure, had traces of strength and magic in it. The idea of technologies met with abilities was something never seen, and it was catching fire across Kiero. The Academy was before all else a tool. A resource to mend the mistakes of the past. Roque was building an empire with the belief they could live in harmony. Desolates and people of abilities. He was living proof by manning an entire school of some of the most powerful kids in Kiero.

  As Memphis ran harder, the full weight of what Roque had taken on hit home. The Faes had already achieved an impossible feat. A desolate prince and a fierce woman from the Shattered Isles being forced into an arranged marriage, only to fall in love and reshape their world into freedom. What was one more impossible feat for them?

  Memphis reached his room, and threw the do
or open violently. His world spun. He slammed the door shut, and his back slid against the cool oak wood as he fell to the floor. His breath was cut and ragged. He was going to be sick as a wave hit his consciousness, pain lacing through him. He couldn’t hang on.

  The white noise sharpened as his wall came crashing down, tired of fighting, tired of constantly trying to be something he wasn’t. Just for this second, he abandoned his control. Letting go, his ability consumed him, and like a star exploding, Memphis was lost in the sea of a thousand voices, sharpened and clear. The room disappeared, he disappeared, and the voices became clear. Or one voice.

  It shouldn’t be a surprise that Roque’s voice cut through the rest, powerful and full of secrets, but Memphis tensed before succumbing once more.

  Roque’s voice was hoarse. “She is our daughter, Nei, always. Before titles, before us, before this school. Our. Daughter. Her quality of life is priority. I will not put her in danger unless it is the only option. What choices do we have here?”

  Nei sighed. “I could try mending with the Isles, my sisters. Word should have never left our confinement. About what happened. About what we did. About what we have.”

  Roque pushed. “In our place of power, it is also our place to protect this secret. Until it is safe. Until we know for certain that after dealing with Cesan, there are no more threats. There has been word of strange things happening past Sarthaven. That a darkness is starting to lift its head, tinging the borders. Creatures of the night, strange disappearances and accidents. The people of Kiero are scared and are looking to us to secure their peace of mind. I promise you, as my best friend, that after we deal with this, we will destroy it. We will find a way, find someone who can help. But until then, we make sure it doesn’t fall into the wrong hands.”

  He was slammed back into the present, on his hands and knees, heaving for air. The room whirled, and he threw his meager energy into throwing his mental walls back up. A blissful emptiness greeted him, and he staggered up toward his bed. What had he just heard? What were they talking about? Why were they in danger?

  Sitting hard on the edge of his bed, gasping, he tried to sort through his emotions. Brokk had been right. Within twenty-four hours, everything had changed. And his hopes were crashing around him. Numbly, he looked to the door, his gut telling him to run, to find Brokk. There was nothing they couldn’t figure out. But for the first time in eleven years, he couldn’t move a muscle. It was too much to digest, to take in. How could he move forward when he couldn’t even sort out what he was feeling? Anger. Grief. Fear.

  They were being propelled by the fates, out of his worldly realm of control. He was just another body in the sea of reactions, his course still to be determined. The thought was draining on his already tired and hurt body, and so he leaned back, thumping against his mattress. His gaze drifted toward the ceiling, and he embraced that for the first time, he wasn’t going to do anything but wait and try to sort out the information he knew. His muscles started to relax, and sleep tugged at the edges of his skittering mind desperately trying to connect the dots. As his surroundings bled away and his consciousness floated into the realms of dreams, he couldn’t shake the feeling of desperation and that he was running out of time.

  7

  Adair

  “Please proceed to the Dining Hall... Please proceed...”

  Adair awoke with a jerk, completely and utterly disoriented. The Academy’s intercom blared through the hallway, the whining pre-recorded message sounding flat. How long had he been asleep? The walk back to his room had been caught in snippets in his mind, his body going through the actions. But him? His soul? Barely raised its head at anything that was happening around him.

  Sitting up, he rubbed his eyes, listening to the message, his gut tightening with every word. His father hadn’t come back. Scrambling up, he was across the room and flying through his dresser, sifting through clothes in every direction. He grabbed his usual go-to, the black shirt and pants with his button-down jacket. Throwing a hopeless look in the mirror, he stopped. Bruises flowered along his jaw and underneath his eye, his skin paler than usually, his ebony hair stood up in every direction. His eyes—hollow. His empty gaze of indifference reflected at him, but locked down underneath the surface, he was screaming. Ripping his gaze away, he was out of the room before he could register what was happening. His classmates were already flooding the concrete hallways, the curiosity rippling around them in a contagious energy. Classes had been cancelled for the rest of the afternoon, and now this?

