“You’re seventeen,” he said softly. “Plenty of time left for you to fall in love.”
He didn’t understand, and I couldn’t share. What could I say, that Donovan was bespelled to forget me, that we hadn’t broken up, and that this was why I was so determined to learn how to unravel?
Cloven nodded pertly, as if dismissing my heartache away as teenage angst. “The best thing to do is focus on your magic. That will be the one constant in your life you can always count on.”
“I’ll try.”
“That’s the spirit.” His shoulders relaxed. “Let’s see if we can get you to a Level Two today, shall we?”
Level One included locating black threads, which were elusive buggers that seemed eager to hide.
To achieve a Level Two, I had to consistently grab onto the threads that continued to annoyingly waver beyond my reach, and tug them near.
After that? I was on my own. Cloven had told me the higher levels involved creating various braids, weaving more and more complex combinations that could be used to unravel intricate bespellings, and storing them in my moonstone.
A solid comparison would be a Level Five cooking skapti being able to make an exquisite version of a dish unachievable by a Level Three. Like boxed mac ‘n cheese compared to making your own pasta and whipping up the smoothest cheese sauce imaginable.
I had a feeling the Court Bespeller had cast his most potent spell on Donovan. I’d need to become a solid Level Five to break it.
“Does everyone have to create complex weaves to reach the highest level?” I asked.
“Indeed. Nothing with value ever comes easy, does it?” He smiled ruefully.
“But I worked with black threads already. I unraveled the bespelling on the nightlace.”
“Not the one on Alys. She snapped momentarily because Tria cut off her little finger. Pain, as we’ve discussed in the past, can temporarily neutralize some bespellings.”
“Why was it so easy for me then but impossible now?” No keeping the whine from my voice.
“I believe the black thread, recognizing your danger, sought you out and forced the unraveling. High emotions can make the difference.”
“Can I repeat it?” Because I was getting desperate. My emotions were running rampant.
“Perhaps. If you were thrust into danger again. But I wouldn’t rely on this method because it might fail you when you need it most. No, the best way to be sure of your abilities is to learn what you need to achieve each Level until you can create the spell for that level when you’re half asleep and your eyes are closed.” He chuckled. “More or less. No relying on luck.”
Too bad my luck didn’t extend to Donovan.
“Focus on the black threads,” he said, waving toward me. He swung his legs around and up onto the recliner then leaned back against the cushion. “Push all the other colors away.”
Simple to say. The other colors kept shoving themselves in front of the black as if eager to show me they were happy to spiral into my moonstone, even a few random white ones.
Damn black threads. If only they’d behave.
A black strand darted past me faster than an arrow, and I snapped my hand out to grab it.
“Yes!” I said.
“Got it?” Excitement came through in Cloven’s voice. “If so, you can…”
I groaned as the stand wiggled and slipped from my grip.
“I take that as a no?” Cloven asked. “Try again.”
I did. And again. For over an hour, I reached for the black threads I’d called but they darted away, playing a game of tag I would never win.
While I hated to do it, I opened my eyes and gave up for the day.
“Time to stop?” Cloven asked. “You must be exhausted.”
That was an understatement. Mush had replaced my brain matter.
Cloven stood. “If you’d like, come by my office for dinner.” His gaze drifted to my hand. “Not just to visit. We still need to talk about options.”
“Not if they include chopping off body parts.”
He sighed. “I understand. I wouldn’t want to do it either.”
“I’m going to find another way out.”
“Ideas?”
I dragged my gaze from his. “None I’m ready to share.”
“Don’t…”
“What?”
His hand landed solidly on my shoulder. “I worry about you, Fleur.”
“I won’t do anything wild.” Reaching underneath my lounger, I grabbed my pack. “I’ll come by for dinner as long as you don’t grill me about my plan.”
He studied me for a long moment before his shoulders dropped. “I can agree to that.”
“Then I’ll see you for later for dinner?”
