by Maria Amor
Finally, after what felt like a half hour, everyone seemed to be in the hall, and the dean raised his hands for silence. “Attention! Students of The School of Sandrine!” Julia’s heart beat faster in her chest, anticipating the news that was coming.
The volume of chatter in the room gradually leveled off and then began to die down, and Julia felt the same sensation she had every time she’d gone to see a show on Broadway: the hushed expectation, the skin-tingling anticipation of something big about to happen, a real event.
“Thank you all for arriving without dawdling,” Dean Dimitrios said, stepping to the center of the central stage. He looked around at the assembled students, somehow managing to appear stern and humble at the same time. Was he wearing that tweed thing earlier today, or did he just put it on for this? Julia pushed the thought out of her mind.
“I wanted to gather you all to make sure that everyone was clear on a few points that have recently been decided,” the dean continued. “As I’m sure you’ve all noticed, academics have become more intense this year.” A murmur went through the audience, and Julia heard the grumbling in it.
The dean waited for the murmur to subside. “Because we’ve come to a decision this year to overall focus on academic competitiveness, any clubs that are not focused on specific competitive, academic goals will not be meeting this year.”
That brought a real reaction: not just a murmur but almost a roar from the number of students reacting to the news. The dean raised his hands again and reluctantly the students went quiet. “That means that Mathletes, Academic Triathlon, Debate team, and so on—those clubs will still meet. But any purely recreational clubs will—for the year—be disbanded unless the decision of the staff changes. We want all of you to be able to focus as much as possible on your studies and achieving the kind of excellence that has made the School of Sandrine as well-known as it is.”
Julia tuned out the dean after that moment, focusing instead on her own thoughts. They were disbanding all of the clubs that didn’t have a competitive focus; any club that didn’t do something that would bring glory to the school on the basis of academic achievement wouldn’t meet for the rest of the year. But why? It didn’t make any sense. The clubs had been in place for as long as Julia had attended Sandrine, and before that—the extra-curricular activities had been a selling point for her parents, along with the proximity and the prestige.
The excuse of focusing on academics didn’t hold, at least as far as Julia was concerned. Certainly, the workload that all of the students had was more than it had been before—but the clubs were all voluntary, and there was a clause in all of the club charters that if a member fell below a 3.0 GPA, they would have to miss club meetings until their grades went back up. So to Julia at least, it was obvious that there wasn’t an academic reason for the clubs to be out of commission for the year. But if that wasn’t the reason, what was? It didn’t make any sense.
CHAPTER TEN
It should have been club week; instead, Dylan followed Julia towards the big classroom next to the school library where study hall was, even though they’d both already fulfilled their required hours there for the week. There didn’t seem to be any real plan to give the students of the School of Sandrine anything to do outside of class, apart from the few clubs that were allowed to continue—and those were already full.
They’d tried to get in touch with Ruth over the weekend, to find out what the older, more powerful elemental knew about the new dean, or the situation at Sandrine. So far, the arrangement that Ruth had made continued to hold, but Dylan wasn’t convinced that it would keep going that way—Dean Dimitrios was becoming more and more unpredictable.
“I heard there’s a thief in the fire-aligned girls’ dorm,” Dylan heard someone at an adjoining table saying, quietly. Julia sat down at one of the few empty tables in the room and Dylan took the seat opposite her.
“Have you heard about that?” Dylan pitched his voice just loudly enough for Julia to hear him. Julia lifted one hand and tilted it from side to side slightly.
“I’ve heard some things have gone missing,” she whispered back. “But things are always going missing—half the time it’s because someone put them down somewhere weird, and they end up finding them in a week.”
“What is with girls and losing things?” Julia scowled in response to his question.
“What is it with guys and not paying attention to the world around them?” She raised an eyebrow. “After all, that rumor has been going around for at least a week, and you’re just now hearing it.”
“I’m not in the girls’ dorms,” Dylan countered, taking his History textbook out and setting it on the table. Students who didn’t make at least a token effort to appear like they were studying couldn’t stay in study hall.
“It’s weird though,” Julia said after a moment of looking through one of her notebooks. “Normally it takes a bit longer for the ‘thief’ rumors to start up.” She glanced at Dylan.
“You think it has something to do with the new dean and the new professors?”
Julia shrugged. “It just seems like this year is...off, somehow.” She frowned. “No clubs except for the ones that get prestige to Sandrine, extra-hard workloads, a bunch of missing teachers and a new dean? All of this at once just feels weird.”
“What do you think is going on?” Julia shrugged again, shaking her head.
“I have no idea,” she admitted. “Not a one of my usual sources knows anything about what’s going on—and that’s even weirder.”
“Why is it weirder? It’s not like it’s impossible to keep things a secret.”
Julia snorted and the study hall monitor—one of the new professors, named Englund—shushed her, looking out over the students gloomily. Englund taught History, and while Dylan didn’t have her, he’d heard on more than one occasion, from sources he thought were generally pretty trustworthy, that she had a habit of throwing desks across the room when she was frustrated.