  Rounding the corner, he glanced out the bay windows. The sun dipped below the horizon, the last rays bleeding into the sky, creating a marvelous display. Beautiful and terrible, he thought as his gaze drifted back to the throng in front of him, that the world displayed most magnificently before the darkness swept in. He pushed faster, his plan forming swiftly. He hadn’t seen his mother since everything that had happened, and he assumed she had already left with Nei. She hated goodbyes, and so did he, which meant no one was looking for the deserter’s son. Which left him at an advantage.

  His feet carried him, twisting and turning, the walls blurring. All the classrooms Adair passed were sealed and forgotten about. As if everyone could taste the change before them. Frowning, he slowed his steps, slipping inside the washroom too fast for anyone to notice. Not that anyone was paying attention to him. A ghost amongst the living.

  “Shut up.” He stopped as his voice rang out. The washroom was empty, the dimly lit room making it seem like it was already late into the night. He growled, whispering to the voices curling into his mind, “Shut up.” He was already moving as the taunts and accusations of their cruel voices ebbed. But they were never fully gone. Making his way to the end stall, he quickly closed himself inside, securing the lock. Panting, he lowered the lid of the toilet, and standing on top, his hands roaming, searching for the lever. The Academy was an amazing place to grow up in, to see it be built from practically nothing. The one advantage to being a Stratton and living here his whole life was that he knew the secrets hidden amongst them where they were easily overlooked. The lever was small and flush into the stone, but when pressed down hard, the concrete shuddered to life. Bricks dissolved, crumbling into dust as he waited. Soon enough, a small tunnel was revealed, the damp air swirling around him. Grinning wolfishly, he didn’t look back as he climbed into the cramped space. As soon as he passed the threshold, the air shimmered behind him—the movement of the wall becoming whole once more.

  The Academy was filled with secret passages designed for his parents and the Faes to have meetings away from prying eyes when they had first formed the school. It wasn’t always praised; it took years for people to be brave enough to utilize what the Faes were offering. He had found out, as he did with most things when it came to his parents, he had to use his wit and patience. They had documents hidden away, maps of the school, which he conveniently found when he was pursuing different books of the cultures of Kiero, which his mother took an interest in.

  Adair crawled faster, leaning into the curves and twists of the tunnel, the dust making his nose burn. It had been years since he had used one of the secret passages, trying to keep his habits of disregarding the rules in check. The concrete was freezing underneath his palms, each movement sending shots of pain from his cracked and bruised fingernails.

  He should have seen a healer, but in a way, he liked the reminder of what he had faced, each hot flash, each strained movement, reminding him that he was stronger. That at the start of each day he would carry on, bearing his pain like a shield and not a poison that would cripple him. He would not become his father. The light in the tunnel become a dull grey wash as the concrete suddenly sloped down, and he knew he was getting close. Gritting his teeth, he shifted his weight so his legs were extended, his black boots shining in the limited light. Taking a deep breath, he pushed with his hands, gravity taking over. As he dropped, sliding down the makeshift chute, the still air now roaring around him, he clenched his teeth unt
il his jaw ached dully. He had always hated this part. But just as soon as it had started, he slammed to a stop, his ribs cracking from the impact. Dots danced in front of his vision, taunting him to succumb into unconsciousness.

  Groaning, he rolled over, wondering not for the first time if it was worth using this passage. Coughing, he dragged his body, scraping across the cold rock, his arms shaking. A voice boomed underneath him and he smirked, blood caking in his mouth.

  He listened, stilling his body as Roque continued. “Thank you all for coming on such short notice.”

  Shimmying faster, Adair was met with a small overhang looking down to the now full dining hall below. Chest heaving, he settled in, having a complete view of his classmates and teachers, their chatter dying down instantly at the sound of their leader’s voice. Devouring the scene hungrily, his gaze landing on the four figures standing at the front of the Hall. Roque was dressed in a deep blue jacket, the rest of his clothes black, enhancing his proud features. Emory stood beside him, her black hair glistening, swept back and pinned so it tumbled down her back. She wore a simple dress, a matching royal blue, the fabric sweeping down from her waist creating the illusion of churning water. He was frozen as he took in her slight frown, her gaze plastered to the floor in front of her. Beside them, Tadeas stood, his broad chest puffed out, his travelling attire now changed into a simple brown suit, his pale emerald hair tied back enhancing his sharp features.

  Adair felt his hands curl tightly into fists, his breath coming in fast gulps. Before, the Isles were treated with wary and caution, and now... now an allegiance was forming before his eyes. Marquis stood by his father’s side, having not changed since Adair saw him last, his deep emerald hair unruly, his indifference evident. He felt a flash of admiration for the strange boy, a kindling connection. He wasn’t the only one who didn’t want his family name to dictate his future.