by S. W. Clarke
Akelan had put his magic to work repairing the asphalt that had been displaced, fixing the street to where the humans wouldn’t notice what had happened in the morning.
“We need to get back.” My eyes traveled over the group. Then, eyes on Mishka—who seemed to be in the best shape of all—I said, “Part the veil. We’re headed back to the academy.”
Mishka nodded, got to work with an efficient cut in the center of the road. When she parted the veil, light from the academy grounds filtered through.
I ferried everyone through, and I went last of all. On the other side, Maeve Umbra stood with a glowing Parity in the clearing, her scrutinizing eyes focused on Liara, whom Paxton was already riding to the infirmary.
Good. He had initiative, too.
“If you’re hurt,” I said to the other guardians, “follow them to the infirmary. Otherwise, we’re done. Meet me in the guardians’ common room tomorrow morning at seven. We’re debriefing.”
“Debriefing?” Akelan said, hesitating on his horse. “We don’t do that.”
“We do now.” I waved a hand through the air, too tired to elaborate beyond, “Shitshows need debriefs.”
I slid off Noir’s back as soon as the others had gone, and Loki hopped off my shoulder to the ground.
Umbra stood observing me. “You fire rode.”
I didn’t know how she knew, but she did. “Yeah.”
“And revealed yourself in the process.”
I lifted sullen eyes to her. “Not that I don’t see the value in a good lecture, but… Actually, I don’t see the value in it.”
Umbra reached out, set a hand on my shoulder. It was only when she touched me I realized I was coated in sweat from the flames. “Lectures are for children who don’t know better. You do, and I know you did what you had to.”
It was the first time she had show true esteem in me. And though I wanted to be thrilled, I couldn’t help wondering what Umbra would think if she’d known how close I had come to killing Maise.
Maise, who had definitely seen the Spitfire in my eyes.
The next morning, Loki and I came into the guardians’ common room early to find Maise sitting in an armchair, staring into a low-burning fire. She’d probably lit it herself.
She glanced around when I came in, her brown bob swaying. “We’re the only ones here so far.”
Loki and I exchanged a glance, and he made for the stairs, disappearing like a slip.
I crossed the space to the empty partner armchair. Gestured to it. “May I?”
Her eyebrows rose for a moment, coupled with a nod.
I sat. Leaned back, both hands on the armrests, and stared into the fire with her. “Nice mixture of flames you’ve got going there. White-hot at the center, a pretty orange at the edges. Good lick to them.”
“You can thank Goodbarrel for that precision. The man loves nothing more than an exact flame.”
I half-smiled. It had been months since I’d thought about the classes I’d taken with him, and yet I drew on what he’d taught me just about every day. “I think he’s a little bit of what stopped me last night.”
Maise’s eyes met mine. She knew exactly what I was talking about—that moment I’d been about to slice her in two. “On my first rescue, I didn’t expect you to be the most terrifying thing out there.”
I swallowed, the sight of her frightened face as clear to me as her reserved one was now. “When I’m in a fight, I can get a bit single-minded. You remember how I was during our duels in class.”
Her gaze searched me over, like she was seeking out a lie. “I remember.”
“So—”
“But I wish I could show you,” she continued, “how you looked last night. It was different. I wasn’t exaggerating when I said you were the most terrifying thing out there.”
I saved you, came a small, petulant voice in my head.
I pushed it aside. Sat forward with my elbows on my thighs. “I had to do what I had to do to keep you all safe.”
She shook her head. “Did you, though?”
“You were surrounded by those creatures.”
“Things were intense, but then you came in like a bat from hell and lit the whole place up and things got…chaotic. If I hadn’t gotten out of the way—”
My chest caught. “I stopped myself.”
“Yes,” she said. “But you almost didn’t.”
Words flew into my head and out my mouth. “I was fire riding. It takes all my focus, and it’s hard to control—but I can. I can control it.” I paused. “Liara was hurt.”
