“You remember my name,” I breathed out.
He chuckled. “I might not have the best memory around, but it’s not that bad. You just told me who you were. How could I forget so fast? Besides, I like it.” His gaze skimmed across my face and his smile widened. “It’s pretty.”
“My name’s French. For flower,” I said by rote.
He remembered.
Was the bespelling wearing off?
My heart stumbled over the idea and rushed down the staircase. I grabbed the rail and yanked myself to a halt before I was dragged away. Bitterness tainted the back of my tongue.
Bespellings never wore off. They lasted forever unless they were unraveled.
Unraveled. Reaching into my moonstone, I sorted through the waiting threads, seeking the black.
Where was it? I tossed aside a yellow. A blue. A red.
No black.
“You still with me?” Donovan asked. “You’re not feeling like you’re going to pass out, are you?”
“I’m fine.” Damn black thread. Where had it gone?
I needed to focus on what was happening with Donovan.
He was still touching me.
Did contact make a difference?
Eben rounded the stairwell and stopped before he ran into us. A sneer rose on his face. “Isn’t this sweet.” He barreled down the stairs, jarring us sideways.
Donovan steadied me before his hands fell to his sides.
“Ass.” He watched Eben open the door to the second floor and step into the hall. When his eyes fell on me again, that spark I’d savored had snuffed out.
As if we’d randomly met in the stairwell, he nodded and moved around me.
Turning, I watched him walk out of my life all over again.
“Hey, Donovan,” I called out before he rounded the landing.
He glanced up. “Hey.” The crooked grin he casually delivered kicked me in the chest. My knees shook.
“Do you know my name?” I croaked. There was no hiding the agony in my voice.
Catching the tone, he frowned. “I don’t,” he said slowly. “Should I?”
I shook my head.
While I bit back my tears, he continued down the stairs.
My footsteps dragged as I followed.
* * *
I reached Cloven’s office and went inside.
“Fleur!” he said. “Just in time.” Smiling, he waved to a small buffet table set up along one wall. “Our dinner awaits.”
I gaped at the platters filled with burgers and fries and chicken tenders. A big bowl of salad sat beside it. Crusty hunks of bread released a warm, yeasty aroma, waiting to be topped with thick slabs of butter from the small plate sitting nearby. A steaming platter of loaded nachos oozed cheese over the edge. And bowls of various heat levels of salsa awaited chip dipping.
Heartsick, I didn’t feel like eating a bite.
Rounding his desk, Cloven rubbed his hands. “I’m famished. While I was tempted to dig in without you, I held myself back.” The laugh bursting from him told me how much he’d look forward to us sharing dinner.
I’d make myself eat rather than disappoint him.
Yes, I was a wreck about Donovan, but my belly must’ve decided it didn’t care. It told me to load up a plate and dig in. “Is that all for us?”
Beaming, Cloven hefted his arms out at his sides as a rueful grin rose on his face. “I’m hungry. Thought you might be, too.”
I shut the door behind me and stepped farther inside. “I am, but this is enough for an army.”
“Maybe we’re preparing for battle?”
His comment shut down the light mood I’d been striving for. He was right, with a Bespeller and a prankster on the loose, we were at war.
“Load a plate and have a seat,” he said. His grin grew again as I scooped up salad, a few chicken tenders and spicy dip, plus a generous load of nachos. I drizzled hot salsa over the chips and added a scoop each of sour cream and guac on the side then sat at the desk on the visitor side.
After taking salad and grabbing the plate containing the rest of the nachos, Cloven joined me, sinking into his leather office chair with a hearty sigh.
We munched in relaxing silence for a while, the only sound in the room our huffs of appreciation. Yes, my life was tenuous, but we were talking Level Five nachos.
With our plates ditched on the buffet table, we sat again at the desk. A low clunk drew my attention back to the buffet, I found the table and leftovers gone, spirited away for cleaning.
