“Then come with me, if you’re so concerned for my safety.”
I stared at his outstretched fingers. “What?”
Someone had tried to kill me. I didn’t think Lucien was dangerous, just spoiled, but still. Waltzing into the woods at night with only the company of a fellow student was hardly wise. Right?
Then why did I want to do it so badly?
“Or don’t,” Lucien said, withdrawing his hand. His gaze brushed mine before he turned away, and the touch of it sent an electric thrill through me.
“Wait!” I called out. “Aren’t you concerned about running into more fragmyrs?”
He’d already disappeared into the underbrush.
Was he insane?
I grabbed the shovel and scrambled up the stone wall after him before I had time to think. I wasn’t going to watch him walk alone into danger. That wasn’t remotely ethical. Last time, if I hadn’t been there, he’d have been attacked. Or worse. And thanks to Jor-Ass’s lessons, I was getting seriously proficient in fighting fae monsters.
I plunged into the forest after Lucien.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
ENTERING THE FOREST was like stepping into another world.
All the protestations melted from my mind as I gazed around in stunned awe. Luminous purple flowers grew in thick tangles up the trunks of the trees and dripped from the branches. Fireflies danced in the shadows and thickets. The moss was as thick as carpet beneath my feet, and a faint tinkle of windchimes drifted on the breeze like a ghostly echo.
Pale, glowing moths flitted among the flowers, casting flickering, elongated shadows among the leaves and vines as they landed.
“What is this place?” I breathed.
“Not as monstrous as you thought?” Lucien said. He was watching me with a hint of satisfaction on his face, as if he’d suspected I would be enchanted and was pleased to confirm his guess.
“This is the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen,” I whispered. “And that’s saying a lot, because all of Spellwood is beautiful. But this…” I didn’t want to try to summon the right words to describe it, because I just wanted to look at it. “Everything is glowing.”
“It’s the closest thing to my home in Spellwood,” Lucien murmured. “The dark court.”
I stole a glance at him. He was staring at one of the glowing moths with wistful contemplation. Then, he shook his head and started deeper into the woods.
I followed.
The moss squished beneath my shoes. The plants around me were dark green and purple, almost black, some of them speckled with glowing spots that glittered like tiny stars. Our footsteps startled a snow-white stag with faint purple stripes, and it loped away into the velvet twilight.
“Do you come here often?” I asked, tipping my head back to see the forest canopy above. The glow of the moths and the winking light of the fireflies made me feel like I’d stumbled into a starfield.
“Sometimes,” Lucien said. “It is technically off-limits.”
“Has that ever stopped you?” I challenged.
He gave me an indecipherable look.
“What’s dangerous about this place?” I asked after a pause. I could feel my pulse beating fast in my ears. Part of me wanted to return to school grounds, and another part of me wanted to stay forever in this glowing paradise.
“The forests are the edge between Spellwood and the wild fae lands surrounding it. They’re ungoverned by any of the courts, and sometimes rogue creatures or fae wander through.” Lucien stopped to push a cluster of low-hanging branches aside so he could look at the bark of one of the trees. “Look,” he said. “Someone stripped pieces away here. Bark from this type of tree is part of the fragmyr spell.”
He straightened, letting the branches drop. “Some of the protection charms from the schoolgrounds still protect us from intruders here, but the farther we go, the weaker the charms get. Middlings especially tend to wander too far without realizing it.”
“Has anyone ever gotten hurt?” I asked.
“Yes.” Lucien said simply.
We reached a grove of ancient, almost petrified, trees. The leaves looked silver in the moonlight.
A large, wolf-like dog appeared from the shadows and trotted forward to lick Lucien’s hand.
The dog that had been with him the first day, I realized.
Lucien pulled food from his pocket and fed the dog from his palm. He murmured something to the dog, who pricked its ears up at the sound of Lucien’s voice. Lucien patted the dog’s head.
“Why bring him if pets aren’t allowed?” I asked.
