She could be forty . . . or four-hundred.
Behind her, three heavily arched stained glass windows rise, the colorful panes made into a woodland scene filled with exotic creatures.
When I near, two powdery beige moth wings unfurl from her back. They’re soft looking, like crushed velvet, a large mint-green spot adorning the apex of each wing.
She lifts an eyebrow as her sharp gaze takes in first my attire, then my hair. “Ah. You must be the new . . . shadow recruit. Come in.”
There’s a Fae male standing beside her . . . no, his ears are round, so he’s human. Already that’s the first thing I check. Ears pointed or curved?
He regards me with a grim smile as I stare. By his salt-and-pepper hair, matching mustache, and weathered face, he’s at least fifty, with the body of a man who works out regularly.
The red-and-black uniform he wears fits snug around his muscular arms and thighs.
“This is the head Shadow Guardian for the entire academy, Mr. Willis,” the headmistress says. “If you graduate in four years, he’ll also be responsible for your placement with a keeper.”
He gives me a curt nod as he leaves. Slipping into the black leather chair in front of her desk, I watch quietly while the headmistress shuffles around papers until finding the one she’s looking for. She reminds me a bit of Aunt Vi, but I can’t tell yet if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.
Lips tight, she pushes a document across her desk. “All we need is your signature and then you can go.”
That was quick. I stare at the paper, my heart pounding. “If I don’t sign?”
Her dark brown eyes narrow. “Do you know how many mortals would love to be in your position? Mortals who have been training to come here since birth, whose parents came here before them. Mortals with means and influence. Mortals who can benefit this school and Fae-kind after graduation.”
Well then. “And I’m not that kind of mortal?”
She doesn’t even try to hide her disdain as she says, “You . . . are a special exception. Made by a very powerful student. But there is no reason to hide the truth: I do not think you belong here. Moreover, I do not think you will survive here.”
Heat flares up my neck and into my face. “And I think you’ll be surprised at how resilient I can be.”
“Resilient?” The word spits from her lips like it’s poison. “As a shadow, your job is to train beside an Evermore, the highest, most promising Fae heirs from each court. They rely on you for many things, but your most important job at this school is protecting your Fae keeper with your life.” Pressing her hands together, she leans forward. “If a darkling breaks through our wards, are you prepared to kill it to protect your keeper?”
I open my mouth to answer, but the truth is, I’m not. And I’m not even sad about it.
“As I thought. You are untrained, undisciplined, and uneducated. If it were up to me, you would be drafted to fight the darklings outside the wards. Maybe then your death would mean something.” Her lip curls. “But it isn’t up to me, so here”—she slides the document even closer—“make your mark and this charade will be over.”
For some reason, her words cut deep. I understand being annoyed with having someone basically foisted on them last minute, but I didn’t choose this path. And I had nothing to do with my placement here, which I’m starting to realize is my tormentor’s form of a cruel practical joke.
Biting the inside of my cheek to hide the hurt, I focus on the form. It’s basically a declaration that I now belong to the academy, and that they aren’t responsible for my safety, nor liable monetarily or otherwise.
There’s also a clause at the end that stipulates after my training here, I will give four years of service to shadowing a Fae, or buy my freedom.
When I’m done reading, I scribble my signature and shove the document away.
“See,” she says in a deceptively sweet voice. “That wasn’t so hard, was it? Now, we have a temporary room available for you on this floor in the visitor’s wing. Last room on your left. We’ll know soon which court you belong to, and I’ll have your books and schedule delivered to your court’s mortal dormitory.”
She hands me a pamphlet titled, Rulebook for Shadow Guardian Students, and sends me on my way. Right before I get to the door, she calls out, “Miss Solstice?”
I glance over my shoulder. What now?
Maybe I’m just imagining it, but the hard line of her lips has softened. “Your files are sealed, meaning no one knows about your slave-mark . . . or who requested your presence here. I highly recommend you keep it that way.”
“Noted, thank you.”
I’m halfway down the first flight of stairs when I remember I left my handbook in the office. Crap. When I get to the door of her office, I pause. Mr. Willis, the head Shadow Guardian, leans against the side of the desk, deep in conversation with the headmistress.
“. . . cannot have another student death at our school,” the headmistress is saying. “You saw her! She has no idea what awaits her inside this academy.”
Willis’s bushy eyebrows mash together, and he places a large hand on the headmistress’s much smaller one. “I’ll keep an eye on her. Make sure she gets extra attention from Richter and extra training.”
“It’s not enough.” Lepidonis’s gaze drifts to the window. “You know what they’re like here. I doubt she’ll make it through the Selection.”
“I could inform King Sylverfrost about her presence.”
“No. You know what he would do with her.” The headmistress’s words tumble out quickly, and I detect more than a hint of fear in them. “I cannot imagine why, but the girl is here. Now, let’s just hope she understands the danger she faces.”
11
My boots slap loudly against the metal stairs as I try to find where I’m supposed to go next. But my mind keeps drifting to the words I overheard, and cold sweat trickles between my shoulder blades.
Why does everyone make this school sound terrifying?
Unfortunately, according to my handy little map, the visitor’s wing is on the other side of the building. It takes me five tries to find the right place. The visitor’s hall is ancient, cobwebs hanging from dusty corners and a faded gold rug lining the dim corridor.
When I get to the last room on the left, I balk at the tiny apartment. There’s a cot, a nightstand, and a circular window barely the size of my head.
I need air. Space. Sunshine. A place to comfortably freak out.
As luck would have it, there’s a stairwell at the end of the hall that leads to the roof. The moment I breathe in fresh air, I feel some of the tension bleed from my body. My boots crunch across the flat gravel roof that looks out over the campus as I make my way to the wrought iron railing.
I run my hand over the sharp finials and cast my gaze over the white world beyond, squinting in the hazy half-dark.
The campus is everything I thought it would be: ethereal, magical, and horrifying.
A wintry forest spreads to my left, curving to fill the entire eastern half. Directly below, a courtyard sits, nearly unoccupied. I’d guess it’s around four in the morning, and the campus seems to be finally winding down.