Chapter 23
Jordan stuck to my side like glue today.
Seriously, I barely had a second to myself, it’s unbearable.
Why is she being so clingy? Has my father told her to keep an eye on me?
If so, things in my life are going to get even more tiresome.
At least with the Conclave orders for students to remain corralled into their apartments, I get to have peace in the evenings.
Carefully removing my loafers, I settle my feet into Dolce if one goes rogue, we can neutralize them easily.”
Shit.
“That is wise, father. How is the suppressor administered?”
The more knowledge I can gain about this the better.
“Various ways, from a simple injection, to having the vapour pumped through an air filtration system. We’ll be introducing that into all prisons soon.
But, back to the Cadets; obviously, you will be more of a figurehead, than an active instructor.
But I will expect you to attend all meetings and assist Professor Gimble in whatever she needs. ”
Fuck.
My.
Life.
“She’ll be in touch,” he says, then hangs up.
I throw my cell across the room. It smashes against the window frame and is now undoubtedly destroyed, but I don't care at all. It will give me at least a moment free from more fatherly instructions.
“Something wrong?”
Feniks is standing in the doorway to the penthouse. Now he’s the tower supervisor, he has a key to get in anywhere he likes. “Do you not understand what knocking is?” I snap.
“Heard a crash,” he shrugs.
"It was just the last of my hopes and dreams dying," I mutter.
Feniks raises an eyebrow at my hyperbole, as well he might, then follows my gaze to the cell on the floor.”Your father, by any chance?" He walks across the room and takes a seat—uninvited.
“Tyrus Drakeward at his finest. He has a new vision for the future.”
“Another one? I thought his Conclave 2.0 was everything he’d dreamed.”
I slump down onto the sofa. “There’s always more with him. And this particular scheme involves me being the new poster boy for the 'Conclave Cadets.'”
Feniks chokes slightly. “What the fuck?”
“Exactly. From what I gather, I’m supposed to lead a group to make sure all the academy Elites are mindless Conclave zealots before their ascension. And get this, I may be the titular head of this operation, but the one actually in charge is Gimble.” The thought makes me shudder.
“Classic fascism,” Feniks sighs, scratching at his stubble. “Re-education to control the narrative. Control the story, control the masses.”
I close my eyes for a moment and try to control my breathing. “And that’s not the worst of it. You know I’d heard about an ‘ascended kill-switch’? Apparently, it’s now ready for use. The Conclave has a way to neutralize our innate magic.”
Feniks is silent for a moment, then sighs deeply. “They must never learn of our ability to shift.”
No shit, Sherlock.
“Any luck with Wes,” I ask.
“Theo says it’s as if she can only get a teaspoon of Lumina into him at a time, and Wes needs gallons for the profound deficit within him.”
Gods, he’s verbose sometimes.
“So, how many teaspoons in a gallon?”
“Seven hundred and sixty eight,” he immediately replies. “Which obviously means that at the rate the Lumina transfer is going, Wes will not receive the Lumina he needs anytime soon.”
“Well fuck. What are we supposed to do? Can’t she dial it up?”
Feniks sits bolt upright and looks like he wants to punch me. “She’s not a machine, you asshole. Don’t you think she’s trying as hard as she can. She was wrecked after I sneaked her in there this afternoon.”
Shit. I swipe a hand through my hair. “I didn’t mean anything by that, it’s just…Wes, you know? I’m worried.”
Feniks takes a deep breath then leans forward, elbows on knees. “Tell me more about these Cadets. Is it all the Elites?”
“What the fuck do I care? It’s a pathetic waste of time. Time that should be spent freeing Wes from his fucking cursed mind.” I swallow. “Or freeing Theodora from the threat of being taken.”
“You care for her,” Feniks says. Not smugly, which is good, because I wouldn’t stand for that, but with a quiet certainty.
“Yes, I care for her. What of it?”
Once again images flash through my mind of all the hideous ways I’ve abused Theodora Wilson. It makes an involuntary groan escape from my lungs.
She’ll never forgive me. And I don’t blame her one bit.
“You’ll have to make it right, somehow,” Feniks says. “She needs us all.”
“I’m sure she’d be perfectly happy to have me nowhere near ‘team Sparkles’,” I snap back. “She doesn’t need me at all.”
