by Emma Savant
“I haven’t watched her as closely as the Oracle,” Isabelle said “But do you really think anyone with that kind of power can wield it without becoming corrupted?”
The question made me pause.
Amani was just as nervous about the Oracle as Isabelle and I were, but I could hardly tell Isabelle that.
As for power, I didn’t know. I’d been offered the job, but I’d never thought about what it might do to me if I took it.
“She and the Oracle are close,” Isabelle went on. “That’s all I know.”
“I think Queen Amani is different from the Oracle,” I said.
“They’re two sides of the same coin,” Isabelle said. “We’ve forgotten the Stories, all of us. The Oracle and Faerie Queen have collaborated on everything since they first settled in this city. The Queen did high-level things and the Oracle had her boots on the ground. That’s the way it’s been for two hundred years. Why would that have changed now, just because they don’t talk about their connection so much?”
“The Faerie Queen has changed maybe a dozen times in two hundred years,” I said. “So has the Oracle, probably.”
Isabelle wasn’t hearing it.
“Doesn’t it seem strange that the Queen hasn’t said anything about the fountains?” she said. Her words tumbled over one another in their race to get out. “They both live behind water. They both hide from the world and don’t bother to come down and speak with mere mortals. Aren’t they a little too similar for your comfort?”
But Queen Amani did come down, I wanted to say. Amani was watching the Oracle as closely as Isabelle was.
“No one even knows who the Oracle is,” Isabelle said. The rose bush next to her trembled in response to her fervent energy. “And no one knows enough about the Queen, either.”
“My dad works with both of them,” I said.
“And how does your dad feel about the Oracle lately?” Isabelle said.
I shrugged. If he had thoughts on the matter, he certainly hadn’t shared them with me.
“That’s what I thought,” she said. “I know what I’m saying isn’t going to win me any friends. A few hundred years ago, I would have been called to the Queen’s court to stand trial for treason.”
This seemed unlikely, but I kept my mouth shut. Isabelle had clearly formed her own opinions. She didn’t need mine.
The problem was, her opinions made some sense. Unpleasant, unlikely sense, but sense. I stilled the impulse to touch the silver ring hidden underneath my shirt.
Isabelle fell silent and stared off down the hill. In the distance, Portland shimmered dull silver and chrome in the rainy light.
“Why are you telling me all this, then?” I said.
She didn’t move, but her dark eyes grew so intense that she might as well have been an inch away.
“I saw you at the Oracle’s Fountain,” she said. “I saw your face when your friend walked into the Fountain and chose her.”
I bit the inside of my cheek.
“Maybe that’s not enough,” she said. “I’m taking a big risk being honest with you, I know that. But I can’t keep doing this alone. I need help.”
“And you think I can help.”
“I don’t know much about faerie magic, but I did my research,” she said. “You’re the youngest godmother Wishes Fulfilled has seen in a long time. You must have something going for you. You work right across the street from one of the most important Glimmering spots in Portland. And the Oracle took someone from you, just like she took someone from me.”
It wasn’t much, as votes of confidence went. But Isabelle was right. She did need help, and so did I.
“What do you want me to do?”
Nerves fizzled off of her like static, and I braced myself for whatever enormous task she was about to give me.
“Keep an eye on her.”
It was hard to keep a straight face. What Isabelle seemed to think was a dangerous new job added almost nothing to my plate.
I’d already been watching the Oracle for months, at Queen Amani’s request. I’d kept her posted about gossip I overheard and rumors I picked up around town, seemingly unrelated things about a haunted building here or a Humdrum attack there. These things had been happening for years as isolated incidents. Only lately had a few of us started to see the patterns.
With Isabelle on board, my work hadn’t changed. I’d just be texting two people now instead of one.
“Don’t tell a soul about this,” Isabelle said. “We can’t trust anyone.”
“You trust Haidar,” I said.
“Haidar and you,” Isabelle said. “And you have no idea how hard my heart is pounding now, just trusting you.”
I did know. I’d felt it slamming and shuddering in her chest for the past twenty minutes.
“Don’t worry about me,” I said. I thought about Queen Amani, and Imogen, and the Oracle’s voice echoing in my ears: There is a storm brewing. “I know how to keep secrets.”
Chapter Three
The front door slammed. I didn’t need to hear the way it shuddered in its hinges to know that Dad was home. The air prickled like a storm was brewing, and it wasn’t long before the storm swept into the kitchen.
“Where’s your mother?” he said, barely bothering to glance at me.
“Shopping,” I said.
I didn’t clarify that she was downtown buying divination charms, or that she’d met with a new client today, a hundredth-generation princess living in the suburbs who needed help telling which of her household pets had swallowed her golden ring.
He opened the fridge and glared at the contents. “I heard you turned down a case,” he said. His tone was cool, but I knew better than to trust it.
Instead of answering, I turned back to my laptop, where jewel-like green leaves in a photograph threatened to grow right out of the screen. Imperial College of Faeries was written across the top in silver letters, and underneath that, Department of Magical Botany.
