Good Witches Don't Curse (Academy of Shadowed Magic Book 3)

by S. W. Clarke

  “Of course.” Her head tilted, blue-black hair gleaming in the early morning light. “It’s the largest fae library in the world, and they have books on hexes. For a time it was a second home to me.”

  “Of course.” I pulled my satchel tighter over my shoulder. I wasn’t about to explain myself to her. “I really do have to go.”

  This time, she let me pass. But once I was beyond her, she called out my name with saccharine sweetness.

  I glanced over my shoulder.

  “If you miss class again this afternoon,” she said, “I’ll have no choice but to fail you. I’m sure you can understand.”

  “Sure.” I kept walking. “I’ll be there.”

  When I sat down across from Aidan and Eva in the library, I groaned. “I’m going to fail Hexes.”

  Eva looked up with a cup of tea in hand. “But aren’t you training with Liara?”

  “Yeah. That’s the problem.” I set my satchel down with a thud. “She’s the only one I can trust. And I’ve skipped Frostwish’s class so much she’s grown highly suspicious.”

  “So just go to class.” Aidan pushed the plate of biscuits toward me. “Go to class and let her paralyze you and pretend like you suck.”

  I picked up a biscuit. “Anyway, it’s the least of my worries. I’ve got news.”

  They both sat forward, setting down their respective mugs.

  I bit into my biscuit, chewed as I contemplated how to deliver this. I decided to be straightforward. To start, I told them about the absolute failure of our last guardian mission—the ambush, the attack, the injuries.

  And at the end, I said, “Lucian the prince showed up.”

  Eva’s eyes went wide as grapes. “How did you escape?”

  “It was because of him I escaped.” I set the remainder of my biscuit down on my plate. “He saved me. And Loki got a good whiff of him as he did. According to him, the demon prince smelled…like Callum Rathmore.”

  The shock of that one took a while to get over. The two of them peppered me with questions until I finally raised a hand. “There’s more. Loki went back to the spot in London where we felt the tremor in the leyline—remnants of Rathmore’s magical scent were there, too.” I stared at Aidan. “He was the one who sent us to Siberia.”

  Aidan sat back. “Ho-ly crow.”

  “Now we need to figure out why.” I pulled out the page from Jane Eyre. “And what that has to do with the trefoil knot he drew here, and this giant Hrungnir.”

  Aidan set a finger to his temple, eyes flitting over the page as he considered it all.

  “You have the coordinates, don’t you?” Eva asked.

  He nodded. “But there’s nothing out there.”

  And then it hit me.

  “There is one thing we know is out there,” I whispered, and pushed my chair back. “But it’s not visible to the average eye.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  I found my answer in the globe.

  As I stood in front of the massive turning globe in the guardians’ tree, I turned it to Siberia and pointed my finger over the coordinates Aidan had given me.

  Of course. It had been here all along.

  I had noticed during my first visit that the leylines didn’t run in straight lines—but I hadn’t looked at Siberia.

  There, the leylines almost bent at angles around the spot where we’d stood in the tundra. And if you looked at it a certain way, their overlapping seemed to form a triangle.

  A leyline triangle.

  And at the center of that triangle was where my finger pointed: right at the center of a lake.

  Something was out there, and if it was Callum Rathmore who’d sent us to that spot, then he’d been trying to tell me all along.

  But couldn’t he have just told me in person?

  No.

  “He has to stay away from me,” I whispered.

  My finger lowered, eyes unfocusing. When he’d left at the end of the school year, it had been for a reason. Something had changed, or maybe that had been the plan all along—to come to the academy, to leave at the prescribed time.

  Why?

  If he had given me this many clues—hell, if he’d saved my life—then he was doing everything he could.

  He wasn’t evil. I couldn’t believe he was.

  My fingers touched the folded page in my skirt pocket. Remember yourself.

  What if that had been as much for him as it had been for me? Maybe he was trying to tell me a truth about himself all along.

