by S. W. Clarke
Professor Fernwhirl gave her a devious look. “You don’t want to find out. Now go, all of you. I’ll give you thirty seconds’ lead.”
The moment she’d finished speaking, the other five fae took to the air. My mouth opened as their wings spread fast and wide, carrying them directly under the sun. I had never witnessed a more beautiful thing than the sun’s light refracted through a fae’s wings.
When they’d departed, Professor Fernwhirl, Loki, and I stood staring after them.
I regripped my broom. “Am I doing laps, too?”
She shrugged one shoulder. “If you can, you’re welcome to try.”
I could see this would take pointed inquiry. “So, back to my original question. Are we talking legs left, or legs right?”
She glanced over at me. “You ride it however the broom wishes to be ridden.” And then, with a flit of the wings, she took to the sky.
“All right,” she yelled, rising to a hover some ten feet above me. “Fly fast and true, faefolk, for I am the darkness, and I come for you.”
With that, Professor Fernwhirl took off across the meadow so fast the grass swayed in her wake like rippling water. Even my hair blew around my face.
As I watched, the five students reached the tree line, disappearing amongst the enormous pines. Occasionally they would reappear, zipping and flitting and veering in rainbow colors against the dark browns and rich greens of the forest.
They were fast. All of them.
Loki meowed in appreciation; I had forgotten he was by my feet. “Well, looks like we’ll be enjoying this one from the ground.”
I shot him a glance. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
Sure, I’d started late in the semester, but even this course seemed advanced. I mean, these fae had been born with wings. Introduction to Flight for them was actually an Introduction to Evasive Flight.
I was in the wrong class. Except there was no class for someone like me.
I stared at the broom in my hand. “Well, buddy, looks like you and me are getting intimate.”
Loki gagged and lowered to his belly, the sunlight gleaming over his black fur. “I’ll just loll here for a while. Do my cat thing while you destroy what’s left of that broom’s dignity.”
A thought occurred to me. “Hey, you’re a familiar. You know about this stuff.”
His green eyes opened, two emeralds under the sun. “No I don’t.”
I raised a skeptical eyebrow. “That’s a lie.”
He rolled to expose his belly. “How would you know?”
“Because your ears twitched as you said it. That looked like a nervous tic to me.” I paused, reaching down to touch his belly. “Also, I can see your fuzzy belly.”
He rolled away, swiping at my hand with extended claws. “Never touch the belly.”
“Listen, if you know anything about how to use this, tell me now. This is important to me.”
He sighed, coming over onto all fours. His back was layered in blades of grass. “That fae was right: you ride the broom as it wishes to be ridden.”
“How can a broom wish to be ridden a certain way? It’s inanimate.”
He stared ahead, out over the meadow. “It’s not that the broom is alive. It’s…hard to explain. It’s like a Japanese koan, you know?”
“A what-an?”
He yawned wide, exposing all his teeth. “It’s a riddle. Once you figure it out, you may have a shot at riding a broom.”
“A riddle. What is it with mages and riddles? Everyone’s got me figuring out puzzles, and all I want to do is find my mother and sister.”
Loki turned his face toward me, eyes glittering. “Then do it, Clementine. You were brought here to harness your magic. So harness it and use that magic to find them.”
My gut cinched. There was no doubt about it: my cat was wiser than me.
One of the fae shrieked on the other side of the meadow, and Professor Fernwhirl let out a tremendous cackle.
Loki set one paw over another. “Go fly. Stop sucking so I can stop sucking.”
“Why would my suckage be related to your suckage?”
He blinked, long and slow. That definitely wasn’t a love-blink. “Because I’m your familiar—I can’t use magic unless you can. So get to it, Bright Eyes.”
Another piece of the puzzle slotted into place. He couldn’t use magic unless I used magic. And for some reason, that knowledge galvanized me.
