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6

Summer

P rofessor Ambrose clears his throat and gives Alice a seething look for the interruption to his class. She mouths a silent apology. I glare at her, doing everything to avoid looking at the blond bombshell angel whose gaze is boring into me. His grin clings to me like plastic wrap around a burn. I have to be cursed. There’s no other explanation. In a school as big as this one, how could I be this unlucky?

“As I was saying, your final project will be a paper on your assigned realm. I expect at least five thousand words on the subject, along with a critical analysis of the realm’s leadership, the languages spoken, and information on the integral nexus points of the realm. As part of the project, you will also be asked to interview a native of the assigned realm. If you pull one of the Lost Realms, you will interview me or another faculty member.”

I try to take notes, but I’m so on edge. Of course, I’ve had encounters with previous flings before, and the angel and I hadn’t done anything more than a little kissing. So why do I want to crawl into a hole and never come out right now?

“As you are aware, there are thousands of realms, some so hostile that only those born there can dwell in them. However, within this course, we will mainly look into the realms closer to home, the ones most relevant to bright young persons such as yourselves. As you know, Avalon is surrounded by eleven main realms, and from there, they branch into many more. The second semester will focus on more hostile outer realms and delve into the beings that thrive in such conditions.”

Fuck, I focused so much on learning about this realm. I don’t know much about the others at all. I hated not knowing things.

“Can anyone name one of the Locked Realms?” Professor Ambrose asks.

Another angel at the front of the class raises his hand and says shyly, “Eden.”

Professor Ambrose nods, smiling, “Ah, yes, Luke, another Morningstar in my class.” Connor beams at what I can only assume is his younger brother. I don’t recognize him from the party, but I was pretty drunk. “Let’s hope you cause less trouble than the previous two. Now, Mr. Morningstar, can you tell the class what a Locked Realm is?”

Luke nods. “A Locked Realm is inaccessible unless you have been granted access or are brought by someone who has access.”

Professor Ambrose nods. “Very good. This could be because a society has chosen to remain closed for security. Eden is closed due to their impressive military. The Legions are elite and consist of thousands of angels. Can anyone name another?”

I raise my hand, recalling one I’d read about recently.

“Yes?”

“Hell?”

Professor Ambrose nods, seeming impressed. “Ah yes, the more fiery of the Locked Realms. Does anyone know why Hell is a closed realm?”

“Cause demons are assholes,” a shifter pipes up.

Professor Ambrose shoots him a dark look. “Incorrect, Mr. Henderson.” He narrows his eyes at the dark-haired shifter, who wisely decides to shut his mouth. “Hell is closed as the demons require a solace where they can enjoy their depravity from time to time. Believe it or not, this is for the benefit of all. Many species here have similar realms to call home, often called a source realm. Any others?”

Alice raises her hand. “Dr?culea.”

“Correct, Ms. Legosi. Your own realm is a Locked Realm, and it has been for millennia. Only very recently, with the death of your progenitor, have beings like yourself been allowed to leave the realm.”

Alice sighs and sits back in her seat. She hisses under her breath so only I can hear, “And by beings, you mean women .”

“Mr. Morningstar?” Professor Ambrose hands Connor a hat with many small pieces of paper. “Will you hand these out?”

Connor stands and takes the hat from the professor, walking along the row of desks. Each student picks a sliver of paper. There are gasps of excitement and moans of despair as people react to the realms they have selected. As he makes his way to me, my hair stands on the back of my neck, my stomach knotting in dread. He leans down, his eyes level with mine, that maddening smirk pulling at his lips.

“Hello, mystery girl,” he murmurs smugly.

I look up at him and select a slip of paper. I drag my gaze away from him, and suddenly, the apprehension about talking to Connor is completely eclipsed by the writing on the crisp piece of paper in my hand. It’s one word, softly curling out, the six letters taunting me.

Faerie.

“Mr. Morningstar, have you handed them all out?”

Connor straightens and glances back at the professor. “Yes, professor,” he replies, returning to the front of the room.

Alice nudges me, whispering, “What did you get?”

My gaze remains locked on the word. If I thought my stomach was in knots before, it’s nothing compared to how it twists now.

“Summer?”

I glance at Alice, closing the slip of paper into my fist. “Oh, nowhere exciting.”

The second class ends, I launch up and practically run to the front of the class.

“Professor Ambrose?” I ask, even as he directs the rest of the class.

