by Box Set
Half an hour left.
With a glance toward Amon’s office—he doesn’t approve of magic in the library—I sweep my hand across the table and watch the scattered books pile themselves neatly on top of one another. I push my chair back and head for the row where I found them.
It takes several minutes, but eventually I’m kneeling on the floor pushing the last book back into its place on the lowest shelf. I’m about to stand when a snort of laughter disturbs the quiet. I tilt A Collection of Magical Water Creatures forward and peek through a gap between two books on the other side of the shelf. Dale and Rush, two fellow fifth years, are sitting on the floor reading a piece of paper that, for some reason, has the ability to send them into hysterics. Or it could be a blank page coupled with the effects of some kind of giggling potion. Dale is enough of an idiot to sample just about anything in a bottle, and Rush isn’t far behind him.
A book slides into the gap and blocks my view. “What’s going on? You guys been sampling Aria’s happy cookies again?”
And that would be Ryn. My ex-friend, ex-enemy, current ‘sort of friend.’ Although, that last part hasn’t exactly been working out so well. A few days after we narrowly escaped Zell’s dungeon, Ryn brought his little sister Calla over so she could give me a thank-you-for-saving-me-from-the-bad-faerie letter she’d written herself. That was followed by some awkward conversation—probably due to the fact that Ryn was trying to be nice, a skill he has yet to master—after which they left. Two weeks later and, other than the glare I received when I tried to speak to him during training, we’ve had no further contact.
I’m still trying to figure out whether I should be disappointed or relieved.
“The third years have been copying us,” Rush says. There’s a rustle of paper. “See? Guys have started writing hot lists and passing them around. And look who’s at the top of this one.”
“Does that say Tora?” Ryn asks.
“Yes!” Dale says with a hoot.
Tora? My mentor? I swallow, feeling more than a little grossed out.
“So what?” Ryn says. “She’s kind of hot.”
“But she’s a mentor,” Dale says. “She’s probably, like, four hundred years old. It’s creepy.”
Creepy, yes. Four hundred years old? Not even close.
I’m about to head back to my desk when Rush says, “Well, my hot list is in definite need of an update. Did you see Violet last time she was in the Fish Bowl? Man, she has definitely moved into slot number one on my list.”
Eww! Okay, I am now officially grossed out.
“Of course I saw her,” Dale says, all trace of laughter now gone from his voice. He was the one inside the Fish Bowl with me—and I greatly enjoyed kicking his butt.
Rush laughs. “Oh, yeah, I remember. I guess you can’t see past your bruised ego to her super hotness, can you?”
As much as their conversation disgusts me, I have to admit there’s a teeny, tiny part of me that’s flattered to be included on someone’s hot list. If only it wasn’t Rush. I lean back against the shelf, wondering if Nate thinks I’m super hot—or if he thinks of me at all.
“What about you, Ryn?” Rush asks.
I feel the shelf move slightly against my back as Ryn says, “You know I don’t give a goblin’s fuzzy ass about your hot lists.”
“Yeah, didn’t you know, Rush?” Dale says. “No one here is good enough for Ryn.”
“Exactly,” Ryn says. “Why settle for a giggling girl when you can have a real woman?”
“Ha! A real woman?” Rush says. “Is that what you call the crazy Underground beings you hang out with at Poisyn?”
Okay, now I definitely don’t need to hear any more. I push myself up.
“I thought I should remind you two that you haven’t handed your assignments in yet,” Ryn says to his friends.
Crap, I haven’t handed mine in either. I give Dale and Rush a few seconds to get up and out of their row before I hurry forward—and come face to face with Ryn.
“Eavesdropping again, Pixie Sticks?” he asks.
I fold my arms over my chest. “I believe I have a right to eavesdrop on conversations that include me.”
A sly smile creeps across his face. “And did you like what you heard?”
I hesitate a moment before saying, “No comment.”
He laughs, shakes his head, and turns to leave.
“Wait,” I say before I can stop myself.
He glances over his shoulder before saying, “Yeah?” It infuriates me how unconcerned he looks.
“I really don’t get you, Ryn.”
His eyebrows pull together. “What are you talking about?”
“Uh, remember that time you sat on my bed and asked me if I wanted to try being friends again? It’s only been two weeks since then, and you’ve already forgotten.”
“What do you mean? I came over with Calla last week. You’re not expecting me to visit every day, are you?”
“Of course not, that would be creepy. But I didn’t expect to receive a death stare from you during training either.”
“You were distracting me.”
“From what? You were tying your shoelace!”
“A very important task when one is about to enter the Fish Bowl.”
I clench my hands into fists and remind myself that throwing a book at him probably wouldn’t be the most constructive move.
He sighs. “Look, I just figured it would be easier this way.”
“You figured what would be easier?”
He shrugs. “You know, not talking while we’re at the Guild. Everyone knows that you and I don’t get along, so if we suddenly started being chummy, there’d be all these questions to answer, and it would get really boring and tedious, and we’d waste valuable training time.”
“So that’s how it is?” I shake my head and walk past him. “Let me know when you want to do this friends thing properly.” I roll up my spare reed paper, stick it into the side of my training bag, and head out of the library.
