Fledgling (Sorcery and Society Book 2) Read online

  I glanced down at Wit in my hand. It was a powerful magical instrument, but it was still a knife. It was carefully forged steel and enchanted to stay as sharp as any dagger could be. I balanced its weight in my hand and wondered how much damage it could do to such a creature. I held the blade by its tip, throwing Wit like I was throwing an arrow on the belomancy range.

  Unlike the lessons on the belomancy range, I managed to hit something. The force of Wit shattered the creature’s horn, the substance cracking like porcelain, as the blade embedded itself in the hollowhorn’s forehead. Those awful grave stone eyes focused on me, as if it couldn’t believe I’d done something so very rude. Its glossy white legs folded under its dead weight, and it dropped to the ground. As the hollowhorn’s eyes rolled back into its head, it breathed out one last angry groan.

  My classmates wilted collectively. I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding and propped my hands against my knees. Sweat dripped down my face and soaked into the neckline of my gown. Ivy gasped, grabbing my arm.

  “What just happened?” she asked me, shaking as if to clear cobwebs from her head. “What’s wrong with everyone? Why is Alicia napping, and why is there a dead unicorn on the lawn? Why does my chest hurt? Did you tackle me?”

  “No.” I sighed. Relief rushed through my tense limbs and it felt like I could breathe properly for the first time since dance class started.

  I cast a sigil to wake Alicia, who suddenly took in a huge gulp of air and shouted. “Slime mold!”

  I paused while helping her to her feet. “What were you dreaming of?”

  “Botany,” Alicia said, frowning. “It was the most boring dream I’ve ever had. Painful, really. I’d prefer a nightmare. What happened here?”

  Madame Rousseau blinked rapidly, and her expression shifted from dazed to extremely offended that we were out of formation. “Ladies, what is this? Why has the music stopped? And your lines? Has not one girl in here ever heard of proper posture? Were you all raised to be slouching sloths?”

  Madame Rousseau’s eyes went wide as she caught sight of the fallen hollowhorn, but she turned her back to it and cast what appeared to be a shielding spell over her shoulder because the carcass disappeared from sight. The girls blinked at the illusion but in their disorientation focused on the brisk instructions coming from her mouth. “Miss McCray? Who gave you permission to take a nap in the middle of class? And Miss — Miss DeCater? What has happened to your ankle? Oh, my dear girl, do not try to stand on it. It’s quite swollen.”

  Leveling a long, speculative look at me, Headmistress Lockwood interjected, “Ladies, you are dismissed. Please return to your rooms and dress for dinner, which begins in one hour. Miss Reed, please stay, I’d like to speak to you and your usual cohorts in chaos, as well.”

  Headmistress Lockwood was a tall, compact woman with iron grey hair pulled back into a severe knot. While she had a surprisingly delicate features, her dark eyes were always stern and alert. It was as if she was as eager to catch her charges misbehaving as she was to protect us from all threats, known and unknown. She would not respond kindly to the hollowhorn’s intrusion on our peaceful campus.

  Callista and her friend Rosemarie had enough composure to call “Oooooh,” as if to mock my predicament, but Headmistress Lockwood snapped, “Miss Cavill, please help Miss DeCater stand and take her to the hospital wing.”

  Callista’s expression shifted from smug to annoyed in an instant, but as someone who spent most of her time trying to prove to the faculty what a darling she was, she could hardly protest something as thoughtful as taking one of her closest friends to seek medical attention. She pulled Millicent to her feet and none-too-gently guided her across the lawn.

  “Cohorts sounds a little cold,” Alicia grumbled under her breath as we helped her brush the grass from her light brown curls. “I prefer to think of myself of a partner or at least a fervent accomplice.”

  “I think she was prioritizing alliteration over word choice,” I assured her. “You are the author of most my ill-advised plans.”

  “Thank you,” Alicia preened while Ivy laughed.

  As the other girls filtered away from the now-invisible spectacle of the dead hollowhorn on the lawn, their expressions baffled and tired, Madame Rousseau called, “And do not despair over the condition of your persons. Remember, ladies do not perspire. We glow with the dew of our exertions. Be proud of your work today!”