  All I wanted was to step onto that tundra, to figure out the answer to that mystery, but I had to get to Goodbarrel’s class. In the midst of everything, I had to be a student.

  I left the spinning globe and the trefoil knot of leylines with the knowledge that we would have to return to Siberia. We would have to figure out what was out there.

  I suspected I knew exactly what we would find.

  When I hit all ten targets on my first try in the Spark common room later that morning, Goodbarrel clapped his hands with a roar. “Oh, well done, Clementine!”

  Despite myself, I grinned at his enthusiasm. “Well done even if I’m the last in the class to get it?”

  He leaned toward me like we were conspirators, red-blond eyebrows rising. “Which makes it an even larger accomplishment. What we struggle most to achieve is what builds the greatest character in us.” He nodded toward the targets. “Now hit them again with your eyes shut.”

  I set my fingertips alight again, closed my eyes, and flicked my fingers toward the targets. Two hit, eight missed.

  He winked at me. “Keep at it.”

  Meanwhile, Aidan had mastered his marshmallow target practice before winter recess. At the start of the semester he had migrated to a corner of the room, where he sat with folded legs, his birthmark glowing red as he concentrated.

  When Goodbarrel went over to him, they had a conversation I couldn’t make out over the sounds of students chattering and practicing. After they’d spoken, Aidan’s eyes closed once more.

  And for the first time, I saw blue flames burst into life along the outline of his birthmark.

  His grandmother had called the everflame a rare gift. Now I knew the birthmark was where the gift emanated from.

  I waited until the end of class to approach him, wiping sweat from my brow. “Hey, North.”

  He blinked his eyes open, the birthmark fading. “Hey.”

  “I’ve figured it out.”

  “You mean Siberia?”

  I nodded, crouched in front of him. “The leylines there are angled into the shape of a trefoil knot.”

  His eyes danced. “How did you discover that?”

  “The globe in the guardians’ room. Every leyline in the world is depicted there.”

  He slapped his thigh. “So that’s what it was. Every book I looked at was so primitive in its understanding of leylines, every single depiction of them had them in straight, unbroken lines.”

  I tilted my head. “And what do you suppose is at the center of our trefoil knot?”

  “We’ll have to find out, won’t we?”

  “I’ve got two floating days I can use at the start of the month.”

  “Two weeks?” He groaned and stood. “Why’d you become a bloody guardian, anyway?”

  I stood with him, hauling my satchel over my shoulder. “Oh, you know. The perks of getting to skip class on demand.” I waved. “Siberia. Count on it. Until then, my students await.”

  Twenty minutes later, I sat atop Noir in front of my class of first-years, including the lovely Saoirse, whom I eyed like Aidan’s best friend would.

  I still wasn’t sure if they were a thing. But given the way she’d adored me at the start of the year and now seemed bashful after the Winter Solstice Ball, I had a feeling.

  “All right, mortals.” I swung Noir around toward the adjoining field. “Now that you can all get on your horses, it’s time to master your gaits.”

  “We’re leaving the paddock?” one of them asked wit
h unmistakable concern.

  “We all have to leave the paddock”—I walked Noir through the ajar gate—“if we want to reach the meadow.”

  “Is this safe?” another asked.

  I glanced over my shoulder. “It’s safer out here. If you come into the meadow, you may fall off and break a bone. If you don’t come to the meadow, I’ll stick you in an oven.”

  They all complied, and I grinned as I turned back around.

  It was in that moment I realized I was becoming the fire witch equivalent of Goodbarrel. Not quite so jovial, with a much higher frequency of burn-you-to-cinders jokes. But I was surprised to discover I liked seeing their progress.

  I didn’t hate teaching. Who’d have thought?

  Saoirse rode up alongside me on Siren as we passed into the field. “Professor.”

  “I’m no professor.” I patted Noir’s neck. “I’m just your teacher.”

  “What should I call you, then?”

  I glanced at her. “Clementine. That was how I introduced myself when we met, wasn’t it?”

