The Shadow Cadets of Pennyroyal Academy

by M. A. Larson

  “What’s the fastest way to the castle?”

  “Which castle, Princess?”

  She lunged at him, grabbing him by the shirt. Then she slapped him across the face, causing a moan from Marie. “You know which castle I mean!”

  “Cinderella’s Castle is just to the south, Princess, not a day’s ride—”

  “What’s this?” said the other princess, the one who had been prowling the room. Evie couldn’t quite make out what she was looking at. Suddenly, there was a thud so loud it made Evie jump, and the horrific meeting of metal. The princess slowly turned back around. As she stepped toward the innkeeper, sword raised in front of her, Evie saw something stuck to the blade. It was her Pennyroyal Academy compact, and it was nearly sliced in two. “Has a Pennyroyal girl been here?”

  Evie ducked back into the shadows. She held her breath.

  “I-I, well—” stammered the innkeeper.

  “Is she still here?”

  Two more swords shinged free of their scabbards.

  “No! Stop!” shouted Marie. There was a thunder of feet on the wood floor and then the deafening scream of the innkeeper’s wife.

  “Marie!” he shouted. “No!”

  Evie leaped back around the banister and raced down the hall to her room, slamming the door shut behind her. She needed some sort of weapon . . . anything. But her sword was down with Boy, and even if she’d had it, she wouldn’t have had the first idea how to defend herself against three enemy blades.

  “Upstairs! Move, girls!”

  “Oh, Marie, no!” wailed the innkeeper. “You’ve killed her! Why? Why?”

  Footsteps thundered up the stairs. Evie grabbed her knapsack and threw her shoulder into the opened window, shattering the glass and the wood frame. She climbed out just as the door to her room boomed open. A princess stood in the doorway, her eyes wide, a cruel smile on her lips. “Hang on, Cadet, we only want a little chat.”

  Evie grabbed the wooden sign and swung out the window. She dropped to the ground with a thud, then sprang to her feet and raced to Boy.

  The princess appeared in the window with an even wider smile. “What a valiant display of courage! You really must be a Pennyroyal girl!” She laughed with such malice that it reminded Evie of a witch’s cackle.

  “How’s old Beatrice doing these days?” said a second princess, appearing at the front door.

  Evie’s fingers were shivering so violently that she was having trouble unlashing Boy’s reins. She pulled them loose and swung atop him, jerking his head toward the lane. The princess was running at her, only a few feet behind.

  “No need to leave on our account, Cadet!”

  Boy whinnied in protest, but obeyed. Evie glanced behind her. One princess’s silver blade glinted in the light of the torch at the entrance to the inn. The other two joined her, each with a sword in hand.

  “Go! Go!” screamed Evie. Boy’s hooves found purchase, and they bounded off into the darkness. She turned back to see three dark figures standing in the lane. Their swords shone through the dark of night.

  And each of them wore a razor-sharp wolf’s fang around her neck.

  EVIE RODE HARD through the night. Finally, as the sky began to gray, she gave Boy a break. As soon as he’d had some water and a bit to eat, they were off again. She didn’t intend to stop until she was safely inside the walls of the Blackmarsh. To Boy’s credit, he seemed to be conditioned for long distances. Once she’d slowed from a gallop, he was perfectly happy to continue east, no matter the terrain. And to the Fates’ credit, the weather held and the ground stayed dry.

  They’d killed that lady. Marie, the innkeeper’s wife. Three princesses had entered the inn and murdered an innocent woman. And then tried to kill Evie as well. Princesses? But how could that be? None of it made any sense. The whole encounter filled her with a sense of dread she hadn’t felt since discovering that her stepmother was a witch.

  Halfway through her third day on the run, she arrived. At first, she was confused and frightened by the powerful crashing sounds thundering in the distance. She’d never been near enough to the sea to hear waves breaking over rock before. When Boy finished a steep climb and stepped onto a grassy ridge, Evie was stunned by what lay before her. Even Boy paused to appreciate the view.

