by M. A. Larson
“Yes, Fairy Drillsergeant!” they shouted. Then they ran off and each picked up a log. Struggling under their weight, they trotted down the road to a stone wall, where more evaluators were waiting and watching and scribbling notes. They filtered through an archway and entered an enormous courtyard. A small pile of logs waited just inside the wall. They dropped theirs on the stack.
“Come on, cadets, faster!” barked the red-haired fairy. “Daylight is coming!”
It was still quite dark, and they had trouble finding their footing amidst the rosebushes and creeping vines and decorative stones.
“Over the wall! Move!”
There was a fifteen-foot-high wall inside the courtyard entry, though it was filled with plenty of stones and pocks to climb. Evie scrambled up easily. When she pulled herself to the top, she looked back and saw her friends moving much more deliberately than she had. “Keep it up! You’re almost there!”
“Get off my wall, Cadet!” bellowed one of the fairies. It doesn’t matter which one, thought Evie. They’re like a swarm of horrible screaming wasps.
She dropped over the wall and froze. It was a courtyard-within-a-courtyard, bordered by overgrown shrubberies, eight feet high or more, and the bones of fruit trees. Giant stones littered the ground, as well as an unused fountain and several trellises covered in the winter skeletons of flowering vines.
And there, not fifty feet in front of her, stood a wolf. It was long and lean, with sharp ears and sharp eyes and sharp teeth and sharp claws. It had its snout in an overturned picnic basket and was devouring whatever had been inside. She carefully stepped to her right, to try to get behind the wolf before it saw her. The creature growled, shaking something in its powerful jaws. If she could just make it to the boulder in front of her without drawing the wolf’s attention, she might be able to climb to the top of the shrubbery . . .
Instead, Basil dropped to the ground with a shout. “Augh!”
The wolf wheeled, baring its teeth, its eyes going wide. Maggie fell next, and then Demetra.
“There’s a wolf here,” said Evie quietly and calmly.
“You don’t say,” said Basil with a gulp.
The creature stepped forward, lowering its head. Demetra screamed, which caused the wolf to charge with a furious snarl.
“Run!” shouted Evie. She picked up a branch that had fallen from the apple tree next to her and aimed it at the wolf. Its nose scrunched in a ferocious growl as it tried to decide the best way past the branch to its meal. Maggie, Demetra, and Basil crossed the courtyard behind the beast and escaped through an opening in the shrubbery on the far side.
She backed slowly away, waving the branch in front of her like a sword . . .
A sword.
And suddenly the hours she’d spent near the pond that summer, the sparring she’d done with Remington, all came alive in her muscles. She swung with both hands, cracking the wolf in the face. The creature retreated, its eyes flashing with fury. Before it could react to the blow, she charged forward again.
“Aaaah!” She attacked. Her first strike missed, but she continued the arc and swung around again. She rained blows on the wolf from every direction. Most didn’t connect, but when they did, the creature yelped in pain. She drove the wolf backward across the courtyard, then finally connected with a vicious downward strike to its head, knocking the wolf to its knees. Unfortunately, half of her weapon lay broken on the ground next to it.
The wolf looked up at her, baring its razor teeth. Her eyes flashed to the exit, but she knew she’d never make it at a run. So without even thinking, she leapt onto the wolf and locked her arm around its neck. The creature bucked and snarled, its head darting left and right, jaws snapping, but Evie held tight. She locked her legs around the wolf’s middle and let her weight keep the creature down. As she could feel the fight leaving the wolf, she began shifting her weight until finally she was on top of it, and the wolf finally gave in.
Its snarl disappeared, replaced by a gently lolling tongue. Its legs went limp. She slowly released her grip.
“I’m sorry, wolf. Did I hurt you?” she whispered.
The wolf whined and licked her face.
“I’ll let you up now.” Slowly, carefully, she climbed off. It writhed around until it was upright, lying in the dirt, tongue bobbing with each breath. “I am sorry, wolf. Really.”
