Ch. 606..610: The Hidden Princess At All-Boys Alpha Academy Chapter 606-610

Chapter 0606

I groan, snorting awake when Jackson lays me down in my own bed. "What's happening," I murmur, looking around, completely confused.

"You fell asleep,” he replies, smirking at me as he climbs in next to me and reaches out to un-hook the curtain, letting it shush shut. "I figured you'd rather continue doing that in bed, rather than half sprawled out on the floor with your head in my lap."

"Both good," I sigh, snuggling close as he settles himself next to me, wrapping his arms loose around my shoulders. "You're the best pillow I've ever had."

He laughs lightly, pleased to be of service.

I blink for a minute, not eager to fall back asleep now that I have this quiet moment with him, not while I have a second to hold him close, to get a deep sniff of his scent. Jackson growls a little, possessive, pulling me tight, feeling precisely the same.

"How are you doing?" I ask, fighting a yawn and failing as I tilt my head up to look into his face. "About the Games? And...everything else?" "What else?" he asks, frowning down at me.

I laugh a little, shaking my head at him. "I don't know, Jacks, your life? Which has changed drastically in the past week, let alone the past six months. I'm just checking in on all of it."

"Checking in on me," he murmurs, lifting hand to brush over my hair, "when you're the one who discovered today that she can fall into a new dimension."

I laugh a bit, somehow...less disturbed about that now than I was earlier. Maybe because I'm too sleepy. Maybe because with Jacks warm in my bed, it all feels very far away.

"Yes," I whisper, grinning. "I'm sweet like that. So?"

Jackson exhales a long breath and

turns his face up to the ceiling, clearly considering it, which fills me with a great deal of pleasure.

Because I think that it's Jackson met

instinct to always ensure that m

okay and that my emotions are all right, but we need to check in on him too, and I'm glad that he's letting me do it.

"I'm fine with everything that happened in the Games," he murmurs, thoughtful. "Glad we won, proud of you, pleased that Tony's showing that he's on our side and wants to be part of....whatever it is that we're doing. I think he's a good guy- my instincts are saying to trust him, that he's trying to prove to us that we can."

I nod warmly to my mate, encouraging, because I feel the same.

"But if I'm being honest," Jackson continues, raising his eyesbrows at me. "I've been spending a lot of time wondering...who gave me my gift. And

why."

"Really?" I whisper, genuinely surprised. "Why have you been wondering about that?"

Jackson, since I've met him, has had this rather dismissive turn to these sorts of questions – never really interested in the provenance of his magic and instead just concerned with what he can do with it.

“I don't know,” he murmurs, frowning a little as he puzzles it out, “not too many others in the Community had gifts so we never really...talked about where they came from. It was just something we could do - like I could run fast, when others couldn't. I can do magic, others can't. It was just another skill."

I nod to him, listening, intrigued.

"But the more I spend time with you and your family," he says, continuing to pet me absently, "the more I

realize that the Goddess really

thought about this stuff. Thou

about which gift to give you and to give Jesse and probably Rafe. I mean, she even said that she thought Jesse's gift matched his personality."

"She said the same about mine," I say quietly, remembering back to our private conference. "Something about my slight tendency for recklessness being a good match for my gift."

"Oh yes," Jackson says, dry, rolling his eyes, "yes, let's give the reckless one the power to burn cities to ash."

I laugh, giving him a little rabbit punch as chastisement, but Jackson laughs too and presses a kiss to my head. "So, you think the same thing happened?" I ask, resting my head back down on his shoulder. "When you got your gift?"

"I mean, it makes sense, doesn't it? I don't think the allocation is random. Some...God," he huffs out a disbelieving sigh here, "gave me this...power. And I don't know why."

 

Chapter 0607

 

“And one of the children of the God of Darkness," I murmur, frowning, likewise staring into space. "Ole Darkie."

Jackson laughs at the Goddess's nickname for her ex. "And he's got enough of those to choose from," he murmurs. "So we'll maybe never know." "Wait, what?" I say, sitting up a bit to peer down at him. "How many children does he have?"

"Like, a lot, Ariel," Jackson replies, frowning up at me. "Famously."

"What!?"

Jackson laughs lightly, pulling me down against him. "You need to study your religious texts, Clark," he murmurs, brushing his lips again over my hair. "This is your nation's religion too."