“Everyone, please remember to collect the course syllabus from Mr. Morningstar as you leave!” He glances at me. “Yes, Ms…”

“Summer. I’m Summer.”

“Ah yes, Ms. Tuatha De Daanan, I should have known. How can I help you?”

“I need to change my realm for the project, professor, you see?—”

“Unfortunately, the picks are final, Ms. Tuatha De Daanan.” Professor Ambrose holds out his hand to see which realm I chose.

I place the slip of paper in his hand. “But you see, professor, there are extenuating circumstances?—”

“Ah, the great Lost Realm of Faerie! I understand why that would be difficult for you, Ms. Tuatha De Daanan, but you selected this subject for a reason, and therefore, it stands.”

“But—”

“I understand you’re hesitant to do your source realm, but given the fact you, like the other fae students, have never stepped foot in the realm, the previous rule does not apply. You will interview me, given that the only beings who have visited Faerie are those who are attendants of the king and other faculty.”

The king. He means the King of Fae. Dread shoots down my spine.

I close my mouth and take the paper back from him, looking away as I shove it into my bag. “Thank you, sir.”

I turn to leave the class and curse under my breath. Connor is still standing there, waiting for me. He has the course syllabus in his hand, and his lips are pulled into a bright smile.

Alice is waiting for me beside the door. Her eyes are darting around, and she is obviously planning for our great escape. Connor anticipates this and moves to block the door, handing a syllabus to Alice first and then one out to me as I approach. He holds on to the top of the paper as I reach for it.

“Thanks,” I grumble, tugging on the paper and waiting for him to move.

Connor doesn’t release the other half of the paper, so I slowly lift my gaze to meet his.

“What are the chances?” He grins, his eyes bright and joyful.

“Yeah. Later, angel boy.” I brush past him and leave the room, Alice hustling behind me.

“See you later, mystery girl,” Connor calls after me, amusement lacing his voice.

“Your luck is like… curse-worthy,” Alice says, linking my arm through her.

“Whatever, we only made out like a little bit.”

“Only a little.” She snickers. “Are you going to make out again?”

“No,” I growl, stalking toward our next class. For some reason, even the short make out session last night bordered on too intimate for comfort. I hurry into the classroom and sit down. Relief at being free of Connor washes over me, entwining with the excitement that my next class is Runes 100.

“Why not?” Alice asks, flopping into the seat next to me.

I pull out my phone, sifting through the thousands of notifications. “Because I don’t date, and I don’t backslide.” I turn off the notifications. “Plus, he tried to feed me a sandwich.”

Alice laughs. “You’re really upset about that sandwich.”

“I looked hot as fuck. I was sitting on a counter, we were making out, and his first thought was, Oh, I should make her eat carbs .”

Alice laughs again. “Here lies Summer Tuatha De Daanan, who never forgot the guy who tried to give her a sandwich mid-make-out.”

I roll my eyes but am saved from the conversation by the professor’s arrival. She is a short lady with bobbed red hair. “Hello, hello! My name is Professor Brooks, and I will be guiding you through your first semester of the intriguing world of Ancient Runes. Runes are vital to our magic. They are conduits that arcane beings have used since the beginning of time to channel the raw arcane ability that exists inside us. I understand we have different levels of knowledge within the class, but I’m sure that everyone has used at least rudimentary runes that make day-to-day life a little easier.”

Professor Brooks waves her hand toward her desk. All the papers scattered across it flutter and arrange themselves into neat little piles of their own accord. The professor points to a rune on her neck that vanishes as she spends its energy for the small task.

I smile, taking notes. Runes, even the small rudimentary ones I’ve experimented with, have always felt natural to me, and I can’t wait to learn more. I am nearly giddy with excitement. Here, I will learn to understand more words of power, words of knowledge, and words of magic. I need more power. I crave it.

“So the word rune, from the Latin runa and the Old Norse rún , is a group of ancient sublanguages used since time began. The first documented runic language was created by the fae Tiana. She created runes when they came to her in a dream, and she began speaking in a language so ancient the name is long lost. Their power was discovered purely by chance when Tiana was attacked within the deep forests of the lost realm of Faerie. Desperate to survive, she drew the rune on her arm in her blood. Legend says that her whole body glowed, shattering the gloom of twilight. The rune drawn upon her skin protected her from harm, obliterating her attacker. And most of the forest. The fae have always had a natural penchant for runic knowledge and creation. The skill has become almost hereditary among the fae, and throughout the centuries, almost every species has become adept. Beings of each realm have adjusted the concept to their own source language, but the term rune remains.”

