“It’s okay,” I told her, reaching out with my gloved hand to calm her. “People are curious—if my curse is real, what it looks like when I’m touched.”
She shook herself in revulsion, sending her wild red curls shaking. “It’snotokay. If someone touches you on purpose like that, you tell me. I’m serious.” She pointed a finger accusingly at me, and I nodded.
Then she stepped closer and lowered her voice. “What I meant was…well… Your mom—er, the woman who birthed you, went here and she did somescarystuff. People know that, and they know you descend from her magic, even if she didn’t raise you. So… I dunno, just… I hope you have a great day, but be careful.” She winced and I laughed.
“I hope you have a great day too. Thanks for everything. Seriously.”
Without her and her mother, I’d have an empty belly and be wearing yesterday’s clothes. I couldn’t help being born with dark magic or whatever coursed through my veins. I could only be in control of what I did with it. And I had no intention of going dark.
She turned back around and I followed her inside the black brick building. Every single head in the courtyard turned to look at me and I took in a deep breath.
Here we go.
SEVEN
I was told to report to Master Clarke’s office for my schedule, so Eden dropped me off there before heading to pyro classes or wherever she went. I’d learned that The Academy was a four-year school and the year had just started three months ago, so I was behind already.
I was a first year, same as Eden, and I hoped we’d have some classes together.
Okay, more than hoped. I was praying to the Light with everything I had in me that we had at leastoneclass together.
I knocked on the large double doors and a second later they opened. I peered around, not seeing a single person, and stepped into the wide-open office space. It was very tidy with only a small wooden desk, a chair, and a few sparse bookshelves.
“Uh, Master Clarke?” I called out.
The guy looked pretty young to be a master teacher, but for all I knew he was carrying some powerful magic.
It was completely empty inside and chills rose on my arms as I tried to work out who had opened the door. One of the bookshelves to my right suddenly moved and I screamed, flailing backward as it rotated on a set of hinges and opened like a door.
“Down here, Fallon!” Master Clarke’s voice called from the darkness behind the bookcase. I clutched my chest, making sure my heart was still inside of it, and walked closer to see that there was a staircase behind the shelf that led to a lower level.
Great. This was the part where I got killed and they never found the body.
“Uh, you want me to come down?” I confirmed, yelling into the darkness.
“Yes! I’m tied up at the moment,” he answered with a grunt.
Okay.
I took the steps cautiously, remembering the conversation with Master Clarke that I had overheard from inside the jail cell. He seemed to be on my side, but also his allegiance was to the queen, who definitely wanted me dead or imprisoned for life, which was something I would never tell my father.
The lower I went, the more the light splashed outward and illuminated my path. By the time I got to the bottom-most step, I was inside of a large room, big enough to be a wedding hall or tavern. There were books, and crystals, and desks all along the wall in a haphazard arrangement. There were several small windows higher up on the wall, at ground level, that let in a decent amount of light. It was clear that this was Master Clarke’s true office. In the center of the room, hanging from a bunch of ropes, was the master himself. His arms and legs were tied, and he dangled from the ceiling like a spider.
A young female student was positioned below him with her arms out, and the ropes seemed to come alive, moving like snakes. I gasped as the ropes unwrapped around Master Clarke’s body and began to release him.
“There we go! Now you’ve got it,” he told his student. There was a young male student watching the female and taking notes off to the side.
I could only see the back of the female, but her long blonde hair was tied up into a high, silky ponytail. When she’d finally untangled the Master, he smoothed his clothes and gave her a high five.
She spun, grinning ear-to-ear. When she saw me, the smile fell from her face.
It was the mean girl from the night I’d come to look for a healer for my father. She’d called me a Westie; a derogatory word for a West Side resident, I assumed.
“Are they letting any old student in nowadays, Master?” she asked, twitching her fingers and summoning her backpack seemingly at will. The bag sailed through the air and into her hands. I wanted to gasp or tell her how cool it was, but I kept my face stony. She was bad news, and I wouldn’t be fluffing up her ego.
“They do when said student has as much power as Fallon carries, my dear,” Master Clarke said, and her face went slack. “Now run along. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
The girl swallowed hard and the male student stood, grabbed his bag, and followed her. When their footsteps had fully retreated, I let out a breath.
