Gwen D’Morte and the Stolen Sword (The Avalon Institute Book 1) Read online

  Gwen D’Morte and the Stolen Sword

  The Avalon Institute Book I

  Eve Stone

  Copyright © 2019 by Eve Stone

  All rights reserved.

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

  For all of you who dream of magic,

  adventure, and happily-ever-afters!

  Gwen D’Morte and the Stolen Sword

  Avalon Institute: The elite university for the magically gifted. Scratch that. It’s more like the ‘magically arrogant and overprivileged’

  - Seductive bad-boy sorcerers? Check.

  - Narcissistic mean-girls who love to start sh*t? Check.

  - A lie that could destroy the world? Double Check.

  I was born into a magical dynasty.

  What the hell does that mean? I’m supposed to be one of the most gifted sorcerers in our world. The only problem? My abilities never surfaced.

  In other words, I’m a magical dud.

  But that’s fine, if I keep my head down, I can finish out my time at Avalon and move on with my life. Besides, I have my best-friend (and sometimes hookup) Lance around, to keep my mind—and body—busy. Our relationship is beyond complicated, but that’s the least of my problems now . . .

  Because when members of the sorcerer's elite council are murdered, Avalon hosts the Trial of Crowns; and somehow, I’m chosen to represent our school. This is either a cruel joke or someone at Avalon has it out for me.

  Now, a dark and handsome ghost from my past shows up, just in time to rock my already shaky world. When things turn deadly, I can’t figure who’s out for me—and who’s out to kill me.

  Enemies lurk in the shadows.

  Lies are everywhere.

  And I stand to lose more than just my heart . . .

  Book One in the Avalon Institute Series.

  Get ready for a breathtaking, sexy adventure you won't want to miss! This book contains adult themes/situations and is intended for readers 18+.

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Ready for Book Two?

  About Eve Stone

  Prologue

  A scream caught in my throat at the sight of the bleeding men at my feet. Hoarse moans and gurgling sounds came from two. The third lie dead in the corner.

  I knew he was dead. Nobody could live with the wound in his chest. A large hole was

  gaping open and blood pooled around him. Given the amount, he had bled out. The man to my right gurgled once more before falling silent. His throat had been slit.

  “H-help,” the remaining man with jet black hair groaned as his hand extended toward

  me.

  My mouth opened, but words didn’t come out. Hand to my throat I tried to make sense

  of why I couldn’t speak.

  “Ex-cal…” his words trailed off as he took his last breath.

  Darkness crept in around me, suffocating. My body shook in fright.

  Was it my turn to die?

  Chapter One

  Whispers.

  As I walk the halls of the pretentious Avalon Institute, all I hear are low conversations. Secrets whisper back and forth from one student to another. That’s nothing new for Avalon, the elite school for the magically gifted, but today, I didn’t have patience for it.

  After that horrible dream, my mind is playing tricks on me. Whispers are normal. What had me on edge as I look around, watching my classmates share secrets behind covered lips, was their demeanor. Why did I feel all eyes on me, as though the whispered words held my name? They couldn’t. I never gave my peers reason to talk about me. My group of friends is small and our idea of a fun Friday night is to hole up in the rec hall for a game of Hearts or to watch the latest favorite TV series.

  Unless they know about you and Lance.

  My inner voice is an annoying bitch at times, reminding me constantly when I’m wrong. The truth is, I did have secrets, and if the school found out, it would be enough to trigger this type of reaction.

  I thought once high school was over, I’d no longer be subjected to gossip and all the other juvenile shit, but that was a pipe dream. Even in an elite institute for magical abilities, childishness can’t be avoided. Especially at Avalon, where only two hundred sorcerers study and everybody knows everybody’s business.

  Shaking off the paranoia, I took another look. They weren’t watching me, every eye darted nervously, watching their surroundings. Whatever they were saying, they didn’t wish to spread like wildfire through the halls of Avalon, and that was enough to put anyone on edge. Rumors are par for the course, but this is something else entirely. They look… scared.

  I put my head down. Curiosity be damned, I need to stay on track. My nineteenth birthday is approaching, and I had yet to come into my abilities. Coming from a long line of powerful sorcerers, all eyes at Avalon were on me and so far, I’d been one huge fucking disappointment. The heir of two powerful bloodlines is expected to be great. It’s too much pressure for any eighteen year-old, but I’m not a normal teenager. I have magic running through my veins—dormant or not.

  “Did you hear the rumor?” my best friend Lance asks, sidling up next to me, brushing his hand against mine. I look around nervously, making sure nobody saw. He’s getting bolder. and given the strangeness of today, it wasn’t helping my already teetering nerves.

  “Careful,” I hiss. “Someone might see you.”

  Lance narrows his eyes. “Okkkay. Back to the rumors.”

