Grim expressions came over them.
“The door will be warded,” Prospero added. “Should anything befall either of them, badgers won’t be your fate.”
“The law for infractions is badg—”
“Do I look like thelawis my priority today?” Prospero asked softly, marking each of their faces in her memory. “Keep them safe or die. Those are the options.”
The witch nearest to her backed up a step.
At least one of the witches responsible was Agnes, House Grendel’s head. Hers was a house of violence, and Prospero had no doubt of the odds of successfully facing such a witch.
And the witch who shot Scylla.
There will be blood.
There were currently at least two dangerous witches in the Barbarian Lands. A lot more than Prospero’s own safety was at risk now. Everything would be lost if they were exposed, their safety, their home. If nonwitches invaded Crenshaw with their guns and machines, the violence could be dire.
Would I die for Crenshaw?It had never been a question, but for the first time, Prospero thought there were reasons to try to stay alive.One reason, actually. Ellie.
“Keep them safe and alive” was all Prospero said abruptly before leaving the infirmary in search of the headmaster.
Crenshaw Castle had to be locked down. The students needed to be made safe, and they weren’t the only ones. Ellie would need to be looked after. And, of course, the two unconscious witches in the infirmary. Plans swirled in her head as she stomped through the castle, mindful of the gasps of those she passed.
Bloody.
Furious.
Exhausted.
And it wasn’t even midday.
10Sondre
Sondre was on the third floor of the castle attempting to turn an unused classroom into the headmaster’s office. His existing office was no longer meeting his needs since he’d decided to move all of his magic-related books and supplies out of his castle living suite. Having a completely nonmagical teen living in his quarters now had Sondre feeling like he had to reduce the threats.
So here Sondre was, trying to sort through a tower of textbooks, many obsolete, rather than leaving these in the reach of a belligerent teenager.
“Why do I still have all these books?” Sondre muttered as he looked at textbooks that hadn’t been used in several decades. Each headmaster added to the library that their replacements would have for reference, but the result was that there were duplicates of several texts. Magical textbooks were replicated and revised, and in his possession he had no less than four versions ofBasic Magical Skills for the Remedial Witch.He wasn’t even sure they used that book currently.
“Headmaster.” Her voice entered before she did, but even if shehadn’t spoken, Sondre would know that the intruder was either his wife or Prospero. And Maggie wouldn’t call him “headmaster.” That left his former nemesis. There was no one else foolhardy enough to barge into his private space.
“How did you even find my new off…” His words faded as he turned around and saw Prospero. Her clothes were ruined. Streaks of blood on her cheeks and throat made it hard to look at her. Sondre stared at her. “Whathappenedto you? Why is there blood… areyouhurt or is that someone else’s?”
“Not mine.” Prospero paused briefly.
Sondre had an abject terror that the blood was Maggie’s or Craig’s or—
“Scylla,” Prospero said, interrupting his mental listing of the worst possible answers. Her voice was dry and cold, and he was certain she was in shock. “Scylla was shot, and the barrier is down. I need the school secured, Headmaster.”
“Is she alive?” Sondre dropped the stack of books on the desk, and tiny clouds of dust from the pages released a not-unpleasant scent of old paper. When Prospero didn’t speak or move, he repeated, louder now, “Is Scylla alive?”
“So far.” Her voice was a flat rasp, and that alone was reason for him to pause. Prospero was not the most emotional person he knew, but she certainly wasn’t this cold. Their unfortunately intertwined interactions of late had led to an understanding that made it harder to hate her.
“She’s with Mae?” he prompted in a gentler voice.
Prospero sighed, like she was starting to deflate, and said, “She’s with Mae’s people. Mae is unconscious. She saved Scylla so far, snatched her back from death, and then collapsed on me.”
“Of course she did.” Sondre smiled, despite the dire news. Few people in Crenshaw could outpace Mae for selflessness or kindness.