The wolf whined again, but didn’t move. It didn’t even watch her as she backed across the courtyard, then disappeared through the shrubbery. That wasn’t princess training, she thought proudly. That was growing-up-in-the-forest training. She emerged into another part of the courtyard, a sculpture garden full of vine-covered arches and water-stained carvings.
“Excellent work with that wolf, Cadet, but you’re not there yet!” shouted another fairy from somewhere in the darkness. “Daylight approaches!”
Evie, the cuts and scratches she’d gotten from her battle with the wolf starting to sting loud and red, edged forward into the garden. Considering how Witches’ Night had gone so far, she had no idea what to expect next. She could hear the sounds of shouting and witch spells in the distance and thought the nightmare might never end. She hurried through an avenue of rosebushes. When she reached the end, she froze as though she’d been hit with a bucket of icy water.
Standing before her was a beautifully detailed sculpture of a person. It was a girl with a vacant expression on her face, her eyes looking slightly past Evie’s head into an unseen distance.
It was Maggie.
For the first time that night, Evie was utterly incapacitated. Her heart broke open as she studied the details in the sculpture’s face. The kind eyes and the familiar wide smile with its hint of dimples. Only there was no warmth in it now. It was stone and cold and dead. And it struck right at Evie’s heart.
“Eh-heh-heh-heh-heh . . .”
Evie wheeled. Behind her were raised arms, bony and gray, beneath a moth-eaten cloak. A witch’s eyes stared at her from the darkness under stringy white hair. “Eh-heh-heh-heh-heh . . .”
Evie’s eyes narrowed. Still flush with the adrenaline of her battle with the wolf, she stared straight back into the witch’s eyes.
“Go on, Cadet, this is Evasion!” shouted an unseen fairy drillsergeant.
But Evie didn’t move. She glared into those dim yellow eyes without a drop of fear in her blood. Within seconds, without even intending it, a swirl of white magic began to light up the night. She glowered at the witch, her nostrils flaring. She could feel the courage coursing through her veins. And in an instant, she pushed it out through her heart and the white swirl blasted across the courtyard and into the witch’s chest—
“STOP!” bellowed the fairy. “STOP! NO! NURSE, OVER HERE! YOU! HERE! HERE!”
The light vanished, and Evie was snapped back to the darkness of the sculpture garden. She felt as though she’d just awakened from a dream.
“Hurry! This way!” screamed the fairy. A nurse, the one with the basket of cabbage heads, came hurtling over the flower bushes and raced to the fallen witch. The fairy zipped along next to her.
“Sit her up!” called the nurse. Several others raced in and crowded around as well. She tore off a leaf of a purple cabbage with a shaking hand, then ripped it into small bits. While another nurse eased the witch’s mouth open, she gently placed some of the cabbage pieces inside. The witch, groggy and dazed but alive, slowly began to chew.
“More,” she croaked.
The nurse tore off another piece, shredded it, and gave it to the witch. She chewed again and swallowed. Slowly, like the rising sun burning through the mist, color began to seep back into her wormlike skin. Her body was changing shape as well, elongating and becoming more human. She took another piece of cabbage and swallowed, gasping as though she’d just had a long drink of water. Then she looked up at Evie. It was Princess Rampion, the woman who had been in charge of the kit
chens. She had been transformed into a witch and back again by whatever magic lurked within the cabbage.
“Incredible work, Cadet,” she said with a pained smile. “Like a professional princess.”
“That’s not actually your friend, you lunatic!” The fairy waved her wand, and the statue of Maggie melted into a shapeless hunk of granite. “It’s liquid stone! For training!”
Evie blinked her eyes, trying to make sense of all that had just happened. She turned back to Princess Rampion, who was now sitting up on her own. “I’m sorry, Princess! Are you all right?”
“Of course, Cadet. Keep going! You’re almost there!”
