Page 6 of The Last Bell
“…never get justice…”
“…what did you expect of them?”
The wind prickles my skin, turning droplets of rain into shards.
River’s face hardens more and more with each whispered denouncement, the mix of regret and resolve in his stormy eyes coalescing into a grand wall. When he speaks again, there is no more softness in his voice.
“I’m not asking as your mate,” River says coolly, his voice loud enough to be heard across the Academy. “I’m ordering as your commander. Obey, or find yourself and your righteous indignation keeping each other company in a dungeon cell.”
Despite already starting to kneel, I snap back upright at that turn of phrase. Not just a command, but a bloody threat. The sudden rush of blood in my ears drowns out all thought. My lips pull away from my teeth, my canines flashing as another peal of thunder sounds overhead. Pounding against my ribs, my heart is so loud, I wonder how the whole courtyard doesn’t feel its fury-filled rhythm. “You wouldn’t.”
River raises a brow. “Do you truly wish to discover the truth?” he asks steadily. Behind him, Shade shifts his legs, ready to rise and do River’s bidding.Wantingto. Shade, who had the gall to forbid me to go outside as if I were a trained pet, who is now not altogether upset to watch me get my comeuppance.
My own males, my own mates, looking at me with full recognition—and no warmth, no kindness at all. Who want obedience more than they want me. Even with their memories gone, I never felt as far from them as I feel now.
My throat closes, and suddenly, it’s a battle just to keep the stinging in my eyes from becoming a new spectacle for the courtyard. Averting my gaze, I lower myself to one knee beside the males, the slight tightening of River’s jaw the only indication that he noticed the change.
Through the veil of stinging pain now gripping my soul, I watch River turn around to survey the kneeling—but now silent—courtyard. “You’ve no doubt marked by now that I—the man you believed to be the deputy headmaster of this Academy—am an immortal from Lunos, as are my four quint mates. My true name is River—”
“River, King of Slait.” Owalin’s voice sounds from the mezzanine balcony once again, followed by a slow, mocking clapping that’s somehow amplified by the thunder instead of drowned out by it. His hood is thrown back now, and the effect is even more terrifying—silver-blond hair braided tight against his skull, his sharp, elegant face almost skeletal in the storm’s strange, vivid light. Even from here, his pale blue eyes shine with satisfaction and curiosity. “Well played, Your Majesty. I’d have pushed the knife deeper if I’d known the details of your heritage.”
River turns slowly to the balcony, locking his hands behind his back. Even shirtless and bloody, he makes just as formidable a figure. “Master Owalin. I realize you’ve control of the Great Hall just now. Is anyone inside injured? On your side or your captives. I’d like the wounded cared for, whoever they are.”
“How kind,” Owalin replies casually. “But these are my people now, and I will make decisions for their well-being.” A smile flickers across his face, falling short of his eyes. “More accurately, I will let them make their own decisions. The fate of each kingdom is in their own royals’ hands—follow my orders, and all shall be well. I encourage you to help them see reason quickly, River—in the next forty-seven minutes, preferably, lest I am forced to execute another one of my guests.”
Before River can respond, Owalin disappears in a swirl of red.
Letting the pause rest just long enough for the humans to shift their attention from the keep back to where he stands, River nods to the crowd. “Owalin is correct in one aspect—I am the ruler of Slait, one of the three kingdoms in the immortal realm.” His voice echoes over the cobblestones, the smoldering remains of the arena silhouetting his tall body.“I regret the necessity of the disguises that my quint and I wore until now, but our original mission was to ensure that your lives continue undisturbed by magical forces. Unfortunately, the Night Guard, who holds many of your loved ones captive now, had other plans.”
River pauses, letting the words seep through the bewildered gazes now watching his every move. Letting this new reality slowly settle over them—as long as they believe what he’s saying. Even as furious as I am at him, I almost feel a sense of relief, watching the powerful male do what he was supposed to do all those months ago—lead us.
The tension in the air is so fierce, I feel it pressing on my skin, the pressure growing with every passing heartbeat. As it climbs to what feels like a breaking point, River raises his voice again. “The Night Guard, and their leader Owalin, is an enemy of my kingdom, as he is an enemy of yours. I offer you an alliance. Together, we can stand against Owalin and the darkness he brings with him. The situation we face is difficult but not insurmountable, so long as we have a unified front. My quint and I will be in the library awaiting your decision.”
Turning on his heel, River motions for the males to rise, but clamps a heavy hand on my shoulder when I start to do the same.
“One matter to attend to before we go,” River says, his hard gray eyes gripping me as firmly as his damn hand. “Leralynn of Slait. You lost control of your magic today, an accident that destroyed a vital part of this Academy and endangered hundreds of mortal lives. Am I wrong?”
4
Lera
My stomach clenches, dropping as I realize the male is not letting this go.
“I asked you a question,” River snaps, his voice cracking through the air with enough sting to make the watching humans flinch right alongside me.
Behind me, Coal, Shade, and Tye stand silent and motionless. The whole of the courtyard’s attention tightens around me like a noose as I kneel before a man who is supposed to wrap me in his arms. I swallow—or try to, my mouth too dry for even such a small feat. As if in jest, the grass I kneel on is soaked with the water that was dragged over the courtyard to douse the flames. The earth’s juices seep through the remains of my red dress to chill my knees.
Forcing my face up, I look back at River as if the male and I are having a chat over dinner. As if River has simply taken a jest too far. “If you get into the habit of asking questions to which you already know the answer, you’ll find that conversations quickly grow dull.”
A tiny chuckle brushes across the crowd, overshadowed by a far larger sense of morbid curiosity, hundreds of people leaning in just a bit closer.
River stares right back, jaw tight, the patches of dried blood on his thickly muscled torso giving him the grisly appearance of a warrior in battle. “Leralynn of Slait, I asked whether it was you who set fire to the arena. Make me repeat myself once more, and I will do so with a lash.”
My heart stops. So do all the murmurs and whispers racing through the watching courtyard, the tension in the air shifting to something new. A thick, self-righteous content. They still crave justice for the arena. Vengeance for their pain. They want me to suffer as they did.
And suddenly, I understand. If River doesn’t deliver that justice before this temporary cease-fire expires, the mob will take it right back into their own hands.
River thinks he is protecting me. What he doesn’t understand is that this, all this, is a thousand times worse for coming from him. I did set the arena aflame, and I’ll take whatever punishment I’m due, but not fromhim.Not from my mate, who’s just regained his memories, who is supposed to hold me tight and let the stars be damned.
