Shadowblade Academy 2: Darkness Rising Read online

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or, if real, are used fictitiously.

  Copyright © 2022 by KC Kingmaker

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a review.

  Cover art by MiblArt

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  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Shadowblade Academy 2: Darkness Rising

  Chapter 1 | Coralia

  Chapter 2 | Coralia

  Chapter 3 | Coralia

  Chapter 4 | Dax

  Chapter 5 | Coralia

  Chapter 6 | Coralia

  Chapter 7 | Sunny

  Chapter 8 | Coralia

  Chapter 9 | Coralia

  Chapter 10 | Coralia

  Chapter 11 | Venn

  Chapter 12 | Coralia

  Chapter 13 | Quentin

  Chapter 14 | Coralia

  Chapter 15 | Coralia

  Chapter 16 | Dax

  Chapter 17 | Dax

  Chapter 18 | Coralia

  Chapter 19 | Coralia

  Chapter 20 | Quentin

  Chapter 21 | Coralia

  Chapter 22 | Coralia

  Chapter 23 | Sunny

  Chapter 24 | Venn

  Chapter 25 | Coralia

  Chapter 26 | Coralia

  Chapter 27 | Coralia

  Chapter 28 | Dax

  Chapter 29 | Coralia

  Chapter 30 | Coralia

  Chapter 31 | Coralia

  Chapter 32 | Coralia

  Chapter 33 | Coralia

  Chapter 34 | Sunny

  Chapter 35 | Coralia

  Chapter 36 | Coralia

  Chapter 37 | Coralia

  Chapter 38 | Dax

  Chapter 39 | Coralia

  Chapter 40 | Coralia

  Chapter 41 | Coralia

  Chapter 42 | Coralia

  Chapter 43 | Sunny

  Epilogue | Coralia

  About the Author

  Books by KC Kingmaker

  Briarwitch Academy:

  A Whisper Before Dawn

  A Dream Before Dawn

  A Journey Before Dawn

  A Storm Before Dawn

  Dragon Shifter Dominion:

  Passion of the Summer Dragon

  Serenity of the Autumn Dragon

  Cold Heart of the Winter Dragon

  Vibrance of the Spring Dragon

  Rapture of the Sun Dragon

  Shadowblade Academy:

  Darkness Calls

  Darkness Rising

  Chapter 1

  Coralia

  VENN GABLE’S LAVENDER skin shone with a layer of sweat as a beam of sunlight sliced across him. He dribbled the ball expertly, bobbing and weaving around a niggling defender who wouldn’t get off his back. Just when it looked like he’d lose possession, he spun around the defender and kicked the ball into a patch of inky shadows.

  As the ball vanished, gasps arose in unison around the Shadowball meadow. The audience watching from the makeshift bleachers stood with bated breath, wondering where the ball would pop up.

  I wondered too.

  My eyes darted across the field as I jogged toward the center, crossing into enemy territory. Venn was already moving, taking a forward position.

  The ball arose from a patch across the way, next to the vampire who simultaneously frustrated and allured me, Sunny Conway. Our power forward took off in a sprint with the ball, manhandling his way past the opposing team’s final defender.

  A hush fell over the audience.

  Sunny saw an opening and shot the ball toward the goal. It curved and arced through the sky—

  With bent knees, the goalie dove and reached out, tossing a shadowgate into the air. Seconds before the ball would’ve hit the back of the net, it disappeared into the small portal instead.

  Cursing under my breath, I backpedaled, realizing which patch the ball would emerge from seconds before it did. It reappeared near middle field with one of our adversaries taking control. The opposing forward dribbled toward me at a full sprint, kicking the ball feet in front of him as he ran it down. I planted my cleats and tried to time my defense to cut him off.

  The guy was bigger than me and running with a full head of steam. I had the option to try and finesse my way to the ball, or stand my ground and get bulldozed.

  Unwisely, I chose the latter option.