  I groan. No matter how hard I try to focus, I always get diverted, and Lance is always the culprit. We’ve been best friends since birth as our families were close friends. We both knew the pressures of being D’Morte and Druitt heirs. He knew all of my secrets and I knew his. He’s been the one constant in my life. It’s hard to keep friends when the bulk of the Earth’s population is human. Lance and I had grown up going to private magical boarding schools and thankfully, we both chose Avalon out of the three magical institutions post high school.

  And lately, we’ve started…more. More touching. More kissing…

  “Gwen, are you listening?” he asks, pulling me out of my wandering thoughts.

  No matter the gossip, my eyes are firmly attached to his lips. The need to get lost in Lance for just a little while was making my upper thighs squeeze together, desperate for release.

  “Nope. Haven’t heard a thing,” I say as I continue to walk at a steady speed. I need the sanctuary of my room, where I could take care of the burning need growing inside of me.

  “You’re kidding. Gwen, this is the biggest news of the century,” he whispers, sounding far too serious for this early on a Monday.

  I eye him warily. It’s been some time since I’d heard him this excited from gossip, which can only mean it really was big news.

  “Spill,” I request, ready to dive headfirst into whatever shit show was occurring.

  He leans in close, which has me leani
ng in the opposite direction with a raised brow.

  We were still in public. Grabbing my hand, he walks us out of earshot into a near-empty alcove. Lance was not normally one for theatrics. He tends to blurt things out without a care of his surroundings. Not this time.

  In the safety of the abandoned alcove, I grab his collar and slam my lips to his. He groans, running his hands down my backside, pulling me into him. Our tongues tangle together as I yank on his unruly blonde hair. For a hot second, I don’t care that we were still in a hallway that anyone could walk down. I want – no, need – him to touch me.

  He jerks back all of a sudden, leaving me breathing heavily and feeling deserted.

  “Whoa. What’s gotten into you?” he chuckles.

  “Come here,” I grit through my teeth.

  “Gwen, not now,” he says, a tad harshly. “Three Knights were killed this weekend.”

  It feels like he’s doused me with a bucket of cold water. All the need from moments ago disappears, goosebumps forming in its place.

  “What?”

  My dream came swiftly to the forefront of my mind. I had dreamed of three dying men on the same night that three Knights had been killed. Could it be that I dreamed of the Knights?

  No. Fucking. Way.

  It couldn’t be. That would mean that my powers were coming to me and they were stronger than anyone could’ve ever imagined. Nope. It had to be a coincidence. One didn’t go from nothing to suddenly having Sight.

  “Yeah. It’s a bit much to take in,” he says, sounding grave.

  That was a massive understatement. This wasn’t just gossip, this was murder.

  “How? When?”

  He lifts his hand as if to say, ‘one can only guess’.

  “They were traveling together to help with the Trial of Crowns for St. Laurence Academy. It supposedly happened there.”

  “At St. Laurence.”

  It wasn’t a question. I’m blown away. It’s bad enough that three distinguished Knights, tasked to keep all sorcerers safe, had been murdered… but at one of the schools? Who would do such a thing?

  “That’s what they’re saying,” Lance states.

  “Who’s saying this?”

  Lance’s hand gestures around. “Everyone.”

  I consider telling Lance about my dream, but that would be crazy. If I had dreamed about the Knight’s death, that would make me one of the most powerful sorcerers in a millennium. Given that I’ve yet to have smaller abilities surface, the likelihood of me channeling Sight, Teleportation or Astral Projection—as it could’ve been any of those—was not good.

  “Wow. I-I’m not even sure what to say,” I let out the breath I had been holding. “The council must be going crazy.”

  The council consists of members from the most powerful magical families. They’re the equivalent of our government. They reign over all of us and the Knights are essentially their muscle. They are the protectors. If three were killed at once, something huge is happening.

  “Three knights slain… of course they’re going bat shit. It’s the worst crime against the council in centuries. Your dad has to be losing his mind.”

  The mention of my father has my stomach dropping. He’s an elder on the council, just like his fathers before him. He’s a master enchanter, which makes him one of the most powerful sorcerers in the world. The D’Morte line has always been powerful.

  Until me.

  “I can’t believe my mom hasn’t called. If something this big has happened, I’m sure he’s already been dispatched to St. Laurence.” I huff. “She should’ve told me. I’m sure she’s a wreck. She can’t go a week without him.”

  Lance grimaces. “She’ll be lucky if she sees him in the next year. It’ll be all hands-on-deck trying to figure this one out.”

  “They don’t know who did it?” I ask in shock. Nothing like this happens under the watchful eye of the council. When something bad happens, someone is arrested immediately in conjunction to the offense and punishment is harsh and swift. If the responsible party is at large, this is even worse.

  “I don’t know all the details. I just heard people talking,” he sighs. “They’ll have to give us some answers soon.”

  I nod in agreement. The bell rang, signaling we had two minutes to get to class.

