“If I’m not immediately expelled and removed from campus, I will,” Ara muttered as she slumped in her chair.
“That’s the spirit.”
“Goodbye, Miss Laurier.” The headmistress waved a hand and a gust of air ushered Roxie out and shut the door behind her, pausing for a moment in deep thought. “Loyalty of the magnitude Miss Laurier possesses is rare. Keep her close to you and stay on her good side, I would imagine. I’ll tell my niece the same.”
Ara felt a similar pulse of emotion from the headmistress at the mention of Roxie and Lily. As if she had entered a room and suddenly forgotten why she was there. There was something strange about the way the headmistress talked about her niece that Ara couldn’t place.
The headmistress pulled a pile of paperwork nearest to her and began to read and sign them as needed. The sound of parchment rustling and a quill scribbling filled the room. Candles lit by themselves as night descended, and a fire roared into the hearth nearby, the wood crackling pleasantly. It seemed the office was well used to the headmistress’s evening routine.
Ara appreciated comfortable silences, so sat and enjoyed the way the room anticipated the headmistress’s needs and fulfilled them. She began to grow drowsy in the warm room and was surprised to find she had dozed off when the sound of a crackling log popped and woke her.
“I would like to see your magic now,” Headmistress Sinclair said finally.
Ara nodded and held out her hands, her magic gathering there like thread unspooling from a ball of yarn. The glow of her white magic illuminated her face and her long golden hair streamed like ribbons on a maypole. Diamonds of light danced around the room as if refracted through a prism.
The Headmistress’s own magenta magic snaked across the floor and up Ara’s body, prodding and probing gently as it inspected the ancient magic that was now awakened in Ara’s very blood. It seemed if not satisfied, at least appeased by what it found and released her, returning to its master.
“Two incidents in as many days, both involving ancient magic, both involving a Marudas sister,” the headmistress stated. “I do not believe in coincidences, Miss Marudas. Do you?”
Ara felt her best course of action would be to remain silent and yet Headmistress Sinclair clearly expected an answer as she felt those purple eyes boring into her. “Yes? No? I’m not sure. What happened to my sister, headmistress? Is Renny- is Seren okay?” Her childhood nickname for Seren slipped off her tongue.
“I have placed Seren on probation.” Headmistress Sinclair’s eyes flashed in warning when Ara opened her mouth to object. “Temporary probation for the time being, as are you. People fear what they do not know and this magic you and your sister seem to possess has not been seen in many a century, if I am correct. Fear is a powerful weapon in the hands of the enemy, Arabella.”
“And who is the enemy, headmistress?” Ara asked, her voice more timid than she would have liked.
“That remains to be seen but I have found the enemy is always closer than we'd like and never who we think it may be.” The headmistress turned to the wall of windows and looked out into the distance at the gathering of storm clouds on the horizon, the twinkling of the stars from before now blinking out of existence as the roll of thunder sounded and lightning flashed.
Chapter eighteen
Icarus Awood
Thecrackoflightningand eruption of thunder seemed a fitting background noise for Icarus and his mood this evening. In truth, lately, he hadn’t found many reasons to be in a pleasant mood. Everything he had worked towards, everything he had sacrificed for, was falling apart. When he closed his eyes, he could still see his father’s eyes, so like Cal’s, boring into him with that knowing way of his. It was ironic that Cal should throw his namesake at him and accuse him of flying too close to the sun. Wasn’t that exactly what their father had done? What started as a boyish dream quickly grew into something dark and twisted.
Elias Darkmore had been a brilliant man, but in the end his sanity was fractured by an inability to see past the impossible. Icarus often wondered what could have been if it had only been his father’s obsession and if his uncle hadn’t nurtured that sickness. His uncle was a practical man and always had been. When they were younger, and Icarus would ask too many questions, his uncle would glare at him and tell him that knowing a thing didn’t make you powerful, power came only from power. Icarus never understood why the two should be comparable, but he knew when his uncle was at the end of his temper, and Icarus would make himself scarce.
Eiridis shifted on his shoulder, no doubt displeased about their evening plans. That made two of them. The doors to Calami opened and wind and rain pelted into him even with the shielding spell he cast moments before. He preferred to be dry for tonight’s task, but this would have to do. The grounds separating Calami and Mistral Hall were soaked through with the sudden storm and if it didn’t let up soon, there would be considerable flooding. He would need to be quick if he had any hope of returning to Calami tonight, but then again, he would rather drown outside than be stuck where he was going.
His familiar heaved what might have been a sigh in owl terms. Icarus could practically feel his frustration. If Eiridis flew from him, he would lose the protection of the shield magic, and the prospect of being drenched was more unfavorable to him than going hungry. Icarus reached up and patted the bird, who screeched and edged away from him.
“Sulking doesn’t become you, old friend.” He smiled.
In answer, Eiridis turned his head away from Icarus as if he were responsible for the rain. Dramatic, as always.
“You can have food when we get back.” The promise did little to assuage the owl given that anything that he didn’t hunt himself was seemingly beneath him to eat.
Despite his familiar’s temper tantrum, he wore a small smile. Whatever good humor he had momentarily found was washed away like pebbles on a beach against a crashing wave. The looming building towering over him was centuries old and full of memories that would be better off buried. Its many spires edged toward the navy sky as if reaching for the heavens, but always coming up short. It seemed a fitting fate for the spires of Mistral Hall, given its inhabitants often had reached when they should have been content with what they had.
Lightning cracked just behind Mistral Hall, illuminating the worn stone that housed the young and aspiring wizards of tomorrow. Stained glass windows scattered about gave the school an almost eerie glow. Taking in as much air as his lungs would allow him, he rested his hand on the massive oval wooden door. With the stone arch now protecting them, Eiridis shook off the rain from his feathers, splattering it against Icarus and his glasses.
“Why are you like this?” Icarus asked as he pulled off his glasses and held his augere in one hand while saying an incantation that would expel at least some of the water from them both, even if Eiridis didn’t deserve it.
The owl preened and relaxed into Icarus’s shoulder. At least one of them was happier. Taking in a breath once more, Icarus placed his right hand on the wooden paneling and breathed out. The magic that had protected Mistral Hall and its inhabitants since the dawn of its creation wrapped around his hand and nudged at him like a timid dog, unsure if they were meeting friends or foes. However, Mistral Hall knew Icarus, and Icarus knew it. The magic tensed before relaxing around him giving way to creaking and the heat of fires keeping its halls warm.
The smell of bergamot and spice filled him as he stepped through and into the main room which held a fireplace the size of two men and the length of three desks. If it weren’t for magic, it would take a remarkable amount of wood to keep it burning. Couches and chairs were arrayed chaotically in its wake occupied by young men with open books and filled notebooks. The chatter that had been present prior to his entrance dimmed until only the crackling of the fire remained.
One boy with sandy blond hair was brave enough to approach, though one of his friends attempted to pull him back. Icarus could only imagine what sort of sight he and Eiridis were to warrant such caution from the room, but then again the entrance of an unfamiliar wizard in the evening was unheard of let alone in the middle of a storm.
“Can I help you, sir?” the boy said with a voice steady with determination.
