Time must still because I can’t feel anything. No air swells in my lungs, no drum beats in my chest. All I hear are Dexler’s words. Expulsion. The Headmistresses circle Grandmom, who talks with her hands, insistent and sharp. Chatter swarms around me, a tangle of hushed conversations, but I can’t make sense of it, the last several moments replaying like a song I loathe stuck on repeat. Breathe. Say something.
I wait for tears, but they don’t come. They’re wound up, a knot in my chest so tight it’d probably take a lifetime to be undone. I pull myself up off the ground. My heart ticks, and I focus on its hum, grasping for ideas about how to fix this. The places we’ve lived roll like a reel in my head, and calm breaks over me, muscle memory taking over. First, Mom. I have to get to her.
A tight grip grabs me by the shoulder.
“In here, now.” Grandmom squeezes, and I wince as she urges me into a neighboring room. Once the door is closed, she faces me, her nostrils flaring in and out with the sharpness of her breath.
“I don’t know what you’re playing at,” she seethes. “But you’ve made a fool of this House!”
“Grandmom, I—”
“Silence! Understand me well, Quell. I’ve crossed a line I never thought I would have to in order to fix this for you.” She spits the words, and I taste their poison. “The Council has agreed to give you one more chance to demonstrate pushing magic into your blade. One. Tomorrow, at eight a.m. Which is entirely against the rules, and all protocol . . . You will tell no one about this. I will speak to Jordan myself. He is due for an earful and more!” She takes in a long slow breath, and her nails dig into my arms.
“You’re hurting me.”
She tightens her grip.
“You will pass tomorrow, or I swear you’ll regret the day you ever stepped through my doors.” She releases me with a push, and I stumble back into the wall as the door slams shut. Tears uncinch from their hiding place, stealing their way down my cheek. I hold my arm to my chest, smoothing the half-moons dug into my skin, wishing I knew how to shift them away.
Head buried between my knees, I weep until my chest aches. I can practice all night, but would it help? Will my toushana ever behave? I tug at the roots of my hair just to feel the pain somewhere else. My fingers feel for the familiar lump of my key chain. But it’s not there. I clean my face and hurry through the halls to my room. Inside I find a sullen Abby shifting the neckline of a gown. Great. I don’t know what to say to her, and it doesn’t even matter. When Mom responds, I will get going tonight and explain everything. How I’m not good enough and this wasn’t a good plan in the first place. How it doesn’t feel safe here, not anymore.
“Hi,” she says, and it’s ice.
I offer a smile instead of words for fear they might crack and say too much. My fingers hover over stationery to write to Mom. Too slow. I grab my key chain, stuff my book into my bag and the T-shirt I had on when I came, but shame stops me at the door handle.
“I’m sorry, Abby. I’m really sorry about how things went.”
She looks at me but doesn’t respond, so I leave without another word and set my sights on the uncertainty ahead. Come on, Mom. Answer. I squeeze my key chain and head down the halls. It’s probably best to exit out of the back door rather than the front. Or maybe the forest?
I head toward the foyer, where the broom closet is, but my key chain still hasn’t lit up. I’ll tell her all about my magic, how it sometimes works and sometimes doesn’t. I’ll show her all we can do. And maybe we can use some of what I’ve learned here to hide us? I squeeze the key chain again. Please, squeeze back.
I close myself in the closet, waiting, staring at the ring on my key chain. If she doesn’t respond, where am I even going? If she doesn’t respond, how can I leave? Mom knows more about getting around out there, evading the Order. I glare at the metal key chain. Glow, please! The urge to cry again pulls at me. But I exhale away the tears, white knuckling my key chain. I squeeze again and again until my hands ache. Until I’m numb to the scratch of my nails in my fist. Until the truth slaps me so hard in the face the wall has to hold me up.
I can’t run.
Those days are over. Running the way I used to is done. I don’t know where Mom is. I want to believe she is okay, nearby and waiting for me to finish like we’d planned, but what actual proof do I have beyond Grandmom’s word? None. The only thing I can count on is what I do know. Which is that Headmistress Perl knows exactly who I am, what I look like, even where I am. But here, under Grandmom’s nose it seems she can’t get me. Mom must know that because she wants me to stay here now, too. I have to be here. Or Beaulah has to at least think I am.
My safest option is to pass this exam.
Which at the moment is impossible.
I’m reminded of a certain someone as I finger the hem of my dress. His advice has been the only that’s truly helped.
I just can’t trust myself around him. Because I like him. I sag against the broom closet door. It feels good to admit it. I like Jordan. My stomach does something weird below my belly button as I stew over a million reasons going to Jordan for help is the worst idea. But I can’t forget the way he showed me how to fold in those enhancers, made me realize my dagger transfiguring was a good thing. The way he taught me how to dance a dance I’d never done in my entire life because we are good together.
