The Shadow Cadets of Pennyroyal Academy

by M. A. Larson

  The night’s torches and candles were still lit, though the first hint of dawn was starting to lighten the air. They filed into the Dining Hall through a small door in the back. The kitchens were enormous mazes of ovens and tables and food sacks and basins. Candlelight and stove fires provided plenty of light and warmth.

  “It’s actually quite cozy in here,” said Evie.

  “Not as cozy as my bed,” grumbled Sage as she trudged inside.

  A handful of staff princesses and woodsmen were there, cracking eggs, kneading dough, and slicing vegetables. The cadets did as they were told, following the recipes as best they could. Basil even offered suggestions—most of them unwelcome—on how to improve the oatcakes. Eventually Demetra, Nessa, and Liv joined them, but they were so late that they were given serving duty.

  As Evie sleepwalked through the rest of the breakfast preparations, she realized how much she’d rather be eating the food than cooking it. Unfortunately, she wasn’t allowed to touch anything until the staff released them to their breakfast table.

  “Well done, cadets,” Princess Copperpot finally squawked. The morning sun had appeared through the windows, and the voices of the rest of the Academy had begun to rumble in from the Dining Hall. “You may go. Those of you who are serving may begin.”

  The Dining Hall was packed wall to wall with cadets, even more than the previous night, their voices bouncing everywhere.

  “Were we this loud?” said Basil, holding his temples. “I think I’d prefer the Fairy Drillsergeant’s shouting at this point.”

  As Evie looked toward the first-class girls, her eyes passed the staff table atop its raised platform in the front of the room. It ran the entire length of the hall and was lined with thrones. And there at the end stood the Headmistress General. She was issuing orders to a group of trolls who were carrying more thrones for the extra staff.

  “Well, I think it’s exciting,” said Maggie. “It’s just like when we were third class. There are so many dreams over there waiting to come true.”

  “Loads waiting to be smashed as well,” he said.

  “You’re such a cynic, Bas.”

  “I’m a realist.”

  “Save my spot, will you?” said Evie, rising from the bench and walking to the edge of the platform. “Pardon me, Headmistress?”

  “Good morning, Cadet,” said Beatrice, though her eyes never left the throne-hauling trolls. “No, not that one. Over there! Bloody trolls.”

  “Could I speak to you a moment?”

  “No, you fools! Slide Professor Njord round the side and you can fit at least three more there.” She shook her head, annoyed, then came over and stood above Evie. “What is it?”

  “Um, well, something’s happened that I wanted to speak to you about.”

  “Speak.”

  “Well, um, you see,” stammered Evie. She’d forgotten just how intimidating Princess Beatrice could be, particularly while standing on a four-foot-high platform. “There were these three women. On the way here. And I . . . well, I . . . I saw a woman killed.”

  Beatrice’s forehead creased with what might have been either confusion or anger, but was probably both. “One of these women was killed?”

  “No, no. They killed another woman.”

  “Will you spit it out, Cadet.”

  “There were these three women . . . They burst into the inn where I was staying and killed an old woman. They all had swords, you see, and—”

  “Three women murdered an old woman.”

  “Yes, Headmistress.”

  “And you saw this happen.”

  “I did, Headmistress. But the thing is, they were princesses. The three killers, not the woman who was killed.”

  “Three princesses murdered an old woman.”

  Evie nodded uncertainly. She knew what she had seen, but it all sounded so absurd coming from Beatrice’s mouth.

  “And where did this happen?”

  “I’m not sure. Somewhere near Cinderella’s Castle.”

  Beatrice’s expression never changed. Her mouth was tight and angled downward. Her bright blue eyes bored down into Evie’s. Each line in her skin made her look several degrees more magnificent and terrifying. Evie thought she must have been the most frightening person who had ever lived.

  “Thank you for telling me, Cadet. I’ll have Princess Bujanov look into it. She’s one of our best, and she lives in that region.”