Lucien didn’t look up from stroking the dog’s head. “I feared for what would happen to Flock if I left him behind. I’m not exactly a favorite at court.”
Flock the dog thumped his tail and thrust his nose into Lucien’s hand. I stared at them both, aghast. Someone might kill his dog if he left it behind? What nightmare did he live in?
“Surely Spellwood could make an exception for one dog, under such circumstances—”
“Well,” Lucien said, giving Flock a final pat before straightening again. “He isn’t a dog.”
I wasn’t sure what that meant, and I was dying to ask, but I kept my mouth shut.
Lucien was skittish enough. I wanted him to know that I was safe to be around, that he wouldn’t be peppered with constant, intrusive questions from me.
Our walk back to the school grounds was quiet, but in a companionable way. The forest glowed and fluttered and whispered. Once or twice, a moon-bright moth brushed past my cheek, eliciting a gasp from me.
Lucien watched me experiencing the wonder of the forest with an expression I couldn’t quite decipher. He seemed almost shy, as if he’d shown me something personal about himself.
When we reached the edge of the forest, I stopped to take one last look at the dark beauty around us.
“Did you like it?” he asked.
“I loved it,” I breathed. “It’s almost… familiar… like the memory of a dream I had years and years ago. It’s like I only just realized I’ve been missing a place I’ve never been before.”
“Don’t come here alone,” Lucien said, studying me. “It isn’t safe.”
“I won’t.”
I looked at him, and my stomach flip-flopped at the intensity in his eyes. The wind blew a tendril of my hair across my face, and he lifted his hand to brush it away. His fingers touched my skin, and a spark of heat passed between us.
Lucien stiffened. He stilled and then pulled away.
“Goodnight,” he said curtly, and then he headed for the school without another word.
I stared after him, confused by his sudden coldness.
Was it something I’d done?
~
The next day, Lucien refused to look at me in the dining hall. I caught sight of him crossing the lawn between classes, and he strode past as if I wasn’t there.
When I arrived at the Cistern that evening, I tried to speak to him, and he cut me off and ignored me for the rest of the night.
After that, we didn’t speak again during our punishment.
CHAPTER TWENTY
ALL OF SPELLWOOD was abuzz with anticipation, because it was finally, FINALLY, time to choose our societies.
Nobody got anything done in any of our classes. The students were distracted, whispering behind their hands and passing notes up and down the rows. The teachers scolded, threatened, and finally dismissed early in relief, as was the custom.
In our room, Lyrica and Hannah nervously planned their outfits while Tearly made a brief appearance to give a panicked speech about the state of the Dewdrop decorations before vanishing down the stairs again. Lyrica was dressed in shimmering ivory and silver, with frosted color on her eyelids and lips. She had flowers in her hair and vines of honeysuckle twined around her arms and legs and waist. She looked like an expensive cosplay of a fairy bride.
Hannah was dressed in black leather leggings and a black shirt. She had gotten someone to spell tattoos of flames across her arms, a
nd they flickered with a dull orange glow as she moved.
I was wearing the green shirt and jeans I’d brought from home, but I’d paid a fae girl two packs of gum and a candy bar to magic an intricate golden mask across the upper part of my face. The spell felt like a sunburn across my skin, tight and tingling with heat. She’d also put flickers of gold in my hair and spelled it into braids and curls that hung down my back in a beautiful cascade.
Since my six weeks of punishment had finished, I was able to stay and get ready with everyone else. Annoyingly, I was distracted by thoughts of Lucien and his confusing behavior. What had happened that caused him to suddenly and abruptly ignore me?
When the sun sank behind the trees and the sky turned indigo, we ventured downstairs and out onto the gravel path, which had been lined with flaming torches.
The whole campus felt like a carnival. Stringed lights winked in the trees. Music drifted on the wind. Students moved past in giggling groups, the first years sticking together in their nervousness.
First stop—Dewdrop.
