7. TALIESIN
“Rise and shine, Princess,” I mutter, as I stalk back into our shared cell.
I don’t like talking in the morning. I don’t like talking in general, and having a roommate is an irritation I could do without.
At least I get to start my day in the best way possible in this shithole, outside and completely alone. Thirty minutes of personal yard time at daybreak—a private slot just for the Boss.
I run laps and pretend I’m free.
This morning was hard though, every footfall felt like someone was twisting a serrated blade between my ribs.
Not that I’d let it show. If I do, I’m weak.
If I’m weak, I’m dead.
My first four months here, after I’d challenged and beaten the previous boss, were almost a bloodbath. I don’t plan on a repeat performance.
Thank fuck Zed finally got parole. He used his Boss-status for personal gain only, the man was a cancer on this block.
Rice is another shit.
He was one of Zed’s top men—a loyalist who only pledged to me because he didn’t want to end up in the incinerator.
But he was right about one thing yesterday: the men are watching. They’re looking for a reason to stop calling me “Boss” and start calling me a traitor. I feel their eyes on my back as I pass the cells—a dozen different blades waiting for the moment I stumble.
Layla has already delivered breakfast. I push the tepid coffee and a stale sandwich toward Aurora’s bars.
She emerges from behind that pathetic gray sheet, and for a second, my breath hitches.
Her blonde hair is a tangled just-fucked mess, split lip swollen and red, and the oversized jumpsuit? The thing that’s supposed to make her blend in?
It just makes her skin look like porcelain, and emphasizes the elegance of her long neck.
Godsdammit.
She’s the picture of a vulnerable target. I find myself staring at the pulse fluttering in the hollow of her throat, and for a second, the thud in my chest has nothing to do with my broken ribs.
It’s a sharp, unwelcome heat in my gut.
I look away, angry at the lapse. She’s a Drakeward. She’s a job. She’s a headache that could get us all killed. I don’t have the luxury of noticing how blue her eyes are.
“Hurry up and eat,” I grunt. “Mandatory Ed in twenty.”
“Mandatory what?”
Fucking Elites. “Education, Princess. Classes.”
“Here?” She says it in that superior, scoffing manner, but there’s a tremor in her voice she can’t quite hide. “What are they going to teach me? Advanced Shanking? How to speak fluent Thug?”
I swallow down the last of my food. “General studies,” I tell her, grabbing a clean undershirt. “Every Tuesday and Thursday. The facility keeps its funding by providing ‘Reform through Knowledge.’ It’s total bullshit.”
“Of course you’d see education as a waste of time,” she snipes.
I don’t argue. I try to pull the shirt over my head, but a sharp flare of agony from my ribs makes me hiss through my teeth.
“You should get that looked at.” She’s right there at the bars, her eyes roving over my bare torso with a flash of genuine concern that I definitely didn’t see coming. And I definitely don’t want IT.
“I’m fine,” I snap, finally yanking the shirt down. “Get your shoes on. We’re moving.”
Jensen watches my back as we head to the “Learning Center.” It’s just three windowless rooms with flickering lights and whiteboards covered in permanent marker graffiti.
A complete joke.
What isn’t funny are the classmates. Guild and Diggers mixed together. A room full of people who hate each other, separated by bored guards who are probably betting on who’s going to swing first.
The Guild look smug in their prison blues. The other half, my half, look tired and beaten.
A few No-men huddle at the back in their red scrubs, looking like they want to disappear into the floorboards.
And at the front of the room sits Hennessey.
He’s slumped behind his desk, smelling of gin. The man clearly gave up on life a long time ago. It’s obvious this is the only job he could get.
I nudge Aurora toward a seat. As we pass the Guild section, Dimitry’s number three, Thad, grins, running his eyes over Aurora in a way that makes me want to reach across the aisle and smash his head against the desk until it’s pulp.
Fucking Thad.
But she falters, her gaze locking onto the girl perched next to Thad. It’s Dimitry’s “girlfriend” Odessa. I use quote marks because who the fuck knows how that weird relationship works. I often think that tiny thing is Dimitry’s puppet master, and she’s very adept at pulling his strings.
She is watching Aurora with a look of predatory recognition. Aurora’s spine goes rigid, her eyes narrowing as she scans the girl’s face. Fuck, I bet she knows the bitch. They both have that high-society ballroom bullshit written all over them.
"The Drakeward Diamond turns out to be cubic zirconia," Odessa purrs, “I can’t say I’m surprised. But choosing to spend your time in the gutters, Aurora? Fascinating.”
Aurora doesn’t reply, but I can feel the heat of her fury radiating off her in waves.
Odessa’s eyes dance as they track the bruises on Aurora’s face. "It’s such a poetic downfall, darling. From a manor to a sewer. I’ll be sure to write to Cosmo and tell him how well you’ve found your level.”
Another one of the Guild twats, Sterling, laughs, then shoves his foot out, trying to trip Aurora. I kick his ankle—hard, then push Aurora down next to Imran.
She obeys my command, knuckles white where she’s gripping the desk. She’s rattled. Odessa gives her one last, mocking wink. Interesting that this Elite girl can make the Princess more infuriated than all Layla’s mocking.
And my…control.
“Sit the fuck down,” I repeat, and she comes out of her stupor and slumps next to Imran.
The kid gives her a small smile. Aurora snaps out of it, her eyes widening as she takes in his hollow cheeks and the gray tint to his skin.
Then she shakes off the Guild bitch and smiles back.
Sliding into the desk beside the princess, my shoulder brushes hers, and despite the fabric of our jumpsuits, it feels like an electric shock.
Focus, you asshole. I shift away, putting as much space between us as these cramped desks allow.
