Chapter 10 – Billie
Ten
BILLIE
The second my boot touches the stone path, the world fucking explodes.
One moment I'm walking through the gates like any other new student, if you ignore the whispers following me like hungry ghosts, and the next, reality tears itself a new asshole.
Light slams into me from every direction, so bright it burns through my closed eyelids and sets my retinas on fire.
My stomach drops like I've been thrown off a cliff, and suddenly I'm not walking anymore.
I'm falling sideways through space that shouldn't exist, my trunks spilling around me.
The nausea hits before my feet find solid ground again.
I stumble forward, hands scrambling for purchase on something that isn't made of pure magical fuckery.
My palms slap against polished wood just as my knees threaten to buckle, and I barely manage to keep myself from face-planting onto what turns out to be the most expensive desk I've ever had the misfortune of nearly vomiting on.
"Welcome. It's about time."
The voice cuts through my disorientation. Male, cultured, with that particular Fae cadence that makes every word sound like poetry.
I force my eyes open, blinking away the spots.
The office that materializes around me is exactly what I'd expect from Fae academia.
It's pretentious as fuck and filled with ridiculously ornate furnishings.
Windows that show a view of the campus that shouldn't be possible from any single vantage point.
Bookshelves that reach toward a ceiling painted with constellations that actually fucking move.
And behind the desk I'm currently using as a crutch, him.
He looks maybe thirty in human years, which means fuck all, because he could be older than human civilization itself for all I know.
Long white hair falls past his shoulders, framing a face that belongs on a statue in some ancient temple.
His eyes are silver, not gray, and rather than the usual formal robes I've seen so far, he's wearing a well-tailored suit that looks like it belongs in the next century of elegant menswear.
"Right on time. Please, have a seat." He gestures to one of the chairs facing his desk, and I catch the faint amusement in his tone. Bastard's enjoying this. "I apologize for the abrupt transportation. The nausea will pass momentarily. You'll grow accustomed to it eventually."
I straighten up, swallowing back bile and what's left of my dignity. My legs shake as I make my way to the chair, but I manage to drop into it without looking like a complete disaster. The leather, probably from some extinct magical creature, molds to my body like it was custom made for me.
"I'd rather not get used to it," I mutter, pressing a hand to my stomach. The room's still spinning slightly, and I can taste something metallic at the back of my throat.
He chuckles, the sound like wind chimes. "Understandable. Though I'm afraid teleportation is rather commonplace here at Valemyre. It would be quite impossible to navigate the campus efficiently otherwise."
Great. Just fucking great. As if this place wasn't already designed to make humans feel inferior, now I get to stumble around like a drunk toddler every time someone decides walking is too pedestrian.
"I'm Headmaster Alistair Valemyre," he says, settling back in his chair.
"Valemyre?" I raise an eyebrow. "Any relation to the guy who built this place?"
He chuckles again. "My thrice great grandfather, as a matter of fact."
"Of course," I sound less enthused than I intended.
"And you, of course, are Miss Wilhelmina Moreau," he says, his lips twitching slightly. "Our unexpected addition."
"Billie," I correct automatically. "Just Billie."
"Billie, then." He steeples his fingers, studying me with those unnerving silver eyes. "Tell me, how are you finding the transition from hunter to omega?"
The question feels like a loaded weapon. I know better than to think this is smalltalk. More like a fucking interrogation.
"About as well as you'd expect," I say, keeping my voice neutral. "One day I'm training to kill supernaturals, the next I'm learning which fork to use at dinner parties. It's been educational."
"I imagine it has." He leans forward slightly. "Your family's reaction must have been quite severe, to abandon you so completely."
Here we go. Time to sell the sob story.
"My resonance was revealed at my Unmasking ceremony." The words come out bitter, which isn't hard to fake. The memory still burns. "Twenty years of training to be the perfect weapon, and it turns out I'm meant to be a supernatural's incubator instead. They weren't exactly thrilled."
"And so they left you in the woods to fend for yourself?"
