Good Witches Don't Cheat (Academy of Shadowed Magic Book 2)

by S. W. Clarke

  You can do this, Clementine. Move with him. The gallop is the smoothest one of all.

  There.

  When I’d matched my seat to his gallop, I unwound my fingers from his mane. One hand, then the other.

  I had to summon my fire without my anger. I had to allow it to consume me without consuming what was inside me.

  I lifted my hands, flame sputtering to life in each. My heart ricocheted in my chest, the adrenaline wild and dizzying as when I was in a fight. The Spitfire awaited.

  No anger. Don’t turn to it. Keep your head.

  The flames rose in my hands as the other rider neared, but by now they should have slid up my arms and rushed across my body. By now they should have taken along Noir’s back and rushed up and down his spine, encompassing the whole of him.

  But they remained only in my hands, and I knew I was out of time. The mare was too close; we would collide.

  I’d failed at fire riding.

  I threw my hands down, clutching Noir’s mane. Squeezed my eyes shut as he barreled onward. I had to trust the horses now to decide this game of chicken.

  When the mare shrieked, my eyes opened. She had jerked aside from the charging stallion, spooked by his size and intensity. And so I pressed Noir wide of her to avoid the professor’s outstretched hand.

  He hadn’t touched us.

  We tore into the forest back toward the meadow. The hour must almost be up; I only had to last a few more minutes at most. Even if I didn’t make the meadow, I just had to avoid Fernwhirl.

  Soon she was alongside us in the trees, and the deja vu was strong. She wouldn’t try the same attack twice, would she?

  I was wrong. She absolutely would.

  This time I kept an eye on her, allowing Noir to do the work of carrying us forward; he knew the direction. It was also the same direction the stables were in, and his supply of alfalfa.

  Never doubt a horse’s love of alfalfa.

  When Fernwhirl’s moment came, I recognized it this time. Her wings angled to bring her down fast and hard at me, and this time she was ready to pivot.

  I didn’t have another out. I didn’t have fire riding; I only had what Farrow had taught me. And so I grabbed Noir’s neck, prepared to swing myself around his body as I’d done before.

  But just Fernwhirl launched herself and I angled my weight, Noir stumbled.

  It wasn’t a large stumble. It wasn’t a broken leg or a tumble. It was just a momentary misstep.

  But for me, it was devastating.

  I lost my grip on him, went tumbling to the ground. It rose to meet me with all the unforgiving firmness of cement, and I must have rolled a dozen times before I came to a dizzied stop.

  I was on my back, staring up at the trees. Somewhere, hooves clapped the ground. Somewhere, a voice yelled out. I couldn’t tell whose; my head was a foggy jumble, my eyes unfocused.

  A figure materialized above me, blocking the half-light through the canopy.

  Fernwhirl, her hands on her hips. Through her concern, I could see the faintest smugness over her victory. Apparently I wasn’t that badly hurt. “Dear gods, child. That was a terrible fall.” She bent, one hand going out.

  She couldn’t touch me. I couldn’t let her touch me.

  I scrambled up to my elbows, scooting away from her.

  She tsk’d. “Now Clementine, don’t be silly. The trial’s over for—”

  A blast of wind slammed into her, knocked her a good six feet away. She landed with a yell.

  My eyes went wide.

  Eva landed next to me, her back to me as she faced Fernwhirl. “Clementine, can you walk?”

  “I…don’t know.” I tested my feet, found them responsive. My legs, too. When I pushed myself up, I nodded. “Yeah.”

  She sent another blast of wind at Fernwhirl, who’d only just started trying to stand. The professor was thrown again. “Then for gods’ sake, get back on the horse!” She gestured right of me.

  Noir stood not two yards away, facing me. He flicked his tail as if in acknowledgment.

  Hoofbeats sounded from the direction of the pond. The Gaia professor was coming on his mare. Eva would be alone against the both of them.

  “Eva—” I began.

  Eva flicked me one devastating look. Months’ worth of training and practice and planning were written all over her face. She had devoted hundreds of hours to ensuring I would get into the labyrinth. “Do it.”