“First off,” Cloven said. He leaned back in his chair and settled his clasped hands on his belly. “I wanted to assure you that Justine and I have hired the best warder in the parallel realm to create the spells here at the Academy. You can feel completely safe on campus.”
“The beatleycarne pushed me in the staircase a few minutes ago.”
Eyes popping, his chair clunked forward. “What?”
I explained. “It also jumped from the ceiling, into my hair, earlier, after I left our private lesson. When it threw cookies at me the other day, I stupidly believed the pranks would be cute.”
“We can’t let this happen again. There is another, more permanent solution,” he said, holding up a finger. “I’ll call a magical exterminator right away.”
Such a thing existed?
He mindspoke for a moment before nodding. “They’ll be here within the hour. No need to worry any longer. This crew comes highly recommended.”
“What will they do?” I pictured the time we had an ant problem and Mom called the exterminator. They went around the house, spraying stinky stuff that made me sneeze.
“Set traps. They’ll catch and rehome the beatleycarne by morning.”
“That would be a relief.” One thing less to worry about. I could let Tria know she was off the hook. “So, back to the wards. Not to be unkind, but you and the Headmistress created wards to keep Professor Mealor from calling students into the woods to kill them. I’m not sure I completely trust them.”
He winced. “You’re right. That was bungled but partly because the Professor was in on the plan. We couldn’t know he’d been masking his slake background for years. But we did operate with good intentions when we set the wards.”
“I appreciate that. Tell me more about this warder. Will these spells work differently than the others?”
“That’s the ingenious part.” He leaned forward, his eyes alight. “The wards are designed to prevent a Bespeller from casting more than a weak, ineffective spell.” He rubbed his hands together. “I imagine she—or he—is feeling the pinch already.”
“Sounds awesome, but they’ll wear off.” Unlike a bespelling, wards faded.
“The Council has made this a special project. In addition to the warder specialist, they’ve sent two additional Level Five Warders who will renew the wards on an ongoing basis, before they begin to dissipate. This is why I can speak with complete confidence about your safety. You will not be harmed again.” His fierceness came across like a mama bear protecting her cubs.
Tria should tell him he was her grandfather soon. He mourned his wife’s death. The loss of his sons. He’d be happy to learn he still had family.
Feeling relatively assured with Council warders on campus, I shifted in my seat, eager to quiz Cloven about a few other things. “Can I ask you a question?” Or two or three, but I’d build up to it.
“Sure.” Sitting back, he propped his heels on the corner of his desk and clasped his hands behind his neck. “Shoot.”
“Can you tell me more about bespellings? Someone told me a Bespeller can’t bespell themselves.”
“Completely true.”
“And that an Unraveler can’t eliminate a bespelling directed at them.”
“Also sadly true. I can see where you’re going with this. A Bespeller eliminated your ability to flit and you’re hoping to unravel the spell once you reach the appropriate Level skapti.”
“I can survive without flitting.” I forced a chuck
le to reassure him but inside, the thought that someone could make me perform in any way they chose with a simple spell unsettled me. I’d yet to pin down the exact moment I’d lost my ability, though I’d identified the loss the day when we defeated the nightlace. “My friends can flit me as needed and, if nothing else, I’m getting some exercise.”
“If you’d like, I can ask the Court Bespeller for a charm.”
“You think he’ll help me?”
“She.”
“She, then. The king isn’t exactly a member of my fan club.” And I wasn’t sure I’d want to pay the steep price. I wanted my feet to remain scale-free. Flitting wasn’t that vital.
“We could…I hate to even suggest it. But we could ask Katya instead.”
“Let’s hold off asking for a charm for now, okay?” I was already in debt to Sirra. And, if I knew Katya, I’d owe her a favor soon enough. No reason to owe her for a charm as well.
“You say the word, and I’ll flit to her shop,” he said. “A charm could be delivered to you within a few hours.”
