One of the voices sounded like my grandmother’s. I sucked in a startled breath, pushed back the blanket covering me, and slid off the chairs. As I stood, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror that hung over the headmaster’s desk.
My hair was threaded with glowing strands of gold. My eyes blazed like small suns. My skin had the faintest sheen when I loved, like I had glitter in my pores.
Shock rippled across my skin as I gazed at my reflection. My pulse thundered.
What had happened to me?
I crept to the door and put my ear against it to listen.
“She’s going to find out eventually. It’ll be better this way.”
That was definitely Grandmother Azalea’s voice.
I yanked open the door and ran into her arms with a cry. Tears filled my eyes as she hugged me tight against her.
More arms enveloped me. Mom. I closed my eyes and allowed myself to feel safe and whole for a moment.
Just a moment, though. That’s all the time I allowed before I pulled away and unleashed the torrent of questions I had. “What’s going on? How did you get here? Am I going to be expelled?”
Over their shoulders, I spotted Headmaster Windswallow striding toward us down the hall. Her expression was grim.
My stomach dropped.
I already had a reputation as a troublemaker. I’d already been given two detentions. Would they believe me when I explained what happened? Would Headmaster Windswallow be more inclined to listen with my mom and Grandmother Azalea watching?
How would I even begin to explain?
“Miss Solschild,” she said. “If you would join us in my office, please.”
I shot a glance at my mom and Grandmother Azalea before we followed the winged woman inside. She closed the door behind us and indicated that we should sit.
“What happened?” I asked, my lips numb. “Is Lucien okay? Is Tearly?”
The headmaster took a seat with a rustle of her feathers and studied me a moment across her broad desk. “What happened after you left the maze, Kyra?”
Did that mean Tearly was on the loose?
I licked my lower lip. “Tearly…” My voice trembled, and I shut my eyes and took a deep breath to steady it. “You’ve got to find her. Tearly drugged all of the other students with charmwine, and then she tried to kill Lucien and me. She’s been secretly using charms to make attempts on my life. This was the latest one. She used the maze to trap us, and then she brought a statue to life and herded us to where she was waiting with a bow and arrow. I know it sounds crazy, but—”
“Not so crazy, Miss Solschild.” Headmaster Windswallow’s tone was kind. “Help arrived just as she was letting loose an arrow at your heart. She was restrained immediately by your defense teacher, actually.”
“Jor-Ass?” I was astonished. For some reason, I couldn’t fathom him coming to my rescue.
“That’s Sir Joras to you,” Headmaster Windswallow corrected, but a smile hovered at the edges of her lips.
I wondered if I wasn’t the first to call him that.
A sigh escaped me. “Did Tearly say anything? What will happen to her now? And what about Lucien?”
“Lucien is recovering well and seems to be uninjured. Tearly is currently awaiting the discipline of her court. She will be punished severely for her actions.”
Lucien was safe. Tearly was… well, I couldn’t think about that now. It made me want to curl into a ball and weep. I didn’t have time for that right now. I had to figure out what was going on.
“Am I going to be expelled?” I whispered.
A brief smile touched Headmaster Windswallow’s lips. “No, Miss Solschild. We do not expel students for using magic under life or death instances of self-defense. You acted bravely and saved both your life and that of Lucien. You shall be commended.”
“Magic?” I managed, confused.
“Your summoning of light to confuse your attacker and signal to everyone at the party at the same time was brilliant, my dear,” Headmaster Windswallow said. “Nonlethal and extremely effective. I’d heard you were a good student in your Danger and Defense class, and I believe it fully.”
“But I didn’t use magic,” I interrupted. “I can’t use magic. I’m a middling. A near mortal. I know you’ve punished me before for it, but… you were mistaken. I’m not capable of it.”
Headmaster Windswallow looked at my mom and grandmother with her eyebrows raised.
“I see there are things the three of you still need to discuss,” she said. “You may have use of my office as long as you need it.”
“Thank you,” Grandmother Azalea said.
The headmaster rose gracefully and went to the door. She paused and looked over her shoulder at me.
“Kyra,” she said, “I’m proud of you.”
When she’d gone, I looked at my mom and grandmother.
“What’s going on?”
My mom swallowed and looked at her hands. “I’m afraid your grandmother and I are the ones who have been lying to you, Kyra.”
“Omitting the truth,” Grandmother Azalea said in a tone that suggested they’d had this argument over semantics before.
“Regardless,” my mom said, “it’s time you knew the truth. The full truth.”
Her eyes glimmered with tears as she leaned forward and took my hands in hers.
“Your father wasn’t just any fae,” she said. “He was powerful in magic, and a political opponent of the king on the throne. When I was pregnant with you, he was killed—some said he was murdered, though it was never proven. I fled back to the mortal world to keep you safe, and told his family when they came looking that I’d miscarried you.”
I stared at her, barely able to absorb everything she’d just told me.