I grabbed the broom handle with both hands, angled the bristled end behind my legs. Then I hovered over it. “So,” I said to the broom, “is this how you wish to be ridden?”
Behind me, Loki snorted, but said nothing.
Meanwhile, the broom remained a broom.
“Maybe you want a jump,” I offered. I hopped once. Then twice. “Maybe a few jumps.”
Nothing.
Fuck it, I thought. If I wasn’t willing to be ridiculous to learn a new skill, I’d never really learn. “Let’s try a running start.”
With this offer made, I struck toward the tree line with the broom tucked behind my legs. The bristles swished across the grass, the handle bucking left and right as I ran.
From somewhere, laughter resounded across the meadow. I recognized it already.
Aiden the student ambassador was here to pile on shame?
He stepped out from the forest before me, surveying me up and down. “Looks like I came at just the right time.”
Chapter Eleven
I stood there with the broom wedged behind my thighs, still gripping the handle at fore and aft. “You’re in this class?”
He shook his head. “Nope—I’m in the advanced class. Just came to observe how you’re doing.”
“Well, I’m doing great.” I tapped the wooden handle with my knuckles. “Me and Bristle.”
Aiden glanced at the broom, back up at me. “Why are you using that?”
I blinked, also glanced at the broom. Then back up at him. “Professor Fernwhirl gave it to me. For flying.”
He snorted. “Did you annoy her?”
“I may have been a bit insistent. She said I should observe, and I wanted to participate.”
He nodded as I spoke. “Ah, well. I’m not a witch, but I’m pretty sure that’s not a broom you can ride. It’s just for sweeping.”
My cheeks heated, and I dropped the broom with an undignified thump. “Seriously?”
He gave a slow, sympathetic nod. “Yeah. Later on I’ll show you the library. There’s a few books that mention witches.”
My embarrassment shifted to irritation. I’m doing this to find my family, and they’re mocking me. “That’s some kind of bull, Aiden.”
A mixture of curiosity and surprise crossed his features. “Oh?”
“The headmistress told me the urgency of mastering my powers. Then I come here, and Professor Fernhole gives me a non-witch broom to, what, haze me?”
An unreadable expression passed over his face, and he hesitated. Then, “Yeah, some of the professors are prickly. Here at the academy, it can be easy to forget what’s out there. Especially when you’ve been a professor for decades like Fernwhirl there.”
I shook my head. “I feel like it’s more than that.”
He regarded me with new eyes. “You’re smarter than I thought.”
“You didn’t think I was smart?”
“Well, you did spend seven hours sitting outside the school grounds…”
I waved a hand through the air. “Fine, whatever. Why am I smarter than you thought?’”
He exhaled slow and deep. “You’re a witch, Clementine.”
“And that’s a good thing…right?”
“In a way. I’m guessing the headmistress told you how rare your power is.”
I nodded.
“Did she tell you how witches are perceived by mages?”
“Sort of.” Umbra’s words came back to me: Don’t listen to what people say about witches. “I’ve noticed a lot of eyes on me. Not the friendly kind.”
“
Yeah, that’s the thing.” His eyes traveled as he searched for the right words. “You see, historically speaking, most witches haven’t served goodness.”
Oh. “So all the stereotypes about evil witches with crooked noses and ovens full of children are true?”
“They’re not true of every witch.” He paused. “Just a great number of them.”
An unexpected voice spoke up inside me:
That’s why you have the Spitfire in you.
That’s why you attacked your boss.
Just like that—two shots fired so fast and hard I nearly reeled where I stood.
No, I thought. I was just a troubled kid who had to learn to fight back.
I had anger in me, but it wasn’t because I was a witch. It was because my mother and sister disappeared. It was because I went through the foster system, jumping from family to family.
It was because, from the age of twelve, I’d never felt like I belonged to anyone except my cat.
Why so defensive, Clementine? the voice purred back.
“Clem?” Aiden’s voice broke in.
I refocused on him. “Hey.”
