Morgana Trilogy Complete Series

by Alessa Ellefson

  The woman slowly passes her hand over the inscriptions without touching them.

  “It’s part of a ward,” she says.

  “A ward? Like a protection spell?” The runes look like they’ve just been carved, not a single patch of moss growing on the stone’s smooth surface. “Is that why they say Fey people can’t come here?”

  “Unless they’ve been invited,” she says.

  My eyes widen at the thought that some old writing has that power. “So what Keva said was true,” I murmur, remembering our sacred geometry class.

  “I would hope you were at least taught the truth here,” the woman says. “Otherwise, what would be the purpose of this place?”

  My gaze drops to the bottom of the long runic text, near grass level, where a large symbol is carved—a five-pointed star inscribed within a circle. I take a few steps back.

  “I used to think that was the sign of the devil,” I say, forcing a laugh out, though the thought still makes me break out in a cold sweat.

  “If that was the case, a lot of things around us would be considered evil,” she says. “The inside of an apple, flowers, the passage of Venus around the Earth…No. That pentacle is a protection seal.

  “Each point represents one of the four prime elements, with the fifth being the spirit. Then the circle that joins them all to preserve life.”

  “Preserve life?” I point to the large building in the distance. “You mean the school?”

  “That’s one way to look at it.”

  The woman starts walking back the way I came, and I follow her. She’s still carrying Puck, who’s now munching happily on a strand of her hair like a rabbit on a carrot, but she doesn’t seem to notice or care.

  “Can it do other things?” I ask. “That seal there?”

  “Everything has more than one facet in life,” the woman answers without stopping. “It all depends on how it’s used.”

  Which means yes. I kick a pebble, and it bounces off the track a couple of feet away. I don’t know who this woman is, but it’s a good thing she’s not a teacher. For one, I’d already have gotten detention otherwise, and two, her way of answering without answering would be problematic.

  As we pass between the church and the asylum, we hear the bell ring the end of classes.

  “I believe we’re right on time for EM,” the woman says, with a smile, a clear sign of dismissal.

  “Damn this place to hell!”

  I jump at the angry voice and find an old man ferreting around the flower bushes, his long beard caught in their spindly branches. I recognize him immediately as the crazy old man from the asylum.

  I rush over to help the poor man. “How did you get out here?” I ask him, trying to untangle his beard from the bush.

  “On my own two feet,” he replies, his moss-green eyes flashing. “What a silly question!”

  “I mean, how did you get out?”

  The man looks even more outraged. “Through the door, of course!”

  With her clear laugh, the woman approaches us. “It’s too easy for you to get out, dear friend,” she says in her singsong voice.

  It seems her presence has a calming effect on the old man, for his features soften. In a few seconds, she has him freed and is holding his arm, probably to prevent him from escaping again.

  Students are now streaming out of the school toward the practice field, all decked out in their training gear. And in their midst are two familiar faces.

  “Morgan! Where have you been?”

  Bri rushes toward me, Jack on her heels. Behind them is Lady Ysolt, her stony face menacing.

  “I’m so going to get punished for this,” I tell myself. “I just hope torture’s a practice that’s long been abandoned.”

  “Bah, nothing your death can’t take care of, dear,” the old man says, patting my shoulder as he and the lady leave.

  “We’ve been worried about you,” Bri says when she reaches me. She sounds more excited than worried, however. “What happened? We came to get you before lunch, but you were gone.”

  “Were you called into the principal’s office?” Jack asks, looking nervously toward the odd pair who can still be seen walking to the asylum.

  “No. I just woke up late.” I shrug. “Then things just happened that kept me away.”

  “So why were you talking with Lady Vivian, then?” Bri asks, awed.

  “And Myrdwinn, too?” Jack adds.

  “Who and who?” I ask.

  “The school’s principal and the director,” Bri says, a note of impatience tingeing her voice. “You were just talking to them. We saw you!”

  “That’s who those two were?” I shake my head. “But the man…”

  “Myrdwinn,” Jack says.

