I eyed him, wondering what kind of warrior he was. Not a Roman or a Viking, since he didn’t seem to be either exceptionally quick or strong, but he gave off an air of quiet, controlled power. Probably a Samurai, given his perfectly straight posture and the way he was holding that clipboard like it was a sword that he was about to brandish at us.
Takeda stabbed his clipboard toward the far end of the gym, where a series of orange cones had been set up in elaborate patterns. “We’re going to start with some agility drills.”
“Agility drills?” I muttered to myself, since no one else would talk to me. “Really? What’s the point of that?”
I hadn’t spoken all that loudly, but of course Takeda heard me. He looked at me, his face perfectly calm and devoid of any emotion.
“Do you have a problem with agility drills, Miss…” He ran his finger down the sheet on his clipboard. “Forseti?”
I sighed, knowing what was coming next. “No, sir.”
Takeda gave me a thin smile. “Good. Then you can run laps around the gym while the rest of us get started. Ten laps should be enough to stretch out your legs. Perhaps then you’ll look a little more fondly on my agility drills.”
Of course, all the other kids thought my punishment was absolutely hysterical, and they all started snickering. At least, until Takeda turned his gaze to them. He didn’t do or say anything, just kept staring at them with that same calm expression he’d given me, but it was plenty intimidating. One by one, all the other kids shut up, lest they be forced to run laps with me.
Takeda made a shooing motion with his hand. “If you would be so kind as to start running, Miss Forseti.”
I sighed again, but I had no choice but to shuffle forward and do as he commanded. Takeda was right. By the time I got done running all those laps, I wished I had kept my mouth shut and gone along with his stupid agility drills. They would have been far less tiring.
Gym was my last class of the day, but I was so sweaty from running laps that I ducked into the locker room and took a shower before changing back into my regular clothes. I texted Aunt Rachel and told her I was heading over to the library to grab a snack and get started on my homework. She texted me back, saying she was still working in the dining hall, prepping for tomorrow’s meals, and she’d see me at home later tonight.
I left the gym and walked across the quad to the Library of Antiquities, which soared five stories into the air, making it the tallest building on campus. The center section of the library was a large square tower, with three attached wings sticking out from it like the spokes on a wheel. Two stone gryphons perched on boulders on the sides of the main steps, and I stopped and nodded at each one of them.
I wanted to be polite, since I had seen what statues like these could do at the North Carolina academy, but looking at the gryphons also delayed my going inside the building for another moment. Thanks to my parents, the Library of Antiquities was something else I had a love-hate relationship with at the academy. So I focused on the gryphons and tried to ignore the hurt and loss stabbing through my heart and the sick dread churning in my stomach. The same emotions assaulted me every time I went into the library.
Just like the Fenrir wolf earlier, these two statues winked back at me, almost as if they could sense my turbulent feelings and were trying to comfort me. I nodded at them both again, then let out a long, tense breath and headed into the library.
I walked down a hallway and stepped through a set of open double doors into the main space. A wide aisle ran from the doors all the way over to a long checkout counter in the center of the library. Wooden study tables were clustered in the open spaces in front of and behind the counter, while a large silver coffee cart was parked off to the side. Shadow-filled stacks spread throughout the rest of the first floor, each tall shelf housing hundreds of books. Glass display cases also gleamed here and there among the aisles in the stacks.
The library had been chiseled out of the same lovely dark stone as all the other campus buildings, although in here, you could see the thick exposed logs that made up many of the walls and supports for the upper floors. Colorful rugs decorated with a variety of Native American symbols and gods, including Coyote Trickster, covered the floor, looking like runes that had been carved into the stone. Overhead, the ceilings of the three outer wings all flowed into the square ceiling of the center tower.
Gwen always claimed that frescoes were painted on the library ceilings, showing people, weapons, artifacts, and battles. But to me, the ceilings—especially the tower ceiling—looked like they were made of bright bits of stained glass that had been stitched together with silver thread. Sapphire-blue, emerald-green, ruby-red, opal-white, amethyst-purple. All the different jewel-toned colors and delicate shapes reminded me of the wildflowers at the Eir Ruins.
Before my parents died, I had loved to sneak off into the stacks, find a quiet spot, and lie down on the floor, using my messenger bag as a pillow so I could study the ceiling to my heart’s content. Sometimes, if I had stared at them long enough, the stained-glass shapes seemed to move, like a phantom breeze was blowing over the wildflowers and making their petals slowly sway back and forth. Watching the flowers had soothed and given me a sense of peace. I still thought the ceiling was beautiful, but my enjoyment of it had greatly diminished, given all the other dark, ugly things that had happened in here.
Besides the ceiling, the library’s other most impressive feature was the enormous stone fireplace that was close to the checkout counter. It was more than thirty feet wide and made of the same blackish boulders as the rest of the structure. Given that it was September, no flames crackled behind the tall iron grates, but it was still the busiest part of the library. Overstuffed chairs and couches flanked the freestanding fireplace, front and back, and every single seat was taken. Now that classes were over with, students had flocked here to catch up on all the juicy gossip, as if they hadn’t already been texting about it all day long.
I stood in the doorway, studying everything. I had always loved books and artifacts and history, and the Library of Antiquities was full of those things. The library used to be my favorite place on campus, and I had spent hours wandering the aisles, finding books to read, and examining the artifacts on display. There was always something new and wonderful to discover.
But now I was torn, just like I was about so many other things at the academy. On one hand, I still loved the library. The quiet stacks, the interesting artifacts, even the faint musty scent of paper that filled the air. But on the other hand, I hated the library for one simple reason.
My parents had been murdered here.