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SCHOOL OF BROKEN HEARTS
ACADEMY OF SOULS BOOK 2
 C.R. JANE
MILA YOUNG
 CONTENTS

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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
Sneak Peek at Bound
Copyright
Prologue
Chapter 1

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Copyright © 2019 by C. R. Jane and Mila Young

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 SCHOOL OF BROKEN HEARTS

School of Broken Hearts

Adeline Jones expected a fancy prep school to be different than

what she was used to, but what she found at Raven Academy
changed her world forever. And leaving is out of the question.

All Adeline wants is to forget about the guys who broke her heart.
But the death of her classmate means that won’t be an option for
her. To make things worse, an old flame from her past starts at the
Academy and his intentions carry the deepest of betrayal.

Danger lies behind every corner, a killer walks amongst them, and
Adeline soon discovers that she shouldn’t trust anyone at Raven
Academy. Not even the four guys who insist she is theirs. And of
course, there’s the matter of the off-limits Professor who tempts her
like no one else.

Welcome to Raven Academy...where nothing is as it seems… And

survival...well, it’s just a matter of perspective.
“The saddest thing about love, Joe, is that not only the love cannot
last forever, but even the heartbreak is soon forgotten.”
– William Faulkner, Soldiers’ Play
 PROLOGUE

(ALEXANDER)

A fter everyone leaves, I approach Braxton. “I can watch her,”

I tell him casually, watching as his body goes rigid at my
offer.
“I’m good,” he says, trying and failing to hide the stiffness in his
jaw. Hot, thick jealousy swirls in my gut. I shouldn’t care that he
likes Adeline. It’s better for her that I don’t. But I can’t help it.
I also can’t help but continue to open my mouth. “You know you
can’t watch her closely without raising suspicions,” I snarl harshly.
“You already stare at her enough as it is. That’s all she needs is for
rumors to start that she’s having an affair with another professor at
the school.”
He flinches at the mention of the Professor Dusk debacle. I knew
as soon as I heard it that it couldn’t be true. There was a certain
sexy innocence about her that made it impossible to imagine her
shacking up with a dirt bag like Professor Dusk.
I wished I could say it was impossible to imagine her with
Braxton.
“Do you really think that she’s going to accept you watching her
after what you and Dante did?” he asks, a smirk on his face.
My insides clench even more as I think about the look of
devastation on her face when she saw us. We had just been feeding.
Sometimes a little seduction had to occur to get people to open up.
But nothing had actually happened.
Not that Adeline was going to believe that it in a million years.
 I try to imagine myself explaining to Adeline what she had
actually walked in on. I couldn’t think of a way that wouldn’t lead to
her being even more disgusted with me than she already was.
But that was for the best.
“We’ll just make it a school policy that she has to accept it
because of the murder of that girl,” I answer, realizing that several
more seconds have passed than normal between his question and
my answer. I’ve found myself wrapped up in my thoughts far more
often since Adeline had turned up in my life.
I didn’t like it.
“Don’t think that you can use it as an excuse to get close to her,”
Braxton says sternly, a determined look on his face.
“Afraid of losing, Brax?” I taunt him, even as my mind conjures
up images of Adeline wrapped in Braxton’s arms. The thought makes
me sick.
Braxton begins to walk away from me.
“Is it even a competition?” he throws out over his shoulder as he
saunters out the door.
It wasn’t supposed to be.
The fact that I wanted it to be was the very problem.
 CHAPTER 1