  Alicia burst into giggles but hid it with a fit of coughing.

  “What happened here?” Ivy asked again.

  “An evil unicorn tried to eat our dance class… which sounded far sillier than I thought it would before I said it aloud,” I mused.

  “A hollowhorn?” Madame Rousseau scoffed gently, giving me an indulgent smile. “Miss Reed, I assure you a hollowhorn would never venture onto school grounds, particularly when we were trying to summon their mortal enemy.”

  Headmistress Lockwood sniffed and waved her hand, undoing Madame’s glamour. The silver-white body faded into view, its gold and ivory horn in pieces on the ground. “While I would normally agree with you, Madame Rousseau, the evidence seems to speak for itself.”

  “But why would a hollowhorn come here of all places?” Madame Rousseau demanded.

  “What if we were trying to summon them with a song played at the wrong tempo?” Ivy asked, nodding toward where the musicians had abandoned their instruments in their daze to get back to the school building. “Using a violin made of blackthorn wood, which is known for its appeal to more sinister creatures?”

  “That’s Emily Benisse’s violin,” Alicia noted, with a yawn. “It belonged to her great-grandmother, Charlotte. She was so excited to play it with the band for the first time.”

  “Charlotte Benisse was known for her skill at parlaying with the most frightening of creatures,” Headmistress Lockwood muttered, deep in thought.

  Madame Rousseau’s mouth dropped open. “You must know, Headmistress, I never intended for this to happen. And sweet little Emily wouldn’t hurt a dormouse. She would never dream of luring a dangerous creature to her classmates on purpose.”

  “Of course not,” Headmistress Lockwood sniffed dismissively. Born with a permanently exasperated expression, she exuded a dismissive air without really trying. “Though, I believe I will keep the violin in my office for the time being. Emily can use her practice instrument until further notice.”

  “I’m sure she will see that would be best,” Madame Rousseau agreed. “I believe I will retire, ladies, after I return these instruments to the other musicians.”

  As Madame Rousseau gathered the drum and guitar from the grass, Headmistress Lockwood turned to me with an arch look. “Miss Reed, I appreciate your quick thinking in seeking help in your predicament, but could you have found a way to do that without breaking my office window?”

  I turned to see the shattered pane of glass at the headmistress’s office hanging in the frame by a tiny sliver. Then that sliver snapped, and the glass fell two stories in a shower of glittering destruction.

  “I may have thrown that spell a little harder than I intended, ma’am,” I admitted. “I’m sorry.”

  Headmistress Lockwood waved her own blade, a long black dagger with silver twisted into the handle, and the glass returned to its original state. “I suppose you did do the school a service by not allowing a cursed creature to devour fellow students.”

  I nodded. “Thank you.”

  “But you did break my window. And Millicent DeCater’s ankle, using a curse not sanctioned by the school.”

  “It’s not broken, merely sprained… enthusiastically,” I insisted. “And I thought an ankle injury would be easier for you to explain to her parents than her being digested by a hollowhorn.”

  Headmistress Lockwood seemed to mull that over for a moment. “Fair enough. For your grace under pressure and devotion to the well-being of the students, you will be rewarded with the shattered remains of the creature’s horn… once the groundskeepers clean up this mess.”

  My brows raised. The horn she was offering me was a powerful magical ingredient, valuable for purging the effects of malicious spells. I could sell that powdered horn to one of the purveyors on the Magical Mile and save quite the little nest egg for myself. It would be the difference between survival and destitution should my situation at Raven’s Rest ever change.

  “Thank you, Headmistress,” I said, curtseying. “Should we to send it home to Aunt Aneira for safekeeping?”

  “No,” Headmistress Lockwood said, in the flinty tone she always used when speaking of her longtime rival and old school chum, Aneira Winter. “I would rather keep the powerful magical item where I can see it, under the school roof.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” I agreed, careful to keep my tone glum. Ivy elbowed me lightly, but I ignored the nudge.

  “Now, you should help Misses Cowell and McCray back to their rooms to dress for dinner.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” I tucked my arms into Alicia and Ivy’s elbows and walked toward the school.