“Yes. Looking forward to it.”
I yanked open the door and stepped into the empty hallway. Soft murmurs drifted from the classrooms as I strode toward the lobby. I should be going to my history class but my heart wasn’t in it. I needed peace, quiet, and a momentary break.
Maybe I could find a good book in the front parlor and curl up on a velvet chair like I’d dreamed of doing my first day at the Academy.
Leaving the classroom hallway, I stepped into the corridor outside the auditorium.
As the door thudded behind me, something fell from the ceiling, smacking into my head.
It scrambled through my hair like an egg had burst, releasing a thousand baby spiders.
Chapter 12
A guttural scream erupted from me.
I reached up and yanked something slimy and gooey and wiggly off my head. Thrusting it out in front of me, I shuddered.
Snarling, the beatleycarne struggled to break free. It smooshed and gave under my fingers like a sack of greasy marbles.
I tightened my grip and snarled along with it. “You’re not getting away this time, beatleygook. I’m taking you back to the cave and burying you so deep underneath your mushroom, you’ll never again see the light of day.”
The beatleycarne thrust its butt up toward my face.
A lardlet shot out, a projectile determined to maim me.
Yelping, I dodged sideways. The lardlet plopped on the floor and, before it could scurry away, I slammed my shoe down on top of it. It popped and orange gook shot out each end.
At least it stopped wiggling.
Another lardlet dove toward my chest, and I ducked. It shot over my head and skidded along the tiles before smacking into the door, where it lay stunned.
I stretched my leg out and stomped it flat, adding its pumpkin innards to the mess collecting on the floor.
Hefting the beatleycarne to eye level, I gnashed my teeth. “Just you try me.”
Another lardlet popped out and slithered down my leg. Good thing I’d chosen to wear pants today.
When the lardlet hit the tile, I smacked out with my shoe but missed. My fingers slipped on the beatleycarne, and it squirted from my grasp and flung itself toward the ceiling where it impacted and stuck. It scrambled along the tiles, and I gave chase, stomping the lardlet on my way by. Like snapping bubble wrap, there was something immensely satisfying about eliminating lardlets.
I jumped up, trying to grab the beatleycarne as it scrambled across the ceiling, but missed.
The door on the other end of the hall swept open and the beatleycarne leaped through the same time Alys entered the hall.
She ducked. “Whoa.”
I skidded to a stop beside her. She pivoted and we collided. As we tumbled to the floor in a pile of limbs, the beatleycarne scrambled across the parlor and flung itself toward the fireplace—the unlit fireplace, unfortunately. In seconds, it had skittered up the chimney.
“What was that thing?” Alys asked, rising to her feet. She actually held out a hand to help me stand. Normally, I was all about doing things for myself, but this time, I took her hand and let her help me up.
“That was the beatleycarne prankster,” I said.
Her eyes grew big. “You really have a prankster locked
on to you?”
“Jeez.” I propped my hand on my hip. “Did you think I was making it up?”
“Your hand?” Her gaze slid that way and she winced. “No. That’s easily confirmed with a trip to the clinic.”
“You didn’t.” Sister or not, I’d kill her if she went to the healers and quizzed them about me.
“No, I decided to trust you.”
That was a shocker.
“You trusted me with this.” I held up my injured hand. “But not about the prankster?”
“You have to admit, it is a bit unbelievable.”
Fists clenched at my sides, I fumed. “Why would I lie about something like that?”
She snickered.
My anger popped. By the fae, Alys—my sister—was teasing me.
I wasn’t sure if I wanted to laugh or cry.
Enough sobbing. I’d run dry. I smacked her shoulder and let my laughter burst free.
“We need to catch that thing before it does any more damage,” Alys said, nibbling her fingernail as she stared toward the fireplace.
“We? I thought we were only allied to defeat the Bespeller?”
She frowned. “I guess I can be persuaded to help with the beatleycarne, too.”