She drew in a long breath. “Yes, she was hurt.”
I leaned closer. “I would never hurt you, Maise. Not you or any of the others.”
Would I never hurt her? a tiny voice asked.
Of course not, came the instant reply.
Her eyes softened on me. “I believe you. And I won’t say anything to anyone about this, but keep that flaming chain away from me, would you?”
So she sensed something was different about the weapon, but she would keep my secret—whatever it was. I’d always known I liked Maise for a reason.
I lifted my first two fingers in the air. “Promise.”
Footsteps sounded at the doorway. Akelan had arrived, along with Liara. The fae looked completely healed, her arm functional; Nurse Neverwink’s doing.
My attention flicked back to Maise, but she was already standing. “Let’s do this,” she said, and started toward the stairs. Akelan followed, and Liara stopped beside me, looking down at me.
“Neverwink’s a miracle-worker,” I said up to her.
She glanced down at her arm, raised it and splayed all five fingers. “Neverwink fixed the radius and ulna breaks. Eva did the fine finger work.”
I stood. “Eva did?”
“Yeah, she was with me for hours last night in the infirmary. Sat by my bed like a nurse.”
Other guardians began to stream in, Eva among them, and I just kept up a blank stare at Liara. I hadn’t even noticed that Eva had come back to the dorm late last night; I’d just gone straight to my bed and collapsed into it, exhausted.
As Eva passed, she smiled at me—that same, sweet, unbegrudging smile. Then she disappeared in a flutter of wings, headed up.
Guilt seeded in my gut. I should have gone to the infirmary. “Liara,” I began.
“I know what you’re going to say,” she cut in without malice. “And I don’t care that you didn’t visit me. Focus on yourself, Clem.”
Liara didn’t wait for me to say anything else; she turned away, followed Eva in a flash of wings.
My face lifted, staring after her. Focus on yourself. She was one of just a few people who knew the full gravity of what she was saying.
Umbra arrived a minute later, and we all migrated up to the third floor and sat down at the meeting table, Loki atop the table beside me. Umbra remained standing, pacing her way into everyone’s view. Stood before us all for a moment in silence.
Finally, she said, “You all survived last night. The rescue was unsuccessful, but I’m grateful to see your faces here now.” She nodded at Liara, then at me. “Leaders, I’d like to know what happened.”
Liara and I looked at one another, and I nodded at her to start. She sighed. “Everything was going fine, until it wasn’t. First we were chasing, and Clementine was giving instructions, and then she went silent. Not long after, we were being chased—and not just on the ground.”
I straightened in my seat. So I had seen flying creatures.
“The Shade’s minions,” Liara said. “They fly now. They have wings. Two of them flew in from the sides and ambushed me while I was chasing.”
So that was what had caused Liara’s injuries. That explained why they’d been so disoriented.
Umbra nodded. “That was sooner than I had anticipated. Much sooner.”
“You anticipated that?” I blurted.
Her eyes shifted to me. “Fae have not been exempt from the kidnappings. The Shade takes humans
and fae alike.”
The others looked as horrified as me.
I had always suspected, but now I had it confirmed. “So the creatures she sends out into the world during the witching hour, they were once humans. Or fae.”
“Once,” Umbra whispered. “Now they are but wraiths.”
“And you knew,” I said, unable to stop myself. “But you never told us.”
“It is one thing to slay a monster,” Umbra said, apology laced in her words, “but it is entirely another to slay what was once a sentient with a brain as functional as yours.”
Last night, I’d demolished them. Every single one I could find, without remorse. The wraiths—the once-humans and fae.
“Now,” Umbra said, “the Shade has regained the power to fly, if only through her creatures. Her power has grown hugely, which means the guardians must adapt.”
Chapter Fourteen
Two hours and an intense meeting later, Eva and I emerged into the daylight, the two of us walking together as the other guardians filtered to their own dorms. Loki trotted off toward the dining hall and Vickery’s post-lunch leftovers, which left us alone.