Of course a magic-based study of plants existed. Of course I could study new species at a Glimmering university as well as anywhere else.
It blew my mind that I’d never connected these dots before.
My entire life, I had been more interested in plants than in magic. My faerie gifts seemed snobbish, secret, restricted only to the kind of people who had my parents’ self-important approval. Plants, on the other hand, covered the world and were there for anyone to discover, no matter who their parents were or which Councils they sat on. All plants needed was dirt and sun and they grew, transforming from tiny seeds to complex organisms that could nourish or poison, all without a hint of a spell.
That had seemed like real magic.
I’d been so determined to slough off my Glimmering roots and reach for this real magic that I’d completely failed to realize there was some overlap between the two—and the overlap was fascinating.
“Between you and your brother, I’m not sure the Feye family name is going to mean anything after I’m gone,” Dad said.
“Mmhm,” I said.
How had it taken Isabelle going clear to Europe for me to realize stuff like this existed? I’d known she was going to Europe for some plant breeding thing, but it hadn’t occurred to me to look Glimmering botany programs up until I’d actually seen her in her garden with her roses. Those rose bushes had responded to her as if they were not only alive, but conscious. I’d never seen anything like it.
Text ran across the page: The magical properties of roses have long been known to Glimmering-kind. Though it is said that faeries have an inborn gift for the growth of these enchanted blooms, closer study will reveal that the current robust diversity in species is largely thanks to the work of a school of Spanish sorcerers which formed in the sixteenth century and continues to the present day. Once a year, the Imperial College brings one of these sorcerers to our campus to discuss Spenican roses and their unique contribution to the field of magic.
“You’re almost an adult, Olivia,” Dad said.
“You might not care about your future, but I’m your father, and it’s my job to care.”
“That’s true,” I murmured.
Our unique collection of rare snapdragons is among the most diverse in the world. Second-year students have an opportunity to grow these remarkable plants from seedlings. (Please note: Students must demonstrate firm control over the fire element before taking seedlings home. Students who do not pass fire certification will be required to keep their snapdragons in one of our four campus greenhouses.)
Dad shut the fridge door, and I heard the glug of wine being poured into a glass.
The conservation of magical plants is of vital importance to the next generation of Glimmering botanists.
“I guess I should be grateful that you’re going to college at all, even if it is a Humdrum school,” Dad said, his contempt lacing the word Humdrum with venom. “Daniel won’t even be able to manage that much if his grades don’t improve.”
We work closely with Glimmer-aware Humdrum biologists to identify and cultivate new plant species. Each year, five students are selected from the graduating class to join a two-week international Glim-Hum botanical expedition.
“He’d better start working on them,” I said. My eyes raced across the page.
A special series on the healing properties of herbs is available through a collaboration with the Department of Healing & Health Services… Past visiting speakers have included prominent ecologists… Field studies are integrated into each of our summer courses…
“Olivia,” Dad said, his voice slicing into my awareness.
I looked up, surprised to see him still standing there. “What?”
“Are you listening to me?” he said. “Damn computers. Your generation has lost the ability to focus on anything.”
“Sorry,” I said. I couldn’t stop myself from glancing back down to the page. “What were you saying?”
“What are you looking at on there?” he demanded. I reached out, fingers poised to minimize the screen, but he was behind my shoulder in an instant. I held very still, bracing myself for the “I told you so” and demands that I send in my application immediately.
Instead, he raised the wine glass to his lips.
“That would be a good choice,” he said. “If your mom gets home, tell her I’m in my office taking a call.”
He walked out of the room, taking his wine with him.
Since he wasn’t going to force me, I clicked the link at that top of the page that said Apply in thin, elegant letters. I scanned over the requirements. Scores from a Gifts Elucidation test—the Glimmering world’s version of an SAT or ACT, much more generalized than Imogen’s specialist Proctor Exam had been—and an entry essay to be sent through the website using their JinxNet Spell Secure system.
My cursor hovered over the Save icon in the corner of the screen. Before I could talk myself out of it, I downloaded the application, then shut my laptop with a click.
I heard the front door open. My mom’s energy floated in ahead of her, exuberant and unfamiliar.
Mom was going through some kind of midlife crisis. She’d started doing volunteer Quests and taking on paid freelancing divination jobs. When that seemed to be going well, she’d dyed her hair a vivid auburn. A week or two later, she’d joined a Rediscovering Your Inner Wild Woman group which, as far as I could tell, consisted mostly of middle-aged women doing weird spells and tribal dances designed to make their periods more magical or something. My mom had gotten weird.
I liked her better this way.
“Olivia,” she called. “Come help with the groceries.”
I hopped off my kitchen stool and went into the foyer. Reusable linen grocery bags hung from her arms. I took a gallon of milk from her outstretched hand and slid a bag from her wrist.
She swept ahead of me into the kitchen. A potted plant on the hall table curled a leaf toward her. I couldn’t blame it; she’d carried some residue from the divination shop home with her and she reeked of magic. I liked the feel of it, but I knew Dad wouldn’t.