“You’re softening in your old age, Alys.”
“Don’t get used to it,” she barked. But a smile teased across her lips.
No faking on my part.
I grinned.
Chapter 13
Tria pinged me after my next class ended. You have time to go to the secret room under the Academy?
About an hour. Then I have another class. History of the Sídhe. Fun times would be had by all, yet nothing significant would be revealed. We’d discuss a fae war. Or be given another list of elf names to memorize. But we’d learn nothing about the sixth family, because the world was bespelled to keep everyone from discussing what happened one hundred years ago. I’m almost to my room. In fact, I was walking down the hallway. Want to meet at the western bridge? While there’s a hatch near the front entrance, entering the water there might attract attention.
Yeah. Someone might notice two girls going swimming in the moat. I’ll come to your room and we’ll flit from there. It’s safer.
Yes. Mustn’t forget the beatleycarne. Nasty thing.
I assume we should wear swim suits. Tria said.
Unless you bought a wet suit.
Fresh out.
I was shivering already. It was December for fae’s sake. There were icicles hanging from the rooflines and snow coated the ground. We’ll bring warm clothes to put on after we get out.
And blankets.
After changing and flitting to the bridge. Tria and I leaned over the railing and I called Sirra. When she glided up out of the water, I explained.
She scowled. At least, I thought it was a scowl. Her eyes darkened and her scaly brow dove toward her nose. Or the two holes in the middle of her face that served as her nose. “Two goessss to room?”
Tria’s eyes widened, and I knew what she was thinking. Naturally, this wouldn’t be any easier than other things in my life.
“Yes.” While I hadn’t undressed yet, I quaked already. Snowflakes fell through the air and the wind whipped around the buildings, seeking us out. It bit through my coat, my flannel shirt, and my skin. “Would that be okay?” Was I pushing it? I’d bought her good will with the concealer to change her nail color. Maybe I needed to beg Katya for something else that might please the moat’s naiad.
I was racking up debts fast.
Sirra’s lips stretched wide in her version of a smile. Hard to feel happy about it when it revealed her fangs. “Will owe favor.”
“You already said you’d give me access,” I said.
“Youssss. Not Sssseeker.”
Tria tugged me around until our backs faced Sirra and, leaning near, lowered her voice. “I don’t trust her.”
“She’s sneaky.”
“I don’t need to go to the room.”
“But you want to.”
Her face creased. “More than anything. Minerva’s my family. I’d love to meet her. And that journal…”
“Then we do it and worry about what we’ll owe Sirra later.”
“Goessss?” Sirra asked. She swayed above us, and murky water dripped on our heads.
Grumbling, I waved my good hand at her. “Give us a sec, would you?”
“Yessss.” She slithered backward, only a bit chastened. “One sssssec.”
“She won’t make it two,” Tria said, nudging me toward the rail. “Go. Minerva invited you, remember? Not me.” Sadness came through in her voice.
“You sure?”
She nodded. “This is the only way it can be.”
I turned to face Sirra. “No deal.”
As if to strike, she zipped in close. “You ssssure?”
“Yes. We agreed you’d let me go to the room and I’m the only one going.”
“Playssss?”
“I’d love to.” Not. “But it’s cold. Can we wait until spring when it warms up?”
“Yessss, deal.”
I had a feeling I’d just agreed to something terrifying but I’d figure it out in a few months. Spring and grass and pretty flowers felt like a lifetime away when I worried about my hand rotting off and dying within the next week.
After yanking off my knit hat and mittens and handing them to Tria, I peeled off my coat and flannel shirt. My skin prickled with goosebumps, but anticipation lit my veins on fire. Minerva had asked me to return, and now I would.
Would she share more secrets about the sixth family?
I climbed up on the rail and sat, swinging my legs around to dangle them over the water. Dark, fathomless, and skimmed with ice, the river diverted to fill the moat slunk lazily below me.
Sirra watched, her gaze intense.