“It’s very difficult to keep things a secret in this school,” Julia countered in a tense whisper. “It’s almost impossible. The fact that nobody seems to know anything about all these changes is suspicious all on its own.”
“Ruth doesn’t even know anything about it,” Dylan pointed out. He wasn’t sure that was true; they simply hadn’t been able to visit the older Guardian to ask her in more detail about the strange happenings at Sandrine.
“We don’t know that,” Julia pointed out. “We just know that if she does know something about it, she isn’t comfortable telling us about it over the phone.”
“Let me guess: you have a theory,” Dylan said. He resisted the urge to smile, knowing that if he did, Julia would get angry and cause a scene—and get them both thrown out of study hall.
“Not yet,” Julia said irritably. “But there’s something going on, and I don’t like it.”
“You’re just jealous there’s no chance of you being the queen bee of the air-aligned folks,” Dylan countered. “No clubs means no chance to show off how much you’re developing.”
“I don’t even want people to know how much I’m developing,” Julia told him. She looked around, making sure no one was eavesdropping. “I’m already getting stares.”
It was, Dylan had to admit, true; most of the students—and almost all of the teachers—at Sandrine knew that Julia was developing rapidly into the most powerful air-aligned Guardian in the country, and possibly in her generation. Nobody quite dared to mention the last time a powerful air Guardian came into his abilities in the United States: a rash of intense windstorms centered around the part of the country the blossoming Guardian lived in, extending out beyond the neighborhood and even the state.
Dylan was fairly certain that that wasn’t in Julia’s future; she’d had much more practice containing and controlling the winds that came up at her command. It seemed more likely to him that her powers and abilities would manifest in a very different way—a way that no one was really prepared for. “You ha
ven’t had any more spasms or surges, have you?”
“If I did, you would know about it,” Julia pointed out. For the most part, it was true; there were only a few classes where they weren’t together, and then the night when they were both asleep—or trying to sleep—in their separate dorm rooms.
“If you had one at night, or during one of our classes apart,” Dylan countered.
“You’d still know,” Julia insisted. “Everyone would know. Everyone would be talking about it.”
“I thought you liked being the center of attention,” Dylan said lightly.
“Not like this,” Julia told him, her tone bleak. “I got my fill of this stuff over the summer. I just want things to go as normally as possible for the next year, and then…” she shrugged. “I want something else to become newsworthy.”
That explained why she was so wrapped up in the great mystery of the School of Sandrine staffing shake-up, Dylan thought; she wanted something to take the attention off of her. He couldn’t blame her: he’d seen more than one of the notes in her personal mailbox from members of high-ranking Guardian families. “We certainly hope that you’ll visit us some weekend during the school year…” “We would love for you to get to know our son…” “Our daughter remarked on what a stellar student you are at Sandrine, and we’d love to foster a closer friendship with you and your family…”
Dylan had received a few similar notes when he’d come into his abilities, but his grandmother wasn’t one of the four most important Guardians on the planet; his family—while fairly high in rank—wasn’t at the same level. He’d turned down a handful of arranged marriage proposals, and he was certain his parents had turned down more; after all, he’d been 14 at the time—certainly too young to think seriously about finding a mate.
But Julia’s situation was clearly different. Not only did she come from a powerful family, but she was powerful in her own right; and there were dozens of families around the world that had heard of her, who would be interested in an alliance with Julia. Love didn’t come into it—they wanted the prestige and the power that Julia had to offer.
“Start a rumor,” Dylan suggested. “Surely you’ve got intel on enough people at this point that you could cobble something together.” Julia half-smiled.
“I’m trying to fly under the radar,” she pointed out. “But maybe I could get someone else to start a rumor, get it going around.” She considered it and shook her head. “There’s something important going on, I know there is—I can’t distract from that.”
She must really be into the idea of some big conspiracy, Dylan thought. If Julia wasn’t willing to start up the rumor mill, even for fun, or for the sake of taking the pressure off of herself, then she was really concerned about what she thought might be happening at the school. “Maybe you could start a rumor with the intention of figuring some of this stuff out,” Dylan suggested.
Julia’s hazel-toned eyes lit up at the idea. “For someone who isn’t air-aligned, sometimes you’re a social genius,” she said, barely keeping her voice at a whisper. Her gaze darted around the room. “If we can get some rumors going about what the situation is—and make them credible enough—we could force the administration, or someone, to give us some answers just to get ahead of the rumors.” She licked her lips and Dylan saw mischief dancing through her eyes.
“Thanks for that, by the way,” he said drily. “Us water-aligned Guardians may not be the social geniuses that you air-aligned folks are, but we’re about harmony and understanding—not bad traits for manipulating people.”
“Trust me, I know all about how good water-aligned creatures are at manipulation,” Julia said, some of her elation lost in a flicker of annoyance. “But that—that’s genius.” She smiled again slowly, and Dylan could almost see wheels turning in her mind, working out how she would bring his suggestion to life.
