Chapter 1 #2
“I’m not sure,” Avery said honestly. The whiskey had dulled her senses far enough to get off the bed and investigate the noise.
She may be smart, but she was still an idiot.
She took careful steps toward the arched doors and saw there was nothing to see but the moon rising over the silhouette of the campus’s spires snarling over buildings reaching far up into the sky.
“Avery? Get back here,” Maya whispered desperately.
And for a brief moment, Avery saw the shimmer of iridescent scales against the orange light. Her heart jumped as a knock rang out through the room.
“Shit.” She kept her voice low. “Hide the whiskey, it’s Wren.”
In her drunken stupor, Maya sprang into action with the grace of a newborn foal.
Her body hit the floor with a thud before she scrambled under the bed to plant the whiskey far out of sight.
In doing so, she hit her head on the slats and clanged the bottle against the bed frame.
To top it off, the crow let out an alarmed squawk, its collar jingling as it did. Wren was going to kill her.
Another knock, more insistent this time.
“Coming!” Avery’s voice cracked at the high pitch of someone trying to have a semblance of normalcy in it. Smoothing her uniform and her hair, she cracked open the door to find her eldest sister, her eyes as fiery as her dragon perched on the roof.
“Hey!” Avery said with a hiccup.
Wren looked past her, her eyes landing immediately on Maya’s disheveled state, the faint smell of cinnamon not yet aired out.
Her expression was unreadable, but blessed be the fucking goddess, she said nothing.
Although with Wren, it was hard to tell.
Avery was convinced the university’s beautician had magically altered her to stay that way, something Wren vehemently denied at every dinner Avery brought it up at.
“What are you doing?” Wren asked, her tone flat.
“Nothing,” Avery said too quickly. “What are you doing?”
Wren was absolutely, utterly not convinced by her answer.
Avery was convincing no one, let alone her sister.
She was dressed in her full enforcer regalia, the fitted maroon blazer tight against her muscled form.
A rifle was slung across her back, the red crystal embedded within it giving a small hum.
Another shot of jealousy ripped through Avery as she eyed the golden patches, which signaled that Wren was a High Commander.
She had no desire to become an enforcer, but at this point, she would take it.
It was almost like looking in a mirror of what she could be.
Although, Avery didn’t really look much like her sister.
Where Avery had hair like cinnamon, Wren’s hair was black, a symptom of her cold, cold heart. A terrible disease, really. Tragic.
The main difference between them, though, was that Wren looked as if a giant stick was up her ass, especially since she assumed the position of High Commander, and it was now shoved even further.
Their mother had that effect on people, though, and it wasn’t surprising her smile had faded after spending more than a minute with the devil like Wren did.
Finally, Wren broke the tension.
“The High Councilor would like to speak to you.”
“You mean, Mother would like to speak to me?”
Wren raised an eyebrow, a warning not to challenge her.
She had enough ammunition in this room alone to get Avery expelled.
Avery wondered what she would become besides the pub pouring bitch.
A barista, perhaps in one of two coffee shops on the island?
Potentially a seller of the forbidden toe pictures?
Maybe she could become homeless! What a treat.
Her small world was truly her oyster. The only good thing about being expelled was that she could have some proper time to plan her escape.
Although she had tried her damn hardest to do that, but every time she somehow made it to the ferry, she was irritatingly, magically, sling-shotted back to Caerwyn Island.
Was it too much to ask that a simple witch would like to get a taste of some chicken nuggets?
Her toxic trait was her confidence in thinking she could swim her way to the mainland of Wales, that somehow the only thing standing between her and the coast was unwavering determination, and her deluded hope that maybe the witch boundary magic didn’t work in the water.
She probably could do it; swimming was her primary hobby, if the magic didn’t pull her back first. The only thing standing between her and attempting a swim to freedom was the idea of being trapped in the jaws of a shark, and no, she didn’t care that the percentage was as low as her dead grandmother’s bosoms. With her luck in the last year, it would happen.
“Wow, I didn’t know you could do that.” Avery pointed to her own wiggling eyebrows. “With, you know, the work you’ve had done.”
She was really pushing it now.
Wren only pinched the bridge of her nose, probably regretting her decision to personally fetch her. It was likely Mother’s idea. Wren would rather fetch a turd out of a toilet than doing this right now.
“Please don’t be difficult. She said it’s urgent.”
In reality, they both knew Avery was stalling.
Seeing her mother was never a pleasant experience, and especially now, when she was the only one in her class not to summon a familiar.
She was almost sure this was her mother’s way of solidifying the idea that she was the family’s failure, a letdown of generational proportions.
Just like her aunt. Her mother was absolutely going to expel her.
At least she had it in her cold, dark heart to tell her in person, instead of sending a pigeon or something.
Something so cute shouldn’t be burdened with such messages of misery.
Wren stared her down. “Are you going to go to the chambers or will Sparky have to carry you?” If Avery didn’t come willingly, she was sure Wren would have incapacitated her and taken her anyway. They had such a lovely sisterly bond.
Maya yelped as the massive dragon dropped its head down from the roof, its golden eye the size of a dinner plate, peering through the balcony doors.
Wren had bonded the gigantic lizard three years ago, and Avery still hadn’t gotten used to the beast. As much as Wren declared Sparky a whittle baby, Avery always gave him a wide berth.
Walking it was.
As if he sensed her hesitance, Sparky blew out a breath toward her, fogging up the glass. His black body shook in a way that Avery was fairly sure meant he was laughing at her. Even Wren’s dragon was an asshole.
“I’ll walk. I prefer my feet attached securely to the ground.”
Wren only shrugged. “Your loss, enjoy the stairs.”
It was Avery’s turn to roll her eyes. They weren’t that bad.