King of Swords (Stormcloud Academy 1) - Page 17

I shook my head. “To hear you take that tone, I suppose he’s some kind of distant royalty or something.”

Theo quickly covered his mouth with his linen napkin. “Zephyr’s family owns kings, Biba. Zephyr plays with people. He’ll try it with you, wait and see. He makes it his mission to be with every girl here at least once.” He looked sideways at our table mates. “Well, almost every girl. He definitely has his sights set on you.”

I dropped my fork. “Me? To hell with that. I don’t ever want to see his face again as long as I live.”

He looked at his plate, nodding. “I hear what you’re saying, and I get why you’re saying it, but don’t think you will have any say in it. He’s merciless and eventually gets what he wants. Willingly… or otherwise. Just steer clear of him. Would you do that for me?”

I clenched the unspoken threat between my teeth when I heard him use the words, “for me.” I liked the sound of that. Very much. I gave him a short nod.

He stood up and pushed in his chair. “I’ve got class. Steer clear of all three of them: Zephyr, Solomon, and Arvo. Of the three, Zephyr is the worst, but they all have no qualms about doing whatever it takes to get what they want. Whatever it takes,” he repeated as his eyes locked onto mine. “Understand?”

Physical activity was highly prized at Stormcloud Academy. The logic was that the fresh air and altitude cleared the mind so you could learn more. I didn’t mind it at all but tended to stay to myself. The activity of the day was to hike five miles over the steep climbs and sudden drop-offs that would land you hundreds of feet into the bottom of a stream-fed valley beneath if you weren’t careful. I was careful.

As usual, the pack was ahead of me. I liked it that way. I heard pebbles skip behind me and turned to see the new girl I’d spotted from the old bedroom window the day of the shitshow. Her head was down as she concentrated on not slipping over the edge.

“Hi, I’m Biba. You’re new.”

She came to a full stop before answering, her arms outflung as if she thought she would fly if she lost her balance. “Pleased to meet you. Abigail Monfort, Cornwall.” She extended a pale white hand toward me.

I brushed mine on my pant leg and took hers. “I’m Biba Quinn, Seattle.”

“My friends call me Gail. This is a bit of a thrill up here, don’t you think?”

“It takes some getting used to, but before long, you’ll be like one of these mountain goats, galloping and surefooted.”

“You think so? I’m not so sure.”

“Here, walk next to me,” I offered. “I’ll stay between you and the edge. Maybe that’ll make you feel safer.”

“Are you certain? Thanks ever so much. Yes, indeed, that would help.” She took up position on my right, careful to watch where she was going.

“I saw you arrive with your parents,” I continued, eager to make her feel welcomed.

“Not my parents, I’m afraid,” she said, a tremor in her voice. “My auntie and uncle. My mum and dad were killed when their plane crashed. They did everything together. They even died together.” She broke at that point, and it was several moments before she felt strong enough to continue on.

“I understand. I lost my dad just before I came here, too. In fact, it was the money I was left that allowed me to attend.”

“Same here,” Gail acknowledged. “But it makes me feel guilty—as if they gave up their lives to further mine.”

“How did you happen to choose here?”

“I didn’t really. I popped over to Mum and Dad’s to sort through their things, and there was mail there with a letter addressed to me. Inside was a letter telling me an anonymous benefactor was paying my way. I have no siblings—only my auntie and uncle. I know they were happy to have me off their hands, and so here I am.”

I tripped over a root.

“Watch out!” Gail cried, grabbing my arm. It was enough to keep me from falling, and perhaps even worse.

“Wow! And here I thought I would be saving you. Thank you. If you weren’t here, I might have lost it entirely.”

“Good fortune, indeed. We shall have to stick together,” she laughed and bent from the waist to wave me ahead.

I giggled to myself at how formal her speech was, but I had already decided I liked her.

Gail and I finished out the assigned hike, and I realized I enjoyed spending time with her. Perhaps it was the English accent or her outlook. It was modest and grateful, much like my own. Neither of us was born with a silver spoon in our mouths. We made a pact to have dinner together at my fringes table, and I went on to my next class.

Tags: Nicole Casey Stormcloud Academy Dark
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