Chapter 6

ChapterSix

His father always said that Sunspell Academy took in mediocre witches and turned them into legends.

Of course, Alistair didn’t care to be a legend. He didn’t plan to use his particular brand of magic that much, either. The fae were entertaining to see, yes, and he’d always enjoyed his interactions with them. But he was safely within the walls of Wildecliff. The moment they realized what he could do, his teachers would send him out into the fields and forests beyond.

Mischievous fae were nothing compared to the dangerous monsters that lived outside these walls. Nor did they compare to the gods and goddesses that could rip his head clean off his shoulders for saying the wrong thing. The other fae had warned him about them.

There were rules he didn’t know. Traditions he had to follow that were different with every deity. If Alistair ever came upon one of them, he would need to tread carefully to keep his life.

Sighing, he watched as the butlers pulled his and his brothers’ things out of the carriage. This was Cassius’s extra year. He had agreed to come back after his last year to teach some of the students and work with a professor who got along with him. Lysander was in his final year of senior cycle, and of course, Alistair still had a few more.

They all arrived together, though, much to his elder brother’s embarrassment. Already, they both stood to the side so no one would see who they’d arrived with. Starting now, they were unlikely to speak to Alistair unless forced.

None of them wanted anyone at school to know they were related. Even Alistair agreed with that. The last thing he wanted was for the bullies in his own year to think he could stick up for himself in a fight when he would most certainly end up with a broken jaw.

“Thank you,” he mumbled to the butler, who placed his trunk on the ground in front of the school.

“Don’t thank the help,” Cassius snarled as he waved a hand to levitate his own trunk. “People will think you’re weak.”

Good-hearted people would think he cared about the well-being of his staff, but sure. Weak. Cassius could believe that’s what kindness made him. They were at school, and now he didn’t have to pretend to care about his brother’s opinions.

Shaking his head, he tried to remember the summoning spell that would lift his own trunk. He cast the spell, but nothing happened.

“Levō,” he said again. And still, the trunk remained right where it was. Heavy as always.

One of the oldest professors in the school walked up to him and stood behind him. The old man had a neatly trimmed white beard and eyes like black chips in his head. The hair atop his head was black other than two pale wings at the temples, and his cruelty showed through in his horrible expression.

“Professor Burns,” Alistair said with a nod.

“Again.”

All the other students had their trunks floating already. Only the first years weren’t required to float their own trunks, and they watched everyone walk by them with awe. Alistair had been that student. He’d done this already and had learned how to channel his magic into something this simple. He knew how to manipulate his power into a spell that would work for him.

Every good witch did. He took another deep breath and then flicked his fingers at the trunk as though the magic didn’t bother him at all. “Levō."

Again. Nothing. The trunk didn’t even rattle.

Professor Burns sighed and pressed his fingers to the sudden wrinkles between his eyes. “Your father could do this spell in his first year. You know that, don’t you?”

“I’ve heard all about my father’s magical talents.”

“Then how have you proven to be such a failure in your father’s shadow?” Professor Burns shook his head and turned toward the looming school behind them. “You’re not allowed inside until you levitate that trunk, Mr. Orbweaver. You can stay out all night for all I care.”

The other students walked past him until Alistair stood alone. Even the second years gave him a look as though they were shocked he couldn’t do this on his own. He was frustrated, too. Alistair had been casting this spell for ages, and nothing made any sense of why he couldn’t do it now.

Angry now, he muttered “Levō,” over and over again. He said it so many times that his face burned with embarrassment, and he never cared what others thought.

His familiar shrieked above his head, and Alistair blew out a breath toward the hair that had flopped in front of his face. He looked up at Atlas wheeling in a circle like a bird of prey.

“You don’t have to tell me when you find carrion,” he called out. “Eat what you want!”

Apparently, some people limited what their familiars could eat. At least, that’s what Cassius had told him. His eldest brother had no problem advising him on how to take care of his familiar in the weeks he’d had the beast.

But, as he looked back toward his trunk, he suddenly realized a tiny boggart sat on top of it. Boggarts weren’t naturally mean beasts, but they were more apt to bite rather than help. At one point in their lives, they were brownies—helpful household spirits who would clean and put things in order during the night. If they were underappreciated or not given gifts, they would grow angry and turn into boggarts.

The little one on top of his case had seen a fight recently. Its eyes were blackened and a small cut bloomed bright red on its shoulder. The rodent-like creature had arms longer than its body, with short little legs that lacked any hair. In fact, its entire body was hairless, rare for their species. But the pointed features and overly large ears were of the boggart kind.

