Lachlan Grey and the other Gardnerian soldiers look heavily disappointed. The sorceresses and Elfhollen seem to be breathing sighs of relief. Only Commander Vin appears momentarily unnerved as she stares, eyes riveted on the painful wand arm I’m flexing to quell the discomfort.
“Well,” Commander Vin begins, her momentarily rattled expression gone, her face once again impassive as she addresses Lukas’s father. “It would appear, Lachlan, that Mage Gardner is definitively not the next Black Witch.”
“I did try to tell you,” I murmur, the pain in my arm having morphed into a throbbing ache. But that monstrous energy. What was that?
“Elloren Gardner,” Lukas’s father formally announces, “you are hereby placed at Gardnerian Wand Level One.”
The lowest level possible—no magic whatsoever.
I stare at him as certainty rises within me like black water.
I might not be able to access power, but it’s there. Some echo of the Black Witch. Deep inside me. Coursing through my veins.
Possibly waiting for release.
CHAPTER THREE
Orientation
When Echo Flood enters the room, the soldiers look relieved to be handing me off to her.
My head spins with confusion. “Echo, why are you here? Why didn’t my brothers come for me? And Gareth?”
“Lukas sent for me,” she explains, her large eyes solemn with concern.
“My brothers,” I ask, feeling lost. “Where are they?”
“They were delayed,” Echo explains. “They were caught in the storm, and Gareth’s horse panicked at the thunder. The horse threw him and he broke his leg. They had to double back to Valgard to find a healer.”
“Oh, no.” I struggle to fight back tears. I need to see my family. I don’t want to be alone here.
“Come,” Echo says softly as she places her hand on my arm. “The High Chancellor is addressing all of the scholars. We need to take our places with them.”
*
I stay close to Echo’s side as we step into the White Hall.
It’s the largest interior I’ve ever seen, the vast sea of scholars momentarily overwhelming me, the smell of wet wool and lamp oil thick on the dank air.
We’re in an open, curved walkway that rings the entire hall, the Spine-stone floor beneath us mottled with damp, overlapping bootprints.
The domed roof stretches high overhead, a bat wheeling back and forth across the vast space, paintings of constellations on a night sky set high into the sectional dome, a ring of huge, arching windows just beneath. Colorful Guild banners hang below every window, a cacophony of primary colors, silver and gold, some of the banners marked with foreign words in exotic, curling alphabets.
My eyes light on the Apothecary Guild banner. The Gardnerian Guild banners are easy to pick out with their black backgrounds.
Like spokes on some great wheel, long aisles connect the external curving walkway to a central raised dais, where an elderly, white-bearded man stands before a podium. His dark green robe is distinguished by golden trim, his thin voice echoing off the stonework as he directs two latecomer Kelts toward empty seats up front.
Echo leans in, her eyes set on the elderly man. “High Chancellor Abenthy.”
Rows of green-robed professors flank the High Chancellor, their robes uniform, but their faces reflecting a multitude of races.
“Come,” Echo prompts gently, motioning ahead. “I have seats for us.”
I nod, my eyes furtively casting around. The storm-dimmed twilight seems to be seeping through the very walls, aisle lamps on long stands fighting against the shadows with small dandelion puffs of light.
The scholars are heavily segregated into ethnic groups, the darkly clad Gardnerians standing out in sharp relief against the grouping of Elves, the Elves’ blindingly ivory cloaks illuminating their section of the hall.
We start down a side aisle cutting through Gardnerian scholars to the left, Kelts to the right. Kicking up like dust, a small buzz of conversation follows me, my grandmother’s name whispered over and over, awed looks from the Gardnerian side, dark glowering from the Kelts. I stiffen, self-consciously aware of the unwanted attention.
As I follow Echo by the Gardnerian sea of black, my eye is drawn to a subsection of slate gray–uniformed Gardnerians.
Military apprentices.
And within their grouping is a lone, uniformed female, a ring of black-clad Gardnerian soldiers seated around her.
Fallon Bane. And her military guard.
I catch her eye as we pass, and my stomach twists.
She shoots me a dark grin and discreetly reaches for the wand fastened to her belt. She angles it toward me and gives it a small jerk.
I exhale sharply as my foot painfully hits something solid and I trip over it, toppling down to the damp floor.
Small sounds of surprise go up around me.
The floor is cold and gritty and smells like the bottoms of wet boots, and my hands sting from smacking it. For a brief second I lay there as embarrassment washes over me.
A strong hand grabs hold of my arm, effortlessly helping me to my feet.
I look up into the most riveting eyes I’ve ever seen, even more so than the Valgard Selkie’s. They’re bright amber and glow in an inhuman way that seems almost feral.
The eyes belong to a lean, sandy-haired young man wearing simple, earth-toned clothing. His calm, friendly expression stands out in bold contrast to those fierce eyes.
“Are you okay?” he asks kindly.
“Yes. Thank you,” I say, heart racing. My head whips around to see what I tripped over. There’s nothing there. The aisle is clear. I glance over at Fallon, who’s regarding me with a malicious grin, and a spasm of alarm shoots through me.
She did it. She tripped me.
Fallon’s smile curls even farther upward as she sees the growing dread on my face.
I turn back toward the strange young man, gratitude washing over me.
“Unhand her,” Echo orders him, glaring. “I’ll help her the rest of the way.”
There’s a flash of hurt in his eyes before his face goes tight with offense. He releases me at once.
Echo grabs hold of me and decidedly tugs me away.
“He helped me,” I whisper as she firmly guides me along, accusation in my tone. “What’s wrong? Who is he?”
She glances over at me, her eyes sharp. “One of the Lupines.”
Startled, I look back to where the strange young man is now seated in with the Kelts. He gives me a small smile, which eases my alarm and piques my curiosity. Next to him sits a beautiful girl with long blond hair, plain clothing and the same wild, amber eyes. She sits like she’s royalty, her chin held high, and regards me with barely disguised contempt.
The Lupine twins.
I remember the sordid gossip, the shocking stories about nudity and public mating. About how Lupine males go after any women they can get their hands on. I glance back toward the Lupines and wonder if there’s truth in any of it. I’m so curious about them, but I also feel a twinge of guilt to be thinking about such indecent things.
Finally, we reach our place and Echo guides me, to my immense relief, toward a seat between herself and Aislinn Greer.
As I sit down, Aislinn puts her arm around me and hands me a stack of papers.
“What’s this?” I ask, taking them.
“Maps,” she says. “Your lecture schedule. Lodging and labor assignments. When I heard what happened, I went to the Records Master and got these for you.”
“Thank you,” I say, touched. I look to Aislinn and Echo with gratitude.
Echo pats my arm in solidarity, then focuses in with rapt attention as the High Chancellor begins his opening remarks.
I resentfully look back toward where Fallon is sitting. I can’t see her through the thick crowd.
“When I was walking up that aisle,” I whisper to Aislinn, “I think Fallon Bane tripped me...with magic.”
“I can’t say I’m surprised,” she says, eyeing me gravely. “She’s not too happy about...um... Lukas and you.”
Where is Lukas? I grasp the papers in my lap and bite worriedly at my lower lip. What’s he doing? Will he come for me at some point?