Surprisingly, Feniks looks pained. “That’s where you’re wrong. You’re part of her bond. Her True Bond. My gryphon knows it. I will never doubt his knowledge.”
If what he’s saying is true, then something occurs to me. “Theodora needs to reach her full potential to be able to send the dark energy back into the void, and seal the portals.”
“Yes.”
“So I have to be part of her bond.” My heart lifts at the thought.
“And Wes,” Feniks adds.
Fuck, yeah. And Wes. Who is currently fully unresponsive to anything.
“So what do I do?”
Feniks shakes his head. “I can’t tell you, Drakeward.”
“I thought you were the all-knowing gryphon,” I scoff. Fucking twat.
“You have to heal what you broke, and that, for you, I imagine will be a Herculean task.”
‘Heal what I broke.’ The way Feniks talks, it’s like I can make something beautiful out of the wreckage of my non-relationship with Theodora. Does he think I’m a fucking Japanese potter, filling cracks with gold?
I’m not. I’m a Grade-A prick who has never grovelled in his life. I wouldn’t even know where to start.
His phone buzzes, he takes it out and frowns.
“Shit, I have to go. Now listen, for now concentrate on this new Cadet nonsense. If you want my advice, which you probably don’t, take charge of the situation.
Don’t let Gimble steamroller you. Make sure you choose who is allowed in.
And pick wisely. It’s your chance to recruit students who don’t want to follow the new regime. ”
My mind is still spinning at the thought of being divinely bound to Theodora, but I understand what he’s saying. “Makes sense.”
Feniks stands and nods. “Keep your shit together, Drakeward. You’ve got a confusing time ahead of you.
Eating humble pie for Theo, while playing Lord of the manor over Gimble.
Make sure you don’t get the roles switched.
” His lips quirk, so I know he’s trying to be humorous, but fuck him. I don’t have the energy.
“See yourself out,” I mutter.
“With pleasure. After my meeting, I’ll be checking in on Theo. She wants me to…help replenish her Lumina.”
I look up just in time to catch his smirk.
Asshole.
Going to my closet, I kick off my slippers, then cast an eye over the rails.
Hmm. Black denim jeans and a fitted Henley. On top of that I add a leather jacket, then lace my feet into chunky biker boots.
Stifling a sigh, I look at my reflection in the full-length mirror.
The jacket is just distressed enough to say 'I’m not afraid of getting rough,' while the Henley shouts 'I have excellent muscle definition.'
It’s a cliche of a rich-but-slightly-bad-boy outfit, but absolute cat-nip to desperate housewives or middle-aged female teachers who go by the name of Gimble.
As I said earlier.
Fuck.
My.
Life.
???
I stride down the faculty offices hallway until I Gimble’s door, I take a breath, flick the collar of my leather jacket up and brace myself for what’s to come.
One knock, then I push the door open.
The room is filled with that cloying, suffocating perfume she wears. Gimble herself is lounging in a velvet club chair, a glass in her hand.
"Why, Mr. Drakeward," she purrs, eyelashes fluttering with excitement. “What a pleasant surprise. A drink?” Gimble indicates her head towards a collection of bottles on a silver tray.
Don’t mind if I do.
As I pour myself a bourbon, I can feel her eyes raking over body. “I don’t often see you out of uniform,” she says huskily. “More’s the pity.”
I lean against the doorframe, holding the crystal tumbler in my hand.
“What can I do for you, Cosmo?” she asks. The hungry gleam in her eye makes it obvious I could ask for anything.
“The Cadets,” I say, taking a sip. “I don’t want any delays in this program starting up, so send out the list of invitations tonight.”
She blinks a couple of times. “Oh, yes. Your father said you’d be joining.”
I frown at her. “I think you misunderstood him. These will be my cadets. You will be administrating my project, Professor Gimble.”
Gimble doesn’t know what to say to that.
“Absolutely. We can work together very closely to make your Father’s idea a success.
” She stands up, her silk dress rustling as she walks toward me.
She stops just a fraction too close, the heat of her skin radiating off her.
"And as we’re colleagues now, Cosmo. Off the clock, you really should call me Lisa. "
Play the game, I remind myself.
"Lisa." I keep my voice low and see her pupils dilate.
I’m not so arrogant that I know it’s just me, or my body, she wants. It’s my Drakeward name.
She’s a power-hungry bitch turned on by the proximity to the throne.