His green eyes searched mine. “Don’t worry. We’ll take care of you here.”
That was unexpectedly sincere of him. And if I thought that was sincere, he followed it up with something that I never would have expected.
From behind his back, Aiden produced a second broom I hadn’t noticed he’d been holding. This one was completely different from the first.
It was shorter, more aerodynamic, with a strip of leather binding attaching the handle to straight straw. And the handle itself was black instead of green, its matte surface gleaming under the sunlight.
The moment I accepted it, the handle felt completely different under my fingers. It had a good, easy grip.
Loki came padding through the grass up to my side. “Where did you get that broom?”
“The headmistress asked me to bring it from the library and deliver it to Clem here,” Aiden said.
In a flurry of wings, Professor Fernwhirl dropped into the grass beside us. “Ah, Aiden North. On an errand from the headmistress?”
Aiden nodded. “To bring Clementine her broom. I’ll tell the headmistress how kind you were to Clem, though, offering her a practice broom until the real thing arrived.”
Not so straight-laced after all, then.
I fought a grin as I slowly turned my gaze to the professor. But she seemed completely unmollified, simply slipping her hands into the folds of her robes. “Thank you for doing that, Mr. North. I’m looking forward to seeing you this afternoon in our advanced flight class.”
Then it occurred to me: how did Aiden, also a first-year, get to be in the advanced flight class? He was human like me.
Before either of us said anything, she let out a tremendous whistle. “Fae, back to me!”
Within thirty seconds, all five fae had landed in front of her. A few of them had twigs and leaves in their hair. One had managed to garner a bruise on her cheek. Eva looked totally out of her element, her formerly neat bun now just a tumble of purple hair.
“Second drill,” the professor began. “You’re on one team of two, and one team of three. Each time will attempt to ‘tag’ the other team’s members.”
I waved. “Two teams of three. I make six.”
Professor Fernwhirl appraised me with a single up-and-down glance, and she didn’t argue. “Sure. We’ll make it three.”
Thirty minutes later, Aiden had left and the fae had gone three rounds of tag.
And me? Well, I’d done the same little hop-hop-hopping thing with my “witch’s” broom as with the sweeping broom, but it made no difference. The only air I got was thanks to my calf muscles, which were getting painfully tired.
I stalked over to where Loki still lolled in the grass, dropped next to him. “I thought this was supposed to be a magic broom.”
“It is.” He twisted, all four paws in the air. “Doesn’t mean you have the chops to pilot it.”
“What about the broom wishing to be ridden? Does that riddle still apply?”
“Yep. And it’s a koan.”
And that was as far as I got on the first day of flight class.
Suffice it to say, the fae tagged me every time. They weren’t even aggressive about it—I was an afterthought, a little fae pat on the shoulder. One even giggled and gave me a double pat.
When the class came to a close, Professor Fernwhirl didn’t even look at me. My only consolation was Eva, who walked with me back through the woods and to the center of campus. Loki trotted ahead, his tail upright.
Eva set a hand on my shoulder. “You did good.”
“Did anyone ever tell you you’re no good at lying?”
She chuckled softly. “Yes, actually.” A pause. “How does one become a good liar?”
I rolled my eyes up toward the trees as we walked down the path. “I don’t think you want to practice lying.” God knew I’d done enough of it in my life to be a master, and it had very rarely—by which I mean, never—brought good results.
Eva’s hand remained on my shoulder. “Sometimes you want to tell white lies, to make your friends feel better.”
“Except that white lie didn’t help, Eva. I know I didn’t do good. You want to know how I know?”
She waited for me to go on.
“Because the name of the class is ‘flight,’ and I spent zero percent of the time doing it.”
She couldn’t help laughing a little. Then, “Sorry.”
“It’s fine. Once I get over the shame of trying to fly on the storage room broom, I’ll laugh, too.”
As we came into the clearing, she turned to me. “What’s your next class?”
