Page 109 of Bound to Three Fae Beasts

He was unbinding.

I leapt to my feet, the chair clattering backwards. Everyone who had been around the boy ran from him. I shifted to Seb’s wolf on instinct and grabbed both Silas and Freta’s tunics in my mouth. I bounded to the opposite side of the hall, dragging them with me. The teachers, who had already arrived, leapt to their feet.

The blast of unbinding magic lashed out, spreading through the hall. My heart froze. If it hit Freta, it would make her unbind. If it hit Silas, it would kill him, too. And if it hit me, my secret was out.

As quickly as it started, it ended. The boy collapsed to his side, panting heavily. He lifted his head, looking confused and exhausted.

Freta squirmed in my jaws. I released her to find pinpricks of blood welling where I’d grabbed her. As the teachers cast spells over the boy to keep the unbinding from happening again, I winced. Neither Freta nor Silas seemed to realize I’d injured them in my haste to get them away from the magic, though.

I shook myself. “Are you two okay? Did any of the magic hit you?”

Freta’s hands fluttered nervously as she felt over herself, as though checking to make sure she was still solid. Silas’s jaw clenched tight and he didn’t acknowledge me at all.

Quincy put his hand on Lotmas’s shoulder. “Take care of this.”

Lotmas nodded, face blank. Next to him, Atira let out a short breath. “Thatcher and I can—”

“Lotmas,” Quincy said, more firmly. “Quickly.”

Atira opened her mouth to argue, but Thatcher pushed her lightly away. He murmured something, which earned him an annoyed look from Lotmas, but the two teachers lifted the boy to his feet. He stumbled, still looking confused, but docile. Lotmas put a hand on the back of his neck and pushed him from the great hall. Thatcher followed.

Where were they taking him?

Quincy swept to the front of the room and clapped his hands. “The crisis is averted. Everyone, take your seats.”

What about the boy, though? He hadn’t gone through the full unbinding. So there was hope for him, right?

“Let’s sit down,” Freta said, pulling on my arm.

I shook her off. My heart pounded wildly and I felt sick to my stomach, but something pushed me on. That recklessness I’d been fighting since I arrived here reared its ugly head, and this time I gave into it. I needed to know. I headed out of the great hall, looking over my shoulder at the remaining teachers only once.

Headmaster Quincy’s narrowed eyes tracked me, but he didn’t try to stop me.

Outside, Freta groaned. “We shouldn’t be doing this.”

Silas put an arm around her, but kept following me as I followed Lotmas and Thatcher. The sickness in my stomach roiled harder as they headed for the crematorium where Penry was burned. The student started to struggle now, but both teachers held him fast. Lotmas yanked on his arm impatiently while Thatcher spoke. We were too far away to hear what he was saying.

I rounded the path, slipping in through the brush that surrounded the crematorium. Soon, I could hear the boy crying out, begging them to stop.

“Mr. Thatcher, I didn’t do anything,” he shrieked. “I didn’t unbind! I’m still me! I’m still me!”

Freta shuddered, gasping for breath. I wanted to tell her to go back, but couldn’t make my tongue work as I crept to the edge of the bushes. Lotmas shoved the boy into the crematorium. Thatcher stood to one side, his jaw tight as he watched.

“Please,” the boy begged. “Please—”

His voice lifted in a scream of pain. The white flames that had reduced Penry to ash rose up, licking across the boy’s skin. He jerked and ran toward the wall, but Lotmas flicked his hand and activated a barrier around it. The smell of burning hair and flesh filled the air. Lotmas watched, holding on to the barrier.

Thatcher swore under his breath and punched Lotmas in the jaw. Lotmas stumbled back, biting out a curse. The boy, engulfed in flames, started to crawl over the wall. Thatcher held his hand out and made a cutting motion with his fingers.

The boy’s head rolled back off his shoulders. His body remained there a moment longer before it keeled back. The smell of the flames burning him disappeared. Lotmas snarled as he whirled on Thatcher and sank into a fighting stance.

“Quincy told me to take care of it,” Lotmas bit out.

Thatcher gave him an impassive look. “And yet, I was the one that had to do it.”

Lotmas feinted forward like he was going to attack, but stopped. He straightened, snorted, and rubbed his jaw. “I’ll let Quincy deal with you.”

He spun around and marched away. Freta buried her face into my arm while Silas stared on, white-faced. Thatcher began to murmur burial prayers, the same ones that Atira had said over Penry. His back was to us, and I crept backward. Suddenly the way Jasper had killed Robert in the first binding trial didn’t seem so brutal.