by Amy Pennza
For the first time, the amusement left his face. Now he was serious, and for the briefest moment, a sobering emotion flashed in his eyes. If I hadn’t been standing so far away, I might have sworn it was pain.
“Yes,” he said, “that’s part of it.”
“And the other part?”
Another flicker of emotion, and he seemed to hesitate.
“It’s all right,” I said quickly. “I shouldn’t have asked.” He probably just felt sorry for me and didn’t want to say it. I turned and pressed the latch.
“No.”
The command made me stop and face him again. If we kept this up, I was going to get dizzy.
He offered me a tight smile. “Let’s just say you’re not the only one who knows how it feels to have your back against a wall.” He sat and pulled a sheaf of papers toward him. “Until tomorrow, Elin.”
More questions swirled in my mind, but he was clearly done talking. My curiosity would have to wait. Gripping the staff, I slipped out the door and pulled it shut behind me. As I made my way down the spiral staircase, the staff seemed to pulse under my hand.
Hickory. I stopped and closed my eyes. A rustle of leaves filled my ears, and a warm breeze tugged at the stray hairs that had escaped my ponytail.
A smile spread in my mind, and I gave the staff a gentle squeeze. Maybe the headmaster was right. Maybe a different kind of weapon could help me survive the academy after all. And whatever his reasons for helping me, he seemed sincere in his promise to help me through the next three years.
I opened my eyes and started back down the steps, the staff suddenly lighter in my hand. The headmaster said he would do his best to keep me alive.
I just had to hope his best was good enough.
5
The next morning dawned with a dreariness that made cold leach through the castle walls and sent bitter winds whipping up and down the corridors.
Excused from morning sword work, I showered and dressed, once again shooting the sauna yearning looks as I brushed my teeth. Back in my room, I wrapped the blanket from my bed around my shoulders and climbed atop my desk so I could look out the window.
The view didn’t disappoint. My room might be isolated, but it was positioned in a way that let me see the entire courtyard and the training field beyond it. Down below, tiny figures spread across the grass, their blades flashing as they sparred. The distant sounds of metal clanging drifted through the window.
A lone spectator stalked along the edge of the field, black ponytail swinging.
My back twinged.
How in the world was I going to hold my own against her armed with nothing more than a wooden walking stick?
I looked toward the corner of the room, where I’d leaned it the night before. Its reddish-brown color meant it had probably been fashioned from the tree’s heartwood—the densest, oldest inner core. Someone had smoothed and polished it, revealing the darker lines of woodgrain. Tucked in its corner, the staff seemed to glow against the drab stone wall.
“I hope the headmaster’s right about you,” I told it.
A rhythmic knocking filled the room, making me jump and clutch the blanket tighter against my throat.
There was a low hiss, then warm air drifted over my bare toes.
The radiator. Duh. The cast iron pipes were directly underneath me.
Yeah, some fearless warrior I was.
Noise from outside drew my attention. Sparring practice was over, and the trainees headed back to the castle, swords in hand. That meant Defensive Magic was next, and I was supposed to be in it.
Cursing under my breath, I flung off the blanket and scrambled down from the desk, scraping my tender back as I went. My boots still lay on the ground where I’d kicked them off the night before. I grabbed a pair of socks from my open duffel, then sat on the floor so I could put them on. The boots were cold, and I grimaced as I shoved my feet inside and did up the laces. If I ever managed to become a Proven, my first official act would be pressuring the headmaster to allow tennis shoes. Sure, they might not look as cool as combat boots, but there was something to be said for going through life without bunions.
I hurried to the door and was almost over the threshold when I jerked to a stop.
Should I take the staff?
I looked at it over my shoulder. Even in the gloomy light, the wood gleamed. I had no idea how long Defensive Magic would take—or if I’d have a chance to make it back up to my room after lunch. On the other hand, carrying a bo staff through the castle was sure to draw attention.
Oh well. After yesterday, people had already pegged me as the school weirdo.