  “Yes, he’s gone a little senile,” I say.

  “Well, it’s no wonder,” Bri says, “considering how old he is. He was already here when my grandfather attended school.”

  “My granddad says that Myrdwinn was the school’s president back when his grandfather was a kid,” Jack says. “They even say he’s the grandson of the original Myrdwinn, the enchanter who first taught knights EM.”

  I scoff. “That’s not possible. That’d make him waaaaay over a hundred years old!”

  “Which makes it perfectly reasonable for him to have dementia,” Bri says.

  I stare openmouthed at my two friends. Do they even hear themselves speaking?

  Jack shakes his head at me. “I don’t know how you do it,” he says, “to be hanging out with KORT people and talking to the school’s owners. You’re either very lucky or in deep trouble.”

  Chapter 12

  Once again, I’m relegated to a corner of the field to train on my own, but with a wooden sword this time. Curse my tendency to be easily swayed by the smallest kindness. I should’ve just skipped this part of the day too!

  “At least give me something to practice on,” I huff. I step sideways and bring the sword up, two-handed, in a mock parry. “Something I can hit to a pulp!”

  “So much anger!”

  I pivot and nearly thwack Arthur in the face. But the little turd actually ducks below the baton before tearing it out of my hands.

  “Are you complaining because you can’t do EM with the others?” he asks.

  I brush my hair out of my face, noticing Daniel and his gofers staring at us.

  “No,” I say sourly.

  Arthur raises his eyebrows, not buying it. “You should know hand combat. Many Fey use regular weapons, like we do. EM just allows us to level the playing field.”

  Not knowing what to do with my empty hands, I cross my arms and glare at him. “What is it you want? You’re interrupting my class.”

  “Class is actually what I came to talk to you about,” Arthur says.

  I snort. “What is it, Mr. President? Did you come all the way over to a mere page to give detention?”

  “Right on the dot! I see you’re not as stupid as some say.”

  By “some,” I assume he means Jennifer. I grind my teeth together, waiting.

  “I hear that you missed all your classes today,” he says, any trace of mockery gone, “but were not to be found in the infirmary. Is this correct?”

  I nod, too annoyed to speak.

  “Do you have a good excuse?”

  Maybe that your girlfriend made me do cleanup duty last night, again, and when I was already dead tired and bleeding to death. I don’t think my mental diatribe is reaching him, no matter how much I may glower at him, not that he’d believe me anyway.

  “No,” I finally say.

  Arthur frowns, as if surprised at my response. “Very well,” he says. “In that case, you are to clean the showers and restrooms in the mornings, for two weeks.”

  My mouth cranks open. “I have to what?”

  “That means all eight sections of them, boys and girls, for each year,” Arthur continues as if he hasn’t heard me. “So I suggest you wake up a couple of hours early every day. Any questions?”

/>   I’m positively fuming. “Yeah, did you have to come all the way here to tell me this, or did you only do it because you were dying to see my reaction?” I so do wish I’d smacked him in the head with my practice sword.

  Arthur’s hazel eyes bore into me. “Rules are rules,” he says simply before stalking away.

  “I really, really hate you,” I say under my breath. I think I see his steps falter for a second, but I can’t be sure.

  “I did it! I did it!”

  My class pauses to see Laura grow a wall of packed earth around her that’s getting taller by the second. The girl’s triumphant look morphs into one of panic as the wall grows higher than her shoulders.

  “Control your gnome, Miss Adams!” yells Lady Ysolt.

  “I can’t!” Laura sobs.

  “Tell it to stop!”

  Laura shrieks as the wall of earth closes over her with a loud crash, rocks shooting out in every direction. Everyone screams and drops to the ground, everyone but me. Lady Ysolt flings her hands out, and a long green flash zooms out to divert the projectiles away from the class.

  Time seems to slow down. I watch the stones curve in midair, then tear through the air toward me. Something sharp pierces my calf. I yell and keel over in pain, only to see a black shape slink away.