I freed one of my fingers from the grocery bag handle and wiggled the finger toward her, funneling some of the magic off of her aura and into mine.
“Did you know the Imperial College has a botany program?” I said in an undertone as soon as we were in the kitchen.
Mom set her bags on the island and turned to face me.
“Really?” she said, like I’d just asked her to do twenty backwards somersaults for my entertainment. “You just realized this?”
“Why didn’t you mention it?” I said.
She rolled her eyes. “I did mention it,” she said.
“I don’t remember that.”
“Might have something to do with how your eyes glaze over whenever anyone says Imperial,” she said. “I’ve brought it up at least five hundred times.”
I frowned. I had no memory of this. “When?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “I started a few years ago? Three, maybe? And you said—” she paused, trying to remember. Then, in an overly dramatic voice I assumed was supposed to imply teenager, said, “Ugh, Mom, I’m not looking for some mediocre imitation of real Humdrum science, God!”
I was pretty sure my voice had never been quite that huffy. The words sounded like me, though.
“Well, then, yes,” I said. My forehead felt hot. “I just realized this.”
She pulled her now-auburn hair into a ponytail on top of her head.
“You going to do anything about it?” she said.
I handed her a carton of eggs.
“I don’t know,” I said. “Probably not. I don’t know why I mentioned it.”
When Dad came back into the room, I gave him a sidelong glance. He was grumpy about something, but the energy wasn’t directed at me.
Mom stiffened.
“What?” she said. “What did I do now?”
“Not everything is all about you, Marigold,” he said. He checked his watch, an ancient timepiece that kept track of time and of the lunar cycles. “I need to go into the office.”
“You just got home,” I said.
His jaw twitched. “I’m aware of that, Olivia,” he said, in an exaggerated show of patience. “But Her Majesty, Queen Amani, has urgent business to discuss with me, and we are all subject to her timing.”
I busied myself putting vegetables into the crisper, bending down behind the fridge door so he couldn’t see my face.
She’d promised to keep our connection private. My stomach wobbled anyway.
“What kind of urgent business?” I said.
“Marigold, are you aware that Olivia has expressed an interest in the Imperial College?” he said, like I wasn’t there.
“She mentioned it,” Mom said.
She handed me the jug of milk. The handle was almost too cold to touch. I slid it into the fridge and cleared my throat.
“I’m also expressing an interest in your job,” I said. “Why does Her Majesty want to see you?”
Reginald Feye was the master of the poker face. No one outside the family would have recognized the look of utter confusion that made his lips get tight. It was hard to blame him. I hadn’t asked about his job in years. I’d barely asked him about anything in years.
“I’m curious,” I said, like this wasn’t completely out of character.
He frowned at me. “There have been some tensions between Glimmers and Humdrums in recent months,” he said.
My stomach flipped over. This tension was exactly what Amani had asked me to watch for.
“I know,” I said. “I mean, I’ve heard you mention it.”
His dark eyebrows went up by just a hair. “Well, then perhaps you’re aware that someone has been attacking the Humdrums,” he said.
Daniel came into the room behind him. In his black turtleneck, my skinny younger brother was like a shadow. He leaned against the wall and listened.
“Much to my surprise, the Council has so far been unable to locate the perpetrator. This is alarm
ing, for obvious reasons.”
Obvious reasons being that the Council was the greatest thing in the universe, according to Dad, and totally incapable of the failure that dogged us mere mortals.
“I just spoke with one of my colleagues on the phone and learned that someone has kidnapped a young Humdrum girl, and there’s reason to believe a Glimmer is involved. Queen Amani wishes to speak with a select few members of the Council to determine how to proceed. She values our input.” His chest swelled a little as he spoke.
Relief flooded me, followed quickly by something else. I hadn’t felt the ring under my shirt glow warm, the way it usually did when Amani wanted to contact me. She hadn’t texted, either. Normally, she let me know as soon as anything new happened with the Humdrums.
“Queen Amani relies on us,” Dad said. “And while this is a great honor, it comes with its own pressures. The Council has been unable to determine who is behind these attacks, and Her Majesty is not pleased by our inability to catch the criminals.” His face tightened for a moment. “It appears she holds me and other Council leaders responsible.”
“But it’s not your fault,” I said. Daniel raised his thin eyebrows.
“It is, actually,” Mom said. “It’s the Council’s job to govern our world.”
She pulled a cutting board out of a drawer, not looking at Dad.
“It doesn’t help that people are starting to get suspicious,” she said. “Some Glimmers seem to think the bad guy has the right idea, and some Humdrums are getting more and more skeptical that this is all chance.”
“That’s rumor,” Dad snapped.
“A persistent rumor has just as much power as the truth,” Mom said.
“It’s virtually impossible to glamour the memories of every Humdrum who’s been exposed to magic,” Dad said. “If you think otherwise, I’m sure the entire Council would love to hear your suggestions.”
“I’m not criticizing,” Mom said. She dropped a bunch of carrots in the sink and pulled her wand out of her pocket. “It’s a fine line. Even the best Erasers disagree on how to balance the glamour and removal of memories. We all know that.”