Evie raced past the liquid stone and through the courtyard exit. She emerged onto a wide road, and her heart began to soar. She’d just found a princess’s magic inside her for the second time. She raced through campus under cobalt blue, the first coat of daybreak washing over the night sky. I haven’t finished yet, she reminded herself. There was a shortcut up ahead, she remembered, an alley that led to a stairway that would put her out behind Pennyroyal Castle. From there, it was only a short sprint back to the barracks.
She rounded the edge of a small castle and disappeared into the alley. It twisted and dove between buildings until finally she emerged into a small hub where several other alleyways intersected. The stairway she wanted was straight ahead, but she didn’t take it. Instead she came to a dead stop. There was another stairway to the right, and from the bottom, she heard voices.
“Be quiet! We mustn’t talk about this here! It isn’t safe!”
Evie’s breath caught in her throat. She knew that voice. She’d have known it anywhere. She crept forward, keeping herself tight against the stone, until she reached the head of the stairway. There, at the bottom, was Princess Hazelbranch. Another woman stood with her. She was shorter, in a pale red-sleeved dress with a matching bonnet. By the torchlight from the road beyond where they were huddled, Evie saw that she was crying.
“Did anyone see you come?” demanded Hazelbranch.
“I don’t know,” whimpered the woman.
“You’ve got to think. No one must know you’re here, or—” Hazelbranch’s eyes darted up the stairway as Evie ducked back into the shadows. “Or it could be very, very bad for me, do you understand?”
“Of course I do.”
“Good. Come with me. You must stay in the dungeon for now.”
“The dungeon!”
“Just your being here threatens everything!” snapped Hazelbranch. “No one must know.”
“Of course. You’re right,” said the woman, wiping the tears from her eyes.
“Come, before we’re seen.” Evie heard them starting up the stairs. In a panic, she darted behind a rain barrel. Moments later, Hazelbranch and the mysterious woman emerged from the stairway and disappeared down another alley. Once they’d gone, Evie stared after them in the darkness, her mind racing.
It’s true. The worst thing imaginable is actually true . . .
In the distance, a bird began to chirp.
“Blast!” She looked up at the sky, then took the stairs three at a time until she reached the bottom. She raced around Pennyroyal Castle, down the hill, and across Hansel’s Green. A small collection of people stood in the predawn mist. There were evaluators, fairies, and cadets who had already completed their final mission. As Evie raced across the lawn to join them, she saw the smiling faces of her friends amidst the others. All of them had made it.
“Evie! Thank goodness!” said Maggie, her smile as wide as it had ever been. The four of them exchanged congratulatory hugs, then collapsed to the dew-soaked grass. They had survived Witches’ Night.
But Princess Hazelbranch, Evie’s most beloved and trusted mentor, was working with the Vertreiben. How could she possibly survive whatever came next?
“NO, REALLY, YOUR BALANCE and footwork were superb!”
“Thanks, Bas,” said Evie, blushing.
“You need to work on your attacks, though. Large movements are slow movements. If you’re battling anything with more skill than that wolf, you’ll be sliced to bits with counterattacks.”
“Basil!” said Maggie.
“What? It’s true. And Captain Lamarche would agree with me, by the way.” He turned back to Evie. “You do have great form, though. And the way you lunged at that wolf. Utterly fearless. I wanted to stay and watch, but the fairies threatened to send us home.”
The four of them were sitting at a table in the Fir-Apple Library, a cozy, fire-warmed place tucked inside one of the small groves of trees at the edge of campus. Mounted animal heads lined the walls, and antler chandeliers hung from the fir-beam ceiling. They were meant to be studying the history of the Cauldron Tippers, but had yet to open their books.
“Can we please forget about the wolf?” said Evie. “We’ve got to focus on finding this woman. She’s the key to everything, I know it.”
“You’re serious, aren’t you?” said Maggie. “You actually believe that Princess Hazelbranch is working with the Vertreiben?” She shook her head at the absurdity.
“I saw them.” She stared straight into Maggie’s eyes, as sober as an undertaker. “I heard her say that if they were seen together, it would ruin everything. Those were Hazelbranch’s words.”