“M eeee,” my phone screeches as my alarm set to

Taylor Swift wrenches me out of an uneasy slumber.
I groan and quickly shut it off. I’m not sure why I
decided that waking up to a deliriously optimistic pop song was the
right course of action considering my current mood.
It’s been a week since I saw Alexander and Dante with that girl,
and I still can’t get the images out of my mind. I feel like I’m going
through the five stages of grief. I’ve already made it through the
days of grief and denial where I tried to come up with a plausible
reason they would have been in that position with that girl. Needless
to say, none of the reasons that I had come up with sounded
plausible.
I’m now firmly in the anger stage. Anger at them, anger at
myself, anger at the world. Why did I ever think that there could
possibly be something between us? Why did they pretend like there
was something between us? In the darkness of the night, when
there was nothing to distract me from the images of Alexander’s tan
skin against the perfect milky whiteness of her skin, and the images
of Dante’s lips trailing down her body, I wondered if it had all been
some kind of joke to them. Get the new scholarship student to fall
and then drop kick her to the curb.
It was easy to forget the longing that had been in Alexander’s
eyes when he looked at me, the way that Dante had told me his
secrets...it was easy to think that it had all been a dream.
 Ugh...I was disgusting myself with the constant pity party, but it
was like I couldn’t stop. There was also the fact that there had been
a murder at the school, and no one seemed that worried about it. I
was still convinced that Mercy’s secret psychotic boyfriend was the
one behind it, but she was still staunchly defending him. Mercy and I
were similar in that way. Both stupid with guys.
I drag myself out of bed, forcing myself to get ready for another
battle in the trenches. Despite the fact that I somehow kicked
Clarissa’s ass, she had only taken a few days to get back to her
regular, awful self. Life was back to normal with her constant insults
and her friends trying to trip me and knock me over. My weird
sudden strength had apparently disappeared as well since yesterday
Clarissa was able to push me in the fountain quite easily after class.
That had been fun, pulling myself out of the fountain in front of
what seemed like the entire school, looking like a drowned cat.
Mercy was in the process of thinking of ways to get revenge on
Clarissa and for once I wasn’t inclined to take the higher road.
I’ve just finished putting on my uniform when a knock sounds on
the door. My treacherous heart immediately thinks of Dante and that
time when he had knocked on the door. I want to punch myself for
even thinking that.
Supposing it is Mercy, I throw open the door, not bothering to ask
who it is before I answer.
I gasp when I see it’s Finn. I quickly try to school my face but I’m
sure that my panic was evident when I first opened the door.
I try to close it in his face, but he puts his hand out to catch it.
“What do you want?” I groan, trying to hide the quivering in my
voice.
“Just to talk,” he says softly, earnestness in his voice.
It hadn’t been Finn or Nyx in that room that day, but they had all
become dead to me in that moment.
“Not interested,” I snap, pushing against the door, hoping that he
will back off.
“You know it’s not really fair that I’ve been dropped for
something I didn’t do,” Finn says calmly, still holding the door.
 “I think it’s perfectly fair. I can decide who I want to be friends
with, and I’ve decided that you don’t make that list.”
“It’s funny. I don’t think any promises were made, princess. Were
you dating Dante and Alexander and I just wasn’t aware of it?” he
says.
I stop and slump against the door. He’s perfectly, frustratingly
right. There had never been any promises. There had never been
anything more than some stolen kisses and some cuddling, and
when did that ever actually mean you were dating someone
nowadays?
It had just felt like more. Even with the fact that I hadn’t dated
anyone really before coming here...had hardly even crushed on
anyone except for one other guy...it was like my soul had recognized
that there was something more to us.
I was a fool.
I sigh and step away from the door, allowing Finn to open it. Finn
steps through the doorway and enters my room.
“You’re right,” I say softly.
He looks down at me, his green eyes piercing me beneath his
thick black lashes. I had never seen anyone with blonde hair so light
that got lucky enough not to have light lashes as well. But Finn
Cavanaugh had that luck. Out of the four of the guys, Finn was the
quietest, but he was also the most striking. He looks like some kind
of ice prince. Fair hair and pale skin, everything about him is perfect.
It was kind of like staring into the sun as it reflected off the new
fallen snow. There was a steady calmness about him as well that
was different from the others. Alexander had an intensity about him
that was almost too much to be around. Dante always seemed to be
vibrating with anger or some other dark emotion. And Nyx...well Nyx
so far just seemed to be the type that was always looking to have
fun.
But Finn was different.
Suddenly I want him out of the room, because I can see myself
gravitating towards that something that makes him different right
now, and that is not something that I want to do.
 I’m just about to ask him to leave when Mercy comes bursting
into my room, knocking the door into the back of Finn. He looks
annoyed for a moment at the interruption before he quickly schools
his face. I send up a silent prayer of gratitude for Mercy’s
impetuousness before greeting her with a grin.
She’s looking between the two of us with a questioning glance
and I just know that she can see right through me in this moment.
She can see how weak I almost was.
“Ready for breakfast?” she asks, without acknowledging Finn’s
existence.
“Yep,” I say, popping the “p” at the end.
I gesture towards the door. “Please do go first,” I instruct Finn
petulantly. He opens his mouth like he’s about to say something
before shutting it quickly and striding out the door without saying
another word.
Mercy spins around after we both watch him walk away. “What
was that?” she practically screeches.
I cringe at how freakishly loud she is. I already have suspicions
that those guys have better than average hearing. I don’t need the
entire hallway knowing all of my business. There were enough
rumors going around as it was.
“I’m not sure what that was,” I softly mutter, shrugging my
shoulders. It’s not a lie. I have no real idea what Finn wanted, I only
know what I was feeling and that’s not something that I want to
share at the moment with Mercy.
“I’ll tell you about who Finn Cavanaugh really is while we walk,”
says Mercy. “But right now, we’ve got to get going. The Principal has
called a school assembly this morning instead of holding our first
class and I want to get breakfast before we go.”
“Do you think it has to do with Bethanie?” I ask quietly, closing
the door behind me as we begin to stride down the hallway,
picturing the way we found her dead body… all that blood.
“Duh. I’m assuming it has to be something like that since this is
the first school assembly we’ve had since I came here. It would have
to be something big in order to get its own assembly.”
“Have you thought any more about...?” I begin to ask.
 “There’s nothing to tell them, Adeline. He didn’t do it,” Mercy
says in an annoyed tone that says very clearly that she doesn’t want
to discuss this again.
I sigh in frustration. I’m almost positive that Mercy’s drug dealing
psycho of an ex-boyfriend had something to do with Bethanie’s
death. At least I was hoping that he was an ex. I didn’t trust Mercy’s
judgment at the moment, or that she would tell me if she started
seeing him again or he came to see her.
I decide not to say anything else for the moment. I knew that the
whole situation was stressing Mercy out a lot and I was hopeful that
after she calmed down about everything that she would do the right
thing.
We walk into the breakfast hall, and I spot Finn leaning against
the wall talking to a pretty brunette who obviously has a crush on
him. I shake my head in disgust at the thoughts I was having just a
few minutes ago. Finn was just like the others. He looks over at me,
sending me a piercing stare like he can see exactly what I’m
thinking. I can see him trying to tell me something with his look, but
I quickly avert my eyes back to the breakfast line.
Stupid, traitorous heart, I mutter wishing I could stab the
butterflies that are currently taking residence in my heart.
I had been starving when I woke up, but now everything smells
terrible. Especially when Clarissa’s laughter booms uproariously
about something nearby. I grab a bagel and some peanut butter and
follow Mercy to an empty table. The room is less busy than normal, I
suppose because of the assembly.
I glumly pick at my food while Mercy chats on about something.
“Oh!” she says suddenly, startling me so much that I drop my
bagel.
“What?” I exclaim, looking around the room to see if something
has happened.
“I didn’t tell you about Finn,” she says excitedly.
I groan, thinking that talking about Finn is the last thing I want
to do at the moment.
“I really don’t…” I begin, but there’s no stopping Mercy when
she’s excited about something.
 “So, the Cavanaugh’s are really Kuraokamis,” she says
breathlessly.
“Kuro what?” I ask, confused.
“Kuraokamis,” Mercy repeats, like it’s a common name. “It’s an
ice dragon. They cause all the snow and ice that falls.”
I just look at her, awestruck as usual by the crazy that comes out
of her brain.
“And why exactly do you think Finn is an ice dragon?” I ask,
trying to hide my smile.
She looks affronted at my question. “His coloring obviously. And
his personality. Everyone knows that nothing flusters Finn,” she says
confidently. “That, combined with all of his money and
connections...he’s obviously a Kuraokamis.”
“I thought you said that he and the others were part of the
Rockefellers and Rothschilds,” I remind her.
“Obviously you can be both,” she reiterates, waving her hand at
me like I don’t know what I’m talking about.
I’m about to say something else but a bell rings, making
everyone get up from their tables and start to head to the exit.
“Time for the assembly,” Mercy says excitedly.
Standing up, we throw away our trash and follow the crowd of
students who are all whispering nervously as we walk down the hall.
“Where is it being held?” I ask. “And how did you even hear of it,
but I didn’t?”
“I’m sure you didn’t check your email judging by the state of
your hair,” she says amusedly as she sends a glance at my head.
I pat my hair self-consciously. I hadn’t taken the time to do
anything to it and I’m sure my messy bun resembles a bird’s nest.
“Definitely no email for me this morning,” I mutter.
Mercy just laughs at me.
We walk through an entryway guarded by a set of double doors I
had never tried to open. I gasp when I see that we’ve walked into a
giant ballroom. The room seems at least a football field length long
and it resembles something you would see in Paris at Versailles,
certainly not something that you would see in a school in the middle
of nowhere.
 Gold filigree is everywhere along with carved golden cherubs. I
don’t even understand how this room could exist in such a medieval
looking building.
“This room is incredible,” I say in an awestruck voice.
“Ya it is,” Mercy agreed. “This is where the school hosts dances
and important events.”
“Dances?” I ask, dragging my eyes away from a mural on the
wall that resembles something Michelangelo had done in the Sistine
Chapel.
“Secret scary school or not...it’s still high school. Of course we
have dances,” says Mercy with a laugh.
I’m about to say something else when I see Professor London
walk in from a door on the other side of the room. He walks up the
steps of a small stage that has been set up in front of the room and
finds a seat with some of the other professors. My heart leaps in my
chest when his eyes find mine. He lifts an eyebrow at me, and I
realize that Mercy and I are one of the only people still standing.
Everyone else has found a seat in the myriad of chairs set up by the
stage. I grab Mercy’s arm and hustle to find two empty chairs.
We’re just sitting down when Principal Asher hustles onto the
stage. He’s wearing a sharp looking black suit that seems too
modern in light of our decadent surroundings. He presses a button
on a cord hanging down from his neck and his voice booms out
around the room.
“Good morning, students,” he says in that oily, fake voice that he
has perfected. “It’s been awhile since we’ve done this but
unfortunately the last few days have forced my hand,” he announces
solemnly.
“As you know, our dear fellow student, Bethanie Perkins was
found dead just a few days ago.” He pauses, heightening the drama
of the moment. “We believe she was murdered,” he says.
Mercy scoffs next to me and I have to elbow her to be quiet
when several students turn to look at us in shock. Mercy leans over
to whisper in my ear. “What gave it away that she was murdered.
Was it the open eyes or the blood everywhere,” she murmurs
sarcastically. I roll my eyes, silently agreeing with her.
 “Although we promptly launched an investigation, there’s been
nothing found,” Principal Asher continues. I try to ignore the wave of
guilt that launches itself over my body. We have information that
could possibly help them and we’re not telling them. I look at Mercy
out of the corner of my eye, but she doesn’t look at me. She just
continues to sit staunchly in her chair, tension radiating up her spine.
She’s got to be feeling the same guilt that I am.
I’m lost in thinking about what Bethanie looked like when we
found her, so I barely catch Principal Asher’s next statement. “That’s
why we will be assigning all of the scholarship students
mentors/guardians that will stay by them until the assailant is
caught.”
“Why are they just assigning them to the scholarship students?” I
whisper to Mercy.
She shoots me a look. “Have you been paying attention at all? He
just said that they think that the murderer targeted Bethanie
because she was a scholarship student.”
I look at her in horror. “What makes them think that?”
Mercy just shrugs, not looking perturbed at all. “I bet it’s one of
the rich kids that’s behind this,” she remarks. “In the movies it’s
always the bitter, spoiled rich kid that did it.”
I glance around the room, my eyes stopping on Clarissa who’s
laughing with one of her cronies. She certainly doesn’t look
perturbed at all over the fact that there’s supposedly a murderer
running around the school on the loose. Maybe it’s her and not
Mercy’s boyfriend that’s behind this and I’ve been feeling guilt over
nothing?
“I wonder who I’m going to get,” Mercy says excitedly. “I hope
it’s someone hot. All that time looking after me. They’ll def fall in
love with me.”
“You’re much too excited about this,” I mutter absentmindedly to
her, my gaze darting around the room at the possible candidates for
a guardian. What if I was assigned to someone like Clarissa...what if
I was assigned to one of the guys?
“Mercy Richards,” Principal Asher announces. “Your guardian is
Dixon Hall.”
 Mercy squeals next to me and bounces up and down in her seat.
“That’s perfect. He’s so delicious.”
I look to where she’s pointing. A good-looking guy with russett
hair and bright blue eyes sends her a wink. He looks like trouble.
Just what Mercy needs after her ex...
“I don’t think the point of this is to get the guy to like you,” I tell
her sternly.
She laughs. “If not now, then when?” she says with a smirk.
I roll my eyes and turn my attention back to Principal Asher who
has continued to call out guardian assignments.
“Adeline Jones,” he calls out after a few more names are
announced. “Your guardian is Alexander Dachnavar,” he proclaims.
I immediately want to throw up. I can feel Alexander’s
impenetrable stare from across the room, but I don’t dare to meet
his eyes. I’m too aware that he’ll be able to see everything that I'm
thinking since I’ve never been good at hiding my emotions.
I feel Mercy’s hand on my arm. “That sucks,” she says
sympathetically.
“Ya it does.”
“But hey...maybe you’ll be able to get revenge on him. Or maybe
you can find out about their secret fighting,” she says, her voice
rising as she gets more excited.
I send her a glare. “Or maybe you can just switch with me?” I
ask.
“No can do, lady. I’m sure that we got these assignments on
purpose. Plus, we both know that Alexander hates me. I don’t feel
like being called ”crazy girl” for as long as it takes to find the
murderer.” She pauses for a moment as she seems to be going
through a list in her mind.
“What?” I ask, wondering what else she could possibly have to
say.
“Well I was just thinking that the biggest reason is because of girl
code,” she says, her eyes widening owlishly.
“Girl code?”
“Ya. That thing that friends are supposed to have between them
where we don’t hook up with each other’s exes.”
 “Alexander was never my ex,” I say staunchly.
“Then why is he currently giving you the “sex me” look as he
undresses you with his eyes?” she asks slyly.
I glance over and immediately regret it as I’m caught up in
Alexander’s icy stare. Suddenly, I can’t be here anymore. I’m about
to leap from my seat in the middle of the assembly when I see
Principal Asher step away from the microphone and the students
around me start to stand up.
I’ve missed at least half of what was said in this meeting.
Hopefully I didn’t miss anything important.
“Talk to you later,” I throw over my shoulder at Mercy as I’m
already halfway down the row of seats.
She yells something after me, but I pretend that I don’t hear her.
I rush through the packs of students, out of the assembly hall, down
the long hallway...not stopping until I’m outside.
Isn’t the whole point of a breakup that you never have to see
them again?
 CHAPTER 2

