Midnight Fae Academy Book Three - Lexi C. Foss Page 0,45
up Zakkai’s cheek in warm welcome.
The Quandary Blood chuckled. “Did you give Clove a stonepecker?” he asked, his voice holding a warm note to it that had me wanting to smile in response. Except his words had me wanting to frown instead.
“You know her name?”
“Of course I do,” he replied. “Don’t you know my familiar’s name?”
“No. But I assume that beast is your familiar?” Seemed appropriate.
“He’s not a beast. He’s a wolf. A stunning white Arctic wolf who loves the snow, isn’t that right, Zimney?” He scratched the beast behind his pointy ears and grinned up at me. “Today’s lesson will be about listening to our familiars. We can even ask them about the stonepecker. When did you receive it?”
“The day you attacked the Academy,” I replied.
That caused his grin to falter. “Oh.” His forehead crinkled. “Do you still have it?”
Eww, no, I thought, shivering from the memory of that poor dead creature on my lap. Then I cleared my throat and said, “Zeph destroyed it after Shade warned him the Warrior Bloods were coming.”
“Interesting,” he murmured, slowly standing again. “Two incidents of my supposed involvement where Shade has more or less inserted himself. I still need to obtain that rock from him. I’ll do that today after our lesson.”
“Are you suggesting he’s up to something?”
“Oh, he’s always up to something,” Zakkai replied, amusement lightening his tone. “Whether or not he’s meant to interfere this time, I’m not clear. I don’t see him purposely trying to upset you, and given the way you’ve cringed about the stonepecker, it wasn’t a positive experience.”
“I don’t like death.”
He nodded. “Yes, I know. He also sounded rather distressed over the rock issue, so I doubt he put that spell on it. But it does leave me to wonder who is pulling his strings this time around.” He lifted a shoulder. “Regardless, we’ll get to the bottom of it. After our lesson today.”
“How are your parents?” I asked as I slid into the booth across from Ajax. It’d been a few days since we’d last spoken, and while I cared about his family, that wasn’t the real purpose of tonight’s visit. But I had to play this cool for my plan to work.
I wasn’t taking any chances. We were all in too deep for this round to fail. If we did, I’d literally lose everything—Aflora, my memories, possibly even my grandparents.
No.
This had to work.
Which meant I needed Ajax to act as the catalyst for all the other cards to fall into place.
“They’re feeling better,” he said. “But refusing to go outside.” He leaned forward, his voice dropping. “They’re terrified of being attacked again.”
What wasn’t said was, By them.
I nodded to show that I understood the implication and also to demonstrate that I agreed with their assessment. Mostly because I had a strong suspicion that it was the Elders who had attacked the village, not Zakkai, something Aflora had confirmed during a dream conversation the other night.
Zakkai’s confession also explained the coma Ajax’s parents had fallen into—one Malik Nacht had been in charge of monitoring. Or had he put them in that coma? He’d been the one who was supposed to wake them up. Yet it’d taken him several days, something that shouldn’t have happened. The truth remained to be seen.
There were three sides of this revolution.
The Elder-led Council.
Those who believed in reformation, like my grandmother.
And those who desired retribution, like Zakkai.
While the latter two parties didn’t see eye to eye, they’d never been violent with one another. So it hadn’t made sense for Zakkai to attack those in the village who had helped other Quandary Bloods survive. Some of them might be more in favor of working everything out politically, but he’d never hurt them for that in the past.
The Elders, however, had.
So it was far more likely that they were the ones behind the violence. Ajax’s parents were pro-reformation, something not many knew. Although, the attack suggested they weren’t nearly as careful as they thought.
“Hi, boys,” Anrika greeted, her long white hair tied back into a bun today. Knowledge flashed in her soft features, her perception unerringly astute. She always knew what I was up to, just as she did now. I could sense it in the way she evaluated me with her keen green eyes. Her age showed in that stare, giving her an almost eerie appearance—a thousand-plus-year-old soul trapped in the face of a thirty-year-old woman.
“Hi, Anrika,” I replied. “We’re just here for a quick snack.”