  She reddened. “Clementine—I know you’re friends with Aidan.”

  So here it was.

  “Most of the time. Except when he disappears for days into the Room of the Ancients.”

  She barreled on. “He and I are…”

  “Dating?”

  “Not exactly.” She paused. “We’ve been on one date.”

  “What’s your question, Saoirse? I can practically smell it burning the tip of your tongue.”

  She glanced around to make sure we were out of earshot of the others. “He’s not like other guys I’ve dated. He’s harder to read.”

  “He’s not like many people.” I paused. “You want to know if he’s into you?”

  She turned her face away, and I knew I had hit the nail on the head.

  “I’ll ask him.” I smirked at her. “If you can canter on Siren bareback today.”

  She spun around, mouth open. “But…”

  I urged Noir into a canter, pulling away. “Show me how bad you want it, Saoirse!”

  Turned out, she really wanted it. That girl was cantering bareback for the first time within ten minutes.

  A week later, I tore the rind off an orange as Aidan and I sat on a log, watching Eva practice her dueling with Loki under the afternoon sun.

  After an hour of dueling her myself, I was exhausted, and yet Eva had wanted to carry on. She was hellbent on passing the guardian trials, and she was convinced the second trial—the duel—would get her.

  To appease her, I had infused Loki with a little fire, and now a flaming cat leapt at her in the glittering white meadow.

  Eva threw herself out of the way, wings fluttering as she sent out a blast of air magic to strafe. She was brilliant.

  Meanwhile, Aidan had just come as moral support. He’d mostly sat on the log and read a book and watched us.

  I offered him a wedge of orange. “Citrus?”

  His nose scrunched. “I’ll get sticky. No one wants sticky mittens.”

  I laughed, popped the wedge into my mouth. “You know, I haven’t thought about wearing mittens since I found out I was a witch. Nice perk, huh?”

  “Yeah, when you can use your flames at will.” He sighed, glanced back down at his book. He always found safety in staring at whatever page he was reading.

  “So, the everflame.” I hesitated, careful with my words. “Any time you use it, you could just…lose control?”

  “Yeah.”

  “But that hasn’t happened since we went to see your lovely grandmother.”

  “That’s because I’ve spent a lot of years getting it under control.” He paused. “A lot.”

  “But you don’t fully trust yourself still.”

  He smoothed the page, another tic of his. “I guess not.”

  “Which is why you wear mittens instead of using your magic to heat your fingers.”

  “I guess so.” He glanced up at me. “Shouldn’t you be off on a guardian mission or something?”

  The very thought of the horn—which hadn’t sounded since our last disastrous mission—sent chills up me which were entirely unrelated to the weather. “Don’t jinx me.”

  “The rescues are getting farther apart,” he said. “That’s strange.”

  “I’m not complaining. And neither are the mages who aren’t being kidnapped.”

  “But everything indicates the Shade is growing in power.”

  On this beautiful day in the meadow, the last thing I wanted to talk about was the Shade. “So, Saoirse Connelly.”

  Even at the edges of his scarf, I could see the pink patches as blood rushed to the surface of his neck. “What about her?” he asked too quickly, eyes fixed on me.

  “She digs you.” My eyebrows went up. “A lot.”

  He let out a breath, fogging the air between us. “How do you know?”

  “She told me. I’m her teacher, after all.”

  Silence fell, during which I stared at Aidan, waiting for him to spill his guts. And he didn’t.

  Finally, I elbowed him. “Dish, North.”

  He shied away like I’d hurt him. “Dish what?”

  “Do you like her?”

  “Sure. She’s very smart.” He rubbed at his arm. “But…it doesn’t matter.”

  I sighed. “Do I need to tell you how special and worthy you are?”

  “It’s not that.” His eyes found mind, strangely lidded and shy. “It’s the everflame. Surely you can understand.”

  All at once, the memory of the time I’d lost control in his parents’ garden came back to me. The fear in his eyes. The anger I’d felt. How hard it had been to rein the Spitfire in.