“I’m with Evie,” said Basil. “No one else is having secret meetings with strange women talking about hidden plans. It practically screams ‘more than she appears.’”
Evie glanced over at Demetra, who was sitting with her head slumped on her fist. She was absently doodling on her parchment. “All right, Demetra?”
“Yeah. Fine.”
Evie reached over and rubbed her shoulder. “I am sorry about Nessa. And Liv. I wish I would’ve made a better effort to get to know them.”
“It’s all right. I’m happy the four of us sorted everything out before Witches’ Night, though. Otherwise you lot would think I’m only here because my other friends are gone.”
They had all seen Liv get eliminated at the very beginning of Witches’ Night, but it wasn’t until morning broke that they discovered Nessa hadn’t made it, either. The entire following day was a strange mix of jubilation and sadness, as so many Leatherwolf and Bramblestick girls were no longer with them.
“Hi, Evie,” said a third-class cadet as she walked past.
“Hiya.”
“Would you sign my book?”
“Of course.”
Basil had to hold in his snickering as Evie scratched her name on the inside of the girl’s book.
“Thanks! My mum won’t believe it!”
“Don’t say a word, Basil,” she warned.
“All right, look,” said Maggie. “Can’t we all agree that Hazelbranch is the kindest princess on campus? The least likely to be working with the enemy?”
“Yes, and my stepmother was able to fool Princess Beatrice for years,” said Evie.
“But why? Why would Princess Hazelbranch be working with the Vertreiben? Or the witches? What possible motive could she have?”
“That’s why Evie’s saying we’ve got to find this other woman,” said Basil. “Perhaps she’ll give us the motive.”
“We’ve just survived Witches’ Night and we’re less than two months from the end of the year. Now’s not the time to be chasing ghosts and getting ourselves thrown out because we tried to topple one of the most beloved princesses at the Academy!” She opened her book with finality, hoping she’d settled the issue.
“So how do you explain the mysterious woman?” said Basil. “The secret meeting in the dark of night?”
“I can’t. But I do know that Princess Hazelbranch isn’t a villain, and that’s all there is to it.”
“What do you propose we do, then, Maggie?” said Demetra.
“We could take the letter to Princess Beatrice.”
“There’s no poin
t,” said Evie. “She’ll just say it was sent by someone who wants to have a go at me. She didn’t believe the first letter, so why should she believe the second? No. If we’re going to figure this out, we’ve got to find real proof on our own.”
“And how do we do that?” said Basil.
“By following Princess Hazelbranch.”
The next week went past like a sparrow in flight. There were two major changes after Witches’ Night, one welcome and one not at all. The first was that Leatherwolf Company had finally finished its work in the kitchens. Aside from the drastically smaller numbers in its own barracks, the third class had also begun to thin out. Pennyroyal Academy was starting to take on the eerie yet familiar feel that it had toward the end of Evie’s first year, with larger numbers of bunks and dining tables starting to go empty. As a result, the staff was able to resume all food preparation. The unwelcome development—the thing that rendered spying on Princess Hazelbranch all but impossible—was that the Fairy Drillsergeant had promised to begin the “real” second-class training after Witches’ Night. And she had delivered with a flourish. Everything became more difficult. Much more difficult. The bulk of the year had been primarily for observation, and now the culling had begun in earnest. Each class, each drill, became a proving ground as the staff worked to determine which cadets were truly good enough to continue to the first class. In addition to an increased physical workload, the cadets’ courage was being tested on a daily basis, with regular trips to the Haunted Castle of Waiserberg (actually just an empty replica rigged with false witches and simulated spells, but terrifying nonetheless). Even Life at Court, far and away the company’s easiest course, took on a more serious edge. Princess Elmstein had actually discharged a cadet for using the word honored instead of revered. Their grueling schedule made it impossible for Evie and Basil to attend sword-training sessions with the knight cadets, which meant that Evie really only saw Remington during meals.
