To my utter shock, the serpopards began to back away. Had someone called them off?
The two creatures stood in the middle of the dining hall, their beady eyes pinned on me.
Waiting.
Only then did I realize what was happening.
“On the ground," I said in my most authoritative voice, the one I usually reserved for Icarus when he tried to show me his latest meal.
The serpopards dropped to their leopard-shaped stomachs. Around me, I heard quiet gasps.
“Sleep now," I said, my voice beginning to tremble. "Don't wake up until I tell you it's time."
It was hard to tell whether they were listening, as their serpentine heads lacked eyelids, but their heads rested flat on the floor.
"It's okay," I announced. "We can get help now." I began to feel dizzy and wondered whether it was the effect of the magic or the venom. My legs wobbled and I reached for a table to lean on. It was then that I realized everyone was gaping at me in complete shock. They didn't appear relieved or impressed. Instead, they appeared horrified.
“She’s like the Shadow Sorcerer," someone said, and the statement echoed throughout the dining hall.
I didn't have a chance to explain myself. My legs crumpled beneath me, and I fell to the floor.
I awoke to the sight of four white walls. It appeared to be some kind of infirmary. There was no sign of a door, which struck me as odd. Before I had a chance to climb out of bed and investigate, the wall shimmered and Alana walked through to greet me.
“Ah, good,” the druid said. "I thought I felt movement. How are you feeling?"
"I feel great, actually," I said. "Where am I?"
"A special ward," she said. She flipped her stark white braid over her shoulder. "We had to make certain that you were not infected with the serpopards’ venom.”
My hand flew to touch the places where I remembered their fangs gouging me. "What's the verdict?" I was alive, that much was clear.
Alana clasped her hands in front of her. "There is no trace of the venom in your system.”
"Because you managed to extract it in time?" I queried.
“No,” she replied. "Because your blood is more powerful than any venom or poison. Your body simply absorbed the toxins and cleaned them away."
She gave me a moment to process this information. "I get the impression that’s not typical,” I finally said.
Alana gazed at me with an expression bordering on sympathy. "Did you know you possessed this ability?"
I shook my head. "Does everyone know?"
“Why else would you be in here?” Alana replied.
"I thought maybe it was because I could be contagious," I said.
Alana didn't respond. "I've been instructed to let the chancellor know the moment you awaken.”
“What’s everyone saying?" I asked. I had to imagine they were freaking out. "What about my roommates?"
“These are questions best left to them," Alana said. “There is a pitcher of water on the table. I can have food brought to you. In the meantime, get some rest and try not to worry about public opinion."
"What about you? What's your opinion?"
The druid healer simply looked at me. "It is not for me to judge."
She disappeared through the shimmering portal without a backward glance. I surveyed the room, hoping to find something to occupy my mind. I didn't want to focus on what my friends were thinking. What the entire academy was thinking right now. It was too overwhelming.
“You caused a lot of excitement," a voice said. He sounded vaguely familiar.
“It wasn't on purpose,” I said. "I was only trying to help everyone.”
"I'm sorry I missed the whole thing," the voice said. "I've been in here recuperating."
"Ivan?" I queried. I was pretty sure it was the fourth year I’d met in the library with Robin.
"That's right," he said. "I forget you can't see me. I was here when they brought you in, so I knew it was you."
"What happened to you?" I asked.
"A mixologist experiment gone awry," he said, sounding a little bitter.
“Were you preparing for your AMF exam?"
He choked a laugh. "Not very successfully, I'm afraid. I wish I healed as quickly as you. I heard Alana talking about how amazed she was.”
“Did you hear anything else about me?"
“I know they think you’re like the Shadow Sorcerer,” Ivan said. “Are you?”
“He’s my father,” I said. There was no point in lying now.
"If it's any consolation, I’m not frightened of you. In fact, I think it's pretty cool. You'll be able to do some amazing magic. I wish I had your blood.”
“You won't feel that way when you see how everyone treats me. I'm going to hate leaving here."
"I'm sure you'll be out today," Ivan said. "You'll be back in class and ready to impress everyone. You won't have to hide your talent anymore. Stars and stones, a real blood bender. That’s insane.”
"What makes you think they'll let me stay?" I asked.
"And risk losing power like yours to someone else?" He sounded incredulous. "That already happened with your father. They'll never let it happen again."
That had been Chancellor Tilkin’s opinion as well. I wondered whether she would have the same attitude now that my secret was out.
“When do you expect to be released?" I asked.
"My injuries are nearly healed," he said. "Alana just wanted to keep me here an extra day for observation." He paused. “Good morning, Chancellor.”
"Alana tells me you'll be in good form in time for your examinations."
"Yes, Chancellor," Ivan said.
“Good luck to you then.”
The wall shimmered again, and the chancellor's staff emerged, followed by the rest of her. She wore a dark purple cloak, and her white-blond hair was pulled into a French knot at the base of her neck. For an academic, she was effortlessly chic.
"It was bound to happen eventually," she said kindly. "I had only hoped to have a bit more time for your training."
I slid up and leaned against the headboard. "I can't train here anymore?"