“Attention students,” the dean’s voice came over the PA, and Dylan heard the sound of a suppressed groan through the study hall room. “It has come to the attention of the administration of this school that there has been a rash of thefts, mainly targeting the belongings of fire-aligned students.” Dylan raised an eyebrow, meeting Julia’s gaze from across the table.
“Myself and the rest of the School Advisory Board want it to be understood that moving forward, there is a zero-tolerance policy regarding theft. If students are discovered with others’ belongings without the owner’s permission, the first infraction will result in a week of detention. The second infraction—if there is one—will result in one week’s suspension, and if it happens a third time, the student will be expelled.”
Julia’s eyes widened and a quick glance around the room told Dylan that everyone in it—save the professor monitoring the room—was just as shocked. The dean finished up the announcement and signed off, and the room stayed silent for another few moments as the students tried to digest the news. “Has it really become such a big problem that he has to make an official policy?” Dylan shrugged at Julia’s question.
“I would think it would be a bit more common knowledge if it was,” he whispered back. Julia nodded her agreement.
“I’m telling you, something is going on,” she said firmly. “We need to figure out what it is.” Dylan raised an eyebrow at that.
“Why do we need to figure out what it is?” He looked around the crowded study hall room; a few other students had gone back to their work, whispering a bit amongst themselves.
“Personally, I want to figure it out,” Julia replied. “And anyway, if we don’t figure it out, how can we be sure anyone else will?” Dylan shook his head.
“If we get involved, it’ll just draw attention to both of us,” Dylan pointed out. “I thought you wanted less attention, not more.”
“We could at least see if anyone knows anything, can’t we?” Julia looked at him intently and Dylan sighed.
“When are we going to have time for that?” He gestured to their books, laid out on the table.
“We don’t have any clubs to go to,” Julia pointed out.
“I still think that it’ll just draw attention that you don’t want,” Dylan told her. “If you go snooping—beyond talking to Ruth or something like that—then even more people will be talking about you.” He glanced at the study hall monitor meaningfully. “And you don’t want the dean calling you into his office if you can help it.”
Neither of them had fallen afoul of the dean yet, but Dylan and Julia had both heard about a few students who had—and what the outcome had been. The new dean seemed to be capricious in terms of punishment: one sylph had been sent for a prank involving birds, and had received two weeks of detention—spending his afternoons cleaning the dining hall between lunch and dinner. Another student, a selkie, had caused water damage to one of the girls’ bathrooms and hadn’t received any punishment at all.
“If you get on his bad side he might screw with the arrangements your grandmother made just to spite us,” Dylan pointed out.
“I’m not entirely sure that’d be completely bad,” Julia said tartly. “You’re supposed to be my companion and bodyguard, not my au pair.”
“I’m supposed to be your bodyguard, you’re right,” Dylan countered. “That means preventing you from doing something stupid that’s just going to get you in trouble if I can.” He smiled wryly. “Not that I have a huge amount of confidence in keeping you from doing anything you’ve decided to do.”
“Fine,” Julia said, sighing in frustration. “I won’t dig too deeply into it. But only if you agree that things have gotten weird at this school.” Dylan suppressed a laugh.
“Jules, we go to a school with faeries, gnomes, werewolves, and witches,” he pointed out. “If things weren’t weird, I’d be worried.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Julia looked up from her French textbook to see one of the fae—a girl who looked to be fourteen, but who was probably closer to two hundred—standing next to her bed. She and Dylan had parted for the night maybe an hour before, o
stensibly to go to sleep, but the energy that Julia could feel dancing through her body made it impossible for her to relax. “What’s up, Orla?”
“I couldn’t think of anyone else to talk to about this,” Orla replied, glancing at the empty spot on Julia’s bed. Julia gestured for the girl to sit down, and the faerie did, wringing her hands slightly. “I know I should probably go to one of the professors, or an air Guardian who’s a senior, or something, but…” Orla looked at her with honey-gold eyes brimming with tears.
“It’s fine, Orla,” Julia said, wishing—fleetingly—that Dylan was allowed into the girls’ dorms, that she could have his calming presence to maybe get the fae on her bed to calm down without crying. “Whatever you need to talk about. If someone else needs to know, we can figure out who to tell. What’s going on?”
Orla took a deep breath. “Someone accused me of stealing from them,” Orla said quietly. “I’ve never stolen anything from anyone—I don’t even borrow things.” Orla came from a fae clan that—as Julia recalled it—made a habit of never borrowing anything; they took a huge amount of pride in their wealth, accumulated over centuries of jaunts between fae and the world of humans. “It was one of the gnomes, Bran. He said I stole something from his room, and Professor Folant backed him up, even though there wasn’t any proof.” If she didn’t do it, of course there isn’t any proof, Julia thought wryly.
“So, what happened?” She reached out tentatively and took Orla’s hands in hers. The fae girl had almost-translucent skin, typical of her kind, with a subtle glow underneath, like there was a light inside of her. Her face was unspeakably beautiful, and that was even with the fae magic to make her appear more human.