  “Oh,” said Evie. “Thank you.” She didn’t know what sort of response she had been expecting, but that was not it.

  “Will there be anything else?”

  “No, Headmistress. Just . . . well . . . why would princesses want to . . . do that to someone?”

  “Those were not princesses, Cadet. They were almost certainly witches.”

  “Witches? But the innkeeper called them princesses. And they—”

  “This is standard witchery, my dear, and quite frankly I’m surprised you didn’t learn this in Lieutenant Volf’s class last year.”

  “Well, we did, I suppose. He told us about shape-shifting and witches disguising themselves and . . .” She trailed off when she saw Beatrice’s expression ratchet to an even angrier tightness. “Thank you, Headmistress. Thank you.” She bowed and backed away from the platform as Beatrice turned to talk to Corporal Liverwort. She breathed a sigh of relief and headed back to the Leatherwolf table. It hadn’t gone as smoothly as she would have liked, but she couldn’t help but be pleased with Beatrice’s response. Of course princesses would never do something like that! She smiled as she rejoined Maggie and Basil. Just in time for the first day of training, a lingering weight had been taken off her shoulders.

  “There she is!”

  “Hi, Evie!”

  “She’s so beautiful . . .”

  Evie felt her cheeks go pink as the Ironbone half of Leatherwolf Company trotted past a group of third-class girls on its way down the hill. The other half, the Goosegirl half, had split off and run to Hansel’s Green, while the rest of them made for the wall.

  “Go on, laugh!” shouted Basil from somewhere behind her. “I’ve made it farther than most of you lot will!” She glanced back and saw that he was shouting at some of the third-class cadets who were pointing and laughing at the boy running with the girls. She slowed to let him catch up.

  “Just give them a few days to get used to it. They’ll stop.”

  “It’s bloody humiliating. I thought last year would be the worst, but I can’t bear the snide smiles on these new girls’ faces.”

  “Forget about them, Bas. Come on, isn’t it nice to be back at it again?”

  “Mmm.”

  They ran in silence. Evie looked up at the morning sky and felt the autumn chill in the steel-hued air. She was certainly happy to be back at it again. When they reached the bottom of the hill and approached the small stone wall that ringed the campus, she saw a collection of red uniforms waiting on the other side. The boys of Huntsman Company.

  Remington.

  Leatherwolf poured over the wall and ran to join the knight cadets at the edge of the enchanted forest. The ground there was soft and pillowy, covered in a thick blanket of moss.

  “Come along, girls!” came a voice that was surprisingly airy and light, especially coming from the fur-clad beast who’d spoken it. Captain Ramsbottom was as thick and hairy as two bears fighting. He towered above the knight cadets, a ratty brown beard crinkling down almost from his eyebrows. “Gather round, gather round. Make way so all can see.”

  Evie scanned the knight cadets until she caught Remington’s eye across the group. He gave her a smile and a slight nod. She smiled back, then turned her eyes to the instructor. She couldn’t stop smiling, though. She could still feel him looking at her.

  “Let’s get started, shall we? This is called smokewood,” said Ramsbottom. “That’s naturally g
rowing wood singed by a dragon’s breath.”

  And just like that, Evie’s smile fell away. She realized in an instant where she was standing and which dragon’s breath had caused the smokewood. The trees behind Captain Ramsbottom were streaked with the scars of intense fire. Their leafless branches jutted into the air like the spiked stalagmites in Evie’s cave. She looked away, trying to block the memory of the lance rising toward her sister’s side . . .

  “All wood is flammable, we know that. But when an enchanted tree meets dragon fire and doesn’t burn, it becomes smokewood. This is very important: it must be an enchanted tree. You’ll see why in a minute. Now, smokewood is the most flammable substance in all the land. And if you know how to use it properly, it can save your—”

  Suddenly a branch swept out and slammed into his back, launching him into the cadets like a large, hairy arrow.

  “Are you all right, sir?” asked one of the boys.