  They were on the summit of a sloping half bowl of cliffs. A hundred yards below, the purple heather gave way to great spikes of stone, as jagged and unforgiving as any she’d ever seen. Black seawater surged toward the cliffs, breaking against the rock with huge sprays of foam, the crash reaching her a moment later. The water seemed to go on forever, fading into the distant clouds until there was no horizon at all, just varying degrees of gray. Something opened inside of her at the sight of the sea, so large and deep and unknowable.

  To her right lay the Blackmarsh. There, the cliffs evened out into gentle hills, forming a horseshoe that butted up against even more imposing cliffs. The kingdom was nestled into the bottom. The curtain walls came up from the water itself, a line of dark green algae marking the spot where waves had been breaking for centuries. The main castle sat near the back of the walled city. It was narrow and tall, rising far above the rest of the buildings that made up the kingdom. Spires jutted from the various towers nearly as high as the cliffs behind. Flags crackled in the sea wind. The rest of the Blackmarsh grew out from the castle in concentric circles, and all throughout there were great patches of green. The terrain around the kingdom was rocky and desolate, but behind the walls it appeared to be a garden oasis. Beams of sunlight broke through the gray, shining down like beacons from above.

  Evie’s heart soared. Demetra was there. And Anisette. Her friends.

  “Come, Boy.”

  They made their way along the ridge and followed a horse trail down the hill toward the gatehouse. It consisted of two square towers of limestone brick with lookout posts at the top. Between them, wooden doors that must have been as tall as Evie’s sister were closed tight. Standing beneath the giant doors, the sea suddenly didn’t feel quite so big after all.

  “Hello?” she called. There was no reply. “Is anyone there?” She looked past the towers, scanning the wall walk for a guardsman. There, atop a lookout tower directly above the sea, she saw a man in a helmet. A thin trail of stones followed the bottom of the curtain wall, with the roiling sea splashing over it. Evie gulped, then led Boy along the path. “Hello?” she called, but the guardsman never heard her.

  Waves exploded on the rocks, sending heavy sheets of water splashing against the wall. Evie screamed as salt water doused her. Boy pulled against the reins to get back to solid ground. And still the guardsman hadn’t seen her. She kept along the path, the stones slipping away beneath her feet. Both of us will end up drowned in the Bay of Bones, she thought. Still, the jets and splashes of the waves in the bay did little more than frighten and soak her. She managed to follow the curve of the wall all the way to the end until she was directly beneath the tower. A small wooden door was wedged shut at its base. She peered up and saw the man’s hands far above. He must have been leaning against the battlement.

  “Hello!” she shouted as loudly as she could. “Hello, can you hear me?”

  The man’s head popped out, looking down at her with wide eyes. He shouted, gesturing something she couldn’t understand, but a wave slammed a rock at the same time, the roaring water drowning his voice. He disappeared inside the tower and Evie’s heart sank.

  “Back, Boy, before we’re both killed.”

  The guardsman’s face appeared again, in a lower window of the tower. He shouted something just as a wall of water splashed over Evie and Boy. She screamed, but managed to keep her balance on the precarious stones. When she looked up again, he was gone. Moments later, he reappeared even farther down the tower.

  “Use the—”

  The loudest crash yet thundered behind Evie, swallowing up the guardsman’s words
yet again. He was just above her now, but still she couldn’t hear him.

  She wiped salt water from her face with a soaked hand as Boy shook his entire body, sending sprays everywhere. A moment later, the door popped open and Evie saw the smiling face of the guardsman.

  “I said it’s open!” He laughed. “Come in, come in.”

  Evie stepped through the door and onto a mercifully solid floor. She had to coax Boy inside, but managed it just as another eruption of water splashed against the wall overhead.

  “Now, how can I help you, miss?” said the guardsman, closing the door. The wind had blown out several of the candles lining the walls, but enough of them remained lit. They were inside a claustrophobic tunnel cut through the wall. It must have been thirty feet thick or more.

  “I’m here to see De— er, Princess Demetra?”

  “Ah, indeed, indeed. And who might you be, then?”

  “My name is Evie. I’m a friend from the Academy.”

