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Zodiac Academy: The Awakening(35)

Author: Caroline Peckham & Susanne Valenti

I folded my arms, growing tired of his tone. “Professor, I know you think I'm useless because I don't know anything about magic or Fae, but I'm not stupid. I can learn. Isn't that what these classes are supposed to be for? Guiding me? Catching me up on everything I've missed out on? So at least give me the chance to prove myself.” I wasn't quite sure where the determination had come from, but being dismissed so easily just rubbed me the wrong way. It wasn't like I thought I was fit to run a kingdom I'd never even heard of until two days ago, but I at least wanted to be given a chance to learn about my supposed birthright.

His brows arched and a soft smile brushed over his mouth. “I suppose that's only fair, Miss Vega. And as a Libra, I’m a sucker for fairness,” he said and my mouth parted in surprise.

So he is the Libra my horoscope mentioned this morning. And apparently being fair didn’t extend to being nice.

He glanced at a large brass clock on the wall. “We're almost out of time and I have somewhere to be.” He rose from his seat. “I'll send reading materials on Coercion to your Atlas. You will have a lesson with me every Monday evening. I expect you to have a basic grasp on shields by our next one. There will be a test.” He smirked and I suspected he was the kind of teacher who loved springing pop quizzes on his students.

I got up, lifting my chin as I internally accepted the challenge with all my heart. “I plan on getting an A.”

I headed to the door and he whipped across the space in double the speed. My heart rushed at the sudden display of his powers.

He wrenched the door open. “I don't do grades. With me, it's always pass or fail.” He snatched my Atlas from my hand, tapping something on it and signing off my lesson with the digital pen. He passed it back then held the door wider and I moved to step through it, surprised by the gentlemanly act.

In a surge of movement he passed me by and the door swung closed in my face.

Oh.

AN IRRITATING KIND of jingling noise called me from my sleep and I pushed myself upright with a jerk of surprise as I frowned around at the unfamiliar surroundings. I’d been awake late again talking to Darcy about the screwed up family history lecture she’d been given by Orion and trying to figure out how the hell I should feel about all of it.

I kicked off my red duvet, scrubbing the sleep from my eyes as I glanced at my dorm. It was going to take a while to start thinking of this place as home. Even longer to stop expecting Darcy’s smiley face first thing each day.

At least I don’t have to endure the cheeriness of a morning person while I drag myself out of my sleep-induced coma.

Though as that thought passed through my mind, I realised I actually missed her incessant morning chatter and whistling. Well, maybe not the whistling. But I definitely missed the mug of coffee she always offered to tempt me from my pit.

The jingling started up again and I located my Atlas, flicking the screen to shut the alarm off. No way that was staying. I needed something with a much lower pitch to rouse me, especially if I was supposed to be waking up at - I checked the time - six thirty??

“What, the actual, fuck?” I cursed. I only ever saw that time of day if I still happened to be awake from the night before. I never made it out of bed before eight and even that was being generous. Nine was more my style. Ten my preference. Eleven a luxury I afforded for myself most weekends… well shit.

Yesterday I’d been too tired to check the time when the alarm had woken me and now I knew why.

I stepped out of my single bed, which I’d quickly come to realise was the most comfortable bed I’d ever slept in, and ran my fingers through my long hair to tease out the worst of the tangles.

My bare feet met with gloriously warm tiles which were heated from beneath. Everything in Ignis house was kept warm by the fire that gave it its name and I sure as hell had no complaints about that. The apartment we’d left behind in one of the shittiest parts of Chicago had no heating and a window which let in way more than a little draft. I hadn’t been looking forward to surviving winter in that place and even if the only good thing about this whole magical academy business turned out to be this bedroom it still made it worth staying put.

The plaid pyjamas I wore were not to my taste in any way and I plucked at the flannelette material, adding a mental note to my slowly increasing shopping list. Bikini, pyjamas, boots, underwear that was anything other than the Bridget Jones specials they’d given me alongside the matching breast-flattening crop tops which apparently served as bras. And as if the design of the underwear wasn’t disgusting enough they’d decided to go for nude as the colour of choice. I mean, was there a woman alive whose skin was actually that god-awful shade of anaemic peach? Because it sure as hell didn’t come close to matching my bronze skin tone and the effect of it against my flesh was really quite gross looking.

I needed to have a word with someone about that promised stipend and a trip to the local mall ASAP. Not that I had any immediate plans to be flaunting my underwear at anyone but you never knew when a hot guy might present himself. And so long as he wasn’t of the over-privileged, self-indulging, sadistic, devastatingly attractive Heir variety, I could be tempted.

Luckily, whoever had gathered toiletries for me hadn’t had such horrifying taste as the underwear selector, who I could only imagine was a seventy year old virgin nun. I’d even been provided with a makeup bag stuffed full of more cosmetics than I ever could have afforded before I came here. Not to say that my own collection hadn’t been as impressive - makeup was one of the simplest things to claim a five finger discount on at the local store. But it was a novelty to be given a collection that had actually been paid for.

I made quick work of applying my war paint, ready to face whatever today had in store for me from behind the safety of a generous supply of eyeliner and a sweep of plumb lipstick.

A single chime sounded on the Atlas and I glanced at it as a message flashed up.

Your daily horoscope is waiting for you, Tory!

Just what I’ve been waiting for - a vague set of sentences which might just relate to my day if I skew the meaning to fit whatever random things actually occur.

Good morning Gemini!

The stars have spoken about your day.

Today, you may find yourself on a collision course with a Sagittarius. Though this altercation may bring you peace of mind for a while, try not to forget the true obstacles in your way.

Today could well send you spiralling down various paths so be sure that each decision you make is one you want to stick with. Whatever stance you choose to take today will set the dice rolling and take the control out of your hands.

I rolled my eyes as I tossed my Atlas aside dismissively but it instantly started up its merry tune again. I grabbed it, jabbing it vaguely in an effort to shut it up permanently. That’s a strong hell no to your jingly morning bullshit. My efforts were rewarded as it fell quiet but I also somehow managed to open the FaeBook app.

I hadn’t really given it a look yet aside from a quick glance when Diego had told us about it. Social media participation insinuated the user had a social life and as of yet I could claim no such thing here at Zodiac Academy. Aside from Darcy I’d only really had semi-decent interactions with a few students and we certainly hadn’t made it to the pouting for the camera, taking a selfie stage of our relationship yet. Not that I’d ever really been the type for that anyway.

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