“Just leave me alone,” I say.
I try to push through them, but one of the girls grabs my arm and jerks me backward, hard. I wince and drop Puck. I try to catch him again, but the hobgoblin lands on the stone floor with a sickening crunch. For a moment, I feel like the whole world’s stopped spinning, and I hold my breath. But Puck seems merely stunned and shakes his head as he sits up on his furry hind.
“Look at that filthy thing,” says the girl who grabbed my arm. She kicks Puck in the ribs, sending him flying a few feet away.
“Stop!” I cry, horrified.
“Or what?” the girl asks with a smirk. “What are you worried about a demon for?”
She makes to go after Puck again, but I yank her by the hair. “I said stop!”
The girl shrieks like I’ve just stabbed her, and, quite frankly, that’s exactly what I want to do. But I let her go. The girl starts crying, and her friends glare at me.
“How dare you go against your superiors?” says one of them.
I grit my teeth. “You? Superior to me? Please!”
But the girl points at me. “You’re just a page, a gofer. You have no right to do this to those in higher stations than you. You ought to apologize, right now!”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Puck get back up, then scramble away. I grin at her. Is she really hiding behind a stupid high school standard to tell me what I ought and ought not to do?
“Make me,” I say.
When none of them make a movement, I spin around and march away, back to the dorms. Different country or different world, it doesn’t matter. People can be as loathsome here as anywhere else.
The energetic ring of the church bells wakes me up. I roll out of bed feeling like I’ve been kicked all night long like a ball at a soccer game. Outside, the sky-lake is a gray pink, and I wonder idly if it ever rains in this world.
Keva’s already awake, adding the final touches to her makeup. She admires her work in the mirror, then sighs. “I wish I had dimples. Then my cheeks wouldn’t look so fat.”
I drown my laughter in my pillow as she puts her mirror down.
“Well, toodles,” she says before strutting out.
With a start, I hear the last peal of the bells echo through the arched windows—I’m oh-so-very late. I let out a slew of curses, struggle to get dressed, and sprint out of the dorms. I skid around a corner, nearly run a servant down, then beeline through the outside gardens to the church.
I try to make an inconspicuous entrance, but the door squeaks as I shut it, and the eyes of all the teachers standing at the back swivel around to stare me down. Hunching, I make my way to the freshmen pews—or the pages’ section, as everyone keeps reminding me.
I find Jack in his usual spot, but no Bri here this time to greet me, and of course, Owen’s absent too.
“I heard you got in trouble again,” Jack whispers to me as I sit between him and Keva.
“That girl hates me,” I whisper back, “and for no reason.”
“You talked smack to her face.”
“She was bossing me around!”
“She has every right to,” Jack says. “She’s a knight.”
“Yeah, thanks, I’ve learned my lesson,” I mumble, tracing the school crest embroidered on my jacket’s front pocket. “Cross and shield for squire, add a sword, and you’ve got yourself a knight. I know now. Still, it doesn’t make it right.”
“I know it’s not always easy to tell,” Jack adds after the Credo is sung and we resume our seats, “but there’s a trick.”
“What is it? The size of their heads?”
“The more rings and earrings they wear, the higher ranked they are,” Jack replies. “Usually.”
“Well in that case, I’ll just get some of these practice rings Ysolt hands out. If that’s all it takes for Jennifer to be entitled to act like a bitch, there’s no reason I can’t do the same.”
“Nice try,” Jack says, “but you’re only allowed to keep those oghams you capture, or family heirlooms.”
I sigh. There goes my brilliant idea.
“So where’s Bri?” I ask.
“Home.”
A few of the squires in front of us turn around to shush us, and I return my attention to the homily.
“…sad event is to serve as a reminder that we’re never safe until all demons have been cast back into Hell!”
The words send goose bumps down my arms. I know that Father Tristan’s referring to Owen’s attack yesterday.
