Teaching the King (Witchling Academy Book 1)

by D. D. Chance

  “Save that for the audience. They can’t see you at this distance,” Aiden advised, though my reaction was completely unfeigned.

  “How can you live in a place like that?” I asked, my voice hushed. “There is nothing but pain and death there, no matter how beautiful it is.”

  I could feel his sharp glance, but couldn’t look at him, not with my focus so trained on the palace of death in front of me. “How many have you killed to keep your place?” I demanded before I thought better of it.

  “Excuse me?” he snapped, coldly enough to break the spell the palace had placed on me. I knew I had misstepped, had betrayed too much, but it was too late. Aiden stared at me with contempt and, for the first time, mistrust.

  “I’m sorry, I don’t understand,” I said as sincerely as I could. It was nothing less than the truth, after all.

  “Humans,” Aiden sneered, but I didn’t pay him any attention. If he wanted me terrorized, he should be happy. He’d gotten more than he’d bargained for.

  As we stepped out of the forest, I sent a prayer up to my great-grandmother Reagan. I could hardly remember the woman, and we’d kept only a few precious pictures because no one in my family wanted to keep her likeness around should the Fae come calling. According to my grandmother, she had looked a lot like me as a little girl, and there was a passing resemblance between us as young women, but I doubted I would have the same beauty she possessed as an old woman. Her hair had been long and silver-white, her eyes a steely gray, and she’d kept her body strong and lithe.

  But as I whispered the prayer for fortitude and grace, something stirred in the trees around me, blossoms opening on the low-hanging branches and the breeze shifting with the sweet smell of honeysuckle. The broad grassy lawn that flowed all the way to the castle walls shivered and danced, and as I stepped foot on it, the rim of the field turned to a soft gentle gold, a shaft of pure sunlight expanding off to my right.

  “What in the Light?” Aiden demanded, but once again, I didn’t feel moved to answer. I stared down at the soft golden grass at the edge of the field, feeling the tug of magic. It was warm and welcoming, like my grandmother’s hug, and it was hung with the rich, heavy spices of the back room of my great-grandmother’s cottage up in Vermont, before we’d sold the place. I took a step to the right, following the trail of golden grass, then froze, too late remembering my place. I turned back to Aiden, feeling the crushing weight of the castle looming in the opposite direction.

  “Where does that path go?” I asked.

  He glanced from me to the castle, where somehow, a doorway had been cut into the wall, or at least had been unveiled for my eyes. A brace of twenty figures spilled out into the lawn, still tiny at this distance, dressed in heavy-looking golden armor.

  “I don’t know where that path leads, though I can guess,” Aiden said quietly, though not out of sensitivity to me, I suspected. He was thinking hard, strategizing. A second later, my thoughts were confirmed as he gestured me forward but to the side.

  “Follow it,” he instructed. “Don’t get too far ahead of me. Know that the others will follow us. Flinch away from the castle or from them as much as you care to, but try not to flinch as much from me.”

  He said this last with a grimace as he raised his hand and I instinctively jerked away. But he didn’t land a blow on me, looked a little disgusted that I clearly thought he would, and instead, gestured me on. I wheeled around, my heart lifting as I took another step into the golden grass.

  I felt the urge to run, to bound along this pathway. Instead, I turned and reached for Aiden’s hand. He looked startled, but my head was full of birdsong and blooming flowers, and I tugged him along, oblivious to anything but the path stretching before me. It curved around the bowl of open lawn before disappearing back into the woods, well short of the castle wall but running parallel to it now, until eventually, it angled inward, where there was no wall anymore.

  We entered another broad glade, this one as big as a football field. I dashed into it, choking a little as a new structure flashed into view through a thin brace of trees, off to the right once more. This little cottage wasn’t a one-room schoolhouse, not a proper schoolhouse at all, but a building that looked exactly like my great-grandmother’s forest hideaway in Vermont, complete with a firepit to the side and windows all around. It didn’t make quite as much sense stuck here at the edge of a grassy field, but I dropped the king’s hand and rushed toward it anyway, unable to think of anything else but the little cottage that had always been filled with light and laughter.