  To my credit, the guy didn’t expect me to stand in his way. He thought I’d be squeamish and wilt at the last second, but this was a game of chicken I wouldn’t let him win. Not when there was so much on the line.

  I couldn’t let down my Glove.

  As the forward barreled into me, I oofed and crashed onto the ground, ass to grass. The ball went through my feet as I sprawled and the dude stumbled to catch up.

  Behind me, Quentin Argyle swooped possession of the ball before the forward could get to it.

  I blinked up at the orange sky, a stark white moon lingering and ready to show its face to the night.

  A whistle blew and play stopped. Someone called a timeout and players doubled over, hands on their knees, breathing hard.

  Groaning, I sat up and rubbed my tailbone. My sacrifice would hurt like hell tomorrow, but it was worth it. The referee in the distance said something and the crowd murmured and clapped.

  Apparently my decision to stand my ground wasn’t so unwise, because a roughing penalty had been called on the other team.

  Quentin trotted over and held out a hand. I stared up at his broad shoulders, his shaggy black hair blowing in the breeze. He smirked, helping me up. “Nice hit, lass.”

  “Wasn’t part of the plan.” I limped toward the sideline. “Had I known you were right behind me, I would have spun away and let you handle him.”

  “It worked. That’s all that matters.”

  “Right.”

  Our Glove rallied on the sideline, while the opposing Glove took to the opposite side of the field. Dax Kilmeade came in from our goal, Sunny from forward, and Venn from center.

  “Don’t do that again,” Sunny grumbled, sparing me a glance. For a moment, I thought the sneer on his face was a look of endearment, because he was worried I’d get hurt. Then he said, “We can’t afford an injury this late in the game—we’ll be disqualified if we can’t man five people on the field,” and anger pulsed through my veins.

  I gritted my teeth. “Just trying to protect the goal any way I can, sunshine.”

  His eyes narrowed on me, glinting with something I didn’t understand. The ripped vampire crossed his arms over his chest and faced the rest of the guys. “What’s the plan?”

  Quentin took over, drawing out a schematic on a small whiteboard. Ever since he had come back from the Spectral Realm and reinserted himself into Jace Hudson’s Shadowball team, he had helped turn the team around.

  A couple months ago, Wrist Hudson had been unceremoniously fired and exiled from Shadowblade Academy, which meant we lacked a coach. We almost had to forfeit the season, but then Quen arrived and took control of the situation. He had turned out to be quite the tactician and ballplayer. Since we needed a team name, and Hudson’s Glove didn’t fly anymore, we ended up calling ourselves “The Dreamwatchers,” after the silly nickname I had given him when we first met.

  Now we were in the final week of my first term. My “Ghost-year.” It was the last game of the season. We’d managed to m
ake it all the way to the finals. The reward at stake was pure bragging rights, which was enough for any of the egotistical supernaturals at the Academy to desire—myself included—and play our hearts out.

  We were stacked up against Frilly Hawkins’ Glove, who had been the favorites to win the trophy all season long.

  But, at the last second before game time, luck had blown us a kiss: Frilly’s number-one star, Finley Winston, hadn’t shown up for the match. It was a scandal that left everyone reeling. No doubt it would be the talk on campus for weeks, with students wondering how this game would have played out had she been here. Or, whether we even deserved the trophy if we somehow ended up winning.

  First we needed to get there.

  There were only two minutes left in the game. Possession was ours once the whistle sounded. Even without Finley, Hawkins’ Glove was a formidable opponent. They had managed to field a last-minute substitute to take her place—the guy who had flattened me on the previous play.

  Across the field on the western sideline, Wrist Hawkins’ hands moved in a flurry. The imposing woman, my professor of Alchemy class, chastised her players. It seemed like she couldn’t believe she had found herself in a tie with our coach-less Glove.

  We were the definite underdogs. Finley Winston was not only a legend across campus—though I’d never met her—but she was also the apparent leader. Without her, Hawkins’ Glove lacked direction.

