Page 18 of Every Shade of Shadow

She eyes me with suspicion, as if she’s not sure precisely what I’m doing here. I feel naked under her gaze. Maybe I am.

There’s a spell for that.

“Annabelle Fairchild?” Her voice is crisp and proper.

I nod, my head feeling like it wants to roll right off my shoulders.

The smile that follows is more of a crease. “I am Headmistress Isadora Lumina. Welcome to the Academy.”

The Headmistress? Talk about a welcome. Hell, I wasn’t sure I’d show up here at all.

I dip—who knows why. “Headmistress. It’s an honor?”

I don’t know where that inflection comes from, but the look of displeasure on her face is fleeting.

A flicker of a smile softens her angular features. “The honor is mine.”

I look back to the plane, the stairs already being pulled up. “Do all students get this kind of treatment?”

The Headmistress’s lips purse together. “It’s expected. Teleportation is so…primitive,” she finishes, “not to mention the nausea, the energy tax required. For yourself, those not of…means,” she smiles, and this time it’s wider. “I imagine it’s something of a novelty.”

I should kick her ass, but I smile back. “Yes.”

“I have high hopes for what you will achieve here, Ms. Fairchild. Professor Darkwood tells me you have a lot of promise. He paid your tuition personally, in fact.”

Professor Darkwood?

The Wolf?

He’s a goddamn professor?

“Oh?” It’s all I can offer.

“The Professor does enjoy his little excursions into the inanis.”

More Latin—‘the void,’ I believe, because these magical types, they love their superiority complex over the wider world. The whole holier-than-thou thing is why Gran decided to leave it all behind, to give it up. Magic bad. Plants good. Yadda yadda.

Technically, while you can use magic behind closed doors back in ‘The World,’ you can bet your ass is getting a serious whooping if you practice in public. People do, and it gets swept away or spun by the Powers That Be, and everyone is happy.

But here, wherever this may be, it’s magical open season.

It’s in the air. I can taste it.

I hold my tongue, inclining my head in thanks.

“Come.” The Headmistress turns on her heel, emerald robes billowing behind her. “Your classes begin today. We have much to discuss, and little time to do so.”

I hurry after her, casting one last glance at the jet’s engines winding up again.

We’re funneled into another black SUV, a short—and very silent—drive to the front of the castle while I do my best not to projectile vomit over the interior, I’m so damn nervous.

You’re here, I remind myself. You’re not fish food.

In truth, I’m still in disbelief. The Wolf failed to mention who he was. But he selected me. I was handpicked. By him. Surely that’s got to bear some kind of weight. As to the why, I imagine we’ll get to that.

Inside, the headmistress leads us through a maze of stone corridors, our footsteps echoing off vaulted ceilings. Everything about Lumina Academy is imposing, from its spired towers to the gargoyles leering in from the shadows.

My nerves fade with each step as curiosity takes over. There’s history in New York, true, but nothing like this—nothing truly ancient.

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