  Ramsbottom wheeled and looked back at the tree with fear. Then he got to his feet and brushed himself off. “Yes, yes, I’m fine, lad. Thank you.” The branches, even those charred into smokewood, swayed victoriously. Both companies took a step back.

  “I hope he’s not expecting us to go near that stuff,” said Basil.

  “Isn’t this what books are for?” said Maggie, peeking out from behind him. “I’m happy to read about smokewood.”

  Captain Ramsbottom limped forward, being sure to stay well out of the trees’ reach. “Well, there you are. An excellent demonstration of the first thing you’ll need to remember. Smokewood is, as I said, enchanted. So, er, watch your backs.” Several of the cadets giggled nervously. “Now, unless these trees smash me to bits first, I’m going to show you how to use this as a resource if you find yourself lost in the enchanted forest.”

  And with that, he trotted off, giving a wide berth to the tree that had gotten him, and disappeared into the forest. The cadets exchanged uncertain looks. Evie glanced over at Remington, who was busy talking to one of his company-mates. Look over here, she thought.

  “He’s lost the plot,” said Basil. “That thing nearly broke him in half!”

  “Where’s he gone?” said Maggie.

  First they heard footsteps crunching through the leaves and then they saw him. He was running straight for the gap between two charred trees. One of the Leatherwolf girls screamed as two branches crackled to life and swung at him. He leaped into the air, surprisingly nimble for such an abnormally large man, and dove over the branches. They crunched into each other, and an explosion of fire burst from the spot where the smokewood met. He tucked into a roll and ended up on one knee looking back at a shower of sparks. Several small fires burned in the dead leaves carpeting the ground. Eyeing the trees warily, he edged over and scooped up a smoking pile of pine needles and leaves. He blew on it and a flame sparked to life. Holding the small fire in his hands, he smiled proudly.

  “There you are. Instant fire. Doesn’t matter if it’s been raining for days, smokewood still works.” He dropped the fire and stomped it out with his boot. “Now, who’d like to give it a go?”

  He was met with silence.

  “Come on, you’ve all got to do it.” Everyone was looking away, hoping to avoid eye contact. “I can force you if you like, but—”

  “I’ll try,” said Remington. “What’s the worst that can happen?”

  “The tree could break all your bones and then set you on fire,” said one of the knight cadets, and all the boys laughed.

  “I’ve had worse,” he said. Evie watched in horror as he disappeared into the woods.

  “Right, lad!” shouted Ramsbottom. “Just remember that enchanted trees are quite predictable! Their limbs are heavy, so it’s difficult for them to change course once they’re in full swing!”

  “Cheerio!” called Remington. Moments later he was running straight at them. The trees attacked, one in a swooping arc, the other chopping down with a deafening crackle that sounded like witches’ magic. Evie must have closed her eyes, because the next thing she knew, there was a crash and a great cheer. She looked up to find Remington prone on the ground. Behind him, several small fires burned.

  “Fantastic, Cadet!” said Captain Ramsbottom, chuckling as he stomped out the flames. “That’s how you use smokewood!”

  Remington pushed himself up, wiping black sludge from his uniform. He glanced back and admired his work, then rejoined his company. The knight cadets clapped him on the back and congratulated him. He looked over at Evie with a triumphant smile.

  A rush of joy washed over her. That look had said it all. He had volunteered to go first because he wanted to impress her.

  For the next few hours, the cadets practiced making fire with the smokewood trees. Captain Ramsbottom wouldn’t let them return to campus until everyone had done it, even when rain began sheeting down from the clouds. Finally, when they’d all managed to produce at least a minimal flame, the fairies opened the wall and the cadets raced back to their barracks to change into dry uniforms. All except for two.

  “Lovely day for a stroll,” said Remington as thunder crackled across the countryside. “I don’t know why everyone else is in such a blasted hurry.”

  Evie smiled. They walked slowly up the road toward campus, neither in any particular rush to get out of the rain. “That was quite impressive back there, volunteering to show us all how it’s done. You could have been flattened.”