  I turned to my Glovemates and interrupted Quentin. “Full-court press.”

  Their collective eyes landed on me—Dax, with his violet irises gleaming, his midnight skin nearly lost to the setting sun; Venn, his soft gaze inquisitive as he ran a hand through his short silver hair; Sunny’s amber orbs flaring; Quentin’s emerald peepers annoyed that I’d cut him off.

  He said, “That’s basketball, lass.”

  I tossed my hands in the air. “Whatever. Balls to the wall. You know what I mean. Let’s do it and finish this.”

  “What’s with the fighting spirit?” Sunny asked, and I could tell he respected my grit. Finally. “Pissed you got knocked on your ass?” His languid grin made me shiver, and his blond locks blowing across his shoulders made my head spin. Why does he have to be so infuriating and pretty at the same time?

  “No,” I lied, pointing across the field. “Look how Hawkins is treating them. They’re demoralized. Just as tired as we are. I think if we press them, they’ll break.”

  “If they don’t, we’ll be in trouble,” Venn said, frowning. It wasn’t very often the jolly Unseelie fae frowned. “If we bring our entire backfield to the front, and fuck up . . .”

  I didn’t need him to finish to know what he was getting at. “I know, I know.” The fight went out of me in a whoosh. “Fine, whatever. Let’s do Quentin’s plan. I just thought—”

  “No, I think you’re right, lass.” Quentin surprised me by coming to my defense. “They look worried. Spirits broken. Let’s give it to ‘em hard.”

  Sunny said, “You know that’s the only way I like to give it.” When he winked at me with another smug smirk, I rolled my eyes and turned away so he couldn’t see the flush of my cheeks.

  It was rough being the only woman on a Shadowball team, trying to mingle with a testosterone-fueled crew. It didn’t help that they were all beautiful. Too much damn masculinity.

  I had become a minor celebrity over the past couple months, or at least a point of interest, as our team rose from obscurity and made our run into the Shadowball final. My lovable roommate, Charli Fairfax, told me there were bets about who I had slept with on the team, if not the entire team.

  So far, that number was one, and I saw no reason why it would jump, given the way my Glovemates interacted with me. No one needed to know any of that, or how I yearned for practically every man on my team. I kept my personal life personal, and wouldn’t bite.

  I tried to shrug off the gossip, but deep down it got to me. Why did I have to be objectified on the field when I was just trying to play the same sport as everyone else? I supposed it came with the territory of being the only girl on an otherwise all-boys team.

  A piercing whistle drew me out of my thoughts. I had missed most of Quentin’s drawn-up play, which was disconcerting because I had come up with the plan. I knew where I needed to be on the field, and that had to be enough.

  “Who’s taking the final shot?” Quentin asked.

  “If we get it,” Dax murmured.

  “You know who’s taking it,” Sunny said. When he raised his chin, it was clear he was talking about himself, which came as no surprise because I’d never met a more unapologetically arrogant man.

  “What about Cor?” Venn asked. I gave him a tiny, shy smile. “No one will expect her.”

  “Yeah, because she’ll miss,” Sunny shot back.

  My shy smile turned into a snarl. “Fuck you, Sunny.”

  He chuckled and shoved my shoulder. Even though it was playful, I stumbled a few steps. Honestly, it was the most endearing thing he’d done all game because it showed he was comfortable enough with me to do it. It was something he’d do with any of the other guys.

  Maybe he just gives me a hard time to see how I’ll react and how I fit in. I rubbed my shoulder. But haven’t we had all season long to see how I fit in? You’d think he’d know by now.

  I hoped he wasn’t starting to see me as “one of the guys.”

  Our team broke from the huddle without any clear picture of who was taking the shot—if we even got a chance, as Dax had warned.

  The black panther shifter took his place in the goal and gave me an encouraging nod. I stood in as rover, currently in the backfield near Quentin. Venn and Dax set up in the middle.