She patted my leg beneath the sheet. "If it were up to me alone, you would. The decision is now in the hands of the Board of Regents."
"But you’re the head of the board, right?”
"I am, but I must defer to the majority," she said. "We have a little time before the debate."
"What do I do in the meantime?"
"Attend classes. Learn what you can. Try not to despair, child. I brought you here, and I shall do everything in my power to keep you here. I am convinced you belong at Spellslingers, that you came to me for a reason. Now, I need to convince the other members of the board."
I flipped back the sheet, ready to vacate the sterile room. "I'll head back to my room then. I'd love a shower right now. I still smell like those serpopards.”
The chancellor placed a delicate hand on my shoulder. "We've decided that it would be best for you to stay in the bunker until a decision has been rendered."
"The bunker?" I’d stayed in the bunker the first night I arrived at the academy, when I had no other room to go to. “Why can't I go to my room?"
The chancellor drew a patient breath. “Your friends are still digesting this serious change in circumstances."
“It's not a change in circumstances," I protested. "I'm still Bryn Morrow. I'm still the same person, or whatever I am."
"Give them time," she said. "You must understand that it's rather important news to process."
I thought of my father's healing stone, hidden in my drawer in the room. "Can I at least go back to the room and retrieve my belongings?"
"Hazel has already handled that for you," the chancellor replied.
My stomach knotted. What if I never returned to my room? What if my friends never spoke to me again? What about Gray? Had he heard the news? I was certain he had—the vampire’s specialty was information, after all.
&nbs
p; “Was I quarantined in this special ward because everyone was afraid of me?"
"It was only a precautionary measure," the chancellor said. "Try not to take it personally."
I hopped off the bed. "I'm ready to go now. You may as well call in the armed guards.”
The chancellor offered a sympathetic look. "That won't be necessary, child. I shall escort you to your temporary accommodation. Hazel will meet us there. She wants to make sure you have everything you need."
Well, the answer to that was already a firm no. How could I have everything I need when I was to be separated from my friends?
Chancellor Tilkin slipped her arm through mine, and advanced toward the wall. It shimmered again, and we stepped through it. I didn't even care that I was in some sort of hospital gown. As long as it closed in the back, I was wearing it to the bunker.
Ivan was the first face I saw. He was stretched out in a bed, reading a book on rites and rituals.
“Good luck, Ivan," I said.
He looked up and smiled. "You, too. Don't let anybody label you, Bryn. You know who you are."
I appreciated the sentiment.
The chancellor and I didn't have to walk very far to the bunker, which meant that, thankfully, we didn’t pass too many trainees or members of staff. I felt ashamed, even though I knew I shouldn't. I couldn't help who my father was, and anyone with half a brain would understand why I lied.
“There she is," Hazel chirped, as we entered the bunker. “The Dining Hall Rescuer. That's what they ought to call you now."
I barked a short laugh. “I can think of quite a few names they’re probably calling me now, but that isn’t one of them."
Hazel straightened a few of the items on my bedside table. I noticed that a dresser had been brought in for my clothes.
“Pay no mind to what anyone says," Hazel said. “You belong here as much as anybody else, and you saved everyone in that dining hall from those monsters.”
“Speaking of those monsters, where are they now?" I asked. I’d lulled them to sleep, but I never woke them up like I said I would.
“They've been taken care of," the chancellor replied.
I glanced around the small room. "So, am I a prisoner here? Do I need permission to come and go? Maybe a sign-out sheet?"
"You are free to come and go at will," the chancellor said. "I would only caution you to give your fellow students time to adjust. Perhaps a wide berth is best for now."
"I don't see what all the fuss is about," Hazel grumbled. "She's plainly not evil. Do they think she's going to start throwing her magic around, creating blood puppets?”
“Blood puppets?" I echoed.
"That's right," Hazel replied. "Like you did with those monsters. Gave them your blood and controlled them."
"I didn't realize there was an actual name for what I did," I said. "I didn't even know that I could do that."
The chancellor gave me an appraising look. “There is still much about you that we don't know, Bryn Morrow, and therein lies the fear.”
I spotted the folded towels at the base of the bed. "I'd like to get a shower now, if you don't mind."
Hazel tapped the wall. "Bathroom is just next door. Make sure you turn the tap all the way to hot, or you risk an icy waterfall.”
“Thank you, Hazel," I said.
“You know where to find us should you have any questions." The chancellor motioned for Hazel to exit the room. “We’ll leave you alone now.”
Please don’t, I longed to say, but the words dissolved on my tongue. The last thing I ever wanted was to be alone, and, now—thanks to my father—I was.
16
I opted to skip Arcane Rites, as Professor Langley already disliked me. I could only imagine what his opinion would be now. I decided to walk along the Mercer Lake path instead, and soak up some much needed energy. The sun was shining, and the birdsong was in stereo. Icarus found me easily, skimming the surface of the water.
Quite the dramatic confession, he said.
I cast a sidelong glance at the snowy owl. "Not exactly how I intended to tell everyone."
Did you ever intend to tell everyone?
"Good point. Probably not."
What happens now? Icarus came to rest on my shoulder, something he rarely did.