  But, more than that, this—becoming a guardian—was her dream, and she was compromising it for me.

  “I’ll be right after you,” she said. “Head to the meadow.”

  She wasn’t messing around. She had committed to this, and I knew she would never forgive me if I didn’t get back on that horse.

  I nodded once, gave her shoulder a feather-light touch. And then I clicked my tongue. “Noir, let’s go.”

  The horse swung in the direction I was headed. He went from a stop to a trot in two steps.

  Behind us, the sounds of an angry Fernwhirl echoed through the trees. She was definitely back in action. Meanwhile, the hoofbeats grew louder, and the Gaia professor’s sharp voice rang out.

  I ran after Noir, caught up just as he fell into a canter. One of my hands slid halfway up his neck, the fingers gripping mane. The other hand gripped at the withers, and I matched his gait with my steps alongside him.

  One-two-three, and then I swung up onto his back.

  As I did, I heard the soft sound of Eva’s wings in motion. Good, she was with me. I caught a glimpse of her alongside me, pouring through the trees with ease.

  We rushed toward the meadow together, both of us in our own forms of flight. We would pass this trial as we started it: side by side.

  I suppose that thought was why I didn’t see the third pursuer. It was the young fae professor—waiting for me, hidden high in the canopy. In my thrill, I didn’t notice Noir’s ears swivel toward her. I didn’t see her until she had launched herself from the trees and was practically on me, one finger outstretched to touch my forehead like some sort of divine marking.

  But Eva saw her.

  “Clem!” she yelled, and in the same instant, Eva flew between us. I caught a glimpse of her lavender hair as she and the professor crashed into one another and went tumbling to the ground on my other side.

  I spun in my seat as Noir ran, staring back at the tangled fae.

  And in that moment, Umbra’s staff clapped the ground like a crack of lightning in the meadow.

  The first trial was over.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  A minute later, Noir and I cantered into the meadow with Eva seated behind me, her arms around my waist.

  Already, half the group had gathered. Others trailed in from various ends of the meadow.

  When we arrived at Umbra, I dismounted, helped Eva down. I pressed her away, both hands on her shoulders as I evaluated her. “You absolutely heroic idiot. Are you all right?”

  She closed and opened her eyes like she’d just woken from too little sleep. “I’m fine. The other two fae are probably in worse shape than me.”

  I shook my head at her. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

  A faint smile appeared. “I’m prouder to have done that than if I’d passed the trial.”

  The young fae professor appeared behind Eva, her cerulean eyes practically glowing in the sunlight. Her hair was still in a perfect white ponytail, the only sign of her collision with Eva a stray leaf clinging to her hair. She was as stunning as Eva. “Well, Evanora, I can’t say I ever expected that.”

  Eva turned, neck reddening. “Sorry, Professor Frostwish.”

  “It was impressive, really. A perfect intercept. We’ll have to go over it in class.” Frostwish glanced at me. “Now I must meet the one you gave it all up for.”

  “I’m Clementine,” I said.

  Frostwish’s eyebrow rose in a perfect arc. “The fire witch.”

  And you’re either Rathmore’s lover or his bosom buddy, I thought but didn’t sa
y. “That’s right.”

  Unmistakable respect settled onto her features. “That was impressive riding. You’ll be a fine witch.”

  And with that, she continued on toward Umbra.

  By now, everyone had arrived back at the center of the meadow, including the professors.

  “Tell me,” Umbra called out, “who has passed this trial.”

  One by one, the professors indicated those in the group who hadn’t been caught. There were fifteen of us—among them Liara Youngblood, of course. Six humans, nine fae. Maise, the third-year from Spark, had also gotten through.

  “Come forward, those of you who passed,” Umbra said with a wave. “Come, come.”

  Eva left to join the others in the stands, and I led Noir over to stand in the group, spun him around toward the onlookers as Umbra indicated.

  When I turned, I spotted Aidan in the stands with Loki in his arms, who was surprisingly awake, his green eyes wide and fixed on me. I half-grinned at the two of them.

  Maybe I’d finally impressed my familiar.

