Good Witches Don't Cheat (Academy of Shadowed Magic Book 2)

by S. W. Clarke

  Riding, fighting, and stamina. Those were my three priorities for passing the guardian trials.

  And I had already come up with my first solution: Sweet-talk either Eva, Aidan, or Jericho into being my training partner.

  As for stamina, it seemed like the solution was jogging. Except that posed an even greater problem. I loathed jogging.

  “Stop dragging your feet.” Eva popped me in the shoulder.

  “Ow.” I rubbed there. “You’ve got prominent knuckles.”

  “My knuckles are nothing next to Fernwhirl catching you during the first trial. Did you know she’s an absolute dervish? Always catches the most humans every year. And at this pace, well…”

  “But I’ll be on Noir!”

  Eva glanced at me. “Are you so sure about that? Lots of riders end up getting knocked off their horses. Sometimes they need to run.”

  I fell into a coughing fit and doubled over. “I have to stop.”

  Eva came to stand in front of me. “We haven’t even gone a kilometer.”

  I glared up at her. “This isn’t about how far we’ve actually gone. It’s about how far my heart feels like we’ve gone.”

  “Your heart?”

  I tapped there. “Yeah. And if we go any farther, I think it might pop.”

  “Hm.” Eva took a moment to scrutinize me, then grabbed me by the arm and forced me to run another kilometer.

  My heart didn’t in fact pop. And at the end, she cajoled me into promising we’d do it again the next afternoon.

  Yeah, I still hated her forevermore.

  Meanwhile, I’d made decent progress in my tangible manipulations class. That week, Professor Goodbarrel was able to stick his whole hand into my bag. “Well done, Clementine!” he exclaimed.

  A few others in the class could get their heads in their bags. And Liara had somehow gotten her bag big enough to where she could almost get the whole robe hanger in there.

  Not like she would tell me how she accomplished that.

  Loki had taken to accompanying me to that class. It was held at the time of day when he’d actually be awake and not hungry—a rare hour. He liked to sit on the desk beside me, his tail flicking as he gave me instructions. He still seemed to know something I didn’t about why Umbra had put me in this class, and he still refused to explain it to me.

  “Curious,” he said once, “that Goodbarrel would ask you to fit the robe hanger in your bag. That’s a very particular object, isn’t it?”

  I shrugged as I worked away at my inside-out bag. I had a needle, and I had to thread the veil and manipulate it in small, precise movements in order to expand the bag’s interior. The only way I could actually see the veil was because the needle was infused with magic, and it illuminated the veil around it in hot pink. “It’s not curious. It’s just the biggest object in the classroom.”

  “Hm.” Loki’s tail flicked again. “That stitch is wrong. You need to redo it.”

  I groaned. He was right. This had to be my tenth wrong stitch just today. “I wasn’t meant to be a seamstress.”

  “What happened to Ms. Growth Mindset?”

  “She’s good at giving others advice,” I groused. “Not at taking her own.”

  “Very good, Clementine,” Goodbarrel said from behind me, leaning over my shoulder. He patted it. “You’re doing well.”

  When he moved on, I half-smiled at Loki. We both knew by now Goodbarrel was always encouraging, very rarely critical, and seemed forever pleased by every student’s progress, slow or fast as it was.

  The man was a gem. Too bad his class seemed most useful for handcrafting storage space.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  In a shock to everyone—me most of all—I was doing well in one class.

  “All right,” Quartermistress Farrow said from the center of the ring. “Clementine, show everyone.”

  The first snow had fallen that morning as I gripped Noir’s mane with both hands. My boots crunched over the frozen ground as he started into a trot, then a canter.

  I picked up speed with him, running at his side. The afternoon jogs with Eva had done me one favor: keeping up with this horse had become far easier.

  Just after he hit the first bend in the fence and came into a short straightaway, I jumped and leveraged myself up onto his back. On we went around the ring, he cantering as all the other students looked on with vague irritation.