  “And Miss Reed?”

  I paused to return my gaze to Headmistress Lockwood, who was smiling. It wasn’t a wide grin by any means, but it was a more mirthful expression than I’d seen from the woman in months of knowing her. “That was an excellent bit of marksmanship. Your belomancy instructor will be very pleased.”

  “Oh, that’s praise I do not deserve, Headmistress Lockwood.”

  Ivy elbowed me in the ribs and out of the side of her mouth, muttered, “Accept the praise.”

  “Thank you, ma’am,” I amended.

  Headmistress Lockwood frowned down at the hollowhorn carcass and dismissed us with a wave. “That’s enough, ladies. Go dress for dinner.”

  Alicia sighed as we turned towards the
Castwell’s building. “You couldn’t just let her think you’d done something impressive for one moment?”

  “It was praise I didn’t deserve,” I insisted as we passed the knot garden.

  “How could you say that?” Ivy demanded. “You withstood the temptation of that creature’s evil stupefying music. You defended your classmates from said creature using a single blow from your blade. You hit the hollowhorn dead center in its forehead. That was very difficult.”

  I pursed my lips. “Yes, but I was aiming for its neck.”

  2

  The Mother Book Disagrees With Me, Vehemently

  “Do we know any spells to cure blisters?” Alicia asked as we limped down the narrow, high-ceilinged corridor to the dorm wing. The floor-to-ceiling Castwell green wallpaper reflected on the black-and-white tile floor, giving the whole hallway an otherworldly glow.

  “Madame Rousseau says blisters build character,” I said. “Right now, I’m much more concerned with the ‘dew of my exertions.’ I do not smell dewy.”

  “None of us are walking out of here smelling like a rose,” Ivy groaned.

  “Speak for yourself. Those of us who are ladies manage to control our baser functions,” Callista sniped as she slipped by. I could only imagine that she had unceremoniously dropped Millicent at the hospital wing and run away before she could be asked to be supportive of her friend in any way. “By the way, COW-ell, you sound like a cart horse clomping about when you promenade.”

  “Well, you sound like an imbecile when your mouth opens. We all have our burdens to bear,” Alicia shot back.

  Alicia had no gift for diplomacy or understatement.

  “I suggest you move along, Callista,” Ivy said. “Alicia, dear, you know that it’s unkind to find a battle of wits with the unarmed.”

  Callista’s blue eyes narrowed and her thin upper lip curled back from her teeth, but instead of speaking, she whipped her head around and stomped away — sounding a bit horse-like herself.

  “She never changes,” Ivy noted.

  I rolled my eyes a bit because my ladylike restraint had met its limits for the afternoon. “And never learns.”

  “Well, if she did, I would be rather disappointed in her inconstancy,” Alicia said, tucking her arms into ours as we made our way past the oil portrait of our frowning founder, Emmeline Castwell. “But I am going to have to remember that ‘battle of wits’ comment for later. I noticed you still remain silent in her presence.”

  “I promised Mrs. Winter I wouldn’t antagonize her, and that includes aggressive wordplay,” I sighed as we climbed the sweeping main staircase, filing in behind the other tired girls. “And aggressive spell-casting. And aggressive salt-passing at meals. Mrs. Winter gave me a very comprehensive list of what counted as antagonizing her. And then Mr. Winter added a few Mrs. Winter hadn’t thought of. Callista and her mother are just barely intimidated enough to keep mum about Mary’s scene at the masquerade ball. Any provocation and Callista may decide that the threat of Mrs. Winter’s wrath isn’t enough of an incentive to behave like a decent human being.”

  Far from her floral claims, Callista had always been a thorn in our collective side. She’d bullied Ivy mercilessly since they’d started classes at Miss Castwell’s. She’d tried to turn me into her little lapdog, attempting to harness my social cache as Mrs. Winter’s niece and the Translator to her advantage. Alicia probably had it the worst of all three of us because Callista still had delusional hopes of somehow persuading Alicia to her side in Callista’s lofty goals of courtship with Alicia’s ridiculously attractive older brother, Gavin — which was why Callista tolerated Alicia’s impertinence.

