Fae of the South (Court of Crown and Compass Book 3) by E. Hall (good books to read in english TXT) 📗

“Overall, fae exist more in the light than in the shadow. That’s facts. The oppression we’ve faced in the last couple of decades here in Terra and before that during Bortimal’s reign in Borea was just wrong. Before my dad died, he talked about a cursed vampire who picked up where Bortimal left off, bent on scourging the realms of fae. All fae.” She’s quiet for a moment. “And there was a rumor about a prophecy or prediction or something. The four would change the score. I don’t know. Unseelie rhyme nonsense that I’d be cautious not to repeat. It went on like his doing will be his undoing.” She shifts uncomfortably as if the words themselves have power.

“Cryptic.”

“Curses, fae, and our entire realm are at risk. Your superstitions won’t help.”

I swallow hard because I didn’t officially know I was fae until sophomore year. I mean, I had suspicions but kept them locked away in the deepest vault in my mind. As for the socks and iron, I figured it was better to be prepared than sorry.

“You can go back to wearing regular socks unless you like the fashion statement. The iron around your wrist is foolish. We’ve never been appetizing to vampires for the same reason iron is said to repel our kind. Well, iron objects. Vamps prefer a certain concentration of iron in the blood. We don’t have any and in fact, it’s said to repel us because it’s poisonous, but only if it pierces the skin—cold iron. Swords, knives, and other blades would repel just about anyone because if there’s one thing supernaturals don’t like is having their blood spilled but especially fae.”

“So I shouldn’t let my bracelet cut me?”

“That is if you’re full-fae. I am, but—” She looks into my eyes. “You’re not.” Amelia opens her book. “Anyway, superstitions are rubbish. Oh, but do leave out cream and sweets because fae don’t mind a midnight snack.” She winks.

Two hours later, Amelia shows me to the common quad—a building in the center of an open space in the middle of the campus. Large windows make up two walls. When she opens the door, loud music pours out like a splash of cold water. We walk into a cacophony of students hanging out, popcorn sailing through the air, and arms slung around shoulders. I wonder what Headmistress Jurik would think of the chaos and comradery. She strikes me as someone adamantly against anarchy or fun.

Several students greet Amelia. A tall guy with his hand pressing into the wall above him leans over a girl with long blond hair and even longer legs. She whispers something in his ear and then giggles.

Amelia plows her way past the couple.

They emanate whorls of energy like a wood fire, reminding me of the forge on the corner of Franklin and Kent. I scan the room for Tyrren.

A chair crashes onto the floor in front of us. Amelia kicks it back in the direction it came. With her hands on her hips, she glares and then tilts her head.

“Sorry about that.” It’s a voice that I’ve listened to talk late at night, early in the morning, and wish I didn’t hear now—only because it means Tyrren is locked up here too.

As he bends to pick up the chair, his muscles flex under his shirt—the colors stark against a golden tan. His profile reveals a strong jaw and full lips. Tyrren’s brown hair is short but hopelessly messy. I want to hug him again, hold tight—a beacon of certainty in this craziness. However, after he walked away earlier, I don’t dare.

A kid with a rash of blemishes on his cheeks kicks the chair again.

“Cut it out, Aaron,” Amelia says to him.

He smooths his shirt as though slightly embarrassed. “I still can’t find my studies in ethics text.”

“And repeatedly kicking a chair helps how?” Tyrren’s voice is sweetly deep, but not gruff. He turns to me.

I get my smile. Well, his smile, but it’s the one he only ever shows me. I melt a little inside. Maybe he just needed to cool off earlier. He’s always the even-keeled one. Even after he lost his parents, he returned to a state of equilibrium pretty fast. I imagine being turned into a vampire shook him up. Unlike what Amelia was saying about the division between vamps and fae, I’ve never experienced that. Vampires have always been my family. He’s no exception.

“Lea, meet my roommate,” Tyrren says.

I glance at the guy who moments before was practically having a tantrum and has since adjusted to casual-cool.

“Tyrren, this is Amelia, my roommate,” I say, introducing her.

When she tugs her gaze from Aaron, her cheeks are a soft shade of pink. “Wait. Do you know each other?”

Even standing a foot apart from Tyrren, there’s no denying our familiarity. He’s seen me at my best and worst. I’ve only ever seen him at his best because that’s how Tyrren is. He works hard at everything he does whether it’s school, his apprenticeship, or our friendship.

The obvious question forms on my lips. Why is he then? Instead, I say, “Yeah. Best friends since fourth grade.”

“You both ended up here? How?” Amelia’s brow wrinkles and her eyes dart between us as though recognizing I’m fae and he’s a vamp.

Tyrren scrubs his hand down the back of his neck. “I went to the forge—I’m a blacksmith’s apprentice.”

Amelia eyes the bracelet around my wrist.

“The police busted in. Arrested me. There’s no one to help.”

“What about Huxley?” I think back to the night of the basketball game, placing myself in the room with the ash and fire, the bellows and the mighty blacksmith who told me Tyrren wasn’t there.

Tyrren shrugs.

“Your brothers?”

He snorts.

“The fact that you were turned into a vampire?”

“You’re newly turned?” Aaron steps back slightly.

“Yeah. Over the weekend.”

“How are you