My mom checked my expression carefully as if looking for horror or anger. Her brow wrinkled, and she paused, pressing her lips together the way she did when she was about to do something that made her nervous. “There’s more. We… I… told you another untruth. I didn’t want you to be recognized. I told the school—and you, so you wouldn’t have to try to remember a lie or feel any worries about it—”
Grandmother Azalea laid a hand on my mom’s arm. My mom took a deep, steadying breath.
“I told you before that your father was from the summer court. But that wasn’t true. He… he was from the sun court.”
The sun court? The royal court of the fae? The most powerful court of all? The sworn enemies of the dark court?
My world telescoped. I was speechless as my understanding of the world rearranged itself yet again.
My glowing hair. My golden eyes I’d glimpsed in the mirror.
My eyes…
Lucien.
Your eyes. They flashed golden.
He’d been right—and I’d sworn to him that he was wrong. I’d told him to trust me! He, from the dark court, when I was from the sun court.
“Don’t be afraid,” my mom said, probably taking my expression for one of alarm. “Your fae blood is strong. You have magical abilities, Kyra. Power. You defeated your attacker. You rescued yourself.”
Did this mean I had accidentally attacked the student in my class? I hadn’t been framed after all?
I shook my head. “Why have I never felt it before? Why have I never accidentally made something glow in the dark, or enchanted the dog? I don’t understand.”
My mom cleared her throat. “Your grandmother Azalea and I performed a few, ah, charms to keep them subdued and hidden. We didn’t want to alarm you, or cause you to draw attention to yourself.”
“You didn’t tell me and you put charms on me.” An unsettling feeling dropped over me like a weighted blanket. My stomach curdled as everything I’d thought I’d known to be true shifted a little more.
My mom winced but nodded. “Yes.”
Grandmother Azalea lowered her head. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I understand if you are angry with us. If you need… time.”
Was I angry?
&
nbsp; I couldn’t tell what I was feeling. My dominant emotion at the moment was a numbness that I knew wasn’t going to last. Sooner or later, my emotions would come crashing through.
At least right now, I had the luxury of clear-headedness.
“I don’t think I’m angry,” I said slowly, parsing out the words. “Not for myself, I mean. I… I guess I understand why you did it. But…” I thought again of Lucien. Our kiss. Could I have hurt him?
My mom and Grandmother Azalea watched my face, their expressions haggard. I wanted to hug them both and whisper that it was going to be okay.
Was it going to be okay?
Their lies had consequences.
Thinking about all of it made me feel a million years old, and tired.
“It was dangerous of you to lie to me,” I said finally. “Dangerous for me, dangerous for other people. I’m not angry, I’m just, well, disappointed.”
The joke was ignored.
My grandmother rubbed her forehead like she’d lost a year of her life waiting for my reaction, and my mom let out something between a sigh and a sob.
“I’m truly sorry, Kyra,” she said.
“Anything else you want to tell me, since we’re confessing secrets?” I said.
“Ask anything you like,” Grandmother Azalea said. “We’ll tell you the answer. I promise you.”
I didn’t even know where to begin. I was overwhelmed trying to sort through the mountain of questions piled on my brain.
I touched a strand of hair that shimmered in the light.
“Why do I look so… so golden?”
“It must be an element of the powers we were suppressing,” my mom said. “When you used them, I guess you blasted to bits the charm that kept your true nature hidden.”
“Am I going to look like this forever now?” I turned my arm back and forth, marveling at the faint twinkles of gold I saw playing across my skin. It was beautiful… and unnerving. How would I ever be able to go out in public in the mortal world? I looked like a cosplayer.
I certainly didn’t look normal.
“Although charms are not normally allowed, we have permission from the headmaster to spell you again,” my mom said. “Since it’s for your safety. If you walk around looking like that, it might attract the kind of attention we’re looking to avoid.”
“My assassin?” I guessed.
She nodded.
I was glad. My new look would attract a lot of obvious attention that I wasn’t sure I wanted.
Something else occurred to me, and I felt a fresh pang of alarm. “If I’m a princess, do you have a claim to the sun court’s throne? Does that mean your life is in danger too, Mom?”
My mom shook her head. She brushed a hand across my cheek. “I was only a consort, and your father is no longer alive. The only royal blood in our family is you, Kyra.”
“The king of the sun court…” My thoughts tumbled over each other as I put the pieces of what she’d told me together. “He isn’t my father?”
“No. The sun king hails from a rival dynasty.”
So, Griffin wasn’t my brother or cousin or anything else that would make the fact that we kissed weird.
And Lucien wasn’t related to me either.
But.
But, but, but.
Lucien was from the dark court. I was from the sun court.
Seelie and unseelie.
Light and dark.
I remembered the words from the lecture.
Dark extinguishes the light. Light devours the dark. They are forever opposed. Naturally at war.
I had to talk to him. I had to try to explain.
“Where is Lucien?” I said to my mom.
“Lucien?”
“The guy who was with me. The headmaster said he was being treated for his injuries or something. I need to see him.”
“You need to rest,” my mom said, and put a hand against my cheek.
“Who is this Lucien?” my grandmother muttered. “Are you seeing him?”
I bit my lip. “He’s just a…” The word friend died on my lips. After tonight, I didn’t know what he’d be.