  Fortunately, Gavin had other ideas about who he wished to court and had been visiting me at the Winters’ home, Raven’s Rest, for several months. We weren’t officially courting, as Mr. Winter, who for all intents and purposes was my uncle and legal guardian, hadn’t given his permission. And, frankly, Gavin’s mother didn’t like me very much. Gavin had recently graduated — early — from Palmer’s and was helping his uncle run McCray and Company. And Mrs. McCray believed he should focus his efforts the office and with her at home. We were, however, in a nebulous pre-courting stage where Gavin was allowed to visit me with chaperones and was allowed to send me gifts and letters, as long as said chaperones screened them. And yet, given the reactions of the other Castwell girls when those gifts and letters arrived, ours was a scandalous affair.

  There was a good deal of giggling, so much giggling.

  “You couldn’t have at least nudged Callista towards the evil unicorn?” Alicia mumbled. “Technically, it wouldn’t be murder. Merely pointedly failing to save her.”

  “You’ve become a very sinister individual since fall term,” I told her.

  “Would it be terrible for me to skip the dressing for dinner process all together and just eat dinner from a tray in my room? In my nightgown?” Ivy asked. “While I soak my feet in a tub with peppermint oil? And study our potions notes? Surely ‘evil unicorn’ is justification enough for dinner in bed.”

  “It would be incredibly clever for you to do that, but Headmistress Lockwood caught on to girls doing that last year and banned all dinner trays on dance lesson days unless you are actively vomiting or bleeding from the head,” I sighed. “I feel that people have spent an inordinate amount of time explaining rules to me recently.”

  “Where’s the trust, I ask you?” Alicia asked as we neared my room. “You break a curfew or two, enter forbidden areas of the school, disintegrate a teacher, and suddenly you’re considered a problem student.”

  “Should we be worried about recent cursing from an evil unicorn?” Ivy asked. “In terms of residual magic or vulnerability to other evil horned animals — evil stags and evil gazelles and evil narwhals and such? And why weren’t you shambling toward certain horn-related injury along with the rest of us?”

  “I have no idea,” I said, holding up my hands. “Maybe because of the mark? Or perhaps my connection to the Mother Book? Or because I’m smarter than the two of you?”

  They burst out laughing.

  “All right, you didn’t have to laugh quite so loud at that. You’re both simply terrible people,” I said, making them giggle. “Also, change of subject, just to make you both feel guilty for teasing your friend who loves you, Auntie Aneira sent me some charmed bath salts to use after dance lessons. She didn’t make it clear what the salts did, but she did say that I wouldn’t look like a ‘shuffling street urchin’ and bring shame upon Winter House after using them — which I found promising.”

  Alicia snorted. “All my mother sent me in the last mail call was an extremely guilt-laden missive telling me that I will be joining the family on the annual holiday to Scotland immediately after school closes, even if Mother has to tie me to the luggage rack of the carriage.”

  “Scotland in summer sounds rather lovely,” I responded.

  “Oh yes, picturesque, sweeping landscapes, stunning views of the Loch of Amethysts, blah blah blah,” Alicia muttered. “But holidays with my mother generally mean a months-long slog of Mother chasing me around to stop me from ‘over-exerting myself’ as if I’ll shatter like painted china if I sit down too firmly.”

  “I’m suddenly very grateful that my family has never been on holiday,” I said, nodding.

  “Well, I’m sure Auntie Aneira could arrange a tour of the continent if you ever feel the need,” Ivy snickered. “And do not think I didn’t notice how you manipulated Headmistress Lockwood’s dislike of your aunt into keeping the horn close, here at school.”

  “What did Mrs. Winter do to Headmistress Lockwood when they were at school together?” Alicia asked, her eyes wide.

  “I believe she implied that Headmistress Lockwood was too prideful about her appearance to be taken seriously as a student,” I whispered while my friends made cringing faces. “Which is why the headmistress adopted such a severe aesthetic all these years later. And I do not like to use the word ‘manipulate,’ but I couldn’t let Headmistress send the horn home. Auntie Aneira would never let me sell it. She’d rather display it in Raven’s Rest as a demonstration of my accomplishment.”