“All right,” I said doubtfully. “I’ll try.”
Closing my eyes, I reached for the golden ribbon of power and tried to focus on restoring Morganna’s hair. Taking a deep breath, I shoved the power out towards the nasty Fae girl.
A gasp from both the Headmistress and Ms. Yasmeen, who was still standing quietly to one side, keeping the truth spell up, made me look. I had not succeeded in restoring Morganna’s long, lustrous golden hair.
What I had done was make her eyebrows and eyelashes disappear too.
There was an antique mirror hanging on the far wall of Headmistress Nightworthy’s office. Staring into it with a look of horror, Morganna felt her face, as though she just couldn’t believe what I had done to her.
“What did you do? What did you do to me, you bitch?” she screeched. Turning, she launched herself at me, her fingers hooked into claws, but Headmistress Nightworthy caught her around the waist before she could reach me.
She might have silver hair, but the Nocturne Headmistress was strong. She held Morganna effortlessly as the Fae girl screamed in fury and tried her best to wriggle loose and claw at me with her perfectly manicured fingernails.
“I’m sorry!” I exclaimed, backing hastily away. “I didn’t mean to—honestly I didn’t!” I looked at the Headmistress pleadingly. “I was afraid something bad might happen! My magic is still really unreliable!”
“She’s telling the truth,” Ms. Yasmeen said blandly. “You probably shouldn’t have asked her to restore Morganna’s hair, Headmistress.”
Headmistress Nightworthy sighed.
“Yes, well, hindsight is 20/20 as the humans say. Ms. Yasmeen, have the goodness to put a calming spell on Miss Starchild, here. She’s becoming quite a burden.”
“Of course.” Ms. Yasmeen pointed at Morganna and made a motion with her finger.
Sister magic might not work very well on Faes, but this seemed to help—at least a little. Morganna stopped screaming and fighting to get at me and stood quietly instead. But the look she shot me was still pure hatred.
“You’re in trouble, you nasty little wanna-be,” she said, glaring at me. “So much trouble. My mother is on the Queen’s Court and once she finds out what you’ve done to me, she’ll have the Court Magistrate call a High Tribunal!”
“That’s enough, Miss Starchild,” Headmistress Nightworthy said, but she shot me a worried glance. “You may go now,” she said to Morganna.
Morganna went to the door of her office, but turned back to face me at the last minute.
“Expect a summons,” she snarled. “You’re going to be sorry you were ever born, Plunkett.”
Then she left, slamming the door behind her.
71
“What does she mean about a Tribunal?” I asked uneasily, as the door banged shut behind Morganna. “Is that some kind of a trial?”
“I’m afraid so.” Headmistress Nightworthy looked troubled.
“But I don’t have to go, do I?” I asked. “I mean, they can summon me all they want, but they can’t make me go to their trial. You heard what’s been going on, Headmistress—you know I didn’t mean to take away all Morganna’s hair!”
“I’m afraid what I know is irrelevant, Miss Plunkett,” the Headmistress said heavily. “And you wouldn’t have to go—if you were actually the human you appeared to be when you first entered Nocturne Academy. But now that you have been revealed as a Fae, I’m afraid you fall under the authority of the King and Queen of the Summer Court, as all creatures of the Fae Realm do.”
“But…but I’ve never been there in my life!” I protested. “And it’s not my fault I turned out to be Fae! I wish I wasn’t. I’ve had nothing but trouble since the geas was lifted off me. Men and boys won’t leave me alone and Morganna’s got it in for me and I found out I was adopted and my mom isn’t my real mom and…and…” My voice hitched in my throat as I tried not to cry. “I just…just want to go back to the way I was,” I whispered, barely getting the words out. “I just want to be normal again.”
“Oh, my dear…” To my surprise, a look of compassion came over the stern Headmistress’s face. “I know it cannot be easy, to be raised as a human and then to suddenly realize you are an Other instead. But we cannot turn back the clock. You are what you are.”
“It’s clear you have formidable power,” Ms. Yasmeen put in. “You just need to learn to harness it.” She frowned. “We really ought to have some Fae magic classes, Headmistress.”
“I had thought of it before but most of our Fae students master their powers very young and come to us after they already know how to use their magic,” Headmistress Nightworthy said, sighing.
“I do have a teacher,” I offered. “Lachlan. He’s…one of the boys who Marked me,” I added, blushing. “He’s also the one who took the geas off me in the first place.”
“Well, tell him to focus more on your control,” the Headmistress said, frowning. “With that much power, you need to be very careful, Miss Plunkett.”
“I’m trying,” I said earnestly. “I already know the difference between White, Grey, and Black magic and I’m committed to doing only White magic. Although…” I bit my lip. “I’m not exactly sure what kind of magic I used on Morganna,” I admitted.
I hoped it was what Lachlan had called “battle” or “defense magic” but I wasn’t sure. I had been so angry at Morganna when I took her hair away, the magic had just gotten away from me and I wasn’t quite sure what had happened.
“It seems to me you need to practice in a safe, controlled setting,” Ms. Yasmeen said. “Especially if you are to be called to trial in the Realm.”
“I…I really have to go if they call me?” I asked again—I still couldn’t believe it.
“I am afraid so,” the Headmistress said, shaking her head. “I wish there was someone you could call upon to advocate for you, Miss Plunkett.”
“What about my father?” I demanded. “Do you know where he is? He’s the one who’s paying my tuition here, isn’t he?”
The Headmistress sighed deeply and rubbed her temples with her long, white fingers, as though she was getting a headache. It was a very human gesture, I thought.
“Your father was the one who set up the trust which pays your scholarship,” she admitted. “And he charged me never to tell you the details, but things have changed considerably. You have changed, Miss Plunkett.”
“Where is he?” I asked. “Please tell me, Headmistress. And my mother—my real mother—where is she? Who is she? Do you know?”
She leaned back against her desk, as though a heavy burden was resting on her shoulders.
“Miss Plunkett, I should not be the one to tell you this,” she said slowly. “But I very much fear that both your natural parents…are dead.”
72
“Dead?” I stared at her blankly. “But…but you just got finished admitting to me that you knew my father—that he set up my scholarship! How can he be dead?”