  As I got closer, my sense of perspective skewed again. Suddenly, the cottage wasn’t perched at the edge of the field, but deeper into the forest, which seemed to grow thicker as I moved through it, Aiden following close behind me. Just as I started to grow concerned that I’d gone the wrong way, the trees gave way to the lakeside cottage I remembered from my youth. It was the same one! It had to be. I didn’t know how, but our little Hogan cottage had been rebuilt and restored perfectly, here in King Aiden’s Fae forest. Beyond the trees that flanked it, I could glimpse an expanse of water, a great lake that extended into the distance, placid as glass. Maybe not the most impressive place to teach a king, but it filled me with joy nonetheless. How could anyone need anything more than this? It was a tiny cottage, sure, but if my great-grandmother’s books were inside…

  “Witch,” Aiden muttered. I winced. I didn’t want to look back at him. I didn’t want to see the disappointment on his face. What I saw before me was a perfect home and place to learn and study, while I’m sure he saw the meanest little hovel.

  “Witch Hogan,” Aiden said again, this time with more authority. I set my jaw, preparing to explain that it wasn’t the size of the classroom that mattered, but the merits of the teaching as I turned to him. And froze.

  Aiden’s full attention was on my face, but behind him, the forest had disappeared once more—or we were somehow back at its edge. And I understood what he wanted me to see.

  Taking up most of the field was a stately four-story building, with turrets at every corner, thin, snaking flags whipping in the stiff breeze, and a wide span of marble steps extending down from a commanding front door. Unlike the king’s castle, this building was crafted of sand-colored stone. It seemed homier than the castle, too, despite its size. What was this place?

  “You didn’t know,” Aiden murmured, his gaze searching my face. “You thought the forest cottage was all you’d wrought.”

  “I…”

  Beyond his shoulders and up the broad steps, the doors of the magnificent building opened seemingly by an unseen hand. A play of light shone deep inside the structure, making it look like a straight-up Disney castle. I half expected bluebirds to start singing and swirling around the turrets, but instead, a flash of silver snaked out of the building and slithered along the stone above the archway, gilding the letters chiseled there.

  WITCHLING ACADEMY

  “It appears that the teacher has finally come home,” Aiden said.

  12

  Aiden

  The look on the witch’s face would have taken my breath away if I’d had any breath left to give. She could not have orchestrated a better reveal, or cemented her position at court more completely without saying a word. I would have applauded it if she didn’t look so awestruck. It made her seem unaccountably vulnerable, and something shifted in my chest as my people reached me.

  The first was Niall, his one working eye narrowed suspiciously. “Did you drug her?” he accused me in a low growl. “She’s acting like she’s drugged. That’s hardly a welcome for anyone, let alone a wee human.”

  Irritation flared within me as I registered his concern. Normally, I didn’t care about his unusual fascination with the human realm, but now, it grated. “No, I didn’t drug her,” I snapped. Then, as the others approached, I turned.

  “The Hogan witch has returned to the castle to teach the high court,” I said, somewhat unnecessarily considering the giant building beside us. I
t had to be as large as the one that Reagan Hogan had left behind, which had disappeared bare weeks after she had. I wondered what stories it still held within its walls, or how many Fae had taken instruction under Reagan’s careful tutelage. Many of the records of the previous Witchling Academy had been burned the moment the witch’s disappearance had been discovered. My grandfather had decided in a fit of rage that he would keep the Hogan magic for himself and not allow any of his subjects to pore over the ancient texts. Apparently, that was the usual behavior for every king once his witch left, whether she departed the realm after a few years or a few decades. The king simply stopped allowing magic instruction, hoarding Hogan magic for himself and refusing to speak of it.

  But now, even as I recalled those stories, I wondered at their truth. Did Cyril have more records than he’d ever let on? Had Reagan Hogan left anything behind other than a few trinkets and the empty book that had been passed down to me? A book that looked remarkably similar to the one that Belle had had on her desk, now that I thought of it.