  We’d been at this for a month and a half, and I was the only one who had gotten the hang of mounting at a canter. In fact, Farrow had already progressed me on to barrels. When the class met, I practiced in a separate ring that had been set up with a series of barrels we had to maneuver around as fast as we could.

  It was like bareback barrel racing on a giant, feisty horse. Fortunately for me, he loved it. Unfortunately for me, when Noir loved something, he liked to show his pleasure by rolling—with me atop him. Since we’d started barrels, I’d had to practice my emergency dismount more than once.

  After my demonstration, I was sent back over to the barrel ring. Farrow watched this time, and when Noir and I finished, she nodded. “You were right,” she said as we approached.

  I patted the horse’s neck. “About what?”

  “You and him—you were meant for one another.”

  “What’s after this?” I asked.

  “After barrels? You’re an impatient one.”

  I shrugged. “Or eager, depending on how you frame it.”

  “Well, after this I’m going to try actively knocking you off his back.”

  I grinned like a masochist. “I can’t wait.”

  When the main lesson had finished, Farrow made good on her promise. She instructed me to ride around the barrels, and she leveraged an eight-foot-long rod into the air. “Every time I manage to clip you with this, you’ve lost.”

  I trotted Noir around the edge of the ring. “Lost what?”

  “Your advantage.”

  “What’s my advantage?”

  “Noir’s height, his speed. Your untouchability.” She tapped the rod. “This thing represents the forces of darkness on your back. If it touches you, all your advantages are gone. Are you up to the challenge?”

  I urged Noir into a canter. “That’s not even a question.”

  She nodded. “Good girl.”

  And so it began. I’d thought this would be simple; it wasn’t. Farrow clipped me five times with the rod, nearly every time I came around. It was on the sixth time she laughed. “Clementine, ducking it won’t work.”

  I rubbed at the burning spot on my shoulder as I slowed Noir to a trot. “What else is there?”

  Her eyes danced, and I knew when Farrow looked at me that way, she was about to reveal a new concept. “Today you’re going to learn how to swing your weight.”

  The idea of it was simple: when the rod came around, I had to clamp my arms and legs around Noir’s body, swing myself off his back while still holding onto his neck, still keeping my heel over his spine.

  Okay, it wasn’t simple at all. It was terrifying.

  That first day, I fell off twice. The second time, Farrow approached me in the dirt. “Had enough?”

  I gazed up, saw two of her. “No.”

  She reached out, helped me up. “You’ve had enough.”

  We brought Noir back into the barn, and as I wiped him down, I called out to her, “What about fire riding?”

  Farrow had been passing down the aisleway with a pitchfork. She paused, glanced over at me. “How do you know about fire riding?”

  “I heard about it from another student.”

  She shook her head. “It combines two disciplines—fire magic and riding. Very few have ever tried it, much less mastered it.”

  “I heard Callum Rathmore has.” I paused. “Have you?”

  She set the pitchfork against a wall. “I know the principles. Nothing like Professor Rathmore.”

  Noir stamped his foot as if to reflect my intrigue. “Teach me.”

  “No.” Farrow wav
ed a dismissive hand. “It’s dangerous.”

  “Rathmore won’t teach me,” I said to her back as she grabbed the pitchfork up. “And you know I’m going to try to learn it on my own if neither of you agree to it.”

  She stopped harder this time. Didn’t turn around. “Are you blackmailing me, Clementine Cole?”

  “Just telling you the truth.”

  Her shoulders slumped a degree. She knew I was right. “I’ll consider teaching you the basics—if you can finish the barrels in less than a minute.”

  I patted Noir’s shoulder. “We’ll do it today. Time me.”

  She backed away, suppressing a smile. “Enough for today, Clementine. I’ll time you tomorrow.”

  The next day, she did time me.

  Noir and I completed the barrel circuit in fifty-seven seconds.

  We came to a stuttering halt in front of Farrow, both of us breathing heavy. “Looks like you’re on the hook now.”