I pulled out my already crumpled schedule from my blazer pocket. “Combat.”
“Oh!” She clapped her hands. Something about the twinkle in her eyes suggested more-than-usual excitement. “That’s a great one. You’ll love the teacher. Want me to take you there?”
As we navigated through the grounds, I was grateful for Eva. Maybe it was my history of lying and bad behavior that made me appreciate her earnestness all the more. Honest people were like cornerstones to my life: I knew where they stood, and what they stood for, and that made me feel safe.
Which wasn’t always fair, since I wasn’t strictly an honest person. But we surround ourselves with who we want to be like, right?
We came to a middling tree with a set of steps swirling up the trunk. It wasn’t the biggest tree on campus—not by a long shot—but it wasn’t any sapling, either.
Eva gestured me up. “In here’s where they meet on Tuesdays.”
I stared up at it. “Here? Wouldn’t it make more sense to meet in the meadow? I mean, it’s combat. You need space.”
She grinned. “Sometimes you do, and sometimes you don’t. You’ll find out, in any case.” She bent down to Loki. “You want to come back to the dorm with me a while?”
Loki stepped closer. “Will there be treats? Clem, ask her if there’ll be treats.”
I sighed. “He wants to know if there’ll be food involved.”
The first devious smile I’d seen from Evanora spread across her face. “Oh, most definitely.”
Loki flicked his tail once. “See ya.” And he immediately trotted off in the direction of our dorm.
Man, I probably had the most disloyal familiar in the history of witches.
Eva scrambled up with a laugh, waving at me as she half-ran, half-flew after my cat. Which left me alone to ascend yet another tree. My legs were already aching.
“You need to be carried up?” a low voice said from behind me.
When I turned, Torsten was standing behind me. Once again, I had to angle my face almost skyward to meet his eyes. “Don’t tell me you’re in this class. You’re a second-year.”
His eyes twinkled with mirth. “I am.”
I’d expected him to be better at fighting than that. He was, after all, a greek god’s long-lost brother
. “Nah, I can walk.” I gestured him on. “You go ahead of me.”
He shook his head. “I could never. Please, go first.”
I made a face as I turned around. I was committed to ascending every one of those steps at a good pace, since friggin’ Torsten would be behind me the whole way.
So I did it. My legs cried the whole way, but I made it up three revolutions around the tree, clomping on every step until I got to the landing.
And then, this time without a modicum of shame, I doubled over and waited for the stars to dissipate from my vision.
Torsten chuckled as he opened the door. “This seems like the right class for you, Clementine Cole.”
I pushed myself upright to follow him in. “Why’s that?”
As we came into the small space, a mixture of fae and humans gazed back at me. Some were standing, some seated against the wall. One was inspecting an array of weapons set into a rack. On every surface—except the floor—it seemed, hung a method of destruction.
Bows, swords, flails, daggers, staves. Lots of weapons I didn’t even recognize.
“Because,” Torsten said as, in unison, the students greeted him, “I’m the teacher, and I don’t like my students out of shape.”
Chapter Twelve
I regarded Torsten with new eyes. He was the instructor?
He gestured me forward. “Everyone, we’ve got a late addition to the class. I’m sure you’ve all heard that we got a new student at the academy yesterday.”
I gave a tight-lipped wave. This was starting to seem familiar: lots of people staring at me—some with distinct unfriendliness—as I was introduced as “the witch.”
And now I knew what was behind those stares. Maybe worry, maybe distrust. I was, after all, an unknown quantity. And now I had a sense of how the magical world felt about witches.
Which made meet-and-greets a little bit…fraught. I was already on the back foot, so anything I said or did had to be extra not-evil.
Normally I’d make a joke, but now I sought for something “good” to say. And by good, I mean that would make me seem like I wasn’t going to shove anyone in an oven.
So I stood there for a few seconds, all ten students and Torsten waiting for me to say something. And because of that pressure, I just started talking.