T he school grounds are overwhelming. The tall trees

swaying in the wind, the chatter of students leaving the
assembly sounding like cicadas, and the constant gray clouds
marring the heavens. Why was the sun barely out, anyway? With
every step forward, it feels like I’m somehow going backward at this
Academy. But it’s more than that… it’s despair I’m feeling, choking
on it because I’m somehow still a little excited Alexander will be my
guardian, when it should be burning me up with fury. This is exactly
what I don’t want, giving any of them control over every aspect of
my day when they already take up so much of my thoughts.
I clench my fists, remembering his smugness during the
assembly. It makes me wonder if he asked to be paired with me.
My head is a battleground, pulling me left and right between the
fury of not needing a babysitter, to the thought of so much more
time with Alexander and my stomach doing cartwheels of
excitement. I’m a walking contradiction, and the problem is, I don’t
know how to stop myself from feeling this way.
After Bethanie’s death, a heaviness sits on my shoulders. I can’t
shake off the sense that there is an ominous danger coming our
way. Maybe the principal senses it too and that’s why he’s allocated
protection. There’s a potential killer on campus and any of us could
be next. But even with the guardians, how safe are we considering
Bethanie died in her room?
 Her dead body keeps reeling through my mind. Maybe it’s a one
off, maybe Mercy’s ex is responsible, maybe the principal is
overreacting to calm everyone’s fears. My subconscious laughs at me
in my mind at the latter option…
I glance back at the crowds of students spreading out in every
direction, heading to class, their whispers floating in the air. They
feel it too… the lingering danger sitting near like a big bad wolf at
our front door.
That’s when I catch Alexander’s gaze on me from the corner of
the main building, watching me intently. Guess it’s his job now. He
strolls toward me, gliding over the lawn with such ease. Hands deep
in the pockets of his school pants, he walks tall and proud like
someone from prestige and wealth, someone who’s never been told
the word no.
Damn, he carries himself like a god. The breeze tugs at his raven
black hair, and the black shirt he wears hugs his muscles, leaving so
little to the imagination, and he knows it… the smirk pulling at his
lips says it all.
All I can do is fight the urge to drown in eyes that reflect a
perfect cloudless sky on a summer’s day.
But I never say a word, not even a whisper when he reaches my
side because I have no idea what will happen next. Alexander and
his gang always surprise me with their reactions. So, it’s better to
not expect something so that I can’t be let down.
“Don’t look too disappointed, I might think you don’t like me.” His
mouth pulls into a sinister smile, casting a spell of lust over me. But
then I picture him draped over that girl in the bedroom, enjoying
himself, and the jealousy bubbles within me, burning me up.
“So, what are we going to do?” I ask, the pain of deception
digging into my heart, ripping through the flesh. It shouldn’t affect
me… we aren’t dating, but for some reason I thought we had
something. Big mistake, and I hate him for making me feel these
things, making me feel like this is a one-sided relationship.
“There’s no we in this. It’s just me keeping you safe.” His voice
deepens, a darkness shadowing his words.
 I cock my head to the side, letting the forced smile spread over
my lips. “And what if I don’t agree with you “keeping me safe.””
“Then you can take it up with the principal.”
I chew on my lower lip to try and feel something other than
jealousy. “And you had nothing to do with us being paired?”
The corners of his mouth fight a wide smile, and there it is… the
truth plain as the rolling clouds overhead.
I shake my head, recoiling from his side. “I don’t think we should
be together. I’ll speak with the principal.” I turn away, while my heart
is pounding like a wild drum. I let the raw emotion scorch me,
pouring acid into my soul. I’m nothing but a puppet to him.
His hand seizes my wrist suddenly, cold and hard as iron, and
hauls me back around to face him, his earlier smile twisted into a
darkened expression. I stumble on my feet from his violent move.
“That’s not funny,” he growls.
“I thought it was.” I try and pull my hand from his grip but
freeing myself is useless.
“You hate me that much?” A pinch of hurt threads through his
words, and this is the most vulnerable I’ve ever seen him.
Except, anger is growing in my stomach until it becomes an
inferno. “Are you kidding? I saw you and Dante.” I swallow hard.
“That girl in bed with you.” My voice chokes, and my head swims
with half formed regrets. I shouldn’t care, but it’s ripping me apart.
My eyes prick, and I finally yank my arm free from his,
staggering to catch my balance from the force, to steady my shaky
hands.
Silence smothers us, and all I hear is the pounding of my own
heart.
“You weren’t meant to see that,” he murmurs.
“No shit, Sherlock. Usually cheaters try to avoid getting caught.”
And as the words fall from my mouth, heat scales up my neck and
cheeks. I just called him a cheater, like we were dating. My first
instinct is to scream… showing him my frustration with the whole
situation.
But he never corrects me, just stands there, tall and so perfect,
studying me with eyes darkening to the deepest depths of the
ocean. “It’s not what you think.”
I don’t know what to think, but I saw him and Dante over the
half-naked girl. In my books, that only means one thing.
“How long are you going to stand around here?” He finally breaks
the quiet.
I shrug. “You don’t like the outdoors?”
“It’s more that we’re both going to be late for class.”
Without a response, I push past him and into a stroll toward the
main building, Alexander at my side, not saying a word, but his
presence is like my shadow. Always there.
A bitter wind roars past, shaking the nearby branches, their
leaves rustling.
Alexander walks me to Mythology class and stops outside the
closed door, looking at me like he might say something, explain
himself, finally tell me what the hell is going on at this school.
Instead, he reaches out a hand and pushes a loose strand of blond
hair behind my ear. “Wait for me after class, and I’ll walk you to the
next one.” Then he strolls away, but there’s something different
about his walk this time. There’s a slight slouch of his shoulder like
he carries the world on them.
Once he’s out of sight down the hall, I breathe easy and replay
what just happened, my back pressing to the wall, unsure what to
make of his remorseful reaction. I expected explosions and anger,
but not this….
A few stragglers are still rushing to classes, when I lay eyes on
someone familiar. I do a double take and stare down the fluorescent
lit hallway.
My sight catches on the guy meandering my way, his gaze
swinging left and right to each door, his backpack over a shoulder.
Connor.
What the hell’s he doing here? Walking down the hallway in
Raven Academy’s guy uniform of black pants and shirt, he runs a
hand through his short black hair, shoulders broad and strong.
Somehow, he looks more powerful than before, his muscles larger
like he’s been working out.
 I had the biggest crush on him at my previous school until it
went to hell in a handbasket.
I’d once believed he was the nicest guy in the world after he
comforted me when I first found out that Dad had cancer.
“There’s a treatment that will work,” he’d said, wiping the tears
from my cheeks. “My cousin was cured with the right medication.”
His words were a lifeline, something I grasped onto at the time like
my world depended on it.
He drew me into his arms, hugging me, and I had cried so hard.
I couldn’t stop the tears I’d been holding back so I didn’t upset my
Dad. I didn’t want him to see me so broken. In front of him, I was
strong and offered him the support he needed. But with Connor, I
held nothing back... he’d become my backbone.
For weeks, we talked for hours over milkshakes and cheesy fries
after class, and he held my hand, wiped the tears, and even made
me laugh by the end with his lame jokes. I lost myself completely
and utterly to him, and not only did he give me the support to deal
with my dad’s illness, but I was falling for him hard.
It all ended the day Alexia, his ex saw us at the local coffee shop.
The next day, he kept to himself, no longer smiling my way, and
Alexia’s bullying had kicked in.
“Slut. Bitch. Man stealer.” She called me everything, spread
rumors through the school. And after school, the physical attacks
started. What hurt worse than the hits and shoves was Connor. I
saw him standing in the shadows like the coward he was, watching
Alexia beat me, and he did nothing. Months later, he had the nerve
to ask me to the school dance. Part of me wondered if he got off on
seeing me get hurt. Of course, I turned him down to avoid further
wrath from Alexia and her gang of bullies. And because he didn’t
deserve it after the way he had dropped me.
And now, here he was heading my way, like a ghost from my
past. I’m torn between hating him and remembering the comfort he
offered me.
Nausea sweeps through my stomach at the sight of him because
I don’t want to deal with the past, the hurtful memories. They
belong to a different person.
 Still, my breaths grow rapid and shallow, and I shuffle closer to
the class door and slip inside.
“Ms. Jones,” Mr. Dusk barks, and I snap around.
He’s standing in front of the class, clasping a thick, dusty text
book in one hand, the other gripping his hip.
“You’re late. I want a one-thousand-word essay submitted
tomorrow on why being late is bad manners. Now, get to your seat.”
I swallow hard as every eye from class falls on me, and the
silence lingers. Clarissa lounges in the front of the class, her mini
skirt pushed up to the top of her thighs, concealing nothing, flashing
Mr. Dusk. She’s chewing on gum and smirking at me, enjoying my
embarrassment.
Lowering my head, I rush toward one of the empty seats at the
rear of the room, glad to be off my shaky legs before I trip and draw
even more attention. I dig into my bag and draw out the mythology
book, ready to dive into my studies and forget the messed up start
to the day.
“Ms. Jones, we’re on page 239,” Mr. Dusk begins. “Amarok. They
were once believed to be gigantic wolves that lived in the lands of
the arctic. Legends said they preferred to hunt alone rather than in
packs like normal wolves. But we know today that long ago, many of
the untraveled woods had a variety of wolves living there. And we
also know that those animals would have left the forests and come
in contact with people, leading to these overexaggerated tales.
Similar mythologies also come from across the world. The lore of
wolves crosses many cultures, so who can tell me the significance of
wolves appearing in so many myths?”
Half the class has their hands up, while I look back down and
scan the text to catch up on the earlier discussion.
“Adeline,” Mr. Dusk calls out, amusement in his voice. “What are
your thoughts?”
I lift my gaze, Clarissa glaring over her shoulder at me, while
most of the class turns toward me. I wrack my brain on everything I
know about wolves and say the first thing that comes to mind.
“They symbolize guardianship and loyalty,” I say, my mouth
suddenly dry. “But they’re mostly seen as predators and associated
with danger. Many cultures also associate them with being a warrior
on one hand and the devil on the other. They represent the
dangerous aspect of our lives, teaching people to be careful about
going into untraveled woods, into the unknown.” I rattle on, spewing
out everything I can think of.
Mr. Dusk nods, his lips tight, and goes back to his book. I smile
to myself, taking that as a win.
The class door opens, and the class falls silent once more. I lift
my head and gasp a bit too loud.
My mind stutters for a moment as I stare at Connor walking into
my class, talking to Mr. Dusk. Their words fade behind my heartbeat,
thumping in my ears while sickness rises through me.
No, he can’t be in this class… not with me. Panic swirls in my
chest and it shouldn’t have, but with him comes memories of my old
school, of being pushed around, and I’m trying to leave the past
behind here. Stand up for myself, have new friends, work out
whatever was going on with my feelings for Alexander and his
gang… Well, that includes Professor London if I had to be honest
with myself.
“Welcome to our new student, Connor Whitehouse,” Mr. Dusk
announces.
I keep my head low, eyes averted, refusing to look at Connor.
Don’t sit next to me. Please don’t.
It isn’t long before movement appears at my left. He slumps into
the seat, and I cringe on the inside.
I slowly shift my body away from him, not to be seen, not
wanting to deal with the past.
The class continues, and I sit in a half-twisted position, trying to
be as far away from him as possible within the confines of my desk.
A small piece of scrunched up paper lands on my desk from his
direction, and I look up, half expecting Mr. Dusk to have noticed. He
doesn’t, and I snatch the paper before unraveling it and flattening it
in my palm.
Hey beautiful. Guess who’s just started at Raven Academy? We
need to catch up.
 Anger coils in my gut, and I glance over my shoulder at Connor.
Something about him has changed since I last saw him… there’s an
aura of darkness around him while he stares at me with those eyes
that have always made me weak in the knees. He has an Italian
heritage that shows in his features, making him so damn handsome.
He smirks and winks. A part of him will always have a soft spot in
my heart for helping me with my dad, but he betrayed me with
Alexia. And as far as I’m concerned, making up is a little too late. I
turn away from him and stuff the note in my bag. Nope, I don’t have
time for him now or ever.
 CHAPTER 3