  When the whistle sounded, everyone broke. Feet moved in a flurry, hoofing it across the field to try and get into position. Cheers rose in a wave from the hundreds of student fans.

  My eyes swiveled to the clock. Let’s see what we can do in one-hundred seconds.

  Quentin started with the ball and quickly passed it up to me. I dribbled a few feet forward, but got skittish as the big bulldozing brute barreled toward me. I passed the ball back to Quentin, and he stayed with it for a moment while I took off past the enemy forward toward the middle of the field, trying to get myself into a better position.

  Quentin launched the ball into a shadow patch and it emerged near centerfield. Since the sun was beginning to set, painting the sky orange and pink, it had altered the playing field into a murky meadow filled with shadows.

  Sunny got the ball. He nearly lost it to a defender, but managed to dribble around him with some finesse. He took the left wing and I scooted up behind enemy lines to the right. No one saw me coming.

  Venn came up the center.

  A defender descended toward me, while the other went for Sunny.

  Eighty seconds on the clock.

  Sunny trapped the ball, wasting precious seconds, before eyeing me across the way. My defender stuck to me like glue, and I cursed Sunny for drawing attention to me.

  I scooted in, closing the distance between us. If he was going to cross-pass in front of the goal, I needed to be in perfect position so I didn’t get the ball stolen.

  Suddenly, Quentin moved up from the defensive position, drawing more eyes toward him. The gasps from the audience alerted Hawkins’ Glove to his presence, because it was unexpected.

  Our backfield, save Dax in the goal, was entirely empty.

  Enemy rovers and defenders swarmed me and Quen as we trotted toward the center in front of the goal. Hands and elbows flew, every man for himself.

  Sunny fought off his defender well but was on the verge of losing control. He was showing off his ball-handling skills, raising “oohs” and “ahhs” from the crowd, but he was wasting a lot of time doing it. Pass the fucking ball! I screamed inside. What are you waiting for?

  My head swiveled left and right. There were too many defenders next to me now—three of them guarding Quentin and myself.

  My brow furrowed. Where did Venn
go?

  Sunny nodded toward us and lifted his foot, ready to pass. I bent my knees, also ready. The vampire’s defender scooted back from him, realizing he needed to use his body to block the pass.

  At the last second, Sunny grinned and brought his foot down, not touching the ball. He dribbled it softly into a shadow instead of giving it a big boot.

  Everyone on the field and in the stands looked around aimlessly, lost.

  Then a sharp intake of breath from the audience caused everyone to spin at the same time.

  Venn was behind all of us, seemingly melded into the shadows and undefended. The ball had arrived in a tiny patch right in front of him.

  He wasted no time taking the shot, letting it loose. It was the shot heard round the world.

  The goaltender’s eyes became big as saucers as he tried to dive and toss a shadowgate at the curving banana kick.

  Too late.

  The ball smacked the back of the net.

  A cacophony of applause and cheering exploded from the crowd.

  Venn raised his arms in triumph and sprinted down the field the opposite way. Sunny, Quentin, and I chased after him, skipping and pumping our fists in the air.

  The cheers lasted for eons. Meanwhile, Hawkins’ Glove argued among themselves, everyone pointing the finger on how they could have let Venn sneak past.

  Decoy and diversion. Granted, I’d had no idea it was going to happen, but I loved every second of it.

  Speaking of seconds, there were only fifteen left.

  Those last fifteen seconds were incredibly tense and nerve-wracking, but Hawkins’ Glove never got close to our goal.

  The final whistle from the ref rang and we let out a collective sigh of relief—everyone except Hawkins’ Glove, who quickly scurried from the field with their heads down.

  We had won.

  Venn hugged me first, my heart soaring. He wrapped me in his arms and spun me around as my feet dangled and I laughed.

  The student audience flooded the field en masse. Donovenn was torn away from me and lifted by a group who paraded him around like he was a trophy. As he crowd-surfed, I lost sight of him.

  I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face.