I ducked back inside, snatched the staff from the corner, then rushed down the stairs.
Olaf hadn’t seen fit to inform me where the Defensive Magic classroom was located—or if it even took place in a classroom. But I knew how to reach the Great Hall, so I retraced the path he’d showed me, making my way through the twisting and turning labyrinth of hallways, arches, and stairwells. The air grew warmer as I descended, and the sound of voices let me know I was headed in the right direction.
As I jogged down the staircase leading to the first floor, a group of female berserkers emerged from a set of double doors. They spilled into the corridor, chattering and laughing, their bare arms leanly muscled. A few wore their hair pulled back from their faces in intricate braids. They walked with their shoulders back, their postures confident. Looking at their battle braids and black leather, it was easy to imagine how ancient humans had written sagas about otherworldly warriors possessed of a mysterious, inexhaustible rage.
The humans had gotten a few things wrong, of course. But most legends held a core of truth. If humans ever took a closer look at their fairy tales, they might realize the bedtime stories they told their children weren’t “stories” at all.
At my approach, one of the females nudged another. The group stopped, their gazes taking in me and the staff. A couple gave each other the side-eye.
Damn. Should have left the staff in the room.
Making a U-turn and running back upstairs wasn’t an option, so I had no choice but to brazen it out. Walking forward, I plastered a smile on my face and addressed what I hoped was the leader of the group.
“Hi there, could you point me toward Defensive Magic?”
A female with kohl-rimmed eyes and a riot of brown braids stepped forward. “There are no weapons allowed in the hallways.”
“Oh.” I tucked the staff against my side. “Sorry. I didn’t know. I just arrived a couple days ago.”
A blond spoke. “You’re the half-breed.” She glanced around at the others. “The rage lord’s daughter.”
Murmurs ran through the group. Where their expressions had been curious before, now they turned hostile.
So they weren’t fans of Harald? I couldn’t fault them for that. I tried for nonchalance. “Trust me, he’s not happy about it.”
Nothing. Their faces remained cold, their eyes hard.
The staff heated against my palm. I tightened my grip on the wood.
Kohl Eyes tracked the movement. Her shoulders tensed.
Panic skittered down my spine. Were they angry because I was a half-breed or because Harald was my father? Was I about to get jumped because of my last name?
Just as the tension ratcheted a notch higher, a shout rang out.
“Elin?”
The females turned. Olaf stood in the hall behind them, a look of surprise on his face. It quickly turned to annoyance as he advanced toward me.
“You’re supposed to be in Defensive Magic. Class started three minutes ago!”
The group parted to let him through. Without preamble, he grabbed my arm and pulled me forward, totally ignoring the gathered females.
I fell into step beside him, relief at getting out of a bad situation overriding any irritation I might have felt at his high-handedness.
“Sorry,” I said, lengthening my strides to match his pace. “I got held up by some people who s
eemed really interested in kicking my ass.”
“What?” He looked at me, his brow furrowed.
I jerked a thumb over my shoulder, my side hitching as we sped down the hall. “You didn’t notice the crowd back there?”
“No time right now, we’re here.” He led me to an arched door carved with moons and other celestial symbols. Before he opened it, he gave me a look. “Just a warning, Professor McBride can be a little eccentric.”
“Duly noted.”
He opened the door. Immediately, the earthy scent of herbs flowed out, along with a woman’s lilting soprano.
Olaf grimaced and whispered, “Come on.”
I followed him inside and pulled the door shut behind me. Now, this was how I’d pictured the academy. Students sat in groups of two at several rows of tables. A wooden podium stood at the front of the room, and a red-haired woman in black robes paced in front of it, her face animated as she lectured. Windows flanked both sides of the room, the panes streaked with rain. It might have been gloomy if not for the fire crackling merrily in a stone hearth. Bundles of herbs hung from iron hooks set into the stone, and a black cauldron steamed with some kind of fragrant smoke as the fire danced around its base.