I have my textbook stuffed into my bag even before the

bell rings, and the moment it sounds, I jolt from my seat
and run out, swerving past students to push myself out
into the hallway.
“Adeline,” Connor calls out, but I ignore him and keep going.
I don’t want to hear his excuses or have him pretend none of the
past happened.
Where’s Mercy when I need her… I scan the corridor flooded with
students pouring out of classrooms.
My skin shudders, and my heart thuds louder than I thought
possible. He isn’t my ex… we never dated, but I fell for him too
hard. And now he thinks I’m supposed to be okay with him acting all
friendly. Well, I’m not okay with it. I need him gone, to leave my
past just that… the past.
More than anything, I secretly want him to hurt, to crush him like
he crushed me.
No. I don’t need him anywhere near me or to be reminded of the
fool he’d made out of me.
I glance back over my shoulder and see no sign of him, then
breathe a sigh of relief. The school is large enough for us to be able
to avoid one another. Though I can’t deny my curiosity to
understand why he’s here. Did he get offered a scholarship? He lived
with his uncle after his parents died in a traffic accident when he
was younger, and his uncle wasn’t made of money.
 I don’t want to think about him anymore, so I push those
thoughts aside and remind myself calculus is next. I join Mercy in
class, she’s already yawning.
“Forget to sleep last night?” I ask.
She rolls her eyes. “I went to bed at nine but I’m still tired. I
swear I’m becoming a granny.”
I laugh at her over exaggeration. “Maybe you’re just not sleeping
well.”
She shrugs and pulls out her book as the rest of the class
streams inside the room, and I hold my breath, praying Connor
doesn’t join us. When Ms. Lenuta joins us and shuts the door, I
lounge back in my seat and smile.
“What’s going on with you? You look spooked,” Mercy murmurs.
“After the whole assembly thing and me getting paired with
Alexander, I bumped into this guy from my old school. He now goes
here apparently.”
“What’s his deal? Did you have a crush on him? Or you had a
one-night stand? Tell me it’s something juicy.”
I eye her sharply. “I don’t want to remember anything about my
old school.” But when she studies me like a scientist examining a
bug, I give Mercy a fast rendition of my past with Connor. “He’s an
ass who used me for some reason I still don’t understand.”
“Shit, so he’s a jerk.”
“Mhm. And now he’s acting all friendly like it never happened.”
“Gotta just face him and tell him to get lost, or he’ll keep
lingering around you like a virus carrying mosquito.”
“Ew, that’s a horrible image.”
She cocks her brow and gives me the you-better-listen-to-me
look.
The teacher finally gives one loud clap and glares our way to
quiet down. I can’t get Mercy’s words out of my head… maybe she’s
right. Deal with Connor now, and then pretend he doesn’t exist.
When Ms. Lenuta starts her lesson, Mercy leans closer and
whispers, “I bet your lover boys at school will be jealous of him.”
I scrunch my nose. “Don’t think so. And they’re not my lover
boys. Plus, I’m going to tell Connor to leave me alone for good.”
 She arches a brow, and I shake my head, focusing on the lesson.
After a double period, my eyes are strained from staring at all those
formulas. We head out of the class with Mercy yawning again.
“I need a triple strength coffee before I collapse and sleep for a
week straight,” she mutters.
When we step into the hallway, someone snatches my arm and
hauls me aside so fast, I lose my breath. I spin from the motion and
my back hits the wall.
Alexander is there, towering over me, glaring down at me. “You
didn’t wait for me,” he snarls.
It takes me several moments to remember what in the world he’s
talking about until it comes back to me.
“I-I forgot. But I’m fine.” When he doesn’t move, I shove a hand
into his firm chest. He doesn’t budge. “Look, I get you’re meant to
protect me and all that, but I don’t need to be walked from each
class. It’s a bit much don’t you think?”
He doesn’t move but stares down at me with such intensity in his
eyes that he leaves me trembling. It has nothing to do with fear, but
something about his over protectiveness that leaves me jittery,
excited, and all kinds of confused things swirling inside me. He
always makes me feel things I shouldn’t. Like an addiction, when
he’s near me, I lose myself, my thoughts, my inhibitions.
“You heard the girl,” Mercy pipes in from beside us. “Go be a
caveman elsewhere.”
Alexander doesn’t even turn to look at my friend. “I just want to
keep you safe, Adeline. Come, I’ll walk you to lunch.” His voice
softens and a tenderness crosses his gaze, chasing away the earlier
anger. I believe his sincerity and it ignites a small flame in my heart
for him. His hand reaches over and touches my arm gingerly. In that
split second, every nerve in my body is electrified.
He steps back, waiting for me to take the lead. Mercy loops her
arm around mine and drags me down the hall. Alexander’s footsteps
sound closer behind us. She leans closer. “He’s taking this whole
Guardian thing pretty seriously, isn’t he?”
I nod, not sure what to make of his focus on keeping me safe.
“Where’s your guardian, Dixon Hall, right?”
 She shrugs and murmurs, “Haven’t even spoken to him yet. But I
bet he sounds rough and sexy. Did you see how gorgeous he looks?”
I laugh. “You like your guys rough don’t you.”
She arches a brow. “Don’t we all.” She chuckles, and I swear I
hear Alexander laughing softly behind us.
In the food hall, Alexander gives me a small knowing nod before
he joins the other guys at the rear of the room where all the
beautiful ones spend lunch. Dante is sitting on the table, drinking
something, while Finn has his headphones on, and Nyx is staring at
me. Clarissa is there too, with a group of others like her, all perfect
and bitchy as hell.
Mercy drags me to the food counter, and I take a bowl of clam
chowder served in a small bread bowl along with a diet coke. Mercy
places a slice of apple cake on my tray.
“It’s the best. I swear I once ate five slices.” She reaches back
and grabs another plate of the dessert and piles it onto my tray,
then smiles mischievously.
We take a seat on a shared bench with others and dig into our
meals.
“That’s Delilah, a new girl to the Academy,” Mercy whispers in my
ear. “She’s a bit strange I hear.”
I glance across the cafeteria, following Mercy’s line of sight to a
girl sitting alone. She sports a short bob hairstyle, blond with
illuminated streaks that seem to almost shine beneath the
fluorescent lights. She’s laying out napkins in a row on the table,
then placing a spoon and fork on them, followed by her can of soda.
Everything is perfectly lined up. She turns and heads back to the
food counter, carrying a white bowl in her hand that she fills with
peanut satay chicken. She returns a few moments later and places
the bowl down on the napkin next to her other items. Nothing
touches the table's surface. She delicately picks up her fork and rubs
it clean with another napkin before eating. She studies everything on
the table in front of her, making sure it’s all in its place, and smiles.
“Hmm she might have a touch of OCD,” I murmur.
“Is that what you call it?” Mercy sniggers in my ear. “Would love
to see how she handles the communal showers.”
 I almost cringe for Delilah. The shared showers make me
uncomfortable most days, which is why I rush through it as early in
the morning as possible so I’m alone. “Maybe we should go over
there and say hello?”
Mercy’s shaking her head. “If you want to scare a clean freak,
going near her while she eats is the best way to do it. My mom was
the same, and she ended up eating alone during all her meals
because she swore we breathed our germs on her food.”
“That’s sad.”
“It is what it is. Dad and I had fun during the meals, not caring
how much of a mess we made. And we purposefully made a mess.”
She smirks and stuffs a mouthful of chowder in her mouth. I’m no
fool though and I know it must hurt to see her mother that way. My
heart stings every time I remember Dad sick in bed. I spoke to him
two days ago, and with his new treatment, he already sounded
better. I make myself a mental note to call him tonight.
At the end of lunch, Alexander and his gang stroll over to our
table, everyone’s eyes are on them. They move like a pack of
wolves, stalking their prey, dominating and owning this school. It still
baffles me that they want anything to do with me.
They stop at our table and stand there, saying not a word, but I
know the drill. Alexander isn’t going to leave me alone. Finn smiles
at me, while Dante winks, and Nyx studies me with something
devilish washing over his expression. Something that leaves me
breathless.
“Looks like your tribe’s here.” Mercy pushes the last morsel of
cake into her mouth and gets to her feet, collecting all our plates
before taking them to the trash.
“I’ve got P.E. next. Mercy’s with me so you don’t need to walk me
there,” I explain, and just as I do, I catch Connor entering the
cafeteria. My stomach drops.
Head high, he stalks past the tables, several students, including
Delilah, watching him stride like he’s a god walking on water. I don’t
remember him ever having this kind of impact on girls back at our
old school. Something about him has definitely changed.
 “Are you going to change into those tiny shorts?” Nyx asks, while
Alexander catches me staring at Connor, and I quickly school myself,
not needing that complication.
“Of course,” I murmur, and offer them my cutest smile, feeling
stupid as soon as I do.
“Then we’re all going,” he replies too fast and exchanges a smirk
with Dante.
Mercy’s at my side and looks up at the four Adonis’ in front of us.
“Have any of you seen Dixon today?” she asks them. “He’s my
supposed guardian but I haven’t even spoken to him yet?”
Finn steps aside and points to a guy sitting in the far corner on
his own, staring down at his drink, solemn. The shadows falling
across his face give him a sinister air. “He’s over there.”
“Great, he’s transformed into Marilyn Manson since the assembly.
Is it safe for him to be around Mercy?” I ask.
Mercy slaps my arm and pushes in front of me, batting her eyes
at Finn. “Introduce me to him. Please.” She’s breathing fast,
practically drooling, and I roll my eyes.
“Sure.” Finn is already heading across the cafeteria, and Mercy is
smiling wildly. She looks back at me, her eyes sparkling with
excitement. “Go without me, I’ll see you in class.”
“Let’s go,” Alexander instructs while I watch my friend fawning
over a guy who hasn’t made an effort to look up from his staring
match with the table.
Outside in the hallway, Alexander walks beside me, while the two
others are at my back. Somehow in their presence I feel nothing but
utter protection. Like nothing can touch me.
I cut a glance behind me. “Shouldn’t you two be walking
someone under your guard to class?”
“Why?” Dante asks. “We’re only meant to check on them
occasionally.”
I look over at Alexander who doesn’t look my way, but he takes
my hand in his, guiding me outside where a cool wind curls around
my hair. In this moment I know this is much more for him… more
than just keeping an eye on me. It’s his excuse to spend time with
me again. My smile grows on its own accord, and I don’t hide it
when he finally looks my way.
Once we reach the sports grounds, enclosed by a chain wire
fence, I hurry into the locker rooms and open my locker before
grabbing my P.E. uniform. Girls are around me chatting and
laughing, while I’m checking the entrance for Mercy. My stomach is
unsettled with worry. Where is she?
I pull off my shirt and unwrap my skirt from around me, then
step into my black shorts and drag them up my legs. They sit tight
around my hips, revealing way too much leg, but everyone’s in the
same gear. I grab my black school tee and yank it down over my
head and arms. With everything tucked back into my locker, I head
outside.
The breeze is cold across my flesh, and Mr. Ash is already
blowing his whistle, waving his hand over his head in a circle, and I
sigh. “Ten laps. Go!”
With a grumble, I push myself into a run, and it’s not long before
I find Alexander, Dante, and Nyx lingering near several trees,
watching me like I’m some show pony. But instead of being creeped
out, I find myself running faster, swinging my hips, sensing their
gazes on me. My insides feel like velvet, and as insane as it sounds,
I’m reveling in their attention. I can’t deny they’ve grown on me,
though I’m not sure about them being everywhere I turn.
“Ms. Richards,” the teacher bellows, and I turn my head to see
Mercy rushing onto the grounds in her tiny shorts. “Twenty laps for
being late. Go!”
My friend moans loudly and kicks into a run, her curls bouncing
over her shoulders as she constantly pushes her dark glasses up her
nose. I want to pick her brain and find out all about Dixon, so I
speed up around the yard to catch her.
Around the next curve, Alexander hasn’t moved and is still
watching me. He slouches against a tree, hands deep in the pockets
of his pants, while the other two hover closer to the fence.
Farther ahead, a dark silhouette emerges from the woods, his
eyes locked on me. I recognize those dark eyes instantly.
Connor.
 My stomach somersaults. Is he stalking me now? The toe of my
sneaker catches on a tuft of grass. I trip over my feet, lurching
forward, the ground racing towards my face. Panic grips my chest as
I fall to my hands and knees, the grass is cold and sharp against my
skin.
Several girls are howling with laughter, while someone wolf
whistles in the background. I’m burning up, my cheeks on fire, and I
can’t look back at the guys after falling.
A quick glance over my shoulder, and Connor is watching me too,
not moving, and I want more than anything to punch him right in
the face.

