Fantasy is safe.
In this fantasy, I kiss you each in turn and then whisper good night. I'm wrapped in your arms. You hold me between all of you Immortals in the warmth of your bed. We're in a nest of pillows, rather than cold and alone in my basket on the floor.
Tonight, I won't cry in my sleep.
You don't know that I love you, but that's all right, see. If all you need is my silent service, then you have it forever.
I love you. I love you. I love...
Please, love me.
Goodnight, my beloveds.
I have the honor to remain Your Royal Highness’ most humble, obedient, and faithful knight,
Midnight
Chapter Two
Rebel Academy, Friday September 6th
MAGENTA
When my three delicious Immortals freed me from over a century trapped as a ghost in Hecate's Tree, resurrecting me, I'd believed that I'd been granted a second chance at life.
But even second chances required sacrifice.
My Wickedly Charmed magic created Rebel Academy from the cradle, but it was my grief at Robin, my first mage lover's, death that cursed it to perpetual winter.
Yet even though I was all wicked, I could bless, rather than curse. I'd save the Rebels because Rebel Academy had always been mine.
I was awfully possessive, even if I intended to tear it up by the roots.
The vast stone that crashed down and blocked the Immortals’ and my path outside the ruins, however, was ancient and dangerous.
A Gateway.
In throbbing, pulsing crimson, it didn't belong inside the academy. It'd been stolen from the angels, and it roared its fury at being tamed.
I gasped, clutching harder onto Sleipnir's aquamarine mane, which glittered as if with crushed gems.
Sleipnir had transformed into his giant eight-legged horse form to carry Bask, Fox, and me out across the snowy grounds of Rebel Academy to the Gateway for our mission. It'd been glorious to ride him through the churning snow, away from the dragon stables and the castle. My magenta magic had wound out of the floor and sky to form a tunnel, which was our connection through the veil of life, love, and death.
All of a sudden, a wave of dark magic blasted from the stone, and Sleipnir reared back. His ears flattened to his head. He squealed in alarm.
Just for a moment, the sun speared through the clouds, blinding me.
My fingers slipped.
No, no, no...
The stone's magic lashed against mine. Pink sparks exploded from me, and I screamed. The stone dragged out my magic in agonizing bursts.
I was losing control...
My magic faded, driving the breath from me.
Bind my body but don't take my magic. Snap my broomstick, even ban me from a decent cup of tea or forever pour in the milk first.
See how serious I was?
The Gateway didn't listen to my plea. Admittedly, I'd only voiced it inside my mind, but it also screamed through the last withering tendrils of my magic.
It was rather rude of the Gateway to mess with my magic but not understand its language. It was even ruder to threaten the students who it was meant to be transporting on an assassins’ mission.
Who’d have guessed that a Gateway through to other realms was actually alive?
Ah, the wonders of a magical academy.
Was it not deadly enough to send us Rebels to the Gold Court of the Dragons as unwilling kidnappers without testing us first with this killer rock?
Behind me, Fox's curls brushed my neck, as his arms tightened around my waist. His scent of wild raspberries washed over me. I couldn't lose him because he was my second chance: the mage who mustn't die.
The mage who I loved, as I'd once loved Robin. As I still loved Robin.
Sleipnir's breathing was loud and panicked; his flanks gleamed with sweat. The Gateway blasted a jolt of shocking magic, and Sleipnir reared again.
Bask hollered, tumbling off Sleipnir’s back. My breath caught. Then Fox and I were falling too, and I screamed.
My magic looped around my lovers to hold onto them, before they hit the ground.
Sweet Hecate, keep my Immortals safe.
Why could I never remember not to pray to goddesses? Perhaps, I should write a thousand lines of:
Praying to Hecate is the same as wishing that you’d transform into firewood.
When I tumbled from Sleipnir's back, my life didn't flash before my eyes. Instead, I was overwhelmed by the sight, touch, and taste of my lovers. Their blood was mine because they'd resurrected and awakened me. We were connected eternally, after death and beyond love. On the witching heavens, I’d never let them go.
I shook, battling the hold of the Gateway's magic.
My own magic twisted and turned, keeping Bask and Fox safe in the air, while I slowly sank lower.
Don't let them fall...
Sweat dripped down the back of my neck, as I landed face first with a thud in a snowbank. I spluttered on the freezing snow, spitting it out of my mouth and blinking, as it hung from my eyelashes.
Then the threads of my magic drew taut and with a twang that made me wince, began to snap.
Alarmed, I threw myself onto my back, wiping my sleeve across my face. My vision was blurry with snow. When my lovers were hurled through the air like puppets between my magic and the Gateways, I struggled onto my knees.
I wouldn’t be defeated by a rock.
I yanked harder, but then another thread snapped, two, three...
Then the last threads of my magic broke.
With a delighted snarl, the Gateway hurled Bask and Fox against the walls of the ruins.
I howled, slamming my fists into the snow. My pulse thrashed in my ears. If I hadn't already been on my knees, I'd have fallen onto them.
I stared at the still bodies of my lovers, who lay like shattered ice sculptures. Sleipnir snorted, standing over Bask, as if he could protect him. His whole body was tense and trembling; his nostrils flared.
I regretted to inform the universe that this was my story. I might be the wicked witch, but I'd become the heroine, and the Rebels who I loved wouldn't die in the cold...like so many students before them.
How many students had been killed on missions or by this Gateway? There was a whole gallery of portraits of the dead. It was an academy of ghosts, which was shadowed by its dark past.
No more Rebels would die, blessed be, no more.
I forced myself to my feet and staggered to Sleipnir, patting his flank to calm him. He pawed at the snow like a soldier, guarding Bask and Fox. He'd been frightened that I'd think his shifter form monstrous and reject him.
He was my beautiful monster, and I'd never fear him.
"You're an excellent guard for your lovers," I whispered, "but I can save them."
I didn't know what advancements this modern age had made in medicine (perhaps, they'd even discovered a way to look inside the body without carving it open or cured the common cold), but it wasn't pills or operations that’d heal my broken lovers.
It was magic.
In a blue spray of glitter, Sleipnir transformed back into his godly form. His hair was spiky and cinnamon red. In his distress, he was linked to his brother Fenrir. He wrapped his long woolen black coat around himself, but I didn't believe that it was because of the cold.
I pulled him closer, pressing his forehead to mine. "It's not your fault."
He shuddered. "Yeah, it is. They trusted me enough to ride me. Look what revealing my monster led to, right? Why do you think I trap it inside?"