"I don't study religion," I say, shaking my hair haughtily back, making my voice hoity-toity and smug. "I am religion - I am a demigoddess, after all." He laughs at me, his eyes crinkling, because even if I am kidding and making bold excuses for my ignorance, it's...kind of true.

"Come on, Jacks," I say with a happy sigh, settling back down against him. "Explain. I am ignorant and wanting of knowledge of what is, apparently, my own family tree. Enlighten me."

"Okay,” my mate says, pulling me tight. "But listen up, because I'm not explaining it twice -"

“You'll explain it as many times as I demand, supplicant,” I growl, trying to do my best to embody bossy goddess energy. But Jackson's soft laughter just lets me know how deeply I've failed. "Okay, I'll listen," I say with a grin, snuggling against him. "But talk fast, because I'm sleepy."

"Yes, highness," he murmurs. "So, the God of Darkness, as we all know, is...obsessed with your Grandmother. In some tellings of the mythology they're mates, in others they're just like...mas, both drawn to each other or opposed inevitably according to whichever pole of the ma they've got turned towards each other at the time."

I nod, weirdly understanding this and considering that for the past few hundred years or so - if not thousands - those poles have been stridently opposed.

“But when the Goddess pulls away, the stories say, he gets incredibly jealous. And he takes out that jealousy by...having a lot of affairs. Trying to make her jealous in turn."

"Scandalous," I whisper, a little delighted at the cosmic drama of it all.

“Mmhmm,” Jacks murmurs, continuing. “And a lot of those affairs have resulted in kids. Some of them are just...normal kids – humans, wolves. Some of them are demigods, like you," I wiggle my shoulders back, preening, pleased to be included, "and some are...very nearly full-on Gods, thought never on his or the Goddess's level."

"How does that happen?" I murmur, frowning. "Like...I can see how you'd make a demigod, but who are these near-Gods' mothers?"

"I don't really know," Jackson says with a shrug. "It all gets very...out of our realm of understanding. We exist in a completely different plane than they do."

I sigh, attempting to make peace with my lack of knowledge and failing a bit.

"Some of the near-Gods are more

famous and powerful than others," Jackson says, a bit absent, getting lost in his thoughts. "Especially the older ones. His two eldest children and the ones that I think the e Goddess your grandmother is most bitter about – are twins. They're frequently referred to religiously as the God of Death and the Goddess of Life."

"What?" I breathe, fascinated and confused.

"Yeah," Jackson says, turning his face to me. "They were born together, meant to be two sides of the same coin. Neither good or bad just..." he shrugs. "Different. And the God of Death resides in the Underworld, which is another realm within the Land of Darkness where...I think you went today. And the Goddess of Life lives here, amongst us, though she...rarely takes form. They work together, passing souls in and out of our reality as they're born and die."

"Ugh, this is all really weird," I

whisper, reaching up and pressing the heels of my palms tight against my eyes, attempting to stop my

mind from spinning around allomet

these strange new facts. "So, do you think that's who my grandmother was talking about when she said the provenance of your gifts? The God of Darkness's oldest children?"

 

Chapter 0608

 

Slowly, Jackson nods. "I think the God of Death and Goddess of Life would be the most powerful, the most...capable of giving gifts like ours." Jackson murmurs with a shrug. "I mean, think about it - do you think you could give someone a gift right now? Or your mom?"

I shake my head, considering it and knowing that it's completely out of my realm of power.

"Yeah," he sighs, "I think the demigods are out. But, amongst his near-Godly children...it could be them."

I bite my lip, studying his face. "Which one do you think it is?"

"I don't know," he answers, turning to stare at me. "It's all speculation anyway. But...you asked what was on my mind," he shrugs. "That's what I've been turning over."

"Maybe we need to spend more time in the library," I sigh, curling close to my mate and stroking what I hope is a comforting hand over his hair. "Get some religious texts. Try to figure it out."

"Or not," he says, wrapping me up tight against him. "Finding out more doesn't change anything. Our time would probably be better spent elsewhere."

"What do you mean?" I ask, sensing that there's...more to that statement than just Jackson trying to change the subject and move away from the question of who gave him his gift.