S everal days later of avoiding Connor and being escorted everywhere

by Alexander, I need a break from all the smothering, so I sneak out
of Literature early and take my time strolling toward the library.
Mercy plans to meet me there later for our study period, but for
now, I plan for some alone time, some researching time. I want to
find anything I can on the backstory of Raven Academy to help me
understand its roots and why it seems so many of the non-
scholarship students don’t attend normal classes, why they take
training classes. When I queried Professor London about it, he
dismissed me, saying it was a special form of P.E.
Right. Special P.E. All we’ve done in my P.E. class is run until I
can’t breathe, then play dodgeball in the yard.
The library is quiet and has a tiled chessboard floor with a dark
timber on the walls and ceiling, almost looking a gothic mansion,
and any minute now I expect a ghost to float down from the
wrought-iron chandeliers. Rows of shelves stretch out through the
room, crammed with books. Farther at the end are tables and chairs
beneath the windows. Several students are back there, but I turn to
my right to the computers and sit down in front of a monitor,
punching in my search into the keyboard.
Nonfiction books on the fourth floor.
 Raven Academy school yearbooks row J.
It’s a start, and I get to my feet, noticing the librarian studying
me with a cold stare. But it’s more than that, it’s like she sees me as
something of interest beyond a teacher helping a student. A shiver
slithers down my spine, so I hurry toward the staircase.
Stop being such a chicken.
By the fourth floor, my thighs ache and I should have searched
for the elevator, but I was too distracted to think straight since I kept
looking over my shoulder expecting her to be following me.
Up here, I’m alone and it smells stuffy, the dust in the air tickling
my nostrils. The dark wood theme continues, and I can easily
mistake this place for a forgotten attic. No students are studying or
checking out books, and a strange sensation washes over me. Like
somehow, I’m the first to discover this untouched floor for centuries.
An old paper smell floats in the air, and my gaze flitters across the
rows of bookshelves. I head down the center passage, following the
alphabetical order until I reach J, half-way down.
The floorboards creak somewhere behind me, and I glance back,
seeing someone moving amid the rows farther away.
My stomach churns as I picture the librarian chasing after me,
which is ridiculous. Why would she do that? I shake away the
shivers, and scan the tightly packed books, their spines on display.
Yearbooks fill the shelves, and I pull one out from ten years ago.
It’s old, heavy, and dusty.
Movement grabs my attention from someone darting down a row
up ahead. Eeriness sweeps over my flesh, and my heart’s racing.
Geez, calm down. It’s just a library.
It’s probably a student trying to rush out of here… I don’t blame
them. The fourth floor reminds me of a haunted house. No wonder
no one’s up here.
I pry open the mammoth book, and the spine creaks. There’s a
gallery of photos of students with names listed underneath,
everything alphabetical. I flip to the index, hoping to find some
history on the school, but instead there are only surnames… pages
and pages of them. As I flick through the pages, the name
Dachnavar catches my attention. Did Alexander have a sibling who
went here?
I turn to the page number and discover an image of someone
who looks almost identical to Alexander. The dark raven hair swept
off his face, those piercing blue eyes, red lips, and that deep look in
his gaze that always makes me second guess myself. The similarity
is uncanny. Would his older brother look so similar?
At the bottom of his page are smaller images, and one is him and
two other friends. I gasp out loud at the image, my eyes bulging. I
slump against the bookshelf, staring at the page.
“What the hell?” I mumble to myself.
Not only was it Alexander, but Dante and Finn were with him, all
of them posing with cheeky smiles. They stood in front of the main
building… in Raven Academy.
I rocked on my feet and hastily flicked the pages to the front of
the book to double check the date. Yep, this year book was from ten
years ago, so what in the world was going on? Cracking open the
book again, I keep staring at the photo of the three friends, refusing
to believe they somehow each had older brothers who look identical
to them. But how are they in this book from ten years ago? Did they
fail class? Except they don’t look younger. And where’s Nyx?
I’m lost in the fog in my head, trying to make sense of what I’m
looking at while the image rocks my mind, leaving me so confused.
What was I missing?
A floorboard creaks right beside me, and I flinch in fright, the
book slipping from my grasp. It hits the ground with a thud, inches
from my foot. I jump back out of pure impulse, only to bump into
someone. I jerk my head around to come face to face with Connor.
His hands snap out, grasping me around the waist.
“I got you.”
I glare his way and pry myself free from his hold. “You scared the
hell out of me. Why are you here?”
He shrugs, the ruggedness of the way the collar of his school
shirt sits uneven around his neck, and his dark hair wind messed
makes me think he’s been running.
“Was that you before?” I blurt. “Sprinting around here?”
 His brow pinches. “I just got here. The librarian said you’d gone
upstairs.”
The earlier unease collects in my gut as I glance around us at the
now quiet fourth floor.
Connor bends at the waist and picks up the yearbook from my
feet before studying it. “Who are you researching?”
I seize the book from his grasp and stuff it back onto the shelf.
“None of your business.”
When I turn to walk away, he grabs my arm and doesn’t let go.
“Can we talk?”
I sigh heavily, not wanting to face my past now or ever. “I’m not
in the mood today.” I shake him off and march down the row of
books.
“How’s your dad doing?” he calls out, and his words are like a
spear to my heart. Halting, I spin to face him. “Don’t. You lost the
privilege to talk about him when you betrayed me.”
His lips tighten, and he runs a hand through his short hair. “I
didn’t betray you.”
His words are like gasoline, burning me up, and my fists begin to
clench. “Is that what you call it. For your information, I saw you that
day, watching me, getting off seeing me get hit by Alexia. Hope it
was worth it because I want nothing to do with you now or ever.” I
hadn’t meant for my voice to climb or echo through the fourth floor,
but shit happens.
“I can’t apologize enough for being gutless, for not standing up
for you. I’m sorry, Adeline.” Sorrow threads his voice, but the fire
scorching my insides screams at me to shove him aside, to make
him hurt like he hurt me.
“I thought you cared about me, but you were like the rest of
them. Cold and selfish.” Anger fuels my words, and my arms are
trembling by my side. He once offered me strength during a time
when my world fell apart, and I believed he cared for me. But I’d
been a fool. Not anymore.
His eyes remain steady, settling on me like I’ll offer him comfort.
“You don’t understand. That day broke me, and it’s haunted me ever
since.” There’s something behind his words… pain. And I watch his
unblinking eyes. “All I can offer you are my words now. My actions
to prove my sincerity.” Despite his explanation, he’s holding onto his
stoic expression. Saying all the right things that I want to hear, but I
struggle to believe him.
I stay rooted on the spot. “I somehow doubt any excuse you give
will be believable.”
His features buckle slightly. I know he feels pain… I see it now in
his gaze. Emotional heartache leaves invisible scars, and my heart is
jagged. But I somehow doubt he ever felt the same way about me
as I had him. So, he’ll never understand the depth of my anger to
his actions.
Except, my emotions are from so long ago, and now all I feel is
bitterness toward Connor. “I don’t care why you acted like a jerk,
just stay away from me.”
I turn and march out of there, my footfalls hitting the
floorboards. My earlier bravery sits like tar in my chest, making
breathing difficult. And despite what Connor did to me, all I can
think about is the agony in his gaze and how I walked away when he
reached out to me.
 CHAPTER 4

