Page 34 of Gemini Queen
And this place where I don’t want to be is way more extensive than a building or even a walled compound.
It’s a whole freaking village.
The entire thing’s built on a harrowingly steep hill that plunges straight down to a frigid gray bay, which means the streets are narrow and winding and mostly stairs. Lots and lots of stairs. They zig and they zag and they twist and they tack, which obviously means there are no cars or buses or even a bicycle or a scooter anywhere in sight.
Apparently, at this Academy, you walk and you climb.
The buildings are mostly stone and stucco with terra-cotta roofs, painted in fantastic shades of cobalt and green and crimson all faded and scoured from the sun and the wind and the salt whose briny tang lingers under the metallic smell of snow. And most of these buildings, it’s pretty obvi, are empty.
I mean it. These streets are so quiet you can hear the wind whistle and the waves crash against the rocks way below.
In fact, it’s so quiet you can practically hear the snow fall. Fat flakes spiral from a pewter sky and accumulate in drifts against all those closed doors.
It’s quickly becoming clear there’s a lot more Academy than there are students to fill it.
Like… a lot.
“It never used to be this way.” Neo sounds apologetic as we tromp down another interminable set of stairs in our boots, coats buttoned tight and heads bent against the icy wind raking from the sea. Climbing back up is gonna be a real bitch. “According to the history books, these buildings were bursting at the seams back in the day. We had twelve whole houses, hundreds of faculty and support staff, and a line of students waiting to get in. Nowadays, with the races dwindling, there aren’t enough students to fill more than three. Throw in the faculty and the custodial staff, and there are maybe forty arcanes total on this whole island.”
And out of those forty, apparently only seven live in ourdomus. That’s if you include me in the tally.
Which you definitely shouldn’t.
Because I’m not staying.
And I’m not going to feel guilty about leaving. The four races were failing long before I came along. Queen or no queen, even the arcane races with their freakish and terrifying powers can’t escape the inevitable march to extinction. That’s just the way evolution works.
We round a corner and a fresh gust of wind slams into us, making my face sting and my ears ache.
“What’s up with this weather anyway?” I shiver and burrow deeper into my coat. “This climate isn’t like any island in the Med I’ve ever seen.”
“It’s the wards.” Gently he reaches to brush snow from my hair. He can’t seem to stop touching me, and he always smiles when he does it. “The protective wards around the island. The same witchcraft that protects this place from discovery also messes with the weather. Which means our summers run hot and our winters run cold. This time of year, we’re more like the North Atlantic than the Med.”
“One more reason to love the place,” I mutter. There’s a damn good reason my safe houses always hug the equator, because I’m a total wimp about the cold. Speaking of which, I’m going to lose those digs I just lined up in Sharm on the Red Sea coast if I don’t get off this rock in time to pay the rent.
The thought of finding myself homeless as well as hunted plunges me into a whole new funk. Now I’m more than anxious about the looming fun and frolic.
I’m tempted to get borderline depressed.
We don’t see another soul except a flock of gulls winging past and a stray cat slinking through the streets till we get down near the water. And that too comes as a shock, because there isn’t actually a beach or a seawall. The steep village streets plunge straight down into the sea. You can literally stand at the bottom step and see more white stairs burrowing down through the water below you, exactly six steps down, before it gets too dark in the gray depths under these overcast skies to see the bottom.
Cold or no cold, I’d honestly love to dive it. I’d just need a proper cold-water dry suit.
And that makes me wonder if there’s another way off this island that’s more subtle and simple than hijacking a plane. I wonder how deep those protective wards penetrate. I definitely need to suss out how far we are from the nearest land. If I can find my burner phone, maybe I can get a fix on my GPS.
“Another sign that the witching world’s failing,” Neo says, sounding sober, hunkering on his heels to peer into the depths. “Above and beyond the fact that our queens are so weak, which affects the whole witching world. It isn’t just the sea that’s rising. It’s the island that’s sinking. You can appreciate why we’re all so fixated on the succession. We don’t get many new enrollees these days.”
“Yeah, about that.” Frowning, I turn away from all that cold but intriguing-looking water and hoist my backpack higher on my shoulder.
Neo wants to carry it for me, but he has his own big heavy pack to schlep (it looks like he’s toting a whole library in there) and I don’t want to project any more weakness to my fellow students than I already have. So I shoulder my own weight and follow him toward a broad cobblestone piazza with a frozen fountain.
“I can’t figure out who enrolled me in the first place,” I continue. “My dad wants me dead, not educated. I’m a threat to his authority. And with Damien gone, I don’t have any other relatives who could have signed me up.”
“Well, Zara, you have me.” For some reason, he sounds wary. “We’re engaged under arcane law. Being your fated mate gives me the authority to enroll you.”
And that’s exactly why I didn’t want a fated mate in the first place.
I stop in my tracks and glare. “Neo Mercury, please tell me you are not the whack job I have to thank for this unimaginable shitshow I’m about to wade into.”
