Charlotte, Beckett, Swanmere lives as her father's untrimmed hedge.
Merlot Rainbaum searches for a miracle cure to heal her mother, who is none other than the Queen of the Mermaids.
Railey Ferntoss, renown across the Western Sector as the Dragon Mas...
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Vincent's beautiful face cracked, an ugly thing, like a shattered mirror. "Aw, poor kitty. That temper of yours is wicked, Lady Swanmere. You should really learn to control it."
I grinned, the tips of my canines poking into my bottom lip, a tad painfully. Purposefully, I bit down just that much harder. "What makes you think I haven't? Have you heard any stories of tantrums? Of brawls in broad daylight over spilled mead? Perhaps it's just because you're an Elf-Ham, but you really should pay more attention to your surroundings. Never know when you'll have to jump into a lake to save a shivering cat."
"Did you—did you just call me an Elf-Ham?" Vincent asked, patting his chest in the clearest mock affirmation one could possibly portray. And, my fist was back in my mouth, smothering the laughter before it could hit the wind and set sail. "That's offensive, you know."
"Oh, really, Philip? The truth bothers you that much?" I formed my lips into a pout, tucking my head to the side in the way sweet people do when they hear you're sad. "How hypocritical. Tell me, Philip, which Ring does your family belong to?"
The tips of Vincent's ears turned pink. We were now back with the buildings on campus, each one made out of floor-to-ceiling glass and stubbly, stucco walls. At Elmhurst, the buildings were sharp. And, yes, they would kill you.
"The 7th," Vincent defended himself. "We help portion out livestock to all the sectors. It's very dignified."
"Not high up the chain, though," I dismissed with a wave. Already, side-glances of apprehension by passing elves fueled my fire, their obvious double-takes as they took note of the infamous Charlotte Swanmere walking alongside—gasp!—an elve! An Elf-Ham, at that! "I've certainly never heard of your family. A mid-manager, then."
"And what's wrong with that?" Vincent's defensiveness spread. His skinny shoulders stuck up near his ears, his arms crossed over his chest.
Each building at Elmhurst was a different color. Not including the white-walled dorms, each of the 13 administrative and school buildings were painted a different color. It was meant to signify the 13 Rings and their collective glory, but it was really just an eyesore.
Future leaders and all that. The students of Elmhurst Grand could never forget, not for one moment, why they were here. Why they existed, why their parents were granted permission to have them in the first place.
So that Elf-Hams like Vincent could one day maintain a mid-level managerial position as he oversaw the pig farmers, the chicken collectors, and the sheep herders. He'd probably oversee a group of, like, five farms from the Middle Sector. He might even get a right-hand elf, one who'd grown up in Pixie Territory and knew the fields and forests like the back of his hand. Together, they'd ration out the livestock for slaughter, distributing it in a timely manner throughout the year. Never kill too many, never give out lesser-quality meat.