“Psst.” Olaf hissed, drawing my attention. He gestured to an empty table in the back. I followed him to it and sat. He gave me a look when I lay my staff across the table. I shrugged, and he faced forward, his demeanor saying he was determined to ignore me.
“Now,” the woman was saying, “magic comes in many forms. That’s why it’s better to block a spell rather than try to use a counter-spell.” She faced the room and spread her arms. “What do I always say?”
The class responded with an obedient chant. “Block and live another day.”
She beamed. “Exactly.”
Disappointment coursed through me. It seemed Olaf hadn’t exaggerated. The academy didn’t teach any kind of offensive magic or spellwork. Defense was well and good, but I wanted to know more about my abilities, assuming I had any. I looked at my palm, where the headmaster had removed my burn. That was power. I wanted it, too.
The professor continued her lecture, walking back and forth in front of the podium. In stories, witches were often snaggletoothed crones with warts and grizzled features. Like most of her kind, this one was nothing of the sort. Her red hair cascaded down her back, the rich color set off by her black robe. Like many redheads, she had pale skin sprinkled with freckles. The bulk of her robe couldn’t hide a curvy figure or long legs that ate up the floor as she paced.
My attention drifted as she continued speaking, and I let my gaze wander around the room. The cauldron continued to emit fragrant steam that floated from the surface and hovered in the air like a lazy dragon. Pillar candles of various heights decorated a stone mantel, and a tangle of green leaves and branches had been twisted around a large, round bough that stretched across the top. The ends dangled down either side, leaves brushing the stone floor.
A tingling awareness buzzed against my skin, making me turn my head.
Maja sat several tables ahead, her vivid eyes narrowed as she watched me.
The next time I talked to her, I’d have to caution her against them getting stuck that way.
“Ooh, but look at this!” Professor McBride swept toward me, excitement dancing in her eyes. Her robe billowed open, revealing ripped jeans and a black sweater. With her black ankle boots and loose hair, she looked more like someone’s cool aunt than an immortal witch who trained magical assassins.
I tensed, unsure why she’d singled me out. Beside me, Olaf smothered a groan. Heads turned as she moved in our direction.
She stopped just in front of our table, a broad smile on her face. “Is this yours? It’s gorgeous.”
It took me a second to realize she meant the staff.
“Yes,” I said. “Well, sort of. The head—”
“It likes you.” She rested her fingertips on the wood. Then her eyes lit up. “Of course! You’re the dryad! Elin, right? I’ve been eager to meet you. The academy doesn’t accept many half-breeds.”
Heat rushed to my cheeks. Everyone was staring. “I’m not, really,” I said in a low voice. “A dryad, that is. My mother was. I didn’t inherit her gifts.”
“Nonsense! Here, I’ll show you.” She spun and clapped her hands. “First two rows, move back. We’re going to have a duel.”
My stomach lurched. At the front of the class, trainees stood and began pushing desks to the sides. Heart pounding, I looked at Olaf. “What is she talking about? Who’s dueling?”
“I think you are,” he said, his eyes on the commotion. He nudged me. “Get up. She’s waiting for you.”
I swung my gaze to the front of the room. Sure enough, Professor McBride stood next to the podium, beckoning me forward.
“Come, come!” she called, gesturing like I just won the Showcase Showdown. “Bring your staff.”
It was impossible to argue without causing a scene. My knees were like water, but somehow I managed to stand, grab the staff, and walk to the front. When I reached her, she put a manicured hand on my shoulder, her nails painted a trendy black.
“It’s not often we get the opportunity to witness Fae magic,” she told the class. “This is a chance for all of you to see how it differs from witchcraft.”
Okay, this had gone far enough. I pulled away from her grasp and spoke in a low voice. “Professor McBride, I don’t—”
“Now,” she said, “let’s put you . . . yes, right over here.” She steered me toward the fireplace, then turned my body so I was in profile to the rest of the class. Still seated at her table, Maja smirked.
I opened my mouth to protest again, but Professor McBride was already halfway across the room, her robes flapping around her stylishly booted feet. She tapped a finger against her lips.