  The guardsman’s eyes went wide. “By thunder, she’ll be wanting to see you. That’s all Her Serene and Exalted Highness can talk about these days.” Evie stifled a laugh, remembering how much Demetra despised her official title. He took Boy’s reins from her. “Come along. Afternoon guard’s just turned up, so I can take you to the castle myself.”

  Evie followed him through the tunnel and emerged into the Blackmarsh. She had only Marburg and Waldeck to compare it with, the two kingdoms that served as drop-off points for the Academy, but she could tell immediately that the Blackmarsh was in an entirely different class. Blooming up from between the four circular towers of the main castle were a series of thin, ever-taller towers, some with bartizans sprouting off of them, like an exotic plant that bloomed towers rather than flowers. With the light beaming down from the clouds, it all felt entirely magical.

  “First time at the Blackmarsh, miss?” He handed her a linen handkerchief. She wiped the seawater from her eyes.

  “Yes.” Despite being utterly sodden, Evie couldn’t keep the smile from her face. This is what it means to be highborn, she thought. That castle, so majestic and noble and dreamlike, was Demetra’s home. Her heart soared at the sight of it, making her all the more certain she had never been meant to live in a dragon cave.

  “Well, it’s our little piece of heaven, it is. Lived here my whole life. Jensen,” he said, reaching out a hand. “Sergeant in the Royal Guard.”

  “Evie.”

  “Where have you come from, miss? Not from the north, I hope. All sorts of troubles up there these days.”

  “No, not from the north.”

  “Fates be praised,” he said. “Bloody business in the north. Our King and Queen never get us mixed up in any of that nonsense. Leave war to the warmongers, I say. We’ve got no time for it here at the Blackmarsh.”

  They neared a quaint arched bridge over a stream. On the other side, it was a short walk to the castle’s front gates, which were opened wide. Evie looked up to some of the highest spires, with puffs of cloud just above. It was impossible. How could anything be so grand, so beautiful?

  “We’ve taken in lots of folks trying to get away from the fighting, though. One bloke from Diebkunst told me the whole kingdom was destroyed, right down to rubble. And all because one king wanted what belonged to another.” He clicked his tongue. “Shame, that. Rough world out there.”

  Evie didn’t respond. As excited as she was to see her friends, and as stunned as she was by the beauty of the sea and this magnificent castle, what Jensen had told her was troubling.

  “Don’t concern yourself with the battles of others, miss. You’re safe here in the Blackmarsh,” he said with pride. “You! Boy!”

  Evie looked at him with confusion, wondering why he was shouting at her horse. Then she realized he was signaling a stable boy at the side of the palace. The stable boy, mop-headed and slim, raced over. “Yes, Sergeant.”

  “Take special care of this one. Use the King’s grain. Double brushings.”

  “Aye,” said the stable boy, and he turned and led Boy away.

  “After you, miss,” said Sergeant Jensen.

  Evie climbed the short marble staircase to the main gates. Two more guardsmen flanked the doors, spears pointing high above their heads.

  “We’ll just be along, lads,” said Jensen. Neither of them reacted as he and Evie walked through the gates and into the castle. “Don’t be fooled by them either,” he said. “They’re mostly for show. All are welcome in the palace. The King and Queen close the gates to no one.”

  Evie stepped inside and once again found herself staring in awe. The ceiling was glass ribbed with curved oak beams. Through the ceiling, the castle’s towers stretched up so high that she couldn’t even see the tops.

  “Now, if you’ll just wait here, I’ll go announce you,” said Jensen, and he ran off toward one of the open staircases that spiraled up around the room like curls of smoke from a campfire. Evie counted the staircases and found eight of them, each leading to a different floor that branched off to a different part of the castle. Round and round he went, higher and higher, until finally he disappeared and the echo of his boots began to recede.

  She stepped toward the middle of the grand entrance and looked at the walls between the spiral staircases. They were covered in enormous windows, the biggest pieces of glass Evie had ever seen. Between them were scenes done in stained glass, scenes that depicted centuries of life in the Blackmarsh. Ruby-red banners draped the walls with what must have been Demetra’s family’s coat of arms.