  Questions to be answered, but not yet. My cousin Lena reached us next, her long legs taking her out well ahead of her peers, as they had since she’d been very young. She still looked young to my eyes—dark haired and dark eyed, her skin as fair as snow. Though she was several years older than me, a contemporary of my father’s more so than mine, she was my most trusted relative. Granted, that wasn’t saying much. As the custom had been since my grandfather’s time, there were very few close relatives to the High King, by careful design.

  “Welcome to our realm, Witch Hogan. We shall celebrate this night with a feast in your honor,” Lena announced, startling Belle from her stupor. The witch glanced at me, but she didn’t have to work hard to keep fear on her face. She drew a step closer to me anyway, and I fought down the surge of proprietary pleasure at the move. That was good, witch. Very good.

  “She’ll have to be kept under constant watch.” Cyril, the top advisor to the throne, made this pronouncement dourly as he hurried in Lena’s wake, his thin face screwed up in concentration beneath his close-cropped fringe of gray hair. “When you said you were returning, King Aiden, you didn’t say it would be with a witch.” It was almost a complaint. “We’re not prepared.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him, taking in the smaller man’s rigid body, his flapping hands. I liked Cyril, but he was also closer to my father’s age, not mine. I had no time for his dithering. “Then get prepared. Surely, you know the ancient rites. We don’t have much time to waste. The battle against the wraiths continues at our borders, and our people are falling. We have work to do.”

  Belle had stiffened during my little speech, though I suspected it wasn’t the plight of the Fae that worried her, but Cyril’s pronouncement regarding her need to be restricted that I hadn’t denied. Too bad. We’d already lost one witch. We weren’t going to lose another.

  The next Fae raced up to us, Lena’s son, effectively distracting Belle. Though he was well into his teen years, he remained a mere slip of a boy. He bobbed up and down in front of her with unbridled enthusiasm, his eyes bright blue beneath his mop of black hair, his mobile mouth stretched into a thoroughly delighted grin.

  “So you’re not a myth. You’re not a myth after all,” he announced, turning to stare up at the newly minted academy. “When do we start? We should start right away. I have to tell you, I’m the most magical of all of them. I think because I’m young. I think the older a Fae gets, the more of a hard attitude they develop, like a wintery frost that never melts. But I don’t have that. I’m still open-minded. I can show you around the castle. But you’ll have to show me the academy, okay? All of it? You should show me all of it.”

  “Alaric,” Lena said quietly, and the witch jolted. Did she know the ancient family name? Should she know the name? The members of the high court had precious few to choose from, though I couldn’t place an Alaric of any significance in our history. Something I would need to research, particularly given the fond smile she extended to the boy.

  “We can begin right away,” she said, her first words since she’d brought the academy to life. They swelled out over the field, seeming to burnish the very air. The members of the high court straightened, and the lesser nobles beyond them as well, though they couldn’t hear what Belle said.

  “Oh, this will do nicely,” Lena said, as Cyril sniffed dismissively.

  “There are details to attend to,” he protested. “Where will she eat? Where will she sleep? How will she be—”

  I interrupted, knowing whatever came out of Cyril’s mouth next would not help matters.

  “She sleeps and eats with me,” I announced, and by the way everyone within a twelve-foot radius stiffened, they understood there was no arguing this point. Even the witch kept her mouth shut, so at least she wasn’t proud. But I could tell from the set to her shoulders that she didn’t like the arrangement. Too bad.

  “While I’m at the castle, she’ll be with me or teaching in the academy,” I emphasized.

  “But those aren’t the only options,” Alaric was quick to point out. “Did you see? There’s another new building that’s popped up right at the edge of the—”

  “That’s for me alone,” I said, feeling the witch’s gaze on my face. I knew instinctively that she craved that little cottage more than anything she’d wanted in a very long time. I could use that to my advantage as well.

