Chapter 13 – Billie
Thirteen
BILLIE
The campus clinic is about as obnoxiously posh as the rest of this place, but there's no line when I arrive and I'm in and out within thirty minutes.
I pocket the suppressants the doctor gave me, little white pills that look innocent enough but represent my only defense against my omega biology, and head for the door.
The nurse, a human with the dead-eyed look of someone who's been serving the Fae too long, barely glances up from her paperwork when I pass her desk.
"Remember," she drones, "no more than three consecutive cycles. After that, you need a minimum two-week break or risk permanent damage to your endocrine system."
No need to worry about that. These pills just need to last until I can lop off the prince's head.
I push through the clinic doors and into the afternoon sunlight. My next class, The History of Fae-Human Relations, starts in twenty minutes. I'm sure it will be a completely unbiased account, too. But at least I have plenty of time to navigate this architectural fever dream they call a campus.
The path curves through another one of those impossible gardens where roses bloom in colors that seem too intense to be real.
Blue roses. Actual fucking blue roses, because regular red ones aren't special enough for the Fae.
The scent hits me like a smack across the cheek.
Everything here is too much, too beautiful, too perfect, too designed to make you forget you're cattle in a very expensive pen.
I'm checking my schedule, trying to figure out if the Rosewine Building is the one that looks like it was designed by a drunk fairy or the one that appears to be made entirely of stained glass, when I hear them.
"Look who's trying to play dress-up."
The voice drips with manufactured sweetness. I don't need to look up to know it's the brunette from the stairs this morning—Baby Blue Ruffles, as I've mentally christened her.
She's collected a posse since then. Five other omegas arranged behind her like backup dancers, all wearing variations of pastel. They look like a box of expired Easter candy. I guess Fae are allergic to bold, primary colors.
I'll have to remember that. Make sure the knife I cut Prince Corvinus's head off with is pastel pink. I'm sure Olivia has something I could borrow.
"Aw, did the little hunter get lost?" The question comes from a redhead whose dress has so many bows I'm genuinely concerned she might take flight in a strong breeze. "Maybe if you'd attended proper preparatory school instead of learning how to gut rabbits, you'd know how to read a map."
I could tell them I've successfully navigated through unmapped supernatural territory while being hunted by things that would make their pretty little heads explode. I could mention that I can find true north with my eyes closed and track a target through a rainstorm.
"Just trying to find my way," I say instead, injecting what I hope sounds like uncertainty into my voice. "Everything here is so different from—"
"From your little murder cult?" Baby Blue Ruffles steps closer, and her perfume hits me like a chemical weapon.
It's supposed to smell like jasmine, I think, but there's so much of it that it's more like being waterboarded with flowers.
"How adorable that they're letting you pretend to be civilized. "
The others titter, and I mean actually fucking titter, like she's said something clever instead of just stringing together words she probably practiced in the mirror this morning.
"I bet she doesn't even know how to properly address a Fae lord," says a blonde next to her. "Probably thinks 'Your Highness' works for everyone."
"I'm sure you could give me some pointers on proper greetings," I say, unable to keep my tongue in check any longer.
Besides, I reason, if I come across as too compliant, I'll draw more suspicion.
If omegas are expected to be at each other's throats here, it can only lend to the authenticity of my performance.
"I'm guessing it involves a lot of time on your knees? "
Blondie's face goes completely blank, then turns a shade of pink as intense as the shoes the girl next to her is wearing. "You mouthy little bitch!"
She raises her hand and rears back as if to slap me.
My brain naturally processes everything in bullet time, the world slowing down around me so I could easily dodge her if I wanted.
But getting some victim points wouldn't be the worst thing, considering I need the Fae to see me as physically less capable than I really am.
If I don't defend myself against a harmless omega, how big of a threat can I really be to their nobility?
Before the blow can land, though, a perfectly manicured hand shoots out and wraps around Blondie's wrist.
"That's enough."
The voice cuts through their outrage. Cold and utterly without inflection, yet somehow managing to convey more threat than if she'd screamed.
Even before Blondie looks up and sees who grabbed her, the voice makes all the fight drain from her and she freezes. As soon as her hand is free, she skitters back.
The effect on the others is just as instantaneous. Baby Blue Ruffles actually stumbles back a step, her face draining of color. The others scatter like roaches when you turn on the light.
Isabella Larue stands ten feet away, and I have to admit, the girl knows how to make an entrance. She hasn't raised her voice, and yet she commands the space like she owns it. Judging by their reactions, she might.
"Isabella," Baby Blue Ruffles squeaks like a mouse that's just noticed the cat. "We were just—"
"Leaving." Isabella doesn't look at her. Her dark eyes are fixed on me with an intensity that would make most people squirm. I've been stared down by vampires, werewolves, and my extremely disappointed father. This barely registers. "Now."
Bbr flees after the others. There's no other word for it. Six omegas in designer dresses literally run away, their heels clicking a frantic retreat against the stones. One of them actually trips in her haste and doesn't even stop to check if she's torn her expensive dress.
And then it's just us. Isabella and me, standing in the garden with nothing but the sound of those impossible blue roses rustling.
She studies me like I'm a frog she's considering dissecting. Those dark eyes seem to miss nothing. For her sake, I hope they do.
"You're new here," she says finally. It's not a question.
"What gave it away?" I ask, unable to keep the sarcasm out of my voice. "The lack of ruffles or the fact that I can walk in a straight line?"
Her lips twitch. It might be amusement. It might be annoyance. With her, it's impossible to tell. Unlike most of the other omegas I've met, she doesn't wear her emotions on frilly sleeves.