“This comes as a reminder to never let our guard down,” the priest continues, “even in times when peace seems to be presiding over our world. We were placed on this earth to serve as its keepers, and a good keeper does not fall asleep on his watch. These devils will stop at nothing to see our demise. They will find any way to tempt us, to lead us astray into the ever-damning flames of Hell.
“Satan’s avidity will not be sated until every single one of us, every single one of our souls, is his to command. But we know the truth of his ways, we know how deviant and wily his emissaries on earth are, and we shall never give in! We shall never bend to these Fey, these great seducers of men, but we will send them back into Gehenna, where they belong, to expiate their sins for all eternity!”
An assenting murmur rises from the nave as the first rays of the sun creep through the rose window behind the altar, showering the congregation with motley hues.
“Now let us pray to God for Owen’s recovery, that He may protect that innocent boy’s soul from the devil’s torments.”
Keva leans into me. “Isn’t Father Tristan inspiring?”
I nod, though I can’t shake a certain unease the sermon brings me. His thoughts parallel what those three upper classmen said last night about Puck, and I just can’t make myself think they were right. Shouldn’t one always stand up for the weak and defenseless, no matter what their background is? Or, as Father Tristan seems to imply, are there creatures whose existence should automatically be abolished just for being who or what they are?
I stifle a groan; thinking in this roundabout way is bound to give me a migraine for the rest of the day.
The moment Keva, Jack, and I walk into the dining hall, we’re assailed by the voices of hundreds of students debating what’s going to happen next.
“I say we should march into that forest and flush all that vermin out,” says the boy ahead of me in the food line.
“That’s too dangerous,” his friend says, slopping a plateful of gruel into his bowl. “We’d be attacking them in their own territory.” He shudders. “Just thinking about all those trees surrounding us makes me cringe.”
The first boy laughs. “You’re such a sissy. You’re never going to be knighted if you keep thinking that way.”
“I’d at least live long enough to reach knighthood age,” the other boy retorts as they head to find seats.
I fill my plate with buttered toast and yogurt. “What were they talking about?” I ask my roommate.
Keva tosses her long hair over her shoulder and shrugs. “The forest is where most of the Fey are now,” she says with a pout. “It’s the last place left that’s truly wild enough for them to live in. Which incidentally makes it the most dangerous place for us.” She leans in conspiratorially. “I hear that their headquarters is in a place called Avalon.”
“But…aren’t we located just next to it?” I ask.
As we make our way through the tables, people’s conversations stop.
“It’s her, isn’t it?” I hear a boy ask in a loud whisper.
“Course it is. She’s the only page that old.”
“Over here,” Keva says, setting her tray down on a table by the back wall.
Before I can follow suit, a boy jumps in front of me. “You’re Morgan, right?”
“What do you want?” I ask, already imagining him taunting and mocking me. I take an involuntary step back, but the boy only smiles.
“That was really brave of you, what you did yesterday,” he says
, looking down. “And, uh, you’re really cute.” He blushes furiously, then quickly retreats to his laughing friends.
“Well, aren’t you Miss Popular all of a sudden,” Keva says.
Dazed, I sink into my seat. Never in my wildest dreams have I imagined this to happen to me, and I’m not quite sure how to handle it.
“What, you expect to give out autographs now?” Keva asks.
I clear my throat. “So, why do we live so close to the Fey then?” I ask to switch topics. “And in a magical place, when we want to…get rid of it all?”
“How does the expression go again?” Keva says. “Keep your enemies close and all that.” She frowns at Jack stabbing his bacon with his fork like it might run away from him otherwise. “What’s up with you?” she asks him.
“I don’t know how you can be so carefree,” he says. “Owen’s still in the mending wing. He hasn’t woken up, not even to go to the bathroom.”
“How would you know?” Keva says. “I thought we weren’t allowed near him.”
“I’ve got my ways,” Jack says, his ears turning pink.
“But the surgery went well, right?” I ask.
Jack exhales loudly. “We won’t know until he wakes up.”