  I glanced away, toward Eva and Loki, still dueling. “Yeah. I guess that’s why the only person I’ve let myself like since I arrived at this place is completely unattainable.”

  Aidan gave a small laugh. “Rathmore.”

  I didn’t deny it, but I also didn’t confirm it. No point in doing either.

  I eyed him. “Going to wear those mittens on our trip to Siberia next week?”

  “And why not?” He held both hands out, brown mittens on display. “My mother made them. They’re warm. They match my outfit.”

  “I suppose their dorkiness doesn’t bother you.”

  He flapped a hand. “I’m focused on this prophecy, Clem. Not being attractive, and not Saoirse Connelly. There’ll be time for stylish gloves after the Shade’s dead.”

  I sat forward, gripping my knees as I watched Eva. “Let’s hope.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  A week later, in the chill of March, we stepped out onto the tundra.

  Our boots crunched over hard snowpack, the air strangely stifling around me. A blinding, clear-as-day sun glared down on us, and Aidan shielded his eyes as he came through the veil. The sun still reflected white-gold off his glasses.

  Eva pulled her cloak tight against the cold. Which was, despite that we had come at midday, still biting. “Oh,” she said, turning a half-circle. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

  “If you like snow.” Aidan folded his arms tight. “And wind.”

  Loki stepped daintily through, lifting his nose to the air. His whiskers twitched.

  “Smell anything?” I asked him.

  He turned his face up to me, fur glittering in the sunlight. “Nothing.”

  I’d asked that question as a bit of a long shot, but it still put a pit in my stomach to hear his answer. The place was beautiful and eerily devoid.

  Which made it a good spot to hide the third piece of a dangerous weapon.

  “Aidan,” I said, “are you sure these are the right coordinates?”

  “This is the spot.” He gestured ahead of us. “There’s the lake we saw.”

  He was right. This was the exact spot.

  So this was where the leylines bent to form the trefoil knot—we stood right in the middle of it. But that still gave us a vast swath to cover; we had to find the location of chain i
n a tundra, which seemed to me much harder than a needle in a haystack. You could knock the haystack down. Pull it apart. Shake it until the needle hit the ground.

  Out here, you could spend the rest of your life digging and still never find what you sought. I kicked at the snow, testing its hardness. My boot scuffed just a little off the top, but the rest remained hard.

  We had to know the exact spot.

  I slid the deceiver’s rod out of its pocket in my skirt. If we came near, the orichalcum in the rod and key should illuminate. “How do you all feel about an afternoon walk?”

  Loki groaned.

  I pointed at him. “Don’t answer that, you.”

  Eva bent and swept him up into her arms. “Let’s keep each other warm.”

  I smiled as I turned away, the sound of Loki’s purring amplified in the relative silence around us.

  We walked toward the lake. When we reached its edge, we found the entirety of it frozen. I tested it with the toe of my boot, pressing down.

  Firm. Totally firm.

  And before us, it spread glittery and frozen for as far as our eyes could see, until it reached a straight cliff that rose to a tall bluff.

  I pointed. “That’s a better vantage.”

  Aidan squinted. “It’ll be a long hike.”

  I stepped out onto the ice. “Not if we head straight for it. I think I see a switchback path up the far side.”

  “Have you lost your mind?” Aidan said from the bank. “It could break. You could fall right through. You’d freeze before we could get you out.”

  I stopped, glanced over my shoulder. “I’m a fire witch. You really think, of all the ways I could die, it’ll be by freezing?”

  “First you’ll drown,” he went on soberly, “and then you’ll freeze.”

  Eva laughed, struck out across the ice with Loki in her arms. “It’s quite solid. It isn’t even above freezing out here, Aidan.”

  Aidan hovered on the bank, wringing his mittened hands. His birthmark had reddened, and I realized this was touching a deeper chord for him.

  I turned fully around to face him. “Something happened to you as a child, didn’t it?”

  He began walking alongside the bank, which was his indication he didn’t want to talk about it.