  Rathmore still stood by, his arms folded. When we met eyes, we exchanged small nods. And then he turned away, disappeared toward the clearing.

  “Students and faculty,” Umbra called out, her voice resounding louder than it ought to have. She must have amplified it with magic. “Beside me are the students who have passed the first trial to become a guardian. Tomorrow, they will progress to the second trial. Now, please stand and congratulate them.”

  She turned and began clapping, her eyes warm on each of us in turn. And behind her, those who had spectated applauded.

  But I only saw Eva, who pressed two fingers into her mouth and let out a shrill whistle.

  That absolutely heroic idiot.

  Noir jerked his head, and I rubbed a hand down his sweaty neck. “You were everything I always imagined,” I whispered at him, staring up at his raised head. One black eye gazed at me from under long lashes. “And that’s only the beginning for you and me.”

  Afterward, I stabled Noir, wiping him down and cleaning him and feeding him an extra helping. Aidan, Eva, Jericho, Torsten, and Mariella had all insisted on me joining the celebratory dinner in the dining hall for those who had passed the first trial.

  And I couldn’t exactly turn them down, even if I wasn’t particularly keen on the idea of everyone celebrating me.

  That night, I sat at one of the tables with Loki in my lap, a half-drunk goblet of apple cider mead in my hand and Eva retelling the story of what had happened in the final moments of the trial to a small crowd around us. Every time she’d hit a high point, her wings would flutter for effect.

  The first trial technically marked the end of the school year, so it was also a grand goodbye. But for those of us who had passed this trial, the year wasn’t over. Not until we passed or failed the other two.

  Everyone who’d helped me get this far had already decided to stay until all three trials were done, two days from now. As had half the student body, many of whom were anxious to spectate the duels in the second trial.

  When Eva got to the part of the story where she tackled Professor Frostwish, she said, “And then I flew between Clem and the professor, and Clementine got away.”

  I raised a hand. “Hold up. That’s how you’re going to tell it?”

  Eva was already blushing.

  I set my goblet on the table with a clink. “Here’s what happened.” And then, with all the faintly buzzed storytelling flair I could muster, I stood up and told them what had actually happened. I even I pantomimed Frostwish and Eva colliding. Eva was the hero of this day; she was a beast of a fae.

  To cap the story, I stood with goblet in hand. “And now I’m going to get some more mead so I can block the image of Fernwhirl’s face that close to mine.”

  When I turned, found myself face to chest with Callum Rathmore.

  I looked up into his face. For the first time, pride swirled into the storm in his eyes. “I saw you pass through that meadow. You were a marvel, Clementine.”

  What a strange thing his approval was, like a butterfly so rare you had to hold your breath in its presence.

  I stood there with held breath for a beat. Then, “I tried to fire ride.”

  “And?”

  I shook my head. “Disaster.”

  He reached out, took the empty cup from my hand, his fingers emanating heat. “You’ll get it. In the meantime, more mead?”

  “Are you offering to refill my goblet?”

  “Tonight I am.” He turned, headed toward the far table. “For the victor, no night is sweeter than this.”

  I stared after Rathmore’s retreating form. I realized in that moment I could recognize him simply from the way he walked, the smell of him. The gleam of his hair in the light.

  His hair had an uncontained life of its own. Just like mine.

  “Clementine?”

  I sucked in air, turned to find Jericho standing close to me with an aggrieved Loki in his arms. Jericho flapped one of Loki’s paws at me. “Congratulations.”

  I held in a snort. If I ever attempted to do that with Loki, he’d bolt the second I looked at him. It must have taken supreme control for him not to claw Jericho to shreds.

  Loki stared up at me with big, beseeching eyes. “Help.”

  I fixed on my best soft smile, slowly took Loki into my own arms. “Thanks, Jericho.”

  Jericho drew in a breath through his nose, eyes uncommonly flitting around. “Can we talk outside?”

  “Well, I…” I glanced back in the direction Rathmore had gone. He’d disappeared amidst a throng of people. “Sure, for a minute.”

  I set Loki down in front of a plate of grilled fish. Followed Jericho out of the dining hall and into the spring evening.