“I appreciate it.” I swallowed and pressed for more information. “My friends said there are rules to magic and that’s why I can’t use an unraveling on myself. But I can see why a Bespeller would want to cast a spell on themselves.”
“Hmm.” His shoes landed on the floor and he placed his forearms on his desk, leaning forward. “While I understand why an Unraveler would wish to undo a bespelling directed at them, such as you with your flitting, what sort of spell would a Bespeller cast on themselves?”
“To change their appearance.”
“Interesting notion. And you’ve made a solid point. You’re suggesting our Bespeller could be wearing a disguise, much like when the Bespeller turned Alys into nightlace.” He shook his index finger at me and grinned. “Very clever on your part. We’re dealing with someone devious. While they couldn’t do it to themselves, the other Bespeller is quite capable of creating the bespelling for them. It’s worth looking into.” He frowned and his gaze narrowed, telling me he was pinging someone. After a moment, he nodded to me. “The Headmistress will speak with Katya and the Court Bespeller and ask if they’ve created a disguise for anyone in the kingdom.”
“What if it’s Blaine? When the nightlace killed Sarah, you were worried he was on campus, directing the nightlace to hunt outlings. What if he’s still here, still after us?”
“With a decent disguise, the Bespeller could be anyone. Blaine. A professor. Even a student. But remember, Blaine’s skapti isn’t bespelling. He could manipulate plants. Remember? That’s why we suspected it could be him controlling the nightlace. But short of getting someone to make him a charm…” Cloven held up his hand. “Hold on. Justine’s pinging me.” His brow drew together then cleared. “She spoke with them both and they swear they didn’t bespell anyone to change their appearance. She’ll also ask about charms, but I assume that’s a no as well.”
My hands tightened on my legs. “What if we’re dealing with two rogue Bespellers? Or a rogue Bespeller working with someone like Blaine. Each completing one part of the puzzle.”
“Everyone is tested when they’re young. The odds of even one Bespeller slipping through are nearly impossible.”
“Yet, here we are.”
“You’re right, but I don’t believe we’re dealing with two individuals, just one. And we’ll catch him or her. I promise. Until then, you can trust in our wards to protect you. Protect all of us.” He chuckled. “Have to admit, though. You had me for a moment. Imagine if Blaine was actually hidden among us. Hunting outlings. Hunting you. It’s a nightmare.”
Living one, actually.
“At this point,” he said. “I suggest you focus on your classes and leave finding the Bespeller to us.” His gaze fell on my hand resting on the table. The bandage had recently renewed itself and it gleamed whitely. “You have enough to deal with already.”
The last time I’d left things to Seekers, I’d almost died.
Like before, I’d look into this myself. I’d just have to be careful to scoot beneath Cloven—and the Council’s—eyes.
“How is your hand?” Cloven asked sharply. His gaze hadn’t left it.
“It hurts.”
“We’re all terribly sorry it happened.” His voice grew hushed. “Professor Grim had to be sedated.”
“He did?”
“He was horrified. Took it very personally. In fact, he was tempted to return to the cliffs and destroy every beatleycarne in the cave to ensure something like that never happened again.”
I hadn’t thought my heart could warm to the Grim Reaper, but it did now.
“It’s not Professor Grim’s fault,” I said. “It’s scary having a prankster after me, but the Bespeller has made things worse.”
Swallowing deeply, Cloven lifted his eyes to meet mine. “Have you decided what you’ll do about your hand?”
If I told him about Katya, would he prevent me from going? A charm to let me flit was one thing, but for something like this?
“I have time to decide,” I said.
“Five days.”
“Please.” As if it sensed my anguish, spasms shot through my hand. I flexed my fingers, grateful they still responded to my brain’s command. How long before they lay limply when I tried to use them?
“Don’t ever think a hand is worth dying for,” he said gravely.
“I know. Someone will make me a prosthesis.”
“While that’s certainly true, it wasn’t what I was saying. I meant you’re special.”