We took an aimless path through the grounds, and Eva’s eyes were unfocused; she’d been fully wrecked by the knowledge that she was killing once-humans, once-fae.
Especially the fae.
When we had walked a time, she finally said, “I killed a fae last night. Me and Mishka together.”
“It wasn’t a fae,” I said. “Not anymore.”
She shook her head. “I thought the outline of its wings looked familiar. Just like mine.”
“Just like any fae’s wings,” I said. “They’re all the same shape.”
Her sad eyes shifted to me. “It doesn’t bother you at all?”
It did, and it didn’t. How could I explain to her the two parts of me, Rational Clem considering how she’d killed dozens (maybe hundreds) of once-mages, and the Spitfire glad for it?
I couldn’t even explain the divide to myself. For a few years now I’d thought I had coalesced into one person, that my anger didn’t bear a life of its own like some separate, eternal entity.
I had been wrong.
“It bothers me,” I said. Part of me. “But we have no choice.”
She eyed me like she was coming to some internal decision. Then, with a sigh, she averted her attention to the passing flora. “And now this.”
“And now this,” I said, trying to match her tone—and maybe failing. The truth was, I was glad for this.
During the meeting, it had been decided: the world was too dangerous for the guardians to rush out after newly kidnapped humans and fae. Not with the Shade’s creatures on the offensive against us, now in the air as well as on the ground.
We would have to change. Because now, after centuries, the world had changed. The Shade’s powers were growing like a wave about to crest, and soon, Umbra suspected, the full wrath of her powers would tumble over the earth like it had had five hundred years ago.
We were still guardians, but Umbra had given us a new priority. We had to be careful, covert.
We would be infiltrating Edinburgh. Working against the Mages’ Council and William Rathmore.
“When I was little, my parents used to tell me stories about the illustrious Mages’ Council.” Eva dragged her fingers through her hair. “Now it’s just another thing that’s been corrupted by the Shade.”
I yanked a leaf off a tree as we passed by. “Umbra said if she runs the council, she runs Edinburgh. But the formalists hate witches.”
“Clever of her, isn’t it?” Eva said. “The average citizen would never suspect the Shade owns William Rathmore.”
Clever was one word for it. Diabolical, another. And deeply problematic, a third and fourth. From everything I knew, the city was ruled by iron and rigidity. I still sometimes dreamed about that prison cell they’d dropped into Farina North’s yard—one meant to transport me back to their city.
Apparently they had lots of prisoners. The formalists had thrown dozens of “traitorous” mages in their crypts, ones they claimed would commit treason, would attempt to overthrow the Mages’ Council—which was precisely the kind of mage Maeve Umbra was looking for.
We needed allies. And it was our job to bring them here.
“Eva,” I said. “That night you got drunk, you said Edinburgh is anti-magic.”
“That’s right. Very few are competent with it except those on the Mages’ Council, so they can keep their power to themselves. And the officers we saw in Aidan’s grandmother’s home that one day? They’re trained to fight magic.”
“How?” I asked.
“Remember those nightsticks they carried?”
I nodded.
“Those can absorb our elements, neutralize them.”
“Wonderful,” I said.
“I don’t understand how you talked Umbra into letting you go on these missions into the heart of formalist territory,” Eva said. “What did you even say to her?”
“I told her I needed to go.” I had pulled Umbra aside after she’d given us our new directive. We’d talked for only thirty seconds, which was probably what had confounded Eva.
She shot me a skeptical eye. “That’s all?”
There was much more to it than that. Umbra and I had hashed things out in the moment I’d ridden up to her on Noir, when I’d insisted on joining the others in Acapulco. I’d told her I was ready, and I was.
But during those thirty seconds in the guardians tree, I’d said something else to her, too. “I have to find my sister and Callum.”
