Page 11 of Bound to Three Fae Beasts

“Right. But that doesn’t explain why I’m here,” I said.

Freta shrugged. “It’s no secret that every generation of fae is becoming less stable than the last. They’re probably just desperate, and are hoping that if they put a half-fae through the trials, you’ll end up with a beast form, too.”

“These trials that might kill us.”

“Yes.”

“Gee, I wonder why the fae are having a population crisis when they keep killing the next generation off,” I snarked, closing my eyes. She’d said it was ‘no surprise’ but this was completely new information to me.

“If weak forms breed, they will only weaken our population further.”

I almost gave her a snarky reply, but stopped when I read a glimmer of fear in her dark eyes. Maybe she wasn’t as cold about this as I thought. “Won’t a half-fae weaken the population, too?”

Freta shook her head. “Some might think so, but fae blood is stronger than human. And if you are able to bind to a beast and complete the trials, that’s all that matters. But others in the school won’t think the same way I do. It’s best if we give you a fake father and pretend that you’re full fae.”

I wanted to ask more questions about the academy, the binding, the trials, everything. But I still didn’t trust Freta, not completely. So instead, I followed her advice. We stayed up late, coming up with a plausible backstory for me. She made me repeat it over and over again, until I half believed it myself.

When Freta finally decided that it was good enough, I changed into my nightclothes and collapsed onto my bed, my fingers touching the amber brooch I still had pinned beneath my clothes. I had strange dreams all night, waking frequently with my heart racing.

Freta woke me the next morning, already in her uniform. “Get up,” she said, shaking me. “We need to get to class.”

Chapter 6 - Azriel

I stuffed my books into my knapsack as I hurried down the long corridor, weaving among the other students. I only had a few minutes to get from Mr. Phineas’s Guide to Court Etiquette and Politics class, on the third floor of the Academy, to Mr. Lotmas’s beast-form combat and weapons class, which was held in a large pavilion at the back of the grounds, near the forest.

My head ached from a combined lack of sleep and constant vigilance. Every night, I lay awake for hours despite my exhaustion, wondering how long it would be before I was found out. Then, during the day, I had to make sure I avoided being noticed.

Bullying was alive and well here in the Binding Academy. Even from the three days I’d been here so far, what I’d seen made Kili’s treatment of me look like child’s play.

I paused to check my map. The Academy was so vast I didn’t dare try to navigate on memory alone, not after that disaster the first day. Fortunately, students had a break from classes every fifth day, which was meant for catching up on homework and resting. My first class-free day was the day after tomorrow, and I planned to use that time to familiarize myself with the grounds.

After reorienting myself, I started off again. The flow of students here was thinner, which indicated it was getting close to the start of class. I sped up.

So far, my classes had passed in a blur. There was so much information thrown at me I didn’t understand! I always sat in the back, where I was less likely to attract attention, and took as many notes as I could write down. Still, there was a lot of background information the teachers assumed students knew.

Which they would, having grown up in the fae realm. Freta helped me out in the evenings when I had questions. She had been a lifesaver so far, but I still needed to find a way to catch up on my own.

Despite struggling to understand, I found the classes interesting. I ran over the list in my mind.

First, Mr. Phineas taught court etiquette and politics. He was generally good-natured, and seemed patient enough with the students that screwed up their proper etiquette.

That was the only class I didn’t share with Freta. Students who came from the royal courts didn’t need etiquette lessons, after all. It was only for us low-ranking fae (and one faker human) who might end up with powerful enough beasts to warrant an increase in their court. This was done through adoption or marriage. On a rare occasion, there was a bond that formed, said to help produce stronger beasts, even when one parent was inferior. That was on my list of things to research. Freta hadn’t wanted to talk about it.

Miss Wren was a strict, sharp-eyed woman who tolerated nothing but full attention in her class. She taught the history of the various bloodlines, including which courts were allied with which other courts. She spoke so quickly I gave myself writer’s cramp trying to keep up with her.

Miss Atira taught elemental control and magic. She seemed to be very bright and cheerful, and was the woman I’d seen scowling during the headmaster’s welcome speech. So far, I was able to fake my way through that class, because we weren’t actually using magic yet. I didn’t know what I was going to do when magic was introduced. But that was a problem for future Azriel. Atira also apparently taught potion-making to the fourth- and fifth-year students.

We had two teachers who taught combat, Mr. Thatcher and Mr. Lotmas. Thatcher so far leaned heavily into non-beast combat, emphasizing control and discipline. Mr. Lotmas pushed us physically, often having us do crazy extensive training. I was in decent enough shape, but I always ended his classes shaky and out of breath.

What I liked most about the teachers was that, so far, none of them paid me any special attention. Other than that, I wasn’t sure how to read them. Even those who were friendly enough were evaluating which of us would live and which would die during the upcoming binding trials.

I had just gotten to the ground floor when a pair of hands grabbed me. My arms were twisted behind my back and I was shoved face-first into the wall. Laughter rang out behind me. My mouth went dry as I twisted against the grip on my arms, cursing myself for losing track of my surroundings.

“Whatcha got there, Seb?” purred a familiar voice from behind me.

I twisted my head and my stomach dropped as my eyes latched onto those of the silver-haired golden boy. Beside him, looking bored, was the scarred Jasper, and just behind him was Gareth, looking at me as though I was a toy for him to play with. Flora, her friend Savannah, and a fae boy I’d heard them refer to as Red all crowded around.

“I caught myself a little spy,” Seb said. His grip was iron on me, and he pinned me in place with one knee jammed up against my back. He must have been standing on one foot to get it there, but when I pushed back against him, he showed no sign of being unbalanced.