“Arrggh!” Frustration burns through me, colder than my magic, and I slam my fist to the floor. I’m out of options.
“I need him.” I hug around myself. As swiftly as he’d end my life if he knew my secret, I need his help to survive. I know what I have to do.
I leave the closet and hurry out onto the grounds toward the guard shack at the gate down the hill, when a Dragun spills out of the shack. It takes me a second to realize I recognize him. Felix.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, before I think better of it.
Felix disappears. I could ask you the same, his voice seems to say in my head, but I blink and only see dark fog. My heart patters faster. “I’m here to see Jordan.” The strength goes out of my legs as I grow cold all over. Not my toushana, but whatever this Felix guy is doing to me. “Please. Just tell him I’m—”
“Jordan’s busy. Anything I can help you with?” Cold fingers trace down the side of my face. I blink and blink, but I still can’t see.
“What’s going on out here?” It’s Jordan.
The world returns, Felix appears in front of me in his regular form.
“Quell? Are you all right?” He casts Felix a wary glance that hardens on impact.
“I’m fine. Just cold.”
He shoves Felix’s shoulders hard, but his friend laughs.
“You play too much,” Jordan says to Felix. “You didn’t have to scare her like that.”
“I wasn’t scared,” I lie.
“Just having some fun with the little heiress,” Felix says.
“Get back inside,” Jordan barks.
Felix disappears inside the guard shack, and I swear I hear muffled groans. My brows dent.
“If it’s a bad time—”
“It’s a fine time. I’m just surprised to see you.”
My gaze falls.
“I heard,” he says.
I meet his eyes, thanking him for not forcing me to say it. I’m ashamed enough as it is. I needed to do a good job, but I wanted to do a good job, too. Would making my House proud of me be such a terrible thing? Is that selfish of me?
“Headmistress was able to get the Council to give me a second chance.”
His edges harden as he pulls me away from the guard shack.
“She said it wasn’t customary.”
“I want you here as much as she does, but—there are rules, Quell.”
He wants me here. “I didn’t ask for a second chance.”
“But you would take it,” Jordan says.
“She didn’t give me a choice.”
His jaw clenches.
“So I have to try again. And—-” Just spit it out. “I need you—your help practicing how to push magic into my blade, until I’ve solidly got it down.”
Jordan listens without a word until a commotion in the guard shack pierces the quiet that’s settled between us. He sighs. “I have to go. But I’ll do it. You’re going to be ready for the exam. You have my word. Meet me in the conservatory at dusk.”
I stare a moment longer at the disturbance coming from inside the guard shack but can’t surmise a cohesive thought because I’m tunnel focused on my exam. Jordan leaves, and I try to sit in the comfort of the promise he just gave me. He strikes me as someone who doesn’t make empty promises. I’m relieved he’s willing to help after I’ve done my best to push him away.
But what will the danger of his company cost me?
Night has fallen when I arrive to the conservatory. The gardens are empty, and the only sound that can be heard is the ring of crickets and the bluster of wind. Each step sinks my shoulders as I realize out here, I’m truly alone. Except for Jordan, of course. I spent the day practicing on my own, but I’ve been such a ball of worry, my toushana quickly grew agitated. After my fifth attempt, I decided to rest in my room during Abby’s afternoon sessions to prepare myself for the long night ahead. I don’t want Jordan to go easy on me. For once, the anticipation of him being hard on me quickens my steps. Whatever it takes. I have to pass.
Jordan is nowhere in sight when I reach the glass house. I peer for a look inside, but its windows are slick with fog thanks to the humidity. I twist the handle and step inside. Instead of brick paths trimmed in ivy, my shoes crunch on sand. I run my fingers through its coarse grains. The inside of the conservatory has been changed entirely. There are no plants at all. Instead everything is open air, sandy shore, and a moon grazing the water’s edge. There’s also a weathered facade of a white house with small shuttered windows sitting on the shore. I suck in a breath and ease an unbelieving step forward.
“What is all this?”
Jordan’s hand grazes the back of his neck. “Just trying to help.”
“I don’t understand. I—” I can’t be standing on a beach with salty wind blowing through my hair. “Where are we?”
“We’re still here. On the grounds.” He walks toward me, leaving a trail of sandy footprints, and I shake my head in disbelief. Jordan blows between his fingers, and the sounds of crashing waves and squawking seagulls titillate each and every one of my senses. A lump rises in my throat, and I’m overcome with the weight of an emotion I can’t put into words.
“Magic.” I’m breathless when he reaches for my hand. But I hesitate to take it. Instead, I walk to the small house, running my fingers along its coarse wood, and a splinter slips into my finger. I laugh.