Jackson inhales a deep breath and then lets it out slowly, staring again at the ceiling. "I mean that... things are changing fast, Ariel. It's not a coincidence that the War Games got moved up, and you discovered your new dark gift, and maybe even that Jesse got his powers now. I think... pieces are moving into alignment. I think something big is coming. Soon."

"How soon?" I whisper, slipping my arm tighter around his body.

"Like, now soon," Jackson says, turning his head to tuck mine beneath his chin. "Hank's moving things up with the Community too. Making some... real moves there, attempting to push forward humanitarian aid."

"What?" I breathe, shocked. I mean, I knew that Jackson has been continuing to talk to Hank but...I had no idea that Hank was actually making moves. I always imagined him just...collecting information.

"Yeah, I feel really conflicted about it," Jackson murmurs, and I can feel down our bond just how much the news twists him with anxiety. "Because know that any move to change things within the Community from outside is going to put pressure on the most vulnerable inside it. That's what they do when change threatens, the people in charge in the Community take it out on the poor, making them even more resistant to change. I just...don't want anyone to get hurt because I've been..."

He stops there, unable to say any more, clenching his jaw and covering his face with a hand, guilt rushing through him. My heart

et

Cas

wrenches in my chest as I watch I feel worry and fear and remorse and shame all pulsing in his heart. Because we did this - me and my family we pushed Jackson to take this role.

And he still has ties to that place, still has people there whom he loves, and who he doesn't want to see hurting. Especially because of actions he took.

I murmur my mate's name, reaching for his face, but he stays very still even when I touch him, trying to turn him towards me, to let him feel that it's all right.

We stay that way for a long few minutes as Jackson takes deeper and deeper breaths, not understanding how he feels about any of it and just feeling very overwhelmed by it all.

"If it gets to be too much," I whisper to him, "you can tell Hank you want to stop.”

Jackson lets out his breath in a long

woosh of air. "But how could I do that? I know...I know, in the end, that Hank is right that the Community is hurting people and that people are suffering inside without medical intervention. How could I stop that?"

"You're allowed to put yourself first, Jacks," I whisper. “Like you'd put me first, if you saw me hurting this badly. At the very least, you're allowed to take breaks, to take time to think it over."

Chapter 0609

Jackson groans a little, turning towards me, pulling me tight against his chest so that our stomachs line up, so that I can hook one leg over his in the way I like to, so I can press my cheek to his chest.

We don't say anything for a long time and I can feel Jackson trying to figure out how he feels, and what is right, and where he fits in it all.

But through all of it, I can also feel that he's exhausted.

"Come on, baby," I whisper, reaching up and stroking a hand over his hair. "Let's go to sleep. Go for a little cliff run as our wolves. We're not getting anything sorted worrying about it, and we need the rest."

After a moment, Jackson sighs and dips his head, pressing a kiss to the part of my hair. "You're right," he murmurs, giving me a last squeeze. “I shouldn't have kept you up this long anyway."

"Oh, you can keep me up anytime," I murmur against him, lifting my head to press a kiss to his chest before I let my eyes fall shut. "I love you, and I like your mind, and I like hearing about your ideas."

"You're very sweet, princess goddess Sinclair," Jackson sighs, making me smile.

I can feel it as he falls asleep, glad that he's found his rest. And even if I'm incredibly eager to join him in that state, to go for the run that I promised him - I have to admit that I'm disturbed by Jackson's predictions for the future. Is it really so stark as all that?

Are all the pieces falling into place for something much, much larger than us?

And if change is coming...how long do I have left to enjoy this life, which I love so much?

When Jackson wakes me up the next morning bright and early for my sniping practice, I pretend to moan and complain as I always do, even though I'm thrilled to be up. I flop around in the bed, making him pull me up into his arms and set me on my feet before he passes me my little jolt of morning energy.

"Thanks," I whisper, wrapping my arms around his neck and pressing a kiss to his mouth.

"Out!" Rafe calls from his bed, rolling over and pulling his pillow over his head. "None of that!" "Sorry!" I call out to my brother, keeping my voice low as I grimace, hating to have woken him. "Banished forever," Jesse mumbles from his own bed, pointing a stern finger at the door.

