ebonreach

"What are you talking about? You were born in a kingdom and now we're moving there?" I glanced past the window. "So this is what you were talking about?" I asked. "This is supposed to be the kingdom?" "Welcome to Ebonreach," he said with a chuckle, sliding his book aside. "It doesn't look like what I imagined. If anything, it feels like a small town." "It has history. You'll hear about it in ten minutes." "And what happens in ten minutes?" "We'll get you to your school," he sang out. "I still can't believe you're making me live on site when home is barely five minutes away," I grumbled. "Being here is safer. It's also your last year. I want you to get a taste of life here like I did when I was younger." You probably feel lost, so let me explain. I'm Mara, I'm seventeen, and I just moved from scandalous Chicago to Ebonreach. I can't really describe the place because I don't know anything about it yet. All I know is that my father was born here and lived here until he was fifteen. So now I'm trading my good old, careless, shitty New York high school for Blackthorn Academy. For some people it's a boarding school, and for others it's just a regular private school. Usually the kids from other kingdoms, I think, are the ones who live on campus. Apparently I'm one of them too. "Remember this: when you get to the principal's office, ask for Ivy Valewood." Ivy is supposed to be the daughter of my dad's best friend. She goes there, lives on campus, and she's the one meant to show me around and help me get used to the place. Weekends are off-campus, which is when I'll get to see my dad. And here's why we moved so suddenly. Obviously, it wasn't for anything good. About eight months before my dad chose to move us, my mom died in a car crash. The worst part is that I was in the car too. I barely got out alive. It's a terrifying, heartbreaking memory that I've tried to shove as far down as possible. Let's not drag it back out. The car eased to a halt outside the school, and my dad and I climbed out, each grabbing a suitcase from the trunk. "Dad, what's the word 'blackthorn' supposed to mean?" I asked as I dragged my suitcase behind me and we walked through the huge black-barred gates. "Honestly, I don't know," he muttered. Two security guards came over, took our suitcases, and started leading us inside toward the principal's office, or at least I assumed that was where we were headed. I pulled my phone from my pocket and looked up the word blackthorn. Known by only a few; secretive or mysterious.