  She shook her head over folded arms. “Don’t make me take it back.”

  I swung Noir around to get some of his energy out, and we paced in a figure eight in front of her. “When do we start?”

  Her head tilted. “Why do you want to learn fire riding?”

  Now wasn’t the time to reveal to everyone my plans for the guardian trials. Not yet. So I just said, “Why not?”

  “It’s grueling. Slow-going. The horse might throw you off in fear. You’re likely to break at least one bone.”

  I patted Noir’s neck. “He isn’t scared of fire.”

  “You’re certainly confident in a horse you’ve never used your magic around.”

  I raised my hand, palm facing out past Noir’s head. When I released a bolt of fire, his ears flicked forward. Nothing else.

  I lifted my eyebrows at Farrow.

  She opened her mouth, then decided against saying anything. Her lips folded in quiet acceptance. “We’ll start next week.”

  That evening, I met Jericho in the common room for sparring practice. That was magnanimous of him, considering I’d burned his face in this very same room. All I’d had to do was approach him one day in the dining hall and he had agreed immediately.

  “We’ll do it this way,” he said, removing his blazer. “I’ll attack you with fire, and you’ll practice defense.”

  “Defense with fire?”

  “No, gods no.” He laughed, circling his face. “Got to keep my mug fresh for the Solstice Ball.”

  I stopped with my own blazer hanging toward the floor. “Solstice Ball?”

  “It’s an old academy tradition. A dance. Your roommate’s resurrecting it this year.” When he saw my surprise, he added, “She didn’t tell you.”

  I dropped my blazer. “Nope. But if anyone was going to organize a ball, she’d be the one.”

  “Do you dance?” Jericho asked, rolling up his sleeves. He started a slow sidestep in an invisible circle, and I knew we were beginning our practice.

  I moved in the opposite direction. “Sometimes. If threatened with bodily harm.”

  “Like this?” He lunged at me, a whip of fire appearing in his hand. It slashed in an arc toward the ground, and I barely managed to jog out of the way.

  I kept my eyes on his hands and feet as I’d been trained in Torsten’s combat class. “Are you asking me to dance?”

  “Maybe.” He swung around, the whip swinging at waist height toward me. I tried to duck, but it caught me in the arm.

  I straightened, rubbing my stung elbow. “I thought fire didn’t catch here.”

  He let the whip fall, a faint smile on his face. “It doesn’t catch, but that doesn’t mean it can’t spark.”

  We stood across from one another, both of us in non-motion. His handsomeness came to me with a suddenness I hadn’t expected, like properly seeing a painting, and it brought on a strange, uncomfortable feeling.

  “I’ve had enough of defense.” I rushed him, feinting a punch as my foot shot out to yank at his ankle.

  He managed to slip his leg away before I could drop him. His hands went up. “Hey!”

  “Don’t worry—I won’t use my power. Feel free to use yours, though.”

  That was an offer he couldn’t turn down. So we sparred, the two of us trying to take one another down over the next thirty minutes. He sent me to the floor twice, and I did manage to almost get him once. I considered that an achievement.

  “So,” I said, breathless and doubled over. “You kept my secret.”

  He wiped sweat from his forehead. “Your secret?”

  “You didn’t tell anyone I was planning to enter the guardian trials.”

  He shrugged, breathing hard. “I promised I wouldn’t.”

  I nodded, sliding my hand into my skirt pocket. “Can you keep the biggest secret of your life?”

  I took Jericho to the library, and there I brought out the book containing the prophecy. I showed him the illustration of the liar’s key. And, of course, I showed him the key I couldn’t get rid of even if I wanted to.

  Because the library was too crowded for a conversation like the one we were about to have, we walked out into the night. We started a circuit around the grounds, during which Jericho walked in silence as he considered everything I’d told him.

  I let him think on it. It was a lot to process; coming to terms with it had taken me the better part of a week, and Jericho had been given a half hour.