“I need to talk to him and see that he’s all right. Please—Mom, Grandmother Azalea.”
My mom held my gaze a moment. “You can’t tell anyone else about your father, Kyra. Or your secret heritage. It has to be a secret. Only Headmaster Windswallow and the other teacher who rescued you—Joras, was that his name? —can know.”
A hollow pit opened in my stomach.
“Nobody else,” my mom insisted. “It’s too dangerous.”
She was right. Lucien was from the dark court. I was attracted to him, and I might even like him, but I didn’t know if I could trust him. I didn’t know anything about him.
I wanted to tell him, but I couldn’t. I’d already been attacked by one friend tonight.
I couldn’t trust anyone at all.
“Kyra?” My mom waited for my reply.
I nodded and cleared my throat. “I won’t tell anyone else.”
“Good,” my mom whispered, and pulled me tight in a hug. “I love you.”
I gazed over her shoulder at the darkness outside. The bonfires glowed faintly in the distance even though the celebration was over. Summertide was past. I’d almost been assassinated by one of my best friends, and been kissed by my natural mortal enemy, and I’d survived both.
What might be waiting for me tomorrow at Spellwood Academy?
To be continued in fall 2019…
Book #2 in the Spellwood Academy series coming soon!
If you enjoyed this book, please leave a review on Amazon, Goodreads, or another review site!
WHILE YOU’RE WAITING FOR THE NEXT SPELLWOOD BOOK…
Check out the first chapter of Red Rider by Kate Avery Ellison
Werewolves. A human resistance. And a girl caught between two worlds.
Red Riding Hood meets The Handmaid’s Tale in this post-apocalyptic YA fairytale retelling!
In a land where a werewolf army called the Sworn rule over the humans and walking corpses called treecrawlers roam the wilderness between settlements, orphaned Red has a secret that she and her grandmother have been hiding for years. She’s one of the Chosen, the despised young women selected to bear children in the stead of barren female werewolves.
Red keeps her identifying mark hidden, and she doesn’t take advantage of the luxuries available to the future mothers of the Sworn. But her secret is discovered when she rescues her rebel boyfriend from execution for treason, and she can hide the truth no longer.
Red is intercepted by a dangerous young Sworn named Vixor Rae, a prince among the werewolves, and taken through the dangerous wilderness to serve her fate in the capital.
Vixor intrigues Red against her will, but he is her enemy, and she wants nothing more than to see him dead.
But when treecrawlers attack the Sworn caravan headed for the capital, and only Red and Vixor survive, the two must rely on each other to make it out of the perilous wilderness alive.
PROLOGUE
THE ALPHA’S ELITE werewolf fighters, the Sworn, came for my father on the night of my tenth birthday. As long as I live, I’ll never forget that night. Every detail is branded upon my mind with excruciating clarity.
The evening began dreamily. My stomach had been twisting in anticipation of presents and dessert all day. My mother had baked a cake and drizzled it with honey. A ring of honeysuckles plucked fresh from the edge of the forest surrounded the cake, and I spent all of dinner staring at it. My grandmother was there, her hair still dark brown with only a few silver streaks in it at the time, her eyes the same unclouded gray, but they were merry when she looked at me. She smiled more then, even though the world was full of danger and uncertainty, even though our country had been ruled by werewolf overlords since she was a little girl, and their magic had tainted everything, even our forests and the animals that lived in them.
My best friend and neighbor, who lived in a brown house accessible
via a path through the tangled woods that surrounded our home, a dark-haired boy named Kassian, was there to celebrate with us. I remember how he stole a honeysuckle blossom from the bunch around the cake and passed it to me under the table, our fingers brushing against each other. I broke off the stem of the flower and pressed the hole that was left to my tongue when my parents weren’t looking. I’ll never forget how Kassian smiled at me when the bubble of summery sweetness spread across my tongue. His eyes crinkled and a dimple appeared in his left cheek. He knew honeysuckles were my favorite.
After our dinner of beef stew and cabbage, my mother lit the candles and dimmed the lights. They sang to me while I held one hand over my mouth to hide my delighted smile. I was getting too old to be so giddy over things like birthdays. But something about the candles, the cake, the singing, the smiling faces—all of it washed away the tension and strain on my parents’ faces. Even my grandmother looked happy for a moment in the light of those candles.
And Kassian. Kassian, my best friend since we were babies. In the last few weeks, I’d discovered that the way the sunlight fell across his hair made my hands sweat and my chest feel tight. I found myself daydreaming about touching his face, about holding his hand. And when I blew out the flames, I wished Kassian and I would be friends forever, whatever else happened between us.
The gifts came after the singing. My mother gave me a box wrapped in a flour bag. I opened it and found a honeysuckle-embroidered collar for my dresses that she’d knitted from her precious stash of yarns. After that came a doll, even though I was growing too old for them, its button eyes blue and its hair the same color as Kassian’s. My grandmother reached into her pocket and produced a wooden ring polished to butter smoothness, unwrapped and still warm from its place next to her hip. My father’s eyebrows lifted at it, and a wordless glance passed between them, but I didn’t understand the significance of their silent communication.
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