"Yes." The lie rolls off my tongue easier each time I tell it. Well, it's not entirely a lie. They did leave me in the woods. Just with more purpose than I'm letting on.
"Barbaric," he murmurs, sounding genuinely disgusted. "Though I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. The hunters have always been inflexible in their worldview."
You have no fucking idea, I think, but I keep my expression neutral. Especially my eyebrows, because those little bastards have a mind of their own.
"Well," he continues, his tone warming slightly, "as I hope you've already gleaned from your time at the academy, you're in much better hands now. The Fae have always understood the true value of omegas."
Yeah, as breeding stock and status symbols. But I bite my tongue, remembering Anastasia's advice. Play dumb. Be underestimated.
"It's definitely been an adjustment," I say instead, injecting just enough uncertainty into my voice to sound properly overwhelmed. "Everything here is so... different."
"Indeed." He opens a drawer and pulls out what looks like a leather-bound planner. "You'll be joining us mid-semester, which is somewhat irregular, but fortunately, it's still relatively early in the academic year. You should be able to catch up without too much difficulty."
Oh, yeah. I'm sure it would have been a great challenge if I'd missed another couple months of arranging throw pillows and learning how to suck an alpha's—
"Well, then." He flips through pages covered in the same writing I keep seeing everywhere, from Fae clothing to signs on the walls that makes my brain itch if I look at them for too long.
"I trust Madame Loriyne prepared you adequately?
You had the benefit of her exclusive attention for quite some time. "
"She was very thorough," I manage, resisting the urge to add 'thoroughly fucking awful' to the end of that sentence. "I had no idea there was so much that went into being a proper omega."
Oh my saints, I'm going to vomit.
He seems to miss my sarcasm.
"Excellent. Then you should have no trouble keeping pace with your classes." He pulls out a piece of parchment covered in more eye-watering script and slides it across the desk. "Your schedule."
I pick it up, squinting at the letters as they transform into English the moment my eyes land on them. The History of Fae-Human Relations. Omega Biology and Wellness. Courtly Etiquette and Protocol. The Art of Nesting.
"What's the point?" The question slips out before I can stop it.
He raises one perfect eyebrow. "I beg your pardon?"
Shit. But backing down now would be more suspicious than pressing forward. I channel my best confused-but-trying-to-understand expression.
"I mean, aren't I just here until some Fae decides they want me? Why bother with classes if I'm just going to end up as someone's pet anyway?"
The temperature in the room seems to drop a few degrees. His smile remains fixed, but something sharp enters those silver eyes.
"I can understand why you might think that, given your background.
" Each word is carefully measured, like he's picking his way through a minefield.
"But I assure you, we take omega education quite seriously here at Valemyre.
There is much you need to learn about the nature of our realm, the history that binds our peoples together, the delicate balance that allows both species to coexist."
Coexist. That's a funny way to spell 'systematic oppression.'
"You are not merely here to be 'scooped up,' as you so eloquently put it," he continues, and there's definitely an edge to his voice now.
"You are here to become a bridge between worlds.
To understand your place in the greater picture of our society.
The transition will be far smoother if you devote yourself to learning rather than dwelling on outdated perspectives. "
Message received. Shut up and play along, silly little human.
"Of course," I say, lowering my eyes in what I hope looks like contrition. "I didn't mean to sound ungrateful. It's just all so new."
"Naturally." The warmth returns to his voice like someone flipped a switch. Fucking Fae and their mood swings. "Now then, first things first. Your collar needs to be replaced."
My hand goes automatically to my neck, fingers finding the plain metal band that's been my constant companion since I woke up in the hospital. "Replaced?"
He produces a box from another drawer—how many fucking drawers does this desk have?
—and sets it on the surface between us. It's made of some dark wood that seems to absorb light, with silver hinges.
Or maybe they're platinum. Or some even more ostentatious metal from the Fae realms that I haven't even heard of.
I bet they've got some shit that would make great knives.
"The hospital collar served its purpose, but here at Valemyre, you'll need something more appropriate."