My fingers freeze mid-word. Is that why I am so attuned to runes and why they come to me so naturally? Just because I’m a fucking fae? My pen cracks in my hand, and I barely stop myself from breaking it.

“I should add that fae and sorcerers alike both have an advantage when using runes as they are not limited by their source language. In other words, if they know the rune, they are able to use the rune. This is different for other species, who are limited to the runes of their ancestral realm. Some runic languages are more proficient at certain tasks than others. If you want to cast a powerful elemental spell, it is best to use Ancient Greek or Archaic Latin. But if you want to cast powerful wards, Daoine Sith is your best bet.”

Daoine Sith, the language of Faerie.

The professor continues, “I would like to start the lesson by having you copy out this literature on rune history and the structure of a rune, and then I will give out assignments for the end of the week. Before the end of the week, you’ll need to pick your first school-approved implement.” Professor Brooks lifts her glasses, drawing my attention to the sharp point on the very edge of the frames. “The implement is a very intimate choice to the rune caster, so pick with caution. Of course, shifters and beings with claws may use their natural advantage for this assignment. I want all of you to consider the reason for the implement. Without the pure arcane magic that flows through all of us, drawing a rune is no more than a symbol.”

Professor Brooks slices the tip of her finger on the sharp corner of her glasses. Rolling up her sleeve, she draws a rune on the inside of her wrist. The blood darkens until it turns black, the spell now stored in her skin and ready to be summoned.

“And as you advance, you’ll learn the difference between single runes and the far more complex runic circles.” With a wave of her hand, her power fluctuates, and a glowing circle bursts into existence in front of her fingers. The runes it contains detail the more complex spell she’d stored somewhere on her skin. “Runes are only limited by the caster’s knowledge of the language. In the world of the arcane, it is not might that will win every battle, but the one with the greatest knowledge of the runic languages. In future years, we will explore spell wheels and the best tactical ways to store and use them in battle, but that is far more advanced.”

Alice groans at the assignment that’s just popped up on our phones. “Fuck. I hate languages. Can’t we make a new way to cast that doesn’t require so much work?”

“They’re really basic ones. I’m sure you’ll do great,” I assure her, but she throws me a skeptical look.

“So this angel...” Alice starts, not so subtly changing the subject.

It’s my turn to groan and roll my eyes. “You know, you made out with someone at that party too, and I’m not giving you shit about it.”

Alice looks at me innocently and holds up her hands. “Hey, I was just going to offer to kill him and make you a divine-ly good sandwich.”

I groan again but can’t hold back a laugh as I say, “I’ll leave the consumption of human products to you. Thanks, though.”

She snickers. “So cantina for lunch?”

“Yes, I’m starving.”

The cafeteria is packed, and the noise of all the students chatting is almost deafening when we first enter the room. I pause just inside, trying to adjust as I look around for a table.

“Okay, we need to stake our claim. Where we sit for lunch means everything.” Alice grabs my hand and tugs me toward a free table.

“Claim?”

“A table. This is now ours,” she says, slapping her hand down against the solid wood. “For the whole time we’re at Avalon, this is where we will sit.”

“I don’t know, Alice. That seems like a lot of commitment for the first day.” I sit on the bench, plopping my bag next to me.

Alice laughs. “Oh, wow, you’re even commitment-phobic when it comes to lunch arrangements. You’ve got it bad .”

“You know what? This table is perfect. I can’t wait to sit here every day at lunch, five days a week, for the next four years.”

“That’s the spirit,” a tall brunette girl says as she approaches the table. She’s about to sit down when Alice hisses at her. The girl jumps back and gives Alice a horrified glare before hurrying away.

“I may be a commitment-phobe, but you are a possessive queen,” I say, standing up. “I’m going to get some food. You want blood?”

Alice looks up at me, and I see the flash of vulnerability mixed with surprise. “You’d… get me blood?”

“I mean, yeah. It’s in the fridge right over there, and I’m going to walk right by it.” Why is she looking at me like that? Is there some social taboo about getting a vampire blood?

Alice’s cheeks reddened a little. “You don’t think it’s gross?”

I blink again. “No. I don’t.”

Alice’s eyes gleam with relief. “Thanks. Can you get me some of the AB mortal stuff? I doubt the school offers the spiced stuff I love.”

I nod, completely unfazed, and make my way across the room to get lunch for us.