  Meanwhile, we walked on an underused path through the woods. I watched the moon through the trees, rising slowly on the horizon. It had been coming up earlier and earlier. Winter would be on us soon.

  Finally, Jericho rubbed a hand over his short hair. “I can’t see any other explanation.”

  “For what?”

  “Back when I became a guardian last year, Umbra performed a ceremony for us newbies. She said something I didn’t fully understand.”

  I waited.

  Jericho glanced at me. “I guess she didn’t want us to feel like we were in a hopeless battle against the Shade. She didn’t want it all to feel futile…”

  “What did she say, Jericho?”

  “She told us the Shade had been defeated once before, by a great mage who took her weapon and used it against her. If she could be banished once, she could be banished again.”

  I didn’t quite understand. “And what can’t you see any other explanation for?”

  “I can’t see any other reason why you have a piece of the Shade’s weapon. Why it won’t leave your side.” He stopped, his face shadowed as he turned to me. “Except that the prophecy must be true. It must be you.”

  I stared up at him. “Now you know why I’m entering the trials.”

  “You need to find the deceiver’s rod in the Boundless Labyrinth.”

  I stood there, feeling suddenly like asking for him to help me would be an overreach. Jericho fell into a walk again, and I did, too. “I know I’m not the person you’d want to be the hero from the prophecy. You’d be better off—”

  “Stop, Clementine.” He was walking faster now, with agitation. His voice had gotten raspy. “You don’t understand.”

  “Understand what?”

  “It doesn’t matter what Umbra says about ‘the Shade can be banished again.’ Not when you’re out there, trying and failing to rescue someone. I’ve gone on four rescues this year, and do you know how many we’ve brought back?”

  I knew. I had heard the horn each time. And if they had actually rescued anyone, as they sometimes did last year, it was obvious. People clapped, cheered.

  That hadn’t happened this fall.

  I swallowed. “I can’t imagine…”

  “You can’t until you’re in it. Until you’re there.” He took a deep breath. “So many times I’ve felt this whole ‘guardian’ thing is pointless. We’re losing. We are. There’s no question about it. And Umbra keeps this from the students, but the people who disappear become part of the Shade’s army.”

  My gut cinched hard. “I didn’t know that.” But didn’t I? May
be there was a good reason the formalists believed anyone who’d been abducted was tainted.

  He stopped, threw his hands out. “But you—that key… Gods, if you ever visited Edinburgh with the formalists, it’s so dismal. They’re trying to fight the whole underworld with their nightsticks.”

  I swallowed. “Those nightsticks are pretty badass.”

  “It’s like shaking a rattle against a sword,” he said. “That’s why they’ve become so rigid since the Shade’s power has begun to grow. They’re terrified.” He paused. “And tonight, you delivered me the first real feeling of hope I’ve had since I became a guardian.”

  I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t feel worthy. If we’d had more light, I sensed the look in his eyes would have been one I hadn’t seen from any adult except my mother, so long ago.

  Pride. Respect. Admiration.

  I was glad for the lack of light.

  “I’ve been inside the labyrinth.” Jericho set his hands on my shoulders. “I’ll help you however I can.”

  I nodded, stepped back. When we started walking again, I said, “This is a secret only Aidan and Eva know. To be honest, I don’t trust anyone else with it.”

  “If it gets out, it won’t be because of me.”

  The next day, when I told Aidan about Jericho knowing, he tapped his finger atop the dining table. “That’s it.”

  “What’s it?”

  “We’re having a congress.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  That night, Aidan showed me a room on the grounds I hadn’t even known existed.

  “This was originally a storage area,” he said as we passed through a door I’d never noticed before. It was built into a fat-bottomed tree on the edge of the clearing, whose branches encroached on the other trees as though it was reaching out to be touched.

  We came into a darkened space, and I lit a flame in my palm. I had to admit: every day I trained with Rathmore, the fire came more and more easily. Around me, the fire reflected off the hard edges of looming shapes. I recognized a desk, a bookcase, an old saddle stand. “What is all this?”