I relayed the chancellor’s update. “For now, we need to be patient.”
I hear it is a virtue, Icarus said.
"Bryn, wait up!” Gladiola ran behind me, waving a hand.
Be still my heart. Someone actually wanted to talk to me?
I stopped walking and waited for her to catch up. By the time she reached me, she was out of breath. “Are you sure you want to talk to me, Gladiola? You don’t want to end up in the containment ward.”
“As a reporter for The Weekly Wordslinger, I most definitely do.” She placed a hand on each of her knees, still struggling to breathe properly. For a fourth year trainee, she was woefully out of shape.
“I don’t think anyone wants to read a story about my parentage,” I said. Icarus fled my shoulder and circled the air above us.
“On the contrary,” Gladiola said. “This is your chance to tell your side. Let everyone get to know you, so they see you as more than the Shadow Sorcerer’s secret offspring.”
“You should probably wait to see whether the Board of Regents rescinds my offer of admission,” I said.
Gladiola blew a raspberry. “Are you kidding? The whole academy is interested in your story, whether you attend Spellslingers or not. It’s a huge deal. I could get international attention with a piece like this.”
“Yeah, I kinda got that impression.”
“Just talk to me,” Gladiola said. “If you decide you don’t want me to run the story after you read it, then I won’t.”
I nearly tripped over my own feet. “Really?” She hardly sounded like a ruthless journalist.
“I swear on the gods of my people,” she said. “I was going to interview you about your bet with Warden Armitage, but this story is much more interesting.”
“I still plan to find Karl’s killer,” I said. “I’m not going to give up because of a personal setback.”
“Oh, that’s even better,” Gladiola exclaimed. “Such drama! I can already picture the headline.”
“The monster doesn’t fall far from the monster tree?” I suggested.
Gladiola made a face. “That’s terrible. Don’t ever write headlines.”
Icarus swooped beside us. The annoying girl has a point.
“Maybe the AMF will reconsider my placement if I print this story,” Gladiola said dreamily, and I began to wonder what lengths the young witch would go to in order to secure her dream job.
“Well, even if you want to talk to me about the investigation, my lips are sealed," I said. "I'm not saying anything that might give Warden Armitage an advantage over me."
"I like your confidence," Gladiola said. "I'm pretty sure he already has a huge advantage over you, though, in that he is an actual warden."
“All the more reason to keep my information close to the vest,” I said.
“Fine, then let's talk about your interesting background," Gladiola said. “Your father aside, it’s not every day that Spellslingers welcomes a trainee straight from Terrene. Warden Armitage seems to sense your potential. Otherwise, he never would’ve made the bet with you."
Now she sounded like Robin. “He’s trying to make me look stupid. That’s his specialty, just like yours is getting paranormals to talk to you.”
Gladiola smiled. “That was kind of pathetic of me, huh? It didn’t impress the warden.”
“You’d have to burn down the whole forest to get his attention.”
“You didn’t,” she said pointedly.
“Well, I had the distinct pleasure of annoying him in class, so he’s out to get me.”
Gladiola thrust a phone into my face. “How did you annoy him, exactly?”
I pushed the phone away. “What are you doing?”
“
Oh, sorry.” She wiggled her phone. “I record my interviews this way.”
I resumed walking. “Good thing you’re not really interviewing me then. I don’t like a phone shoved in my face.”
Gladiola chased after me, falling in step. “What do you miss most about Terrene?”
“Are you asking as a journalist or a fellow trainee?” I asked.
“Does it matter?”
“It does to me,” I said. “I don’t want to be interviewed. I am, however, willing to have a conversation in an effort to get to know each other.”
Gladiola seemed surprised. “You’d want to get to know me? As in, ask me questions?”
“As in a conversation,” I said. “That usually has a give-and-take element to it.”
“Okay then,” she said, appearing pleased. “Ask me something.”
“Have you ever been to Terrene?”
“A few times on field trips,” Gladiola replied.
“Any recent trips?”
“No, not since last year,” she said. “I’ve been sticking close to home and trying to focus on my grades and the newspaper until my track is secure. A lot of good that’s done me.”
“You’re a fourth year, though,” I said. “Shouldn’t you know by now?”
“I had it all planned out,” she admitted, “but things sort of fell apart.”
“How so?”
“My dream has been a position in the Communications division of the AMF, but it looks like that might not be in the cards anymore.”
I pretended to be shocked. “You don’t want to be an agent?”
“Not really,” she said. “I’m not cut out for fieldwork, not the kind that involves potential death.”
“Journalism can be dangerous, depending on the type of story you’re writing,” I said.
“The Communications division isn’t like that,” she said. “My aunt worked there, and I still remember her stories from when I was a little girl. Her experience is what inspired my path in the first place.”
“She couldn’t help you get a job there?” I asked.
“No, she died a few years ago,” Gladiola said. “She was the one who planted the seed about using glamours to get information. She used to do that a lot.”
“Is there any way to transfer to the Communications division later?” I asked. “Even if you don’t get placed there straight out of the academy?”
Outclassed: Spellslingers Academy of Magic (Warden of the West Book 2) Page 14