Ten minutes left.
“You know the sundial is slow, right?” Ryn shouts after me.
Crapping crap. I hurry down the stairs two at a time to the second floor, then jog along the corridor until I reach the five tree stumps outside the mentors’ lounge. The stump on the right with Fifth Years engraved into the bark is the only one with an open circle at the top. I dump my bag on the floor, pull out my rolled up report, and slide it in. Three seconds later, twigs emerge at the edges of the circle, growing and twisting around each other until the top of the stump is sealed.
Whew, just in time.
I run down the stairs, across the foyer—glancing briefly upward to check that the protective enchantments are still the right color—and toward the lesson rooms. I peek into the fourth one, relaxing when I see there are no mentors present yet. I slip into a chair beside Honey.
“Guess what?” she says, leaning toward me. “I think you and I might have been put together for the final.”
“What?” I scoop some loose hair behind my ear. “How do you know?”
“Well, Tina didn’t actually say your name, but she said I’d been given the best possible partner, which is obviously you.”
I can’t help smiling at the compliment. “It could be Ryn. He’s also pretty good.”
“No way.” Honey makes a face. “Tina wouldn’t have been nearly as enthusiastic. She dislikes Ryn as much as I do.”
“Oh. Well, that’s great then!” I start to feel a little less anxious about this final assignment. If I had to choose someone, it would probably be Honey. She’s the closest thing I have to a friend and easy to work with.
I notice movement by the door and look up, but it’s only Ryn. Dale waves him over. “Dude, since it’s Friday,” he says loudly enough for everyone to hear, “I was thinking I could come over and we could try that new—”
“Nope, sorry. I have plans tonight.” Ryn drops into the empty chair in front of Dale.
“What plans?
” Dale demands, as though it’s inconceivable his friend might have made a plan that doesn’t involve him.
“Do we really need to know?” Honey whispers beside me.
“Just plans,” Ryn says before I can answer her.
Dale leans forward in his desk. “Is this about a girl?”
After a pause, Ryn says, “Yes.”
“Dude!” Dale punches Ryn’s shoulder. “And you didn’t say anything? Who is it?”
“You don’t know her.”
“Come on, man,” Rush says. “Spill the details.”
“No.”
“Fine,” Dale says. “All the more reason I should come over tonight. I have to meet this mysterious—”
“Don’t even think about it, Dale.”
“Hey, can you guys shut it?” Aria says from across the room. “We don’t all need to know about Ryn’s love life.”
“You got that right,” Honey mutters.
“Good morning, trainees.”
“Oh, thank goodness,” I whisper as Bran walks in, officially putting an end to any discussions. Of all our mentors, Bran has probably taught us the most, so it’s fitting that he’s the one to talk to us about our final assignment. “Everyone here?” he asks, sitting on the edge of a desk.
“Yes, all sixteen of us,” someone says in the front row.
“Okay.” He rubs his hands together. “I’m sure your various mentors have spoken to you already about your final assignments—” he glances at Ryn and Asami, the two trainees he’s mentored for the past five years “—but I still need to make sure we’re all on the same page. So. As you know, throughout your five years as a trainee your assignments progressed from grouped to paired to solo. It might seem strange, then, that you do your final assignment with a partner and not on your own.” Several trainees nod their heads. “The reason behind the paired final assignment is that it mimics the assignments of real guardians. So far you’ve been taking care of fairly simple incidents—an ogre trying to eat a child, a will-o’-the-wisp leading a hiker to his death—”
“He considers that simple?” Honey whispers.
“—but fully trained guardians get involved in far more complex and dangerous situations. Situations that take a lot longer than a few minutes to resolve. These kinds of assignments require that guardians work in teams, which is why we give you a partner for your final assignment. Any questions so far?” When there’s no answer, Bran gets up and begins walking between the desks. “Okay, so here’s how it works. This afternoon you will report to your mentor who will give you the details of your assignment and the name of your randomly selected partner. You and your partner will have the weekend to prepare, and you will then leave from the Guild on Monday morning. You have until Friday to complete the assignment.”
Jasmine sticks her hand up. “Are we allowed to come home at night?”
Bran shakes his head. “As those of you with guardian parents will know, you are not allowed to return home until an assignment is complete.”
“But why?” Jasmine asks. “It only takes a few seconds through the faerie paths to get home, so what’s the big deal?”
“The big deal, Jasmine,” Bran says patiently, “is that you have no idea how the situation might change in your absence. You always need to be aware of what’s going on.”
“Are you saying I have to stay awake for the entire assignment?”
“No, that’s—” Bran cuts himself off with a sigh. “Why don’t you talk to your mentor about this later, okay?” Jasmine nods, and Bran continues with his instructions. “The first thing you do upon your return is report to your mentors and give them your tracker bands so they can see how you did. You’ll also have to submit a written report a few days later.”
“Does the report count toward our rankings?” Aria asks.
“Yes. Everything counts, you know that, Aria. And, speaking of rankings, they remain a secret until graduation, which is in four weeks’ time.”
“And the prize for top graduate is still the same?” Ryn asks.