"You're from unconventional circumstances.
" She steps closer, and unlike Baby Blue Ruffles' attempt at intimidation, this almost actually works.
There's something about the way she moves, like every gesture has been calculated for maximum impact but also, paradoxically, comes as naturally to her as breathing.
"So I'm going to do you a favor and make some things clear. "
"How magnanimous of you."
She definitely smirks this time. "The Fae may be in charge, but they're not the ones in control. Not nearly as much as they think."
I file that interesting little tidbit away for later examination. "And let me guess—you are?"
"Your time at this university can go smoothly," she continues as if I hadn't spoken, "or roughly. The Fae themselves have very little control over that."
"Right." I cross my arms, mainly to stop myself from fidgeting with the suppressants in my pocket. "So you're the gatekeeper between those two roads?"
"Clever girl." The smirk becomes sharper, more dangerous. "And they say you were uneducated."
"That's me. Full of surprises."
She circles me once, a slow, deliberate path that reminds me uncomfortably of how predators size up prey. Her dress doesn't make a sound as she moves, which is fucking unsettling. Everything makes noise. Even silk whispers. But she's silent as death.
It's a shame she was probably born into the cushiest of human reserves. This one would have made one hell of a hunter.
"Let me make it very simple," she says, coming to a stop directly in front of me. "I run these halls. You had a target on your back the moment you walked on campus, and I have the power to make that disappear."
"How sweet. Are you going to tell me about your Lord and Savior next, or do we skip straight to the part where I sign over my soul?"
That actually gets a laugh out of her. It's not a nice sound, but rather bitter and sharp as broken glass.
"One word from me, and every omega on this campus will magically stop gossiping about you.
They'll never begin all the things they're already planning on doing to make your life a living hell. "
She pauses, letting that sink in. I think about Baby Blue Ruffles and her crew, multiply that by however many other omegas are skulking around this place, and yeah. That could get inconvenient fast. Hard to hunt a prince when you're dodging mean girls with too much time on their hands.
"Fae who wouldn't even look twice at you will be falling over each other for a chance to court you," she continues. "Access to parties, events, the kinds of gatherings where real power moves through this place."
"And what," I ask, proud of how steady my voice sounds, "do I have to do to gain such magnanimous favor?"
That bitter laugh again. She looks at me like I'm simultaneously the smartest and stupidest person she's ever met.
"Only one thing." She leans in, close enough that I can smell her perfume. Unlike Baby Blue Ruffles' chemical warfare approach, Isabella smells like winter. It's crisp, clean, with an underlying metallic note. Like blood. Fitting, somehow. "Stay away from the Golden Triad."
I blink, not expecting that request. "The hell is that? Some kind of weird Fae boy band?"
Her perfect composure cracks for a second. "You really are a little pumpkin they plucked out of the forest, aren't you?"
"I prefer 'rabid woodland badger,' but sure."
"The Triad," she says, enunciating each word like she's talking to a moron, "is only the most powerful bonded pack on campus. Tallon Fairfax, Professor Locke Drakiss, and Prince Corvinus himself."
My blood turns to ice water in my veins, but I keep my expression neutral through sheer force of will. Prince Corvinus. In a pack. Which means he's not just protected by guards and magic and whatever else. He's got a fucking soul bond with two other supernaturals.
Killing him just became approximately a thousand times more complicated.
But on the flip side, from what I know about pack bonds, if I kill any one of them, it's the same as killing him. Technically, my chances were just multiplied by three.
"Let me guess," I say, partially recovered, "you've got your sights set on them."
"I come from a prestige bloodline." She says it like that should mean something profound instead of just confirming what I already suspected, that she's one of those omegas from families that literally breed their daughters to be supernatural fuck toys.
"The Golden Triad will choose me. It's not a matter of if, but when. "
Of course. Of fucking course. I've been here less than forty-eight hours and I've already made an enemy of the most powerful omega on campus, and she's got her perfectly manicured claws set on the exact person I need to kill. Because why would anything in my life be simple?
I need access to Prince Corvinus, but I also need to not have every omega on campus making my life a living hell while I figure out how to get past a soul-bonded pack to commit regicide.
"Relax, princess. I have no interest in your Prince Charming.
All I want is to get through this semester in one piece.
Maybe snag a bachelor Fae who can give me a comfortable life as far away from this hell as possible in the process.
Preferably one with agoraphobia so I have to deal with as few of their kind as possible. "
She studies me for a long moment, those dark eyes searching for any hint of deception. I meet her gaze steadily, channeling every ounce of 'harmless country bumpkin' I can muster. Her gaze drifts down over my outfit and she sniffs, confirming I look the part.
"Then we won't have any problems," she says finally, and her smile is sweet as arsenic.
She turns and glides away, her black dress making her look like an extremely elegant shadow against all the pastel and jewel tones of the garden. She doesn't look back, doesn't hurry, just moves with that same grace that makes everyone else look like they're stumbling through life.
I wait until she's completely out of sight before I let out slew of my most unladylike curses I've been holding in since I got here. My hand goes automatically to my pocket, fingers closing around the packet of suppressants like they're a lifeline. Which, given what I just learned, they might be.
Prince Corvinus is in a pack. A bonded pack. With a professor and some asshole named Tallon Fairfax.
I need information. I need to know everything about how pack bonds work, what their weaknesses are, if I really can drop Corvinus by killing another member of his triad.
And if not, I need to know how to separate them.
I also need to find out who Tallon Fairfax is and why a professor would bond with a student.
And somehow, I need to do all of this while dodging Isabella's attention and whatever army of pastel-wearing psychopaths she commands.
No pressure.