Dewdrop’s party was held on the great lawn between the main school buildings and the library. Twinkling lanterns dangled from poles between tents made of exquisite silks and velvets in a rainbow of colors. Woven rugs in purple, pink, and silver covered the grass between the tents, forming the floor of a beautiful outdoor room. Couches and floor cushions were positioned at intervals between and inside the tents, creating a space to gather, sit, and talk. On the lawn outside, society members and potential recruits were playing games of croquet and tossing hoops. Others were dancing on a dance floor ringed with fluttering ribbons and garlands of flowers. Someone was passing out glass goblets filled with lemonade.
Already, the couches were packed with prospective recruits. First-year students swarmed everywhere, drinking lemonade and allowing Dewdrop members to paint colors on their lips and eyelids.
“Where are the cupcakes?” Hannah asked. “After all the fuss about them, I feel like I should eat six.”
We looked around and spotted a table in one of the tents. A six-tier cupcake holder stood on top of it, and upon that sat the much-discussed cupcakes.
“Oooh,” Lyrica squealed. “They’re like little cakes! Small as cups!”
That was when we realized Lyrica didn’t know what cupcakes were.
Tearly intercepted us. She was resplendent in a violet and silver dress that shimmered faintly as she moved. “Friends,” she cried, spreading her arms. “Welcome!”
“We’re here for the cupcakes,” I told her with a grin.
Tearly gestured with pride at the tent. “Go and see what I hath wrought with my creative genius. Well, what the cook’s assistant who we bribed with candy canes hath wrought.”
Each cupcake was topped with a castle surrounded by clouds. Light glowed from within the castle windows.
“My idea!” Hannah said, triumphant. “I inspired you! See, this is why you should do the reading.”
“There’s more, there’s more. Take a bite and see what’s inside,” Tearly urged us, and we each chose one perfect confection and held it in our hands.
Up close, the castles revealed even more detail. Tiny bricks around the windows and doors, a training green vine that climbed the tallest tower, and a horse and carriage the size of my thumb nail. I could smell the sweet scent of sugar, but I was almost sorry to demolish this beautiful work of art.
Lyrica had already bitten into hers. She examined the cake portion and gasped. “Look,” she called to us. “Look inside!”
The inside of the cupcake had a hollowed portion filled with gelatinous liquid to look like a lake beneath the castle. A tiny, sugar-made staircase descended to it, and a boat of sugar sat upon the lake. Lyrica broke open the sugar castle and found that it was populated with tiny sugar people dancing before a sugar fire spelled to flicker like real flame.
“Good lord, Tearly,” I said. “This is a literal masterpiece.”
Tearly practically glowed at my praise. “Oh, it’s all right,” she said with a grin. “I suppose it’s fit to eat.”
A student as tall as a mountain ambled up to the table, snatched a cupcake, and downed it in a single bite without so much as a glance at the design. He turned and looked at us sheepishly when he realized we’d seen him.
“Hello,” he said around his mouthful of cupcake.
“Craig,” Tearly said sharply, “the cupcakes are for potential recruits and Dewdrop members only.”
Craig winked at her. “Girl, you know if I could join two societies, I would join yours.”
“Out!” she commanded, her cheeks flushing pink. “Go back to your fellow toads.”
“Who is that?” Hannah asked after the still-smiling Craig strolled away.
“Oh, nobody,” Tearly said. She flicked her hair away from her face with an annoyed gesture. “Just a guy.” She straightened. “So, who’s joining Dewdrop?”
Lyrica finished her cupcake and carefully wiped her hands on a cloth napkin plucked from a basket nearby. “Me,” she said.
“Aren’t you going to see the other societies first?” Hannah asked.
Lyrica shook her head. “I know I’m going to choose Dewdrop. I’d rather just stay here, play games, and dance.”
Hannah shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
After we both ate another cupcake at Tearly’s insistence, Hannah and I set off across the great lawn through the warm darkness toward the promise of more parties.