  The jets of stones soar over me and land in the stands like artillery shots. Within seconds, everything’s over. I look up from my bleeding leg to find the first three rows of benches demolished. I gulp. And to think that could have been me!

  “Morgan, are you all right?”

  Lady Ysolt races over to me and helps me up. She’s so worried she’s forgotten to call me by my last name like anybody who’s not a knight ought to be called.

  “I’m so sorry,” she says. “I’d forgotten you were there.”

  Forgotten? I bark out a mirthless laugh. Of course she would. People only remember me when they have no other choice.

  I pull away from her. “I’m fine,” I snap. I wince when I try to put weight on my injured leg, but keep my mouth shut.

  “Miss Kulkarni,” Lady Ysolt calls out, “go take your roommate to the doctor’s.”

  I mean to protest, but Keva leads me back inside the school, and I use this moment to escape from everyone, too tired to deal with people.

  ◆◆◆

  “You’re shit out of luck, huh?” Keva says, leaning against a medicine cabinet as a nurse, an old man with a neatly trimmed beard and circular glasses, examines my wounds.

  She chuckles. “I can’t believe your own brother gave you toilet duty!”

  The nurse’s gentle fingers prod the ruptured skin until more blood drips down my leg.

  I grimace. “If I could, I’d dunk him in it,” I say to Keva.

  “A feline,” the man mutters in his graying whiskers. “How very odd.”

  “It saved my life, that cat,” I say.

  The doctor spreads a salve on my calf, some concoction of honey and other herbs, lavender perhaps and…

  “Excuse me, sir,” I say, “but is that comfrey?”

  The man looks up from his bandaging, his eyes owlish behind his glasses. He looks more shocked than when he examined the deep lacerations left by the cat.

  “Why yes,” he says. “You’ve had this treatment before?”

  “No,” I say. “But we used it as a slug repellent back…” My vision blurs, and I sway on my stool.

  He grabs my arm to steady me. I breathe in deeply and slowly until my sight goes back to normal.

  “You need to get some food in you,” the nurse says, “and some rest, or you’re going to get really sick.”

  “No worries,” I mumble, getting to my feet with Keva’s help. “I never get sick.”

  “Eat something!” the man says again before the door closes on him.

  Keva and I make our way down the hallway toward the dining hall. We pull the doors back, and a couple of students shove past us. I nearly fall down, but catch myself on the door’s handle.

  “You immature bastards!” Keva says. “If you think you can become knights with this kind of attitude, you’re fooling yourselves.”

  I’m dead tired, famished, and filthy, but I’m quite sure that’s not why people are avoiding me. No, I realize as people turn away from me, avoiding eye contact, they’re staying clear of me for the simple reason that both Jennifer and Arthur have gotten on my back, and no one wants to feel their wrath by being associated with me. But at this point, I don’t really care.

  I settle down next to Keva and practically inhale my dinner. Food has never tasted so sweet, and, before long, my three plates are as clean as if they’d just come out of the dishwasher.

  Keva stares at me in disgust—her standards for ladylike manners are obviously wasted on me. “Slow down, or you’re going to choke yourself to death,” she says. “My Good Samaritan moment’s passed, I won’t be taking you back to the infirmary.”

  I lean back in my seat, my bulging stomach threatening to pop my pleated skirt’s top two buttons.

  “There’s no way they’re from the same family,” I hear some girls a couple of tables away whisper. “I mean, look at her.”

  “She’s such a loser,” another girl says with a snigger. “I mean, she was even held back three years!”

  “Poor Arthur. It mustn’t be easy to deal with a retard for a sister.”

  I steal a glance in Keva’s direction, wondering how this is affecting her, but find her eating her chicken with all the airs of a grand lady; if it weren’t for her foul mouth, she’d fool everyone into thinking she were royalty.

  “What is it?” she asks.

  “Considering your star-seeking status,” I say with a yawn, “I’m wondering why you’re sticking with me instead of keeping your distance like everyone else.”