T he next couple of weeks fly by in the routine of

Alexander walking me to every class, me chatting with
Mercy, and doing homework. Connor keeps his distance, but I catch
him from the corner of my eye sitting alone. Staying in the shadows.
And I tell myself every day, it’s better this way.
Today, I’m walking down the hallway when I see the flier. It’s a
call for a tryout for the school choir.
“They have a school choir here?” I ask Mercy excitedly, forgetting
about everything else, and walking up to the bulletin board so that I
can see the details closer.
Mercy stares at me like I’m crazy. “What school doesn’t have a
choir?” she asks.
“It just didn’t seem like there were any extracurriculars here. I
haven’t seen one announcement until now about sports, or band, or
anything like that.”
“Well most of the tryouts for things were for the first day. Choir is
super selective, so they give students a few weeks to prepare for
tryouts. I can’t remember the choir getting anything but first place in
all of their competitions.”
She proceeds to start walking down the hallway, but I’m frozen in
front of the flier. “Tryouts are tomorrow.”
I’ve always loved to sing. When I was younger, and money
wasn’t non-existent, my parents had paid for private voice lessons
for me. Dad and Mom had always said that I had talent and my
Another random document with
no related content on Scribd:
[Inhoud]
 HOOFDSTUK XIX.

Hoe was het met den veldtocht, dien de Engelsche kolonisten

hadden beraamd, afgeloopen?

Zij waren op den bepaalden, met de Boeren afgesproken tijd, met

een macht van 3000 Kaffers, waarvan er ongeveer 400 met geweren
waren gewapend, en een afdeeling blanken op marsen gegaan, om
den Zoeloe-koning van uit het zuiden te bestoken, terwijl de Boeren,
zooals reeds gezegd, van uit het westen zouden optrekken.

Het kommando stond onder het bevel van Robert Biggar, John Cane
en Ogle, drie Engelschen. Biggar was opperbevelhebber.

Zonder veel hindernissen werd de Tugelarivier overgetrokken, en

een Zoeloe-regiment, dat op verkenning was uitgezonden,
teruggeworpen.

Het leger vervolgde nu zijn tocht en bereikte Endouka Kusuka. Hier

stond slechts een zwak regiment der Zoeloe’s, daar de hoofdmacht
van den vijand op Dingaan’s bevel verder landwaarts was
ingetrokken, om als reserve dienst te doen, indien de Boeren in hun
vermetelen tocht mochten slagen.

Maar de tocht der Boeren had reeds schipbreuk geleden, en ijlboden

brachten aan de reserve de order onmiddellijk hare vorige stelling,
die ernstig bedreigd werd, in te nemen.

De Engelschen echter waren de Zoeloe’s voor. Bij het krieken van

den dageraad was Kasuka omsingeld, en een vernielend snelvuur
werd op de plaats gericht. Onder gebrul en gejuich bestormden nu
de Kaffers onder hun blanken aanvoerder de plaats, die wel een
stad werd genoemd, doch slechts, evenals de andere Zoeloe-
steden, uit een groot aantal, in lange rijen zich uitstrekkende
stroohutten bestond, en namen de zwakke verschansingen. Weldra
kronkelden de rookwolken omhoog boven de plaats, en
verkondigden aan de in ijlmarschen naderende hoofdmacht der
Zoeloe’s, dat zij te laat kwamen, om hun stad te redden.

Maar dit gezicht maakte hen razend, en geprikkeld door het

bewustzijn, dat de gevreesde Boeren voor de Zoeloe’s waren
geweken, daalden zij snel van de heuvelen neer, die Kasuka
omringden, om den vijand slag te leveren. [146]

Het waren zeven regimenten, ongeveer 10000 man, die de heuvelen

afstormden.

Biggar zag hen naderen. Met grooten spoed stelde hij zijn leger in
slagorde op voor de brandende stad, en de voorhoede der Zoeloe’s
werd met zoo’n geduchten kogelregen begroet, dat zij zwenkte, het
slagveld vol dooden en gewonden achter zich latende.

Er was een oogenblik van verademing, maar de geheele macht der

Zoeloe’s rukte nu op in den vorm van een halve maan, een slagorde,
door koning Chaka 1 uitgevonden, waarvan het centrum recht op den
vijand aanrukte, terwijl de vleugels hem in snellen aanloop moesten
omsingelen.

Biggar zag de gevaarlijke beweging, en terwijl Ogle met zijn

manschappen tegen den linkervleugel des vijands optrok, zou Cane
zijn rechtervleugel zien te keeren.

Ogle was inderdaad zoo gelukkig, den vijand terug te werpen, toen
zijn Kaffers, door een nooit opgehelderde paniek aangetast,
plotseling uiteen stoven, en hun heil in de vlucht zochten.
Het was een onherstelbare slag.

Wel snelden de blanken aan het hoofd van versche manschappen

naar het bedreigde punt, doch daardoor werden weer andere punten
ontbloot, en de vreeselijke hoornen der halve maan begonnen
elkander dicht te naderen.

Cane kreeg een assegaai voor in de borst, en terwijl hij ze met eigen
hand uit de wond rukte, trof hem de tweede speer tusschen de
schouders. Het wapen stond te schudden in zijn vleesch. Een
Kaffervorst, een van Cane’s trouwste vrienden, sprong toe, om de
assegaai uit de wond te halen, doch Cane, door pijn verblind,
herkende zijn bondgenoot niet, en verbrijzelde diens hoofd door een
geweerschot.

Maar de Zoeloe’s lieten hem weinig tijd, om de vreeselijke vergissing

te betreuren. Door vier speren getroffen, stortte hij tegen den grond.
Geen twee minuten later lagen ook Biggar en Ogle zieltogend
uitgestrekt op den van bloed doorweekten bodem, en het geheele
Kafferkommando verstoof als kaf voor den wind.

Het was een vreeselijke vlucht, en de Kaffers kwamen aan de

Tugelarivier aan op een punt, waar de oever uit honderd voet hooge,
loodrechte rotsen bestond. De Tugela [147]werd voor hen een andere
Berezina. Met de scherpe speer der Zoeloe’s achter zich was er
geen tijd voor beraad, en de ongelukkigen stortten verpletterd neer
op de harde klippen en steenen der Tugelabedding. Eerst toen er
een hooge laag van stuiptrekkende, stervende lichamen was
gevormd, werd de val der nakomenden gebroken, en bereikten
dezen den overkant. Doch ook hier was men nog niet veilig, want
een sterke afdeeling der Zoeloe’s was, de rotsen omtrekkend, op
een gemakkelijke plek de rivier overgetrokken, en versperde den
ontkomenen opnieuw den weg. Hier viel de laatste blanke,
Blankenberg, en van het Kafferkommando van Biggar schoten
slechts weinig honderdtallen over.