And Umbra had given me a look of infinite pity—and understanding. She’d nodded. “You’ll go, then, whether I wish it or not. So go with my blessing, but do not think this will be the end of your training to use the leylines.”
Eva deserved to know why, too. She was my best friend. But I couldn’t even bring myself to say my sister’s name. So instead I said, “I have to find my mom, my sister, and the blade. And him,” I whispered to her. “And this is my best chance.”
She stopped, staring at me. “Who’s him?”
I stopped with her. Stared back. Didn’t speak.
Then her eyes widened, lips parting into an O. “You’re totally in love with Callum Rathmore.”
I shook my head. “Don’t make me hex you.”
She linked her arm in mine, matching my step as she leaned close. “You’re the bravest witch I’ve ever met.”
“Aren’t I the only witch you’ve met?”
“Yes.” She winked over at me. “Is your enshrouding magic ready, then?”
“My enshrouding magic is good enough.”
“That doesn’t sound like the same thing to me.”
“Really? Because ‘good enough’ and ‘ready’ sound like exactly the same thing to me.” I paused, sighing through my annoyance. It wasn’t at Eva; it was at Umbra. “Our lovely headmistress is unrealistic. She wants me to be bombproof. The woman keeps asking me devastating questions during training, digging into my head.”
“Ah. And you lose the magic when she does that.”
“Yes. But it won’t matter,” I said. “Nobody’s going to know I’m there with you in the first place.”
Eva went silent for a time as we walked. Then, finally, she said, “What does Umbra ask you about?”
My throat stoppered like a cork had been shoved down it, and I still found her name too hard to say. Like saying it would jinx me, ruin everything. Like she was a ghost who could never become real again.
“The past,” I said, hoarse. “She asks me about the past.”
The guardians’ horn had been retired—for now. Umbra had told us she would have our first mission ready for us in a few weeks, that it would involve rescuing prisoners, and that she had someone out gathering intelligence for her.
She didn’t say who.
But in the weeks that followed, I noticed Professor Milonakis wasn’t in the library circulation room. And I didn’t see her anywhere
else on the grounds, either. Normally she taught at least two classes and otherwise kept a hawk’s eye on every student—and every book—coming in and out of her library.
Aidan was still taking books one or two at a time out of the Room of the Ancients and then sequestering them out of the library in his satchel, and no one was there to stop him.
Near the end of the week, I leaned across our favorite library table toward Aidan. “Do you think Umbra sent Milonakis out to gather intelligence?”
He, of course, had been briefed by Eva and me on all the guardians doings. His eyes flicked up to meet mine overtop his glasses. “Come on. Milonakis?”
Even Loki, who slept on the table, cracked an eye at me. “Seriously?”
I nodded toward the circulation room. “She’s had Saoirse subbing in the circulation room all week. Not that you seem to mind, North.”
Aidan’s neck reddened. He and Saoirse had been a thing since last year, but he wasn’t much for kissing and telling. Which made teasing him all the more satisfying.
“Besides,” I said, “what else has Milonakis got to do? Really.”
He sighed, readjusted his glasses. “So first Milonakis is out in Edinburgh doing thrilling spy work for Umbra, and now she’s too dull to have any sort of life outside the library. Which is it?”
“It’s both,” I said. “That’s exactly why she’s spying.”
“It’s not Milonakis,” he said. “She’s too…”
“Straight-laced? Hard-nosed? Bitchy?”
“Yes to the first two, no to the third.” He gestured around to the other students doing some early-morning studying. “Also, you know cursing’s not allowed here. You’re going to get me banned from the library by association, and then who will help you poke your nose into all the things you aren’t supposed to know?”
“Still you,” I said. “Saoirse will just sneak you in.”
He groaned. Set his pencil to the map laid out before us, his eraser atop a building on the Royal Mile. “This is the prison Umbra will likely be sending the guardians to. It’s directly underneath the Mages’ Council building, underground.”