  “Yes, but these are the things one must do as the most famous cadet at the Academy. People expect you to set an example.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind, since I’m now the most famous cadet at the Academy.”

  “Are you?” he said with a grin. “I hadn’t noticed.”

  “Perhaps if you’d let those trees flatten you, it might have made you famous again.”

  He laughed and shook the rainwater from his hair. “Ah, it is nice to see you again, Evie. And I apologize for not writing you over the summer. In a way, you could say it’s your fault.”

  “My fault?” she said with a laugh. “And how is that?”

  “I spent quite a lot of time thinking about you and your family on the ride home. Being raised by dragons seems to be the most straightforward part of your history. It all must have been terribly complicated for you.”

  Though it warmed her heart to hear him say he’d been thinking about her, since virtually all she’d done was think about him, he wasn’t wrong about the complexity of Evie’s family. She had been raised by dragons, that was true, but even the little she’d discovered about her human family was far from straightforward. Evie’s stepmother, Countess Hardcastle, had lied to Evie, saying that King Callahan was actually her stepfather, when in reality he was Evie’s father. She still knew nothing about her birth mother, but she had managed to obtain one small image of King Callahan, the one tucked inside her dragon scale necklace.

  “It was complicated, yes.”

  “Thinking about your family made me realize I’d been taking mine for granted. The truth is, my father didn’t force me to join him on those diplomatic missions. I volunteered. And I very much enjoyed spending all that time with him, even though it devoured my entire summer. So there you have it. Your fault.”

  “Well, then, I suppose I’m sorry,” she said with a smile.

  “Apology accepted.”

  Small rivulets of rainwater streamed down the hill beneath their feet through carriage wheel ruts. Another dull rumble echoed from the skies. Remington laughed suddenly, as though he’d been trying to stop himself. Evie turned to look at him.

  “What?”

  “There is one small bit of comedy buried amidst the tragedy of it all. I hope you won’t take this the wrong way, but it is simply too funny to ignore.”

  “What is it?”

  “King Callahan was your father. And Countess Hardcastle was Malora’s mother.”

 
“Yes?”

  “Well, Hardcastle wanted you dead so she could pass Malora off as you, yes? So she could pretend that a witch was actually a princess of the blood?”

  “Yes? And?”

  He laughed again. “Well? Doesn’t that mean your real name is Malora?”

  Evie was gobsmacked. She kept putting one foot in front of the other, puzzling through what he’d said.

  “I’m sorry,” said Remington. “I didn’t mean to—”

  “My word . . . you’re right.”

  A smile bloomed across his face. “If she was going to be you, then she would need to be you! And the records would all have it that Malora was King Callahan’s daughter!”

  “I’m Malora,” said Evie, unable to keep from smiling. With all the twists and turns of discovering who she really was during her first year at the Academy, this was the piece that pushed the whole thing into absurdity. She began to laugh. “I’m bloody Malora.”

  He extended a hand. “Come, Malora, let us get out of this rain.”

  She slapped it away with a smile. “My name is Evie. And you’d better not tell anyone what you just told me.”

  “I won’t, I won’t,” he said. “Malora.”

  She tried to shove him, but he ran up the hill. She chased after as a flash of lightning lit up the midday gray, and her laughter was swallowed up by rolling thunder.

  Evie had reached the barracks just as the rest of the company was leaving, so she quickly changed into a dry uniform, then headed off into campus for her first official second-class training of the year.

  Leatherwolf Company followed a huge wall lined with carved rainheads, water pouring from the mouths of the gargoyles and wolves and monsters above, until they found a stone archway to the inside, where the rainfall became little more than a dull whisper. At the center of Richards Keep was a neglected courtyard, overgrown with grass and flowery weeds. The cadets climbed a staircase into a dark, dank corridor with a floor worn so smooth, Basil nearly slipped at the top. It was eerily quiet in the corridor.