“You’ve said this before but you haven’t explained what it means. And I have no idea how me being special—” I made air quotes. “—relates to my hand.”
“From the moment I met you, I’ve believed you would achieve greatness. That’s been proven by the moonstone that chose you. And your multiple skaptis.”
“Multiples are not that uncommon.”
“Only half a percent of wizards have more than one skapti.”
Okay, so it was a bit unusual. “I’m an Unraveler. The other skills are just…anomalies.”
“Few wizards can throw fireballs.”
I brushed his comment aside with a flick of my hand. “By the way, I found a Master to teach me.”
A long pause was followed by his shout. “What?”
“Minerva.”
“Minerva?” The name shot from his mouth, and he strained forward. “Where did you…?”
I grinned, savoring his excitement. It wasn’t often I had the chance to stun Cloven. “She says hi. Said to tell you she thinks about you a lot and hopes you’re okay.”
He slumped back in his chair, his shoulders falling. “It can’t be.”
I held up my left hand with her ring encircling my finger. I’d kept it hidden from view until now, to surprise him. “She’s awesome.”
Rising, he strode around the chair and held my wrist steady, studying the ring. “Where did you get this?”
I explained about finding the room. To avoid mentioning Tria, I didn’t bring up the journal. “I unraveled a spell attached to the chest in the room and inside, I found the ring. When I put it on, Minerva appeared.”
“Unraveled?”
“I believe it was a Level One unraveling since I use bits of black threads left from the night we defeated the nightlace.”
It made sense Minerva would hide the ring with a simple ward that could be released at the right time or with a baby unraveling. She’d been waiting for someone to find her.
Me.
“You mentioned meeting her while you were unconscious,” he said. “But I thought it was a dream.” As if he needed the support to hold himself up, he braced himself against the side of his desk. “I didn’t dare believe you’d actually met her. She was the last Unraveler our world has known.”
And to think they’d banished her. None of this made sense. Without an Unraveler, a Bespeller could do whatever they pleased and no one would know.
Shivers rippled through me, a
nd I bolted upright in my chair. “Everyone’s been bespelled to forget about the sixth family.” I tilted my head and studied his face, taking in his achingly sad expression. “Yet you haven’t forgotten, have you?”
“Not everything.” His sigh went on for a long time and, for whatever reason, he didn’t meet my eye. “But what I know is elusive, like a wispy memory I can’t bring to the surface.”
Interesting. If I asked, would he tell me what little he remembered?
His face shuttered, and he crossed his arms on his chest, suggesting no.
“Who wanted everyone to forget?” I asked.
“The Council. I imagine they thought this was the best way to make the situation disappear. The other families, while not directly involved, were upset, as well. A bespelling ended any lingering conflict immediately.”
“Your mother was the matriarch of the sixth family. You’re the child she was pregnant with when she was banished.”
“Justine is the only other person who knows this about me.”
Tria did, but again, I wouldn’t betray her trust. “What about your sons? You must’ve told them. And your wife.”
His gaze fell from mine. “I didn’t.”
“Why?”
He shrugged. “To protect them. Many despise my family for what happened. Why bring it up and subject my wife and children to scorn?”
“It’s your history.”
“It hurts to think about it. And it’s best if everyone in the Elite world forgets.”
“What happened?”
Rounding his desk, he sunk back into his chair. “You know much of it, I believe.”
“Your mother’s consort bespelled the patriarch of the third family.”
He dipped his head. “My father.”
Horror filled me. I’d been flippant about something that had to be painful. “He was killed for the crime,” I whispered.
Cloven’s chest rose and fell.
“Your mother continued the feud and they banished her,” I said. “She hid in the room beneath the Academy. Maybe even gave birth to you there.”
“And there it is. My past brought back to life.”
While he confirmed this, he didn’t meet my eyes. Why?
Crystal Wing Academy- The Complete Series Page 63