At the front of the room, Hennessey sways toward the whiteboard. He picks up a marker with a hand that’s shaking like a leaf in a gale and writes one word in oversized, jagged letters: REBELLION.
“Today’s lesson,” he slurs, leaning heavily against the wall, “is current events. Because even though you’re locked away, you should know what’s happening in the world outside.”
“Boring,” someone calls out.
Hennessey’s bloodshot eyes scan the room, lingering on the Guild. “Maybe not as boring as you think. A coup hit Havengard City last night. The Conclave has fallen. Your daddies are likely being fitted for nooses as we speak.”
What?
The atmosphere in the room shifts.
In the row behind me, a low, rhythmic thumping starts up. I look around to see Keisha and Alanna hitting their palms against the desk top. Then, they start to sing.
“Happy hanging day you cunts, hope your dad’s neck is fucked…”
Their voices are weirdly hypnotic, and for a second the room is just silent.
“Happy hanging day, you’ll finally pay…”
The twins are grinning, showing their too-sharp canines as they bellow out the last line.
“Your throats are gonna get cut!”
Sterling launches himself over the furniture, screaming about lies. A guard ratchets his gun, howling at Sterling to stand down, but the boy is past hearing. A suppression dart takes him in the neck, and his body snaps rigid before hitting the concrete with a limp thud.
As Sterling is dragged out, the twins lean back, high-fiving each other for the chaos they caused without even leaving their seats.
Hennessey shakes his head and gives a drunken laugh. I can hardly hear him over the ruckus. “Dear, dear,” he says. “I imagined things could get interesting, but not so immediately.”
Interesting? Fucking catastrophic more like. If the Guild thinks their families are dead or imprisoned, they have nothing left to lose. A prisoner with nothing to lose is the most dangerous person in the room.
I see it in the way Dimitry’s knuckles have gone white as he grips the edge of his desk. The usual smugness replaced by a dangerous desperation. “Shut the fuck up, I want to hear what the drunk has to say.” Dimitry’s voice cuts through the noise.
His Guild fall back in line. I glare at my lot until everyone is silent.
Hennessey takes a long, shaky pull from his travel mug. The scent of cheap gin reaches us even this far back. “Here’s the reality, kids. The dark energy our overlords were channeling has been destroyed. The revolt started at Validus Vale Academy.”
Validus Vale? That’s where my cousin Willow goes. Shit, she’s right in the middle of a war zone.
“The students evolved innate magic,” Hennessey continues. “They shifted into their primal forms. Wolves, gryphons…” He pauses, looking at the Guild section. “Even a dragon.”
A dragon. I know exactly who that was.
Beside me, Aurora stifles a gasp. She’s leaning forward, her fists clenched so tight her knuckles are white.
I scan the room and catch Dimitry’s eyes fixed on her.
Tyrus Drakeward was head of the Conclave. If he’s dead, her family name is no longer a protection.
What the fuck is going through Dimitry’s warped mind?
“You might think it’s fake news, but I have first-hand knowledge. Innate magic is loose all over Havengard,” Hennessey continues. “Last night, it hit me, too.”
For a moment, the teacher looks less like a drunk and more like a man with hope. “As of today, even the humans have magic. Every spark in the world has ignited.”
The room explodes. “Bullshit,” someone from the Guild yells. “Prove it, old man.”
“Yeah, show us.”
Hennessey slams his mug onto the desk. “In here? Don’t be morons. Magical-suppression has been in place for years, and they upgraded us to Null-Fields last week. Inside these walls, you are nothing, and you’ll never feel that glory. But outside?”
He lifts his eyes toward the stained ceiling tiles. “Outside, the sky is full of things you can’t even imagine. Harpies, hippogriffs, kobolds. Even here in Ashgrave.”
Fuck. Mom and Dad? Can they fly? Are they safe? My brain is spinning in a hundred different directions.
“This happened last night?” Aurora whispers.
“They’re calling it the Great Awakening.” Hennesey continues, gesturing around the room with his mug. “But not for you. Here the old rules still apply. Think about that. You, and every other WMO prisoner in Havengard, are the last relics of a dying age. Completely magicless.”
Big whoop. I’ve been magicless my whole life.
I took after my human father rather than gaining any of my mother’s magical bloodline.
But now? Innate magic? Outside these walls, I could shift?
Knowing my luck, I’d turn into a toad.
I glance at Aurora. “Is that really possible? Is this a trick?” she whispers, more to herself than me.
“The ability to shift is real,” I mutter. The memory of golden dragon scales flashes through my mind. “Witnessed it myself.”
She turns her head, her face inches from mine.
“Bullshit,” she hisses.
Up close, I can see the gold flecks in her blue eyes and the way her breath hitches. My heart does a stupid, heavy thud against my sore ribs. In that moment, I realize I’m in far more trouble than a prison power struggle.
“I call bullshit,” she says again.
“Whatever.” I don’t elaborate. I can’t. If I keep talking to her, I’m going to do something stupid, like touch her face.
Hennessey’s eyes glaze over as the gin must finally hit his sweet spot. “Someone hand out the textbooks. Read chapters seventeen to twenty-four. Or don’t. Just don’t make any noise while I close my eyes.” He leans back, his chin hitting his chest.
That’s it? A fucking bombshell of a world-altering event, the fall of the Conclave, and the birth of a new age, and it isn’t even enough to keep him awake for the hour?
Waste of space.
No one touches the books. Instead, chaos rises as the weight of the news settles into the stagnant air of our unchanged reality.
Revolution has come and for the first time in my life, there’s a chance for something new in all the broken-down Ashgrave lives.
But not for us.
Not for me.
I’m trapped in a concrete box, protecting an Elite princess who is rapidly making me forget I’m supposed to be the Boss.
What could possibly go wrong?
Everything.
The answer is everything.