  “No one goes near it without my express permission,” I continued, scanning the group, my gaze lingering only briefly on the witch. Her face was flushed, her hands clenched, and now she glared at me with murder in her eyes. She knew exactly what I was doing and why. Good. It would save us both time. The sooner she understood that she was completely under my control, the faster we could get through the business of her instructing me, and me, in turn, instructing her. That unexpected thought made my gut tighten, and I pushed on.

  “How long do you need to prepare for Belle to join the royal family formally as our witch?” I asked my advisor.

  “Weeks,” Cyril snapped back. “Days, at least.”

  “You have until tomorrow morning.” I turned to Niall, who was eyeing me speculatively. “What news do we have from the front?”

  I caught the attention of the witch on me, coupled with Lena’s startled glance. I swallowed a flicker of annoyance. I wasn’t about to explain myself to these people. If my witch was to prove of any use at all, she needed to know what was going on in the kingdom.

  “I’ve got a full report for you, but it’s not a thing for discussing outside,” Niall said with his usual tact, a feature many never expected in the rough-looking Fae, but which I had come to appreciate. While he was brutal to look at, with his unruly dark red hair, blighted eye, and thick beard, he led with the diplomatic hand. By all accounts, I was the exact opposite.

  “Yes, yes, of course,” Lena said, clapping her hands a single time. The witch flinched as the crack sounded across the open grass. Her twitchiness surprised me, though perhaps it shouldn’t. I was beginning to understand how little she truly knew of the Fae. A deliberate lapse in her training, no doubt, from the overprotective females of her line, determined that she would never find herself among us. Well, she would need to catch up. I looked over to see Lena glancing my way again, even as the lesser nobles turned to make their way back to the castle.

  My cousin understood the truth of things, without any supernatural powers. No Fae could read my mind, but it didn’t take a sorceress to understand that the witch, while clearly powerful, was out of her depth. As much as I would enjoy keeping her off her game, time truly was too short to let that stand.

  We headed out, but the witch paused in front of the broad staircase that led up to the academy. “Should I—we check out the place while we’re here?” she asked. “Is there anybody in there? It’s so big, but it doesn’t feel empty to me. Is it?”

  I scowled at the building, then at Cyril, who gripped his thin hands into fists with an exasperated sigh.

  “I
told you, it should take weeks to prepare for such a thing, particularly given that so much time has passed.”

  “Answer the question, Cyril,” I said tersely, and he sighed with exaggerated dismay.

  “There was an entire staff,” he said, squinting up toward the building as well. “I don’t have names or functions, but there were more teachers beneath Reagan Hogan, to be sure. There was the whole high court to train at varying levels, and there was deep magic to forge. There are still tales of the Hogan witch’s magic among the high Fae, even among the most distant families. We will need to call on them to get the full story.”

  I nodded. With the king’s ability to read minds, it wouldn’t have served anyone who knew an inconvenient truth to remain in the presence of my grandfather once his witch had fled. And he, in his pride, had not called them to an accounting. His son—my father—had been even worse, ordering that the name of the Hogan witch never be mentioned in his presence. Fools, the both of them. But I was going to change all that.

  “Summon anyone you need, as fast as you can. We need to know as much as possible.”

  I felt the tension in Belle’s body wind tighter. Apprehension, maybe even fear, but not of me. “So I can…?” she began, taking a hopeful step toward the academy entry.

  “No.” My dismissal stopped her cold. “Tomorrow, you’ll begin your work as a witch. Tonight, we celebrate.”

  13

  Belle

  Our “celebration” was a disaster.

  I could tell that any interaction with these people was going to be problematic even as we approached the monstrosity of Aiden’s castle. I felt their pressure on my mind. I couldn’t read the futures of any of them—not even the teenaged Fae Alaric, who I’m sure would have been delighted to let me. But my precognitive skills were completely useless on the Fae, and it was only with immense effort that I kept my own thoughts private from them. By the time I’d been swept into the main hall, with barely a pit stop in a sort of side antechamber with basins of water to rinse off my hands and face, their curiosity was at full tilt.