  Keva lowers her fork and knife, then daintily wipes her mouth on her napkin. “First of all,” she says, “I’m affronted you should think so low of me as to compare me to everyone else around here. Second, I do know you’re dumb enough to have turned Jennifer into an enemy, though I’m sure if she knew you better, she wouldn’t even bother. You’ve also managed to get disciplined more times in the few weeks you’ve been here than anyone else has in a semester.

  “But one cannot get far in life if all one sees is just the surface of things.”

  She links her fingers together and rests her head on them. “In your short time here, you’ve managed to befriend a number of KORT members, a rare feat for a page. You’re also on speaking terms with the dean and the school president, I’ve heard, and let’s not forget you’re Arthur’s sister.”

  She raises her hand before I can interrupt her.

  “I know he’s sentenced you to disgusting menial labor for a couple of weeks, but we all know he’s a stickler for the rules. And I also know that, before you showed up with Vivian, he was about to throw a search party for you.”

  She crosses her arms on the table and leans toward me. “Which shows he cares about you. So you see, you’ve still got your uses.”

  I shut my mouth with a resounding clap. Something’s very wrong with her picture.

  “You could have waited,” Bri says, slamming her tray down on the table, startling me.

  Keva shrugs. “You could have gotten here sooner.”

  Bri glares at her. “We would have if we didn’t have somebody else’s gear to clean.”

  “I was told to take care of this walking catastrophe, so I did.”

  I barely manage to keep myself from nodding off onto my plate as the argument continues throughout dinner. Finally, Bri jerks me awake to head back to the dorms. I drag my feet after them up the steep staircase to the top floor, where Jack leaves us to go to the boys’ section.

  “How are you going to wake up tomorrow?” Bri asks me. “We usually have the Lauds bells to help us, but they don’t ring that early.”

  “Don’t look at me,” Keva says, pushing the solid door to our section open. “I’m so not waking up at three.”
r />   “I’ll lend you my clock,” Bri says. “It’s the winding kind, so it works without a problem.

  “You have one?” Keva says, alarmed.

  Without bothering to answer, I head straight for the showers. If I go to my room now, I’m going to collapse fully clothed in bed and never wake up. And though Keva appears to be bearing with me thus far, I doubt she’d let me stink up the place without either pouring a pail of water on my face or throwing me out the window.

  Before I manage to crawl into bed, two layers of skin dutifully scrubbed off, I make my nightly prayer.

  Dear Lord, thank you for letting me survive yet another day. I apologize for all the bad things I’ve done and said, but really, if you were a little nicer to me and didn’t give me quite so many things to test my temper, I would be much kinder. Amen.

  ◆◆◆

  Every day seems to bring me closer and closer to death. I go through my daily schedule in full walking-corpse mode: up at three, clean bathrooms, Mass at six, classes, then training, with a few hours reserved for meals and study. By the time the freshman boat breaks the lake’s surface marking the beginning of the weekend, I barely notice that it’s raining.

  “Ask if I can come over this weekend,” Keva whispers in my ear as I head to the car. “Just, uh…” She pauses, looking nervously at Dean. “Ask your parents instead of him. He doesn’t seem too nice.”

  If I weren’t so exhausted, I’d laugh—if only she knew how things truly stood. Instead, I slide inside Dean’s car, where Arthur’s already waiting, and we make the trip back to the house without a single word crossing our lips.

  When we arrive home, Arthur pauses on the front porch.

  “Listen,” he starts, “about this week, I—”

  I brush past him without waiting for the rest of his explanation, push inside, and head straight up to my room. I don’t care what he has to say for himself. I don’t care what anyone has to say to me. All I want is to be left alone to hibernate for the rest of the year.

  My great master plan is defective, however, for I wake up a few hours later to a growling stomach. I stare up at the ceiling, making pictures of the tiny cracks and lines that spread out from the corners closest to the windows, wishing I’d been able to stay at my old school. At least there I had only one year left before I’d be free from this family.