“You did all this . . . for me?” I face him.
He dips his chin. I inhale a deep, long breath, taking in the world around me once more. My toushana doesn’t flicker. My pulse slows. The soothing ocean rhythm gently lapping the sandy shore lulls me to a calm I’ve never felt. This isn’t real. But I blink, and my eyes call me a liar.
“Why?” I breathe.
“Magic is unwieldy by nature. It thrives on indecision, panic. You need control, Quell. That’s what it takes to push magic into your blade. I couldn’t think of a better way to remind you of why you’re doing all this.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
He stares deep into me, the etched angles of his face washed in moonlit glow. The boy behind the mask stares back at me, and I search for something to say, but no words come. He did all this. For me.
“Thank you,” I manage. “Those seem like too small of words to explain all that I feel.” My gaze meets the sandy ground, cheeks burning at how honest I’ve been.
“We should practice,” he says.
We move toward a flatter area, and it’s too cumbersome to walk in sand with shoes on, so I go barefoot. He maintains some distance between us, which I appreciate. The last time we were alone together I was a ball of anxiety. But here, with him like this, I don’t think I’ve ever felt calmer.
He tosses my dagger into the sand and steps closer to me, holding up both his hands, palms facing out. “I want to feel your magic course through you. Put your palms on mine.”
I hesitate.
He’s asking me to touch him on purpose. I raise my hands, halting before his, like a sullen glance in a mirror, worried what will happen when our skin kisses. If it’ll unsettle the monster sleeping in my bones. Or worse, if nothing will happen and I thirst more for little touches like this.
This is foolish. I swallow, refusing to look away. I can do this. I can stand here and do this magic and shove off the rest of whatever I feel for him.
I press my fingertips to his, savoring the warmth of his skin. His touch is always softer than I remember.
“You’re trembling.”
I breathe a laugh, unsure of what to say.
“Are you afraid of me?”
“No.” I’m afraid of me. His green eyes shine under the glimmery night sky like a boundless meadow washed in sunshine. A place with endless summer where it never rains. A place I would run to if I was brave. Or foolish. I shouldn’t. I won’t.
“Now, the magic,” he says.
I search for my proper magic, a burning deep inside. My pulse ticks evenly, my toushana slumbering, completely undisturbed. I find the warmth of my magic, hot and throbbing, and tighten my core.
“That’s it,” Jordan whispers.
He shoves my dagger into my hands. “Now move it into the blade.”
I urge the burning to rip through my hands. It shoots through me, and the flat on my dagger pulses with light. “I did it!”
Jordan smiles, and rays light up the darkest parts of my soul. I fight the urge to throw my arms around his neck and scream. I really did it. With control. My toushana didn’t have anything to stoke because I was calm.
He settles on the sand beside me and nudges me with his shoulder. “Good job, protégé.”
I nudge him back. “Why, thank you, mentor.”
He reaches for his shoes, and I grab his wrist.
“Stay, please.”
“Sounds like you want to amend our starting over terms again, then?” He plucks a bag of candies from his bag.
“Yes, I do.”
He pops a green candy in his mouth.
I sit up taller. “The amended terms are friends.” I offer him a hand. Instead of shaking my hand, he pours a few candies into it after removing all the green ones.
“Have you tried a purple Skittle? Much better.”
“Sacrilege.” He pulls at my fist of candy, and I tighten my grip on them. “Give me my candies back. You’re not worthy.”
I toss them down in one mouthful, laughing.
I pick up the dagger. “Let’s do it again.”
He nods, and I flex my fingers, letting my magic cool down before starting over. We go again and again until the night yawns and I ache all over, muscles tight. We rest, settling on the sand, the earth cold to my legs.
“You did well,” he says.
“Thanks for not telling me to go take a hike.”
“I wanted to help in a way that would actually reach you. We think so differently.”
I dig my toes in the sand. “How long until the magic wears off?”
“Another few hours.”
“Is it silly that I kind of want to stay here?”
“We can stay as long as you like. No one will disturb us.”
“Will you be there tomorrow?”
“As long as my being there is a help to you.”
“I mean, I wouldn’t mind you there . . .” I look away to keep from smiling. “If you happen to be free.”
He smiles without hiding it. “I think I can arrange to be free.”
“Well, good. I have another amendment, actually.”
“An amendment to the amendment?”
“Yes.” I put on my serious face. He smiles tightly, undeniably that time, and I guffaw, which unspools something inside of me. I fold my legs under me. “Really good friends. Those are my terms, take it or leave it.” I offer him a hand.
“You drive a hard bargain, Miss Marionne.” He pops a green candy in his mouth. “But I suppose you have yourself a deal.”