“Yes. A monetary gift from the Guild, your name in the Hall of Honor, and a visit to the Seelie Court. Any more questions?” Bran looks around at the shaking heads. “Great. After lunch you report to your mentors.”
Three
The Guild’s Hall of Honor is a vast room filled with pillars. On each side of every pillar is a plaque where the name of the top guardian graduate is written each year. It isn’t a room I visit very often, but every now and then I stop by to remind myself why I keep working so hard to be the top graduate in my class. And right now, before receiving my final assignment, seems like a good time.
I walk slowly between the pillars as I head for the plaque with my mother’s name. My boots cause a faint echo each time they connect with the centuries-old wooden floor. Shadows flicker from the flames that burn perpetually in the torches attached to the walls. I thought it was a little eerie the first time I came in here, but now it evokes a sense of comfortable familiarity.
I stop when I reach my mother’s plaque. There are ten names from ten different years. Hers is third from the top. Rose Hawthorne. Gold letters on dark wood.
“I’ve finally reached the last hurdle,” I whisper, imagining that somehow she can hear me. “And I’m going to do it, Mom. I’m going to win the top prize.” I reach up and run my finger across her name, feeling the raised letters. Then I drop back down onto my heels and head out of the hall.
Time to get on with the final hurdle.
I climb the stairs that lead to Tora’s corridor. The last time I saw her, it was for a counseling session—the goblin in the park—and she mentioned she’d been asked to visit another Guild for a few days. Well, a few days turned into a few more, and a few more, and I ended up having all my assignments during the past two weeks organized by Honey’s mentor, Tina. It’s probably the longest I’ve gone without seeing Tora since the day I met her.
So when I knock on her office door and there’s no response, I feel a definite sinking in the region of my heart. Where is she? She’s the closest thing I have to family and I miss her! I push her door open and find the office in darkness, which is even more disturbing. Wasn’t she supposed to come back last night?
I leave the door open to let some light in and sit down in one of the chairs. She must be here somewhere, otherwise I would have been told to see a different mentor. I lean back and twirl a strand of hair around my finger. My mind wanders back to the conversation in the lesson room before Bran arrived. I wonder who Ryn’s seeing tonight and why he won’t tell his friends about it. What doesn’t he want them to know?
After several minutes of pondering the possibilities of Ryn’s love life, I hear hurried footsteps in the corridor. A second later Tora strides into her office, a stack of papers clutched in her hands. “I’m so sorry I’m late, Vi.” She dumps the papers on her desk. “I was called to an unexpected meeting, and—” She glances up at the ceiling. “Oh, the glow-bug. He squirmed out of here and all the way to the end of the corridor while I was away. Lonely, I think. I’m sure I asked someone to—Oh, thank you.” She steps aside as two dwarves march in, one with a fat, yellow glow-bug in his hands. They climb onto Tora’s desk, one gets onto the other’s shoulders, and they secure the glow-bug to the ceiling. They climb down and leave without a word to either of us.
“And now they tell me I have to talk to the bug occasionally or he’ll leave in search of a different room,” Tora continues as the glow-bug slowly warms up to its shining state. “Honestly. I’m sure glow-bugs weren’t always this sensitive.” She sits down with a heavy sigh. “So, do you want the bad news or the really bad news?”
“Wow. Good afternoon. It’s nice to see you too, Tora. It’s only been, what? Two and a half weeks?”
A pink tinge colors Tora’s cheeks. “Oh, I’m so sorry.” She jumps up and walks around to my side of the desk. “I’ve been so busy since I got back last night that it feels like I never left.” She leans down and puts her arms around m
e. I hug her back, tighter than normal, realizing suddenly that this is what I’ve wanted since the moment I woke up in Ryn’s house and the reality of Nate’s betrayal hit me. “Hey, are you okay?” she asks, pulling back. “Did everything go all right with Tina while I was in London?”
“Yeah, yeah, everything’s cool.” There’s no point in telling her about Nate now that’s it’s all over. It would only hurt our relationship if she knew I’d disobeyed her instructions to give Nate the memory-loss potion. I picture the tiny vial labeled Forget sitting in my emergency kit and feel guilt stirring within me. I push the thought from my mind and pull my knees up to my chest. “So, what were you doing over there anyway?”
“Oh, you know.” She waves a dismissive hand as she sits down again. “Boring Guild stuff. Anyway, let’s get back to what’s important.” She places her hands on the desk and looks at me. “Your final assignment.”
“Is this where the bad news and the really bad news come in?”
“Unfortunately, yes.” She pauses, drumming her fingernails on the desk. “So … first let’s talk about where you’ll be going. I know it’s become somewhat of a tradition for fifth year students to be sent to exotic locations for their final assignments.”
I nod. “Yeah, some trainees get very excited about it. Some of them have even been placing bets on where they’ll be sent.”
“Right,” Tora says slowly. “Well, I’m afraid your assignment is a little more local.”
“Local?”
“And in the human realm. No exotic fae folk for you.”
“Oh. Well, humans can be interesting.” I think of Nate, then remind myself, yet again, that he isn’t actually human.
“Yes, but these are boring, old rich humans.”