The food turns to ash in my mouth, and I have difficulty swallowing. With a twinge of guilt, I look at the place where Bri and Owen should be, and am amazed to find how quickly their friendship has grown on me and how I now miss them.
“Does this kind of accident happen often?” I ask.
“Not really,” Keva says. “Oh, it’s happened before, but the last incident was, like, twenty years ago, and it was nothing compared to this. I mean, the records state nobody got seriously hurt.”
I set my fork back down, unable to take another bite. On my first week here, one of the worst accidents in Lake High’s history takes place. I force myself not to think about my last days in Switzerland, but it’s as effective as carrying water in a sieve. There’s no denying it; I’m bad juju.
“So you say there are records of the school?” I ask, an idea springing to mind.
“For the whole school’s history,” Keva says, pulling out her pocket mirror to check her teeth. “That’s about a thousand years right there.”
“And it lists all the students that have attended here?”
Keva flicks her gaze toward me. “Amongst other things. Why do you ask?”
I stuff my mouth with bread to avoid having to answer. How can I tell her I want to find out whether my father ever came to this school too, and if they state anything regarding his death?
“But that’s not the important thing,” we hear a boy say at the table next to us. “I want to know if our practices are going to stop now.”
“Why would they?” a girl asks.
The boy pushes his plate away and leans forward. “That page didn’t follow the rules,” he says. “He didn’t check his gear before using it. He wasn’t even cleared for it. And now…” He splays his fingers out before him to describe the ensuing chaos.
“Didn’t you hear Father Tristan?” the girl retorts. “We’re probably going to go to war. Knights are too valuable, and we need to continue the training. Anyway, the news board said KORT will tell us their decision before practice tonight. Guess we’ll find out then.”
A chair falls to the floor with such force that we all jump in our seats.
“You done that on purpose!” Gareth shouts on the side of the dining hall reserved for KORT members. His bulky shoulders are smeared in what appears to be a full portion—or perhaps two— of oatmeal.
“Did you see me throw anything at you?” responds Gauvain’s silky-smooth voice.
Gareth points a finger at his cousin, sitting a table away from him. “Give me your coat.”
Gauvain’s laugh bounces along the room’s walls. “Why should I?”
A predatory smile spreads on Gareth’s dark features. “It would only be fair.”
I see the tall senior reach for a dish behind him, but Gauvain’s still laughing and doesn’t notice. Percy, however, moves his chair farther away from him, and that finally catches his attention.
Gauvain’s halfway turned around in his seat when the dish hits him square in the face. Pieces of omelet and sauce drip down his head, onto his lap.
“No exchange, no clean coat for you too,” says Gareth with a self-satisfied smirk.
Keva sighs next to me. “We should probably get out of here before it gets real messy.”
How much trouble can they cause? I wonder, but I’m spared from having to ask, for Gauvain launches himself at his cousin’s throat, and they both tumble to the floor in a cacophony of crashing cutlery and breaking glass.
“And the fight is on!” cries Percy, now crouching on his table like an umpire, calling out the shots.
Gareth kicks the taller boy in the stomach, and Gauvain, despite his bulk, is sent a few feet up in the air. And stays there.
Before his cousin can hurl himself at him, Gareth launches himself into the air as well, uses a column to push off, and both boys meet each other with blows just feet from the ceiling.
“They’re flying,” I say, craning my neck up to watch the pair fight.
“EM, stupid,” Keva says next to me. “It’s what we train for.”
I nod, unable to tear my eyes away from the scene. I’ve seen Arthur’s elemental manipulation during his fight with Percy, but it was nothing compared to this. People below the fighting cousins run, ducking for cover as lumps of oatmeal and eggs rain down around them.
Suddenly, the door slams open, and someone walks in, heavy boots ringing on the pavement. “That is enough!”
Everyone halts, even Gareth and Gauvain, who are still hanging in the air. The beautiful boy I’ve seen so often with Arthur glares up.