  “I’ve got to go,” Lance says before pulling me back into him. Lips to my ears, he whispered, “Don’t worry, Gwenny, I would never let anything happen to you.”

  I pull away, looking into his eyes. The sincerity I see has my stomach dropping. It’d been like this for the past few months. We’ve moved from groping and making out to random comments sounding a lot like… more. We’ve been doing this awkward dance with both of us refusing to admit that something has shifted. It’s no longer just fun. Real feelings were developing—on his end.

  I know Lance has feelings for me and I’m petrified to broach the subject. It’s not that I don’t feel anything for him, but I’m confused. He was like a brother to me, but one day it changed to lust. Lust I can handle, but I find it hard at times to turn off the old familial feelings. What if it doesn’t work out? What if I lose him? I’d rather just be friends forever then have us part ways because we tried something we never should have.

  Yet, a part of me wonders: if we just ripped off the band aid, could it be worth it? Lance Druitt is without a doubt the best-looking guy in all of Avalon. Every female—and a handful of males—wants to claim him. His six foot two lean stature, coupled with his perfectly styled sandy blonde hair and gorgeous green eyes, could make any panty in this place melt. I’m not immune to his charm, but there is just something holding me back. Some part of me is too connected to our friend bond and that stops me from acknowledging the idea of more than messing around.

  “Yeah, me too,” I say, turning away from him. His fingers run down my arm, gripping my hand and squeezing.

  Minor butterflies, but you’ve never had them with anyone else. My subconscious is constantly building a case for Lance.

  I look at our joined palms, questioning what the fuck is wrong with me. Am I a complete idiot where men are concerned? One minute I want to pounce, and the next I scarcely feel a damn thing when he touches me.

  Kiss him.

  “Gwen,” Lance says reverently as he leans in.

  Our eyes are locked and my body finally reacts, filling the space between us. Just as our lips are about to touch again, a voice cut through the spell.

  “D’Morte. Druitt. Get to class,” Professor Morton barks.

  I pull away, desperately avoiding the professor’s eyes. “I-I’ve got to go,” I say breathlessly.

  “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” I lie.

  Lance frowns before taking several steps away from me.

  “Get to class,” I chuckle awkwardly.

  He smiles, but it’s forced. The fact is, he knows me too well. There was no way he doesn’t know I was avoiding the conversation. “Catch you at lunch then,” he says before jogging off.

  I watch his retreating back, knowing that we were going to have to have a conversation sooner rather than later about what exactly this was.

  The room is pitch black. My eyes blink rapidly, trying to adjust. Darkness prevailed. The acrid air smells of death and decay. Where was I? My hands dart out wildly, searching for a way out. A moan at my feet has my body going stiff.

  “Help,” a voice rasps.

  “Hello,” I call out quietly. “Who’s there?”

  No one responds. I resume my quest to find a door or light, whichever comes first.

  “Why are you doing this?” the voice asks a few minutes later.

  “Doing what?” I croak. “Who are you?”

  But another voice cuts in.

  “This isn’t about you. It’s about so much more.”

  The voice is familiar. I can’t place the owner, but I’ve definitely heard it before.

  What can you be talking about?

  Before I have a chance to say a w
ord, the creak of a door sounds and a small stream of light filters in. Three men lay scattered on the floor, covered in pools of their own blood. I gasp, wheeling around to try to find the owner of the voice, but I’m too late. He’s already escaped out the door, but before he’s completely out of sight, I catch a flash of his hand and in it, Excalibur.

  I yelp, jumping half out of my desk, eyes darting wildly around the room. Taking in a huge lungful of air, I try to get control of myself. My classmates murmur around me. A few laugh, while others just appear to be confused.

  “Are you all right, Miss D’Morte?” Professor Langley asks from the front of the room.

  My eyes meet his as my body shakes.

  “I-I…”

  “Fell asleep?” he offers, sounding bored.

  I nod.

  “You had one hell of a nightmare, I’d say.”

  “You could say that,” I huff. “I’m sorry, Professor,” I offer lamely.

  He purses his lips.

  “Don’t nod off again in my class,” he spits before turning his back on me and continuing

  to write ‘pop quiz’ on the Smart Board. “All right, class dismissed.”

  Students start collecting their things and heading toward the door.

  “Remember there will be a pop quiz on Thursday. Be prepared to discuss the symbols of alchemy.”

  Groans sound around the room, but I can’t even stand from my seat. I’m trying to process the dream. The same room. Same men. It was only a dream, right?

  Clearly, my mind is on the slain Knights. It’s typical to dream about things that are on your mind. It wouldn’t be out of the realm of possibility for me to parallel the events with the Knights to my dream. But it was so vivid. I felt like I was there. The tang of blood was burning my nostrils, and I could still taste the salty thickness of the air. I shake my head, trying desperately to rid my mind of the macabre dreams. Before I have a chance to move, the crackling of the loudspeaker ahead signals a broadcast.