“Can I help you?” Alistair asked.

Frowning at him, it pointed to the trees on the right side of the Academy. As if it wanted him to go over there and leave his trunk alone.

Peering around them, he hissed, “Were you stopping my spell from working?”

The boggart shrugged, then jabbed its fingers toward the trees. As though he had something important to see and he was stalling.

Alistair pointed at it with his best angry expression. “We’re not finished with this. You and your kind cannot get involved in my schooling. Do you know what that might do to me?”

Saying the words made him feel better, but he knew he couldn’t argue with the faeries to get what he wanted. The fae had minds of their own. He was a vessel for them to speak through, sometimes. Other times, they just enjoyed pranking someone who would know it was them.

Frustrating. It was all so frustrating.

But he knew the little boggart would hold his luggage captive until he did what it wanted him to do. Alistair looked behind him to make sure that Professor Burns wasn’t looking anymore. And he was pleased to find that no one was outside with him at all. They’d left him out here to his own devices.

Though, there was likely someone inside who had been told not to let him in if he wasn’t carrying his trunk. He’d figure that out when the time came.

Alistair sighed, dropped his bag beside the boggart, and started off in the direction the little beast had pointed. Clearly, there was something he had to see, and if he didn’t go over to look, then he’d be stuck out here until it rained.

The outside of Sunspell Academy was covered with trees. Even though they weren’t trees that anyone would see in a forest. The Headmistress enjoyed color when she looked out of her office window, and color meant lots and lots of cherry blossoms. Someone enchanted the trees to bloom year-round, even when the snow came during winter. The pink petals blanketed the ground that led up to the precipice, looking out over Wildecliff.

Hence Wildecliff, he supposed. Although, he wasn’t very familiar with the lore surrounding the name of his town.

Sighing, he turned around in a circle in the cherry blossom forest. “All right,” he called out. “What did you want me to see?”

He spun in a slow circle, peering up into the branches as though another boggart would be there. But then he heard the soft sound of a snort behind him and the pawing of hooves at the ground.

“Oh, no,” he muttered, quite unsure of what he was about to find behind him.

Alistair held his breath until he found the strange creature waiting for him in the cherry trees. A fiadh ruadh stood between the branches of a trunk that had split in half. The red stag’s antlers spread out impressively at the top of his head, at least thirty points and a clear sign this creature was old. Very old. Moss hung from each antler, and cherry blossoms stuck to the emerald trails. As he watched, a few other faerie creatures he didn’t recognize revealed themselves. They’d been hidden in the moss and among the flowers. But they unfurled their dragonfly wings that glittered in the dying sunlight, and he knew they were as special as the beast they rode.

He bowed low to the ancient creature of the forest. Fiadh ruadh could sometimes be heard over the wall. Their roars were like thunder in the mating season, and he used to be terrified of them as a child. Even now, he feared the beast that looked at him with black eyes.

“It’s an honor,” he said, eyes still on the ground. “I did not know you had come so far from the sacred lands.”

He heard its voice in his head as though someone had spoken into his ear. “Protect my people. It is your duty, son of the web.”

His people? Alistair didn’t know what the faerie beast spoke of. He’d been able to see the faerie creatures his entire life, but that didn’t mean he knew how to protect them. And why would he need to? They were more powerful than him.

Alistair looked up and met the creature’s intimidating gaze. “Protect them from who?”

Ravens flew overhead, screaming up into the sky in a circle of dark feathers and ill omens. He feared what that meant, even as he stared into the abyss of the fiadh ruadh’s eyes. What monstrous being would attack the fae?

An icy chill danced down his spine, and he immediately straightened. Alistair spun to look up at the windows of Sunspell Academy, right into the windows of the Headmistress, who so enjoyed looking out over this field of pink flowers. The curtains in the metal framed windows shifted as though a breeze had touched them.

Had she been watching?

She couldn’t have been looking out the windows. The Headmistress had a lot of things to do today, especially with all the students arriving at her doorstep and needing to be greeted and then settled into their rooms. Besides, she couldn’t have seen him out here on his own. He was too far away from her window.

Still, the icy feeling didn’t go away. His teeth chattered, and he didn’t know if that was with cold or fear. Swallowing hard, he said, “I’ll do my best to look after them, but I’m only one person.”

He turned to find that the fiadh ruadh had disappeared. Though he could still see the scrapings on the ground where the creature had dug into the earth, leaving deep furrows with its hooves.