  Jericho started walking through the clearing, and so I walked alongside him. We were silent a time, until he finally said, “Are you ready for tomorrow?”

  “No, but I’ll be ready by tomorrow. Is that what you wanted to talk about?”

  He shook his head, kept his eyes off me. “My time at the academy is done after today. I’m moving on, you know.”

  The knowledge struck me like a wave of cold water. “I forgot. You’re a fifth-year.”

  “I was a fifth-year. Now I’m graduated.”

  I cursed. “I missed the graduation ceremony too, didn’t I?”

  “Not your thing anyway. Trust me.”

  True enough. He did know me that well. “What will you do?”

  He glanced at me. “I’m going to be a guardian.”

  “Wow. Career man.” I gazed out over the lantern-lit grounds. “Is there a trial to join them, too?”

  “Something like that.”

  When he didn’t go on, I knew something was up. So I offered, “I’m happy for them, Jericho. They’re getting you.”

  He stopped, turned to me. “What about you?”

  I stopped, too. “I have no idea what I’ll do after the academy. I can’t even think past the labyrinth right now.”

  “Not that.” His eyes softened. “Clem, when I danced with you…”

  My muscles tightened, my crossed arms going rigid against my body. I’d seen men look at me like this before. Always nice men, devoted men, ones who saw things in me I didn’t see in myself.

  They saw a Clementine I wasn’t sure existed. The good girl, or at least, the reformable girl. The one who would commit to them.

  How had I missed this in Jericho? I was usually good at noticing these things. I’d been distracted by the training. I’d been hyper-focused.

  No, those weren’t the real reason.

  And here Jericho was, now taking my hand in his. “When I danced with you, I could barely breathe.”

  I forced all my willpower into keeping my hand in his. But I said, “My mead.”

  He blinked, his eyes pinpricks in the light. “Your what?”

  “My mead. Rathmore was getting me some more. Do you know how many goblets of mead it takes to get wasted?”
/>   I never got wasted. Not in so long. But now words were coming out in a barely intelligible stream.

  “I…don’t know how many,” he mumbled. “I guess it varies.”

  “I’ve got to stop at two.” My hand left his, went up to my temple. “My head’s already swimming. Good thing I have a familiar to get me home.”

  Jericho’s hand dropped to his side. “Two sounds like a good stopping point.”

  I took a step toward the dining hall. “Are you coming back inside?”

  “Nah. I need to start packing.”

  I took another step away. “But you’ll be here for tomorrow’s trial.”

  “Of course. I might be called on to duel some of the students in the trial, remember?”

  I tapped my head. “Right.” Took another step, half-turned. “See you tomorrow, then.”

  As I kept a straight and narrow line toward the dining hall, one part of me felt submerged with regret. And another part of me—the one who’d spoken up with six different guys in just this way—murmured, Job complete.

  Jericho thought he and I were headed down similar paths.

  We weren’t.

  His was gilded, straight, yellow-bricked.

  Mine was dark, thorny, a wrong turn in itself. Tree branches formed a thatch overhead, and nobody who walked my path did so without a keen eye.

  I wasn’t meant for Jericho’s steadiness. His hand holding mine, his straight-on gaze. I’d drive him nuts, and he would make me feel wrapped too tight. Claustrophobic. Caged.

  And I had no time for my briar of a heart. I had no time for anything but the tasks ahead: the duel, the labyrinth, finding the rod.

  When I came back into the dining hall, my hand was in my skirt pocket, my thumb rubbing over the cold metal head of the key.

  Rathmore came through the crowd, a goblet in hand. He presented it to me, the mead like liquid gold up to the rim. “You’re very good at disappearing.”

  I accepted it without taking my eyes off him. “It’s a lifelong practice.”

  He let out a short, amused exhale through his nose. Didn’t look away, didn’t allow me to, either.

  Then Frostwish appeared by his side, her cerulean eyes brilliant, her white hair in soft curls. Her shoulder touched his arm. “Hello again, Clementine Cole. Don’t tell any of the other fae, but I’m most anticipating your duel tomorrow.”