“You’re going like that?” Tria asked, her eyebrows lifted.
I glanced down at my leggings and tee. “I’m going to freeze no matter what I wear, but a bathing suit felt foolish in December.”
“I suppose it doesn’t matter.” Tria came up behind me, standing near. “The second you’re back, I’ll flit us to your room. You can take a hot shower and change.”
“Thanks.”
She patted my side. “Good luck. Stay safe.” Leaning close, she whispered. “Watch out for Sirra. I know she said she’d let you do this but she can’t be trusted.”
“I’ll be careful.”
I leaped off the rail and fell down, hitting the surface with my sneakers, breaking through the thin ice. I was sucked into the water beside Sirra.
Following, she slunk beneath the surface, watching. Waiting?
My skin shrunk and shock froze my limbs. My lungs choked, and I bit back my gasp before I took in brackish water.
Move! If I didn’t, I’d turn to a block of ice in seconds. Pain sunk icy fingers into my bones, and shivers wracked my frame.
I treaded my legs and looked around, trying to locate landmarks. The stone wall, encrusted with slime, appeared seamless. Where was the hatch?
Swimming around Sirra, I kicked furiously, aiming for where I remembered finding it. The last time I’d been here, when I’d fallen into the moat, Sirra and her sisters had grabbed me, held me, tried to drown me.
They’d do it again if I gave them the chance.
“Playssss,” someone called from deeper in the muck. Shadows floated there, moving closer, becoming defined.
Sirra’s sisters.
Gliding around me, her tail teasing my spine, Sirra grinned, revealing her fangs.
Tell them you said I could be here, I shot into Sirra’s brain.
My promissss, not theirssss, she said.
That’s not fair.
Life never fairssss.
I growled and pulled my blade then hauled in threads—deep green, brown, burnished gold—and fed them into my moonstone until it threatened to explode.
Fire roared in my lungs as I swam toward where I remembered
finding the hatch. The outline appeared through the slimy water, calling me. I kicked faster, straining for it—
Someone snagged my foot, bringing me to a jarring halt.
Whirling, my heart fluttering furiously behind my ribcage, I lashed out with my knife, connecting with flesh.
Sirra’s dark-haired sister hissed and reeled backward before looming over me. Anger slashed through the water around her like lightning.
She’d rip me apart in seconds.
Leave. Me. Alone! I screamed into her mind.
No playssss? she shrieked, her voice slamming against my eardrums. Diesssss.
Not today, witch.
I called my power and unleashed a fireball, shooting it toward her, something that shouldn’t be possible in the water. Magic had its own rules.
The ball hit Sirra’s sister in the chest, and she shot backward.
She snarled and snapped, baring her teeth, but she approached me more cautiously.
I needed to get out of here before it was too late. I couldn’t go much longer without air.
Spinning, I stretched toward the hatch, only to slam into it when I was pushed from behind.
Nasty naiads.
Claws snagged my ankle as I thought, open!
The hatch gave way, and I was dumped inside, the solid wooden structure slamming closed behind me, locking the naiads out and me inside in relative safety.
Like the first time I’d come here, the water remained outside other than what sleuthed off my body. It drizzled along the sloped tiles and trickled down the drain recessed into the floor near the right wall.
Rising to my feet, I squinted around. “Minerva?”
Silence greeted me. That and my chattering teeth. My breath created opaque clouds in the air, telling me this space was below the freezing point.
Like before, a wooden desk teetered against the wall, propped up on three legs, the fourth leg missing. Along the left wall stood a low bed frame with a moss-covered mattress. I’d lain there during my dream after my encounter with the lardlet and beatleycarne.
I approached the desk and the journal that still waited to be read. Runes scrolling across the front resembled the words on the Coven banners. I flipped through the pages but was no closer to reading than before. Waterstained and faded, much of the writing remained illegible.
Crystal Wing Academy- The Complete Series Page 58