Als een bergstroom vervolgde het Zoeloe-leger, plunderend en

verwoestend, zijn overwinningstocht. De Engelsche kolonisten
hadden geen rust voor het hol van hun voet en weken terug tot aan
het strand van den Oceaan. En er zou hun slechts de keuze zijn
overgebleven tusschen de golven van dien Oceaan en de speer van
den Zoeloe, indien in dit hachelijk oogenblik niet een schip in de baai
het anker had uitgeworpen. Het nam de ongelukkigen aan boord,
heesch toen de vlag en koos het ruime sop.

Maar de Boeren bleven achter, omloeid door het heidendom, en

vaster dan ooit stond Dingaan’s troon. Met een grijnslach om den
wreeden mond zeide hij tot zijn kapiteins: „Zie, op gindschen heuvel
ligt het afgeknaagde gebeente van Piet Retief en de zijnen; bij dien
anderen heuvel, waar juist een zwerm aasvogels neerstrijkt, ligt Piet
Uijs, zijn wreker, en ik heb de bedding der Tugelarivier geplaveid met
de lijken mijner vijanden. Uwe assegaaien druipen van het bloed van
acht honderd Boerenmenschen, en ik ben besloten, om dit volk te
verdelgen tot den laatsten man!”

Chaka was de broeder van Dingaan, en werd door zijn broeders in 1828
1
vermoord. Chaka was een onmensch, bloeddorstig als een wild dier, doch werd
door zijn opvolger Dingaan nog overtroffen. ↑
[Inhoud]
 HOOFDSTUK XX.

Hendrik Potgieter had er genoeg van, en trok met zijn volgelingen

terug naar de oevers der Vaalrivier. [148]

Een bange tijd brak nu aan voor de achterblijvende Boeren. De

levensmiddelen, zelfs de ammunitie, raakte bij velen op, en het
nijpendste gebrek stond voor de deur. Daarbij kwamen vele en
zware regens, en in hun gevolg ernstige koortsen, die het volk
teisterden.

Men kon elk oogenblik Dingaan’s bloeddorstige regimenten

verwachten, en om dien schok te kunnen weerstaan, werden er twee
groote, elk uit vijfhonderd ossenwagens bestaande, lagers gevormd,
waarvan het lager, onder bevel van Gert Maritz, bij de kleine
Tugelarivier, en het andere, onder bevel van Jakobus Potgieter aan
een zijtak der Blauwkransrivier werd opgeslagen, op de plek, waar
de wagens van Piet Uijs hadden gestaan.

Dit lager werd het Modderlager genaamd van wege den door vele
regens doorweekten grond, en na verloop van vier maanden was
men dan ook verplicht, het te verplaatsen naar de Boschmansrivier.

Hier, aan de Boschmansrivier, kreeg men de Zoeloe’s. Drie volle

etmalen, van den 10den tot en met den 12den Augustus 1838 duurde
de bestorming; het lager lag als een eenzaam eiland in een wild
bruisende zee.

Den derden dag ontving Gert Maritz bericht van het groote gevaar,
waarin de stamgenooten verkeerden. Het eigen lager werd nu snel
in staat van verdediging gebracht; daarna zadelde Maritz op, en trok
met een sterke wacht uit, om het benarde lager te ontzetten. Maar
de dappere mannen van Jakobus Potgieter hadden zich met zooveel
kracht verweerd, dat de Zoeloe’s het na een verlies van duizenden
manschappen hadden moeten opgeven.

Als door een wonder was ook het kleine kamp der van Dijken, niet
ver van Jakobus Potgieter’s lager opgeslagen, aan het dreigend
gevaar ontsnapt. Midden in den nacht kwam hier de tijding, dat de
Zoeloe’s in aantocht waren, en terwijl de vrouwen en de kinderen in
hun nachtgewaad de bosschen invluchtten, maakten zich de weinig
weerbare mannen gereed, om het zwakke lager te verdedigen. Maar
de Zoeloe’s ontdekten het niet, en de menschen waren gered.

Er heerschte dus groote blijdschap bij de Boeren, doch zij werd niet
weinig getemperd, toen men tot de treurige ervaring kwam, dat al het
vee, dat toch het hoofdbestaan der Boeren uitmaakte, zoowel het
vee van Potgieter’s lager als dat der van Dijken, door de Zoeloe’s
was meegevoerd. [149]

Acht dagen na het gevecht werd Jakobus Potgieter’s lager verplaatst

naar de kleine Tugelarivier, slechts door de rivier van Gert Maritz’
lager gescheiden.

Beide lagers werden nu herschapen in ééne sterke vesting, die door

zware zodenmuren en diepe grachten werd beschermd, terwijl zij
werd gedekt door zoogenaamde „schiethokken” aan de hoeken, van
waar men de muren kon bestrijken.

In het midden van het lager was een groote ruimte gelaten, die
overspannen werd met tentlinnen, waar de Nederlandsche zendeling
Smit, die de Boeren in hun grooten nood trouw ter zijde heeft
gestaan, geregeld godsdienstoefening hield.

In dit lager hebben de Boeren vijf maanden gestaan, en hier is hun

het water werkelijk tot aan de lippen gekomen.
De beesten waren geroofd, de proviand raakte op, en de
hongersnood stond voor de deur. En alsof al deze rampen nog niet
genoeg waren, werd de wakkere Voortrekker Gert Maritz ziek en
bezweek. Onder vele tranen werd hem in het lager een laatste
rustplaats bereid, en de Boeren, door zooveel leed overmand, lieten
het moedige hoofd zakken.

In zware tegenheden handelde God met dit volk, en Hij bezocht het
met zijn kastijdende roede. Hij schudde het, evenals zijn storm de
wateren schudt en zuivert. Hij wierp het in den heeten oven der
beproeving, opdat het gereinigd te voorschijn zou komen, als goud,
gelouterd in den smeltkroes. Immers Hij had het volk der
Emigranten-Boeren uitverkoren, om de weegschalen van het heilig
recht hoog te houden onder de blinde heidenen, die niet wisten van
God noch van zijn gebod.
[Inhoud]
 HOOFDSTUK XXI.

„Een gebed des verdrukten, als hij overstelpt is, en zijne klacht
uitstort voor het aangezicht des Heeren.

„O Heere! Hoor mijn gebed, en laat mijn geroep tot U komen. [150]

„Verberg uw aangezicht niet voor mij, neig uw oor tot mij ten dage
mijner benauwdheid; ten dage als ik roep, verhoor mij haastelijk.”

Vrouw Kloppers staakt even met het lezen van den psalm, en luistert
naar den wind, die het linnen doet golven der tent boven haar.

„Want mijne dagen zijn vergaan als rook, en mijne gebeenten zijn
uitgebrand als een haard.…

„Mijne vijanden smaden mij al den dag; die tegen mij razen, zweren
bij mij.

„Want ik eet asch als brood, en vermeng mijn drank met tranen.

„Van wege uwe verstoordheid en uwen grooten toorn: want Gij hebt
mij verheven en weder nedergeworpen.”

Weer houdt vrouw Kloppers op; haar leven gaat voor het oog harer
ziel voorbij.

De regen klettert tegen het linnen der tent; op sommige plaatsen,

waar het linnen versleten raakt, dringt hij er door. Het opengeslagen
bijbelblad wordt vochtig, maar dat komt niet van de regendruppels.
Dat komt van de tranen, die vrouw Kloppers langzaam over de
wangen rollen.
„Mijne dagen zijn als eene afgaande schaduw, en ik verdor als gras.”

Ja, dat getuigen hare diepliggende oogen, hare ingevallen wangen,

die smartelijke trek om haar mond.

„Maar Gij, Heere! Blijft in eeuwigheid, en uwe gedachtenis van

geslacht tot geslacht.”

„Amen!” zegt hare ziel.

„Gij zult opstaan, Gij zult u ontfermen over Zion, want de tijd om haar
genadig te zijn, de bestemde tijd is gekomen.”

Ja, dat is hare hoop; die hoop houdt haar staande; zonder die hoop
ware zij reeds lang vergaan.

God zal zich ontfermen over Zion, over het geestelijk Zion, over zijn
uitverkoren volk, over het schuldige maar in zijn onwankelbaar
verbond opgenomen volk der Emigranten-Boeren.

Vrouw Kloppers wil doorlezen, maar Hannie roept. Hannie is ook in

de tent, maar ge zoudt het lieve kind niet meer kennen: zoo
uitgeteerd ziet zij er uit. De koortsen hebben haar vreeselijk
geteisterd, doch die beteren nu gelukkig. Maar zij heeft thans
versterkend voedsel noodig, dat bijna niet te krijgen is. Want van den
kostbaren veestapel, dien [151]Gert Kloppers meebracht uit de
Kolonie, is niets overgeschoten dan een paar melkkoeien en eenige
paarden. Het andere vee is op den langen tocht verongelukt of
geroofd door de Zoeloe-Kaffers. Tevens is het eetbaar wild ver
weggevlucht, en de Boeren durven zich niet van hun lagers
verwijderen uit vrees, dat deze zullen overrompeld worden door de
overmoedige, bloeddorstige vijanden.

„Moeke, wanneer komt Vader thuis?”

„Ik wacht hem elk oogenblik, lieveling.”

„Is Vader op de jacht?”

„Ja, mijn kind.”

Al drie dagen is Gert Kloppers in de buurt op de jacht geweest,

zonder iets onder schot te krijgen.

De andere jagers zijn niet gelukkiger geweest.

„Ik wou, dat Vader eens een blesbok schoot; wat zou dat vleesch
ons smaken!”

De moeder zucht, doch buiten wordt een mannenstem gehoord, en

Gert Kloppers treedt binnen.

Hij heeft er in geen weken zoo opgeruimd uitgezien.