  I can’t believe this is where Demetra lives. She never said a word about this—

  “Aaaah!” A scream echoed down from upstairs, followed by the clack of footsteps. “Evie!” Demetra appeared at the top of the staircase, a huge smile on her face.

  “Demetra!”

  She looped round and round the stairs, holding the skirts of her pale orange dress off the ground to keep from tripping. She laughed the entire way until finally she reached the bottom and sprinted to Evie, grabbing her tight. “I can’t believe you’re here!”

  “Nor can I!”

  “You’re absolutely soaked through!” She held Evie by the shoulders to get a better look. “I didn’t think I’d see you again until Waldeck!”

  “I’m sorry to turn up like this, out of the blue—”

  “Are you mad? I’ve been hoping all summer you’d turn up out of the blue.”

  Behind them, Jensen cleared his throat. He’d followed Demetra down the stairs. “Will there be anything else, Your Serene and Exalted Highness?”

  Evie laughed. Jensen’s face fell, as though he’d done something wrong.

  “No, sir,” said Demetra, “and thank you for taking such good care of my friend.”

  “Of course, Highness,” he said with a bow. “I’ll just be off to the stables to see that your guest’s horse is well attended.”

  “Thank you, sir,” said Evie, and he turned and left. “It’s so good to see you, Serene and Exalted One!”

  Demetra rolled her eyes. “Stop or I’ll have you beheaded.” Then she smiled widely, studying her friend’s face. “Oh, Evie, it’s good to see you, too. So you got my letters?”

  “I did. Lots and lots of letters.”

  “I can’t help it. I was so sad when I got home from the Academy. I felt like all of you must be out there having fun together and I was stuck here at the Blackmarsh on my own.”

  “That’s how I felt!” said Evie. “I would’ve written you back, but I don’t know how to use the, er, the birds.”

  “Don’t worry about that. Come, you must meet my family.” She took Evie by the arm and led her to the staircase. “It’s a good thing you got here when you did. They’ve already got me packed and one foot out the door. If you’d come tomorrow, I’d have already been gone.”

  “But I thought we’d have at least a week.”


  “Ordinarily, yes. But now that the witches have gone into hiding, Father wants to make it a family trip to Waldeck. He says it’s to spend more time with me, but I know he’s secretly going to negotiate some sort of trade agreement with them. There’s nothing he loves more than a good trade agreement.”

  They reached the top of the staircase and emerged into a wide hallway lit by multiwicked candles as big around as clubs. Two enormous doors at the far end were open wide. Voices came from inside, as well as the sounds of various thuds and slams and scrapes.

  “Come on. Don’t mind the mess—my parents aren’t particularly good at packing for trips. Sometimes I think they’d rather just put the whole castle on wheels.”

  They went down the hall and into an enormous light-filled antechamber. Tapestries as large as ships’ sails covered the far walls. A rug with swirling patterns stretched from one end of the room to the other. There were carved oak tables and chairs padded with velvet cushions, and clothing was draped and piled everywhere. Women in simple dresses scurried about amidst open trunks, while the Queen stood in the middle of the room orchestrating it all. She was tall and slender, with a raised chin and nose, and hair as golden as her daughter’s.

  “No, not that one, the vermillion one. That is clearly not vermillion,” she said, waving a servant away.

  “Mother, we wear uniforms. I don’t need any of this,” said Demetra.

  “Piffle,” said the Queen. “That is why I am doing your packing. You don’t understand a thing about it.”

  “This one, Highness?”

  “Yes, that’s the one. Put it with the traveling clothes. Monique! Monique, what have you done with the shoes?”

  Demetra looked at Evie and shrugged. “Come on.” They stepped farther into the room, where Evie was nearly run down by a scurrying servant. “Mother, I’d like you to meet one of my friends from the Academy. This is Evie. Evie, this is my mother, the Queen of the Blackmarsh.”

  “How do you do,” said the Queen, with barely a glance. Her mouth was turned up at the corners in the remnants of a smile that hadn’t been used in years. There was a hint of Demetra in it, though only a hint.