Ardetia, with her tall and fae stature, wearing her eternally unimpressed expression, glided into the foyer like she’d been carved from moonlight and distant judgment.
She did not take a schedule. She simplyacceptedit as if it had already belonged to her.
“You’re assigned to Intro to Herbalism and... Creative Greenweaving,” I said, peering down at the notes. “Sounds fun.”
She didn’t blink but stared right at me. “You look like you saw a dead person.”
I flinched at the suggestion and glanced over at Ember, worried that it might be deemed offensive, and Ember just chuckled.
“Rough dream.” I shrugged. “I think. I can’t remember.”
She eyed me and nodded slowly. “Hedge Witch remnants.”
“If that’s what you want to call them, sure.” I nodded.
My dad let out a low bark that sounded a lot like amusement. The faculty was officially gathered.
A clamor of footsteps announced a wave of students. I straightened, smoothing my sweater, as the energy shifted, and the doors opened wide.
Women poured into the grand foyer, and it never felt more alive. Some laughed, others whispered, and some held hands or pulled shawls tighter around their shoulders.
But every single one of them had that look.
You know, themaybe-this-isn’t-reallook. I recognized it because I’d worn it myself just a few weeks ago.
Who was I kidding? I wore it a few minutes ago.
“Here we go,” I murmured to my dad, and he gave a dignified snort of agreement.
I handed out schedules as fast as I could, calling names and waving people toward their designated classrooms.
They moved like schools of fish, floating in and out of groups and new beginnings, like it was the start of something big.
And it was.
Stella’s voice interrupted my thoughts as she let out a deep laugh.
“Well, would you look at that,” she said, conjuring a tray of fresh scones like the magical goddess she was. “Is that Mara Flinch?”
Mara looked up from her paper and lit up. “Stella of the Honey Spoon?”
Stella laughed. “Haven’t been called that in years.”
Mara practically sprinted over and wrapped Stella in a hug, her velvet sleeves flaring dramatically. “You made me a cinnamon tonic once that knocked the heartbreak right out of me.”
“You’re welcome,” Stella said, smoothing her curls with an air of pride. “I bottle that kind of therapy now and sell it to unsuspecting souls.”
Vivienne and Lady Limora weren’t far behind, with Opal close to their side. Stella’s eyes crinkled at the corners as she took them in.
“IthoughtI recognized you,” she said. “You used to visit the market stalls during the equinox festivals.”
Lady Limora gave her a small, regal nod. “Your apple tarts were considered a minor enchantment in my circles.”
“Still are,” I said. “She’s teaching here now.”
Opal’s eyes brightened. “You’re staying?”
Stella smiled and gave her a wink. “Someone has to make sure your tea doesn’t curdle mid-spell. I’ll be here in between running my shop in town.”