“For an opponent, let’s have”—she turned slowly, surveying the trainees—“Maja, could you come up?”
Are you freaking kidding me? I almost searched the ceiling for hidden cameras. Clearly, someone was pranking me. I backed up. My shoulders brushed the mantel. Heat from the fire warmed my back, offering a brief moment of comfort in what was becoming a runaway shitshow.
Maja unfolded her long body from her seat and walked to the front, a smug aura surrounding her like a cloud. Even after the morning’s training session in the rain, her hair was perfect, not a sleek strand out of place.
My throat went dry, and my heart rate sped up. She’d already proved she was a formidable fighter. How was I going to face off with her in a magical duel?
Something brushed my shoulder, making me turn. A thin branch curved from the bough strung across the mantel, its leaves clustered with dainty purple flowers. I brushed it away.
Professor McBride’s voice pulled my attention back around. She spoke to Maja. “You remember the curse to stun?”
Maja nodded.
My gasp made Professor McBride turn. “Oh, don’t worry, Elin. It’s only temporary. Kind of like those joke zappers people put in the palm of their hand.”
“Yes, but I don’t—”
“You’ll use the blocking charm, which is desisto.” She turned to the class and raised her hands like she was conducting a choir. “Say it with me, everyone. Desisto.”
Another poke on my shoulder. I turned. The branch curved toward me again, only this time I noticed the shiny black berries nestled among the flowers. I looked at Professor McBride, who continued to lead the class in charm practice. What kind of person decorated their mantel with belladonna? Also known as “deadly nightshade,” the plant was highly poisonous. It wouldn’t kill an immortal, but humans weren’t so lucky. Maybe that was why Fiona never liked witches or wizards. She’d sniff and shake her head. “Sneaky wretches, th’ whole lot ay them.”
The branch curved around my shoulder, its flowers brushing my nape. I pushed it away again and whispered “shoo!” before turning around.
Maja caught my gaze. Her purple eyes glittered with undisguised
malice.
I wanted to march up to her and yell I didn’t eat your parents! but Professor McBride was coming toward me. She chattered as she approached, so I wasn’t prepared when she reached out and plucked the staff from my hand.
“For demonstration purposes, you’ll do the first duel without a weapon.” She turned to Maja. “Ready?”
Maja spread her feet and lifted her hands, palms out like she was ready to wash a window.
Professor McBride stepped out of the way.
Panic clawing at my insides, I lifted my hands and—
“Scintilla!” Blue light burst from Maja’s palms and streaked across the classroom.
I jerked my arms up. The light smacked into my forearm with stinging force. A million little nettles pierced my skin. I doubled over, my arm cradled against my side. The pain was like a limb that’s fallen asleep and then come to life again as blood pumps through it.
“Elin!” Professor McBride’s tone was scolding. “You didn’t even try to defend yourself!”
No shit. Because Maja had a problem with taking unplanned head starts. Anger fired in my veins. I clenched my jaw to hold it back. If I lost control of my rage inside the castle, things could get ugly.
It took a few seconds for the stinging to fade. In a magical duel, though, a few seconds was plenty of time to overwhelm a stunned opponent. When I recovered enough to stand upright, Professor McBride nodded and turned toward the class.
“Maja did a nice job, but remember she’s borrowing witchcraft. The magic is a bit different than a berserker’s rage.” She came to my side and held out the staff. “Now let’s see what happens with Fae magic.”
Jaw still clenched, I swiped the staff from her hand. If she noticed my irritation, she didn’t show it. Instead, she flitted away again and clapped her hands together.
“All right, Elin. Use the staff, and make sure you actually say the blocking charm this time.”
I didn’t bother asking how the hell I was supposed to “use the staff.” Maja had already showed she couldn’t be trusted to fight fair. I kept my gaze on her face, watching for any sign she was ready to throw a curse. My heart pounded as I angled the staff in front of me. The wood warmed in my hands.