„Ik heb een bok geschoten, Hanneke,” zegt hij, „een goeie, hoor! Hij
ligt hier buiten. Nu zullen we smullen!”

„Nu zullen we smullen,” herhaalt de kleine Hannie, en zij klapt met

hare magere handjes.

Ook vrouw Kloppers is innig verblijd, en zij zegt: „De Heere vergeet
ons nog niet,” maar haar man met haar vriendelijken blik aanziende,
laat zij er op volgen: „Beste man, gij hebt zeker geen droogen draad
aan je lijf; droog je hier bij het vuur, en ik zal dadelijk koffie zetten.”

„Zeker koffie van geroosterde gerst?”

„Ja, de echte koffie is al lang op.”

„Nu, maar ik moet echte koffie hebben vandaag, vrouwke.”

Hanna kijkt haar man verwonderd aan. Hij heeft al verscheidene
weken het opgietsel van geroosterde gerst voor lief genomen; hij
weet, dat er in het heele lager geen lood koffie te krijgen is, en toch
wil hij ze van middag hebben. Zij begrijpt er niets van, maar nog
minder begrijpt zij ’t, nu haar man met een lachend gelaat uit een
grooten, diepen zak een buil echte koffieboonen haalt en op de tafel
legt.

„Je bent in den regel nog al slim; maar dat begrijp je zeker niet?”
zegt hij.

Zij schudt het hoofd—hoe zou ze dat begrijpen?

„Dan zul je dàt ook wel niet begrijpen, en dàt, en dàt—” en hij haalt
wel vijftien builen uit den zak: kruidenierswaren, [152]gedroogde
vruchten, specerijen, enzoovoort. De zak schijnt wel onuitputtelijk.

De verbazing van vrouw Kloppers kent geen grenzen, maar dit

hindert haar niet, om onmiddellijk echte koffie, Javakoffie te zetten.
Intusschen helpt Kloppers zijn vrouw uit den droom: „Onze broeders
in de Kolonie en in den omtrek der Vaalrivier hebben van onzen
grooten nood gehoord, en zich gehaast, om levensmiddelen te
zenden. Dat is het medelijdende, Afrikaansche bloed, Hanneke, dat
zich niet verloochenen kan. Nu zijn een paar volgeladen
ossenwagens met levensmiddelen reeds in de buurt aangekomen,
en om je te verrassen, heb ik al vast het een en ander
meegebracht.”

De koffie is thans gezet; de zoo lang ontbeerde suiker is er nu ook,

en een blikken kannetje, half gevuld met melk, voltooit de nederige
koffietafel. Maar het echtpaar heeft schik, en verkneutert zich in den
naar hunne meening zoo rijk voorzienen disch.
Het duurt niet lang, of Dirk, de zoon, komt ook binnen. Hij is platzak
en gemelijk van de jacht thuis gekomen en is niet weinig in zijn schik
geweest, toen hij het geschoten hert in de gaten kreeg.

Opgewekt treedt hij binnen.

„Zoo, Vader,” zegt hij, „hebt ge dien bok geschoten? Kom aan, ’t is
een baas, hoor! Wij zullen er straks een flink stuk afsnijden en boven
het vuur roosteren.”

„En echte koffie gezet?” laat hij er op volgen, met behagen den
koffiegeur ruikend.

„Waar haal je ’t van daan? Flink, Moeder, schenk maar eens in; dat
zal me verwarmen, want ’t is een geducht koude regen.”

Hij wordt hoe langer hoe opgewekter.

„En wat ligt daar toch allemaal op de tafel? Het lijkt wel een heele
kruidenierswinkel. Menschen, waar komt dat toch allemaal van
daan?”

„Raad maar eens,” zegt zijn vader.

„Van de Engelsche regeering!” antwoordt Dirk.

Hij schaterlacht, terwijl hij dit zegt. Deze lach werkt aanstekelijk; ook
zijne ouders, zelfs de kleine Hannie beginnen te lachen. Er begint
een frissche, vroolijke toon te heerschen; het wordt bepaald gezellig
in de oude, gehavende tent.

Na eenigen tijd komt de leeuwenjager, die een paar dagen afwezig is

geweest. [153]
Hij heeft iets gewichtigs; de anderen merken het aan zijn stap, die
driftiger is dan gewoonlijk.

Over dien vreeselijken Februarimorgen, toen Mieke door een

assegaai werd gedood en den daaropvolgenden morgen, toen zij in
de koele aarde werd neergelegd, spreekt hij nooit. Maar in zijn
binnenste brandt een vuur.

„Belangrijk nieuws!” zegt hij op zijn gewonen, korten toon.

De anderen zien hem vragend aan.

„Pretorius is aangekomen.”

„Welke Pretorius?” vraagt Kloppers.

„Andries Wessel uit het district Graaff-Reynet.”

„Ik heb geruchtswijze gehoord, dat hij ons komt helpen,” zegt
Kloppers.

„Niets vaster dan dat,” antwoordt de leeuwenjager met klem.

„Dus we trekken weer tegen de Zoeloe’s op?”

„Dat zou ik denken.”

De oogen van den leeuwenjager flikkeren, terwijl hij dit zegt; zij
weerkaatsen het vuur, dat in zijn binnenste brandt.

„Met hoeveel man is hij gekomen?”

„Met vierhonderd: allen flinke, dappere kerels.”

„Mooi,” zegt Kloppers. Hij wrijft zich van plezier de handen.

„Heb je ze gesproken, Teunis?”

„Ik heb hun veldkornetten de hand gedrukt. Zij hebben gezegd: Wij
zijn gekomen, om onze broeders in Natal te helpen. Wij willen met
hen sterven of overwinnen. Dat hebben zij gezegd.”

De oogen van Kloppers beginnen te schitteren.

„Daaraan herken ik weer den echten, onverbasterden,

Afrikaanschen aard,” zegt hij. „Wij Boeren zijn net als de kinderen in
een groot huishouden: dikwijls gekibbel en ruzie. Maar als de vijand
voor de poorten staat, als het meenens wordt, dan staan we
schouder aan schouder: één voor allen; allen voor één.

„En wanneer zal de veldtocht beginnen, Teunis?”

„Zoo gauw mogelijk; binnen eenige dagen. Pretorius zet er haast

achter.”

„Hij heeft gelijk,” zegt Kloppers. „Hoe eerder hoe beter. We moèten
met de Zoeloe’s afrekenen. Ten eerste, omdat het onschuldig
vergoten bloed moet worden gewroken. God heeft ons Boeren de
roeping gegeven, om onder de heidenen de Overheid te
vertegenwoordigen, en de Overheid draagt [154]het zwaard niet te
vergeefs. Ten tweede, omdat onze toestand bij den dag
onhoudbaarder wordt. Daarom zeg ik nog eens: hoe eerder de
veldtocht begint, hoe beter.”

Hij ziet zijn zoon aan.

„Dirk,” zegt hij, „ik wou wel mee trekken in den oorlog; wilt gij niet
hier blijven ter verdediging van het lager?”

„Liefst niet, vader!” zegt Dirk. „Ik smeek u, laat me mee!”

„Goed dan, gij zult mee—Teunis, blijf jij dan hier?”

„Ik? Neem me niet kwalijk, maar ik heb geen tijd.”

„Als de anderen ook zoo praten, dan blijft er geen man hier,” zegt
Kloppers.

„De huisvaders behooren hier te blijven; laat de jònge menschen

trekken,” antwoordt de leeuwenjager.

Er volgt een pauze.

„Het wordt een ernstige strijd,” zegt Kloppers; „een strijd op leven en
dood!”

„Ja, op leven en dood,” zegt de leeuwenjager; „de twee volgende

maanden brengen ons den ondergang of de overwinning!”

„De overwinning en de zegepraal!” roept vrouw Kloppers.

Zij is opgestaan; zij heeft de hand op haren bijbel gelegd.

Hare oogen stralen als van een profetes uit het oude Verbond.

„De Heere zal zich ontfermen over ons volk,” zegt zij met luide,
plechtige stem, „en Hij zal ons voeren uit den strik der heidenen!”
[Inhoud]
 HOOFDSTUK XXII.

Pretorius, de man met het moedige hart en het schrandere brein, de

man, wien de onverwelkelijke eere zal verblijven, dat hij onder diep
ontmoedigende omstandigheden den hachelijken strijd tegen den
Koning der Zoeloe’s dorst aan te binden, was met zijn Boeren op
marsch gegaan. Allen waren van het gewicht en den ernst hunner
taak [155]doordrongen; allen wisten het, dat de strijd zou uitloopen op
zegepraal of ondergang.

Waar de kleine Tugela zich met de groote Tugela vereenigt, sloot de

wakkere Karel Landman zich met zijn manschappen aan bij het
kommando, dat nu vierhonderd zeven blanken telde.

Pretorius stelde op alles orde. Bij elken wagen moesten twee

hekkens (schanskorven van doorntakken) zijn ter afsluiting der open
ruimte tusschen de voor- en achterwielen, als men in lager stond,
terwijl deze hekkens door zware ijzere kettingen werden verzekerd.

Elken morgen werd de krijgswet, die door allen was bezworen,

voorgelezen, en bij elken marsch trokken verspreide patrouilles van
vijf man vooruit, om de veiligheid van den omtrek te bespieden.

De ammunitie, de proviand en de kampbenoodigdheden waren

verladen op een trein van zeven en vijftig ossenwagens, die in
breede rijen van vier wagens, door een sterke voor- en achterhoede
gedekt, voorttrokken.

Men trok nu het eigenlijke Zoeloeland in, en den 7den December

(1838) bracht een patrouille twee Kaffers mede, door Matowaan, een
door Dingaan onderworpen Kafferhoofd, als parlementairs den
Boeren tegemoet gezonden.