For a moment, I feel like he’s going to swear at them, but instead he says, “Get back down, you two. KORT’s meeting in five, and the Board’s going to call.”
Looking sheepish, the two cousins fly back down. “Uh… we’ll clean this up after the meeting,” Gauvain says.
Gareth pushes him toward the exit. “No time,” he says as the KORT section empties out. “Let the staff care for it.”
“That was amazing,” I say once they have left.
Already two tiny men are going about the hall, picking up debris and wiping breakfast remains away, and I wonder for a moment if they, too, are Fey.
“Yeah,” Keva breathes. “KORT’s amazing, especially Lance. He’s so dreamy…Hey, have you ever considered introducing me to your brother so I—”
“What’s this Board?” I ask.
Both Jack and Keva laugh at me, and I feel the ever-familiar blush rise to my cheeks.
Jack pushes his glasses back up. “So you know how KORT’s made up of the thirteen best knights at school—”
“Twelve, technically,” Keva says.
“Well, the Board’s made up of a hundred and fifty people who are in charge of affairs in the surface world,” Jack says. “All graduates of this school, of course.”
“Most of them are old geezers now,” Keva says. “And not all of them got there because they deserved it. But that’s the way of the world, isn’t it, Morgan?”
“Right,” I say, choosing to ignore the sarcasm behind her words.
Whatever the politics involved, it’s clear things are a lot more serious than a training accident would warrant. And I’m going to find out why.
By the time the weekend ends, I’m as knackered as I was when it started. Maybe it was to keep our minds busy, but the professors have given us mounds of additional work to do, and if it weren’t for Jack, I don’t think I’d ever get my brain right-side up again.
So when we get to Miss Laplace’s math class, I let out a sigh of relief.
“Oh, look, the troll has arrived.”
Daniel and his posse, Ross and Brockton, snigger in their usual corner.
“Did you know that the Fey hate to reveal their true names,” Keva says
loudly to Nadia, sitting next to her.
Nadia, a tall and spindly girl, doesn’t respond, but then she never does, and I often catch myself wondering if she’s mute like Dean.
“It’s because it gives the one who knows their name power over them,” Keva continues, “which is why we need to call their oghams in EM if we want to draw their power out.”
The whole class sits a little straighter, wondering where she’s going with all this. Even I know this much about EM by now. But one thing’s for sure: my roommate’s got a sharp mind on her, and an even sharper tongue.
“Now imagine if that worked on us! For instance, my last name means ‘record keeper.’” Keva throws her hand up before her as if to stop Nadia’s objection. “I know, not very exciting. Not like Pendragon, whose meaning is rather obvious. But far better than, say, Foreman.” She throws a sly glance at the three boys. “How does it feel, Ross? Do you have the soul of a pig herder? Or maybe that of a pig?”
The greasy-haired boy jumps over his desk, toppling his chair over, and makes for Keva, who easily sidesteps him. He trips over his own feet and lands headfirst on the teacher’s desk.
“What is going on here?”
Miss Laplace has arrived, her eyes bulging behind her glasses. Red-faced, Ross straightens up and sets her table back straight before shuffling back to his seat.
“Nothing, ma’am,” Keva says. “He just won’t accept that I’m refusing his advances.”
Miss Laplace’s features soften. “Ah, young love. I can understand your plight, Mr. Foreman.”
The class giggles at her words, and she looks about her, confused.
“You shouldn’t mock your classmate’s feelings,” she says severely, eliciting only more laughter. “Even at such a young age, one can feel the agonizing pangs of jilted love.”
By now, even stuck-up Laura and Dina are laughing so hard that they’re falling off their chairs.
“Enough,” Miss Laplace says, slamming her book of sacred geometry on her desk. “Since you’re all so wide-awake, we might as well start the lesson. Chapter seventeen. What’s the ratio associated with circles? Miss Kulkarni?”
Blood of the Fey (Morgana Trilogy) Page 9
