*
I follow Aislinn back toward the Scientifica Wing, keeping a close eye out for Fallon as we go down through a series of lamp-lit underground tunnels, up a staircase and through a long, arching hallway toward the Chemistrie Guildhall.
Outside our laboratory classroom, groupings of scholars linger—mostly Gardnerians, with a smattering of Kelts and Verpacians, but no Fallon Bane anywhere.
I breathe a deep sigh of relief.
Some scholars sit on stone hallway benches, some stand in tight clusters. All of them appear agitated, their hushed conversations full of distress. They look to me with some surprise, but my presence is clearly overshadowed by some dark happening.
A conservatively dressed Gardnerian girl passes by, clearly upset.
“What’s happened, Sarill?” Aislinn asks, confused. “Where are you going?”
The girl pauses, her eyes lighting briefly with recognition at the sight of me. She attempts a wavering smile, then turns back to Aislinn. “The male Lupine,” she says with a flustered wave toward the laboratory entrance. “He’s in there.”
Aislinn blanches. “He can’t be.”
“Oh, he’s in there, all right,” she insists darkly. “And I’m leaving. You should too, Aislinn.” She looks to me. “Both of you should.”
The girl rushes away, and she isn’t alone. Groups of Gardnerians and a few Kelts, most of them female, began to peel off and make their escape from the science hall.
I peer through the laboratory’s open door.
They’re both there. The blond Lupine twins. Talking to Professor Astrid Volya, the tall, tattooed Amaz professor with the pointed ears. Actually, the female Lupine is doing all the talking, her hand haughtily placed on one hip. The young Lupine male stands by, watching the two of them with his wild eyes.
I turn back toward Aislinn. She looks like she’s about to cry.
“Aislinn?”
“This can’t be happening.” She stares at the Lupines, her eyes glassing over. “It just can’t be happening. I have to take this class. I can’t finish my archivist studies without it.” She turns to me, her voice gone small and dazed. “I can’t take a class with a Lupine male, Elloren. Father’d never allow it. He’ll make me leave University.” Her eyes dart around as if searching for a way out. “I can’t leave before year’s end. They’ll make me fast to Randall. I have to finish my studies before I fast to Randall. If I don’t...he’ll never let me come back.” Her lip starts to tremble as she tries to swallow back the tears.
I place a hand on her arm, concerned for her. “Oh, Aislinn...”
Her hand shaky, she fishes a handkerchief from her pocket and dabs at her eyes. “I’m the only female in my family to have ever attended University, Elloren.”
“I don’t understand why you need Chemistrie to become an archivist,” I say, defensive on her behalf. Archivist studies is all literature. Books and more books.
Aislinn sniffs back her tears. “Book preservation. Chemistrie’s required. It’s useful for us...” She trails off, gazing sadly at the classroom. “Well, at least...it would have been.” She turns back to me, her expression full of open longing. “I love books, Elloren. I love them. Sometimes I wish...” Her voice trails off, and her face darkens as if she’s admitting to something scandalous. “I wish I didn’t have to get fasted.”
I’m shocked by her admission. But then I grow sad for her, and this serious dilemma she’s in.
“What would you do,” I ask her gently, “if you didn’t have to?”
A spark flares in her eyes. “I’d work in the University archives. I’d curate the old books collection. Oh, Elloren,” she says, a hungry passion in her voice, “the Alfsigr archives are having an exhibit of the Rilynnitryn botany series. It’s the most amazing work on botany on all of Erthia. The Elves have this painting technique...it allows them to capture light in a three-dimensional way. You have to see it.” Aislinn makes a gesture with her hand, like a flower blooming. “It’s like you can pick the flowers off the page. They’re that real. They just...leap off the page.” She stops herself. “Oh, Ancient One,” she says, chastened, “don’t tell anyone you heard me talking like this.”
“Why?” I question, confused.
She stares at me as if it should be obvious. “Because Elves are heathens, of course. It sounds as if I’m...glorifying their culture.” She gives me a wan smile. “At least, that’s what Father would say.”
I’m thrown by the strict rules her family holds her to. Uncle Edwin has never been so narrow-minded with my brothers and me.
“Aislinn, I’m sure we’ll be fine if we go in. Professor Volya looks scarier than they do. And the male Lupine, when Fallon set her magic on me...he was so kind.”
“You shouldn’t let your guard down because of that,” Aislinn counters, unmoved. “They’re viciously strong. The male alone could take down the entire class. Easily.”
She’s right. Lupines are supposed to be incredibly strong. And immune to wand magic.
Aislinn peers over at the Lupines through narrowed eyes. “Did you know that Echo and Fallon are being forced to lodge with the female?”
“You’re kidding.”
Aislinn shakes her head. “Paige, too. Echo told me about her. She said...” Aislinn pauses. She looks toward the Lupines uncomfortably, her cheeks flushing.
“What? What did she say?”
Aislinn leans in, her brow tight. “She told me,” she says, her voice low, “that the female walks around...naked.”
My mouth falls open. “Completely?”
She nods. “They’re wild, Elloren. Like animals. And the males are immoral and dangerous. I don’t know what to do.”
I take a deep breath, considering this. “Well, I don’t have a choice. There’s no room in my schedule to take a different section. Not with my kitchen labor. I have to take this class, Lupines or not.” I glance over at the laboratory entrance, sure that the Lupines can’t be anywhere near as bad as my Icaral lodging mates.
The remaining scholars are filtering in. I turn back to Aislinn. “I think we should just sneak in and take a seat near the back. I doubt the Lupines will even notice us.”
Aislinn casts a sidelong glance toward the twins, deliberating.
“My father’s away for a few months,” she says, staring over at the wolf-shifters as if calculating the risks. “By the time he gets back, the class will be over.” She turns back toward me with shaky resolve and wipes the tears from her eyes. “All right, Elloren. Let’s go in.”
*
We creep in as unobtrusively as we can, sliding past Professor Volya and the Lupines, making our way toward the back of the room. We’re soon approached by a young Elfhollen apprentice, the Chemistrie Guild crest hanging from his neck.
“Names?” he asks with cold formality, his pen poised over a class list. We quietly tell him who we are. He checks us off and moves on, blessedly ignoring my pedigree.
There are a series of distillations on the long tables behind us, the sound of their steady bubbling soothing to the ear, and I find myself instantly fascinated by the equipment. The end product, an oily yellow liquid, is giving off a sour smell that’s mildly sulfurous. A set of arching windows on the opposite wall are partially blocked by rows of shelves. They’re stocked with vials and bottles filled with substances in every state. Lab tables are set about the room, covered with a kaleidoscope of glassware and burners, the metallic tang of Bornial flint on the chemical-laden air.
By now, most of the scholars are silently standing along the walls, their eyes fixed on the exotic Lupines. The Elfhollen lab assistant walks around the room, quietly directing people to their seats, two to a table.