We passed the pond in front of the library, which had lit torches posted all around it. Two male students clad in black robes stood in front of the pond, holding staves in their hands as if guarding something. A glance between them revealed a dark, wet-looking hole the size of a small round door, with steps leading downward into darkness. The torchlight danced on them, revealing mushy footprints.
“What is that?” Hannah asked.
One of the students answered her proudly. “We spelled a room beneath the pond. You can see through it like a glass ceiling. Want to see? We’ve got appleblood punch and lots of mortal candy in there.”
Hannah shook her head, her hair swishing. “Er, no. Thanks.”
The boys looked disappointed, but undeterred.
This must be Toadcurdle’s party, then. Now that I looked, I could see lights moving beneath the water of the pond independent of the torches’ reflections. The sound of heavy metal drifted faintly from the hole.
I was curious about what the underside of the pond might look like, and I was tempted by the offer of candy, but I was unwilling to venture through that wet and muddy hole to get there, and Hannah was pulling on my arm to signal she wanted to go. We hurried toward the library.
“Toadcurdle is weird,” Hannah muttered.
We reached the library and stepped inside behind a string of first-year girls who were all dressed in flowing, rust-colored gowns. They had golden flowers in their hair and branches twisted artfully around their arms and necks. One glanced back at me, and her eyes were so blue they were almost white. The effect was startling and hypnotic.
As soon as the door closed behind us, I became aware of the sounds in the library.
The clink of spoons against teacups, the passionate murmurs of arguments and orations coming from all over the room… and the drumming of raindrops against the windowpanes and roof. I looked around, startled, and saw water sluicing down the rippled stain glass of the windows. Lightning flashed, and thunder growled cozily.
“Enchantment,” Hannah whispered in my ear.
A Stormtongue approached us, bearing a tray of pots surrounded by small, cage-like balls on the ends of tiny chains. Tea infusers, I realized. My grandmother had some. The pots held loose-leaf tea.
“Choose your tea,” he said. “Cinnamelon, for energetic debates, if you like, or perhaps chavendolix, for tranquil discussions, or a black loblolly blend for acting prowess.” He indicated the pots with a sweep of his free hand.
There must have been a dozen different teas, none of which I�
�d heard of before. I chose one called carrablanche, for clear-headedness and confidence according to the Stormtongue with the tray, and Hannah picked a red merith blend for strength. We spooned our chosen teas into tea infusers, and the Stormtongue pointed us toward a table of steaming kettles to fill our cups.
A stage had been erected in the back of the library, and various Stormtongue members were taking turns reciting poetry or performing short skits upon it. Most of the skits were based on life at Spellwood, filled with little references and jokes that I was just beginning to grasp after a few weeks here. Between performances, members served platters of sweet bread and tea cakes. Many of the first years, however, were grouped around seasoned Stormtongue members, engaged in conversation and debates.
My tea warmed me, and a pleasant feeling worked its way through my limbs after a few minutes of drinking it. I felt grounded and part of Spellwood, as though I’d always belonged. It was a nice feeling.
“The teas seem to be lightly spelled,” Hannah said after gulping hers down. “They are quite potent, aren’t they? I feel like I could run a marathon. Let’s go now before it fades. I need this strength to get to the Flameforge party.”
Part of me wanted to linger longer, observe the plays and ask a few questions, but I let Hannah pull me toward the door.
I could always return later in the evening, I told myself, and followed my roommate into the warm night once more.
Flameforge, Hannah explained, always held their society recruitment party somewhere difficult to reach. Only those who could make it to the party were able to join the society.
This year, they’d built a treehouse of tightly woven branches high in the trees of the west woods.
We crossed the lawn again, heading for the forest. We passed a few first years sitting on the grass, looking overwhelmed and starry-eyed at the choices they faced. Ribbons were strewn about at intervals, remnants of some earlier Dewdrop frolic, and near the tree line someone had planted a single torch, which had gone out, and was sending up curls of white smoke into the night.
Spellwood Academy Page 11