I just smirk at Jesse, because I know

he wandered in late and probably got less sleep than all of us, before quickly and quietly getting cleaned up and ready for my day. When

that's all done, Jackson takes my hand in his and we both head for the door, ready for sniping practice.

et

Jackson and ktalk quietly in the morning light again going over what happened in the Game yesterday, me giving him the details of all the shots that I took and discussing different ways I could have done it, perhaps improved my performance.

I'm so lost in the discussion that I don't even notice someone standing at the bottom of my blind until they clear their throat, making my whip my head up in surprise to stare at the Captain, standing there with his arms crossed.

“Cadet Clark,” he says, raising an eyebrow at Jackson and looking him up and down. “I was unaware that you were bringing...guests along to your morning practice."

e

"For her safety, sir," Jackson says, standing up straight and giving him a little salute. The Captain looks at Jacksondike he doubts that my safety is the main priority here, but he doesn't say anything. "And Jackson says, glancing down at me, "have some ideas on how Clark's training can be improved."

My eyes go wide as I look up at Jacks because.....what? He didn't say anything about that!

Chapter 0610

"Really, improvements to Clark's training program," the Captain says, narrowing his eyes at Jackson. "And what qualifies you to decide how Cadet Clark's training should progress?"

I scowl a little, hating that they're talking about me like I'm not here and wishing they'd both just call me Ariel. It's not like we're keeping it a secret anymore.

"I've come along to all of Clark's practice sessions since the first one," Jackson says, standing straight, I think not liking the fact that he has to justify his insight. "I know the way that she shoots better than anyone else."

"You are not the subject matter expert, McClintock," the Captain snaps, crossing his arms over his chest. "I am."

"I'm aware, sir," Jackson says, holding his gaze. "But I have ideas for how Clark could use these skills in battle that move beyond sitting in a blind, waiting to be taken out by another sniper."

"And why would we need to know those?" the Captain enquires, his voice low, letting Jackson know he's on dangerous ground.

"Because," Jackson says, perfectly even. "I don't intend to let Clark go into battle without me at her side at every moment. So you're going to need to decide whose skills to emphasize on the field - either sending me up in a blind with her or teaching her to sharp shoot on the move."

The Captain balks a bit at Jackson's gall. "That's not your call to make, Cadet," he growls.

"With all respect, sir," Jackson says, raising his chin, "it doesn't matter whether or not it's my call. If you're putting her on a battlefield it will be with me at her side. And I suspect Rafe and Jesse Sinclair will have the same response, as well as Luca Grant."

The Captain glowers darkly, looking between Jackson and I, realizing that Jackson's entirely serious. I lift my own chin in kind, letting him know that it's a fact. "I'm sorry, sir," I say. "We don't mean to be insubordinate. It is a fact though - we won't be separated."

The Captain doesn't respond, clearly displeased that we're calling the shot, but he takes a deep breath and moves on from it. Even if he does, I'm very aware that the Captain did not agree to what Jackson and I have laid out, a fact that gives me significant pause.

"What is this you're talking about," the Captain says, studying Jackson, "sharp shooting on the move? It would be a useful skill, but she still needs a great deal of training with the sniper rifle - I won't have her turned away from it. We need

-

shipers in this war and she's shaping up to be one of the best."

et

"I understand, sir," Jackson says, nodding precisely. "What I have in mind won't take away from her sniping practice at all. Just..." he purses his mouth in thought for a moment, "if we could have access to some of the weapons from the Games? The paintball guns? A shorter-range rifle, I think he says, glancing at the bag slung over my back that holds my precious sniper rifle, "could work."

The Captain sighs and shakes his head, looking down at the ground. “If we weren't training you for

command, McClintock," he says, "this could be considered insubordination. But we are

and frankly, it's a good idea. He sighs, looking back up and between us. "If it interferes at all with her sniping, it ends. But until then," he shrugs, "you can have access to the supplies you need."

My eyebrows raise as the Captain freely gives Jackson the code to the gun cage where the supplies for the Games are kept, telling him to keep strict records of those he uses and to ensure that everything is returned at the end of practice sessions.

"I'm proud of you, Clark," the Captain says after Jackson thanks him for his trust. He comes forward a step or two and claps a hand on my shoulder. “You did fine shooting yesterday at the Games. I'll look forward to seeing your further progression."”