It was time to go inside, lest someone else comes looking for him who was worse than Professor Burns. But the closer he got to the front of the school, the worse he felt. Alistair’s stomach twisted into a knot. His heart beat so quickly that he could feel it skipping beats. And his palms grew so sweaty he was afraid to touch anything in case he left a wet handprint behind.

He needed to get control of himself, or they would notice. Everyone noticed weakness in this place.

A horrible caw echoed overhead, and then Atlas soared into his line of sight. Without thinking, Alistair held out his arm for his familiar to land. “There you are,” he muttered as he approached his luggage. “I was looking for you.”

The raven climbed up his arm to his shoulder and then held out his leg. A single note was attached with a pretty green ribbon.

Just like that, some of his nerves eased. He might not be able to save all the faeries as the fiadh ruadh wanted him to, but, at the very least, someone in this ridiculous life wanted to see him. Wanted to talk with him. And she had responded to his letter.

He hadn’t even dreamed she would do so. Alistair had no right to ask her to give him any time of day, and yet here she was. Writing him back after his family had been so cruel to her.

Now his stomach twisted for another reason.

He surveyed his trunk, making sure the boggart had left before he tried the spell one more time. “Levō.”

This time, the trunk lifted with no issues. And though he felt a small amount of his power drain, that didn’t matter much. He’d lifted the trunk. He’d done what they thought he couldn’t do, and it was all because a single boggart had wanted to talk to him.

The entrance to the Academy loomed over his head. The twin doors were carved with all the most impressive students that had come out of this school throughout the centuries. His father was on there. He’d seen the web tangled around the figure of his father so many times now, and it never failed to remind him that Balthazar was always watching. Even in the walls of this school.

“Ah, you finally figured it out.” The young woman at the front of the door was one of the few who had been accepted to work for the school right after her graduation. Her long black hair was pin straight, and she wore it in a long braid to her waist. “Took you long enough, Orbweaver. I thought I’d miss dinner waiting for you to do simple magic.”

“Figured it out,” he replied, his eyes darting through the shadows for his brothers. They usually liked to wait for him at times like these.

She sniffed and tilted her nose up into the air. “Dormitories, Orbweaver. Go.”

She said his last name like he didn’t deserve to be called that, and he supposed compared to all the others, he might not. They’d all done a lot more impressive things, while he just lied and said he didn’t have any special ability at all.

Further into the Academy, he went with a slight nod at the young woman who had guarded the door. Four winding staircases led in opposite directions. One for classes, another for the food hall, one for dormitories, and another for staff. He’d been here so many times; he knew this entire place like the back of his hand. He could probably walk through the halls blindfolded and never hit a single statue or scuff the mahogany floors.

His trunk glided along beside him as he wandered up the stairs toward the rooms. At least this year, he got a room to himself. Only the students in senior cycle were allowed that, and Alistair had always had the worst bunk, usually because he was the last one to get to his room.

Finally finding a little privacy, he walked into the room marked with his name. The bright blue tapestries that hung around the bed were woven with the gold sun symbol of the school. A single window showed the grounds out beyond, and he had a pretty good view of the city itself.

He let the spell go, and the trunk hit the ground with a dull thud.

“Not bad, don’t you think Atlas?” Someone had set up a small stand, likely having been told he had a bird for a familiar, so he deposited Atlas on top.

Giving his familiar a light chest rub, he bent to work and gathered the letter off his familiar’s leg.

The goosebumps that rose on his arms as he unraveled the ribbon were from the chilly air in the school, he told himself. Not because he was ridiculously excited to see what she had to say. Still, he wrapped the green ribbon around his finger before he rolled the small piece of paper open.

Her handwriting was horrible, he realized. He could barely read the words this chicken scratch made.

Alistair,

I’ll admit, I wasn’t expecting to get a letter from you. I’m surprised you found me! Your bird must be a very intelligent familiar indeed.

You don’t have to apologize for your family. I know you aren’t them, and they aren’t you. So why would I endeavor to punish you for their misdoings? Consider all forgiven, although there’s nothing to forgive you for. You were quite polite.

Thank you for asking about my familiar. I’ve named him Browning, as many witches did when toads first became our familiars. He’s very handsome and getting rounder every day. Perhaps someday you’ll meet him.

I’m not certain that he’d make it to wherever you are, though. He’s quite averse to physical labor.

Where are you, anyway? I assume Wildecliff, but I don’t know much else about your city.

Excitedly waiting for your next letter,

Thea

He pressed the letter against his chest and fell back onto the bed. A single letter shouldn’t excite him quite so much, and yet... goodness. She’d written him back even when he didn’t deserve it.

Somehow, that made being in this horrible place a little easier.