Page 189 of The Black Witch

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Every class I have today is transformed by Vogel’s sudden rise. I can’t escape it. Professor Volya can barely get the Gardnerians to settle down enough so she can lecture. Priest Simitri abandons lecture altogether and orders in food and punch.

There’s a deliriously festive mood in Metallurgie, and a young Elf standing at Professor Hawkyyn’s desk, riffling through his notes—as if getting ready to lecture. He’s a white-haired, white-skinned Alfsigr Elfkin, and I glance around, confused, looking for Professor Hawkkyn.

Knots of excited Gardnerians talk animatedly, white bands marking all of their left arms.

The white bands are sprouting like malevolent weeds, along with the Gardnerian flags. Even Curran Dell has taken to wearing one, which I note with deep regret.

“Where’s Professor Hawkkyn?” I ask Curran, who’s talking animatedly with another military apprentice. Curran smiles at me in greeting and opens his mouth to respond, but he’s quickly cut off.

“Hopefully the Snake Elf is back belowground,” Fallon’s voice sounds out from across the room. “Which is where the beast belongs.”

Everyone grows quiet and watches as she crosses the room, her eyes tight on me. “He’s probably run off,” Fallon amends with a wild smile. “He knows what’s coming.” She thrusts her bottom lip out at me in cloying mock sympathy. “Awww. Are yousad,Elloren Gardner? Looking to fast to the Snake Elf?”

Shocked laughter sounds out and echoes behind me. I set my teeth on edge, Curran’s apologetic look doing nothing to dampen my fierce response.

Anger whips up inside me so strong, I clench my fists and glare at Fallon with pure, undisguised venom.

Fallon’s eyes widen with delight. She turns her whole self toward me, one hand coming slowly to her hip, her grin broadening as she revels in both my rage and the whole world working in her favor. She stares me down with mounting glee, and I fear I will abandon all caution, break down and strike her cruel, self-satisfied face.

Is it worth it, Elloren?I warn myself.Getting kicked out of University for striking another Mage? Who will promptly cut you down with her Black Witch magic?

Instead, I turn on my heels and leave the room, Fallon’s cruel laughter sounding out behind me.

* * *

When I enter the kitchens, Fernyllia’s face is haggard with dark worry, and she gives a start at the sight of me.

Olilly is crying, her heaving back to me. Yvan, Bleddyn, Fernyllia and Iris are grouped around her, consoling her in low tones.

They look like they’ve all sustained a powerful blow.

Head down, I cross the room and set right to work peeling potatoes, stiff and self-conscious, sharply aware of their eyes on me as the room quiets.

I know how I appear to them in my black silks and white armband, the threat of me heightened. My very presence has always been a symbol of Gardnerian might. But now, dressed like this, I’m an extension of Vogel—the monster about to come after them all.

I look up and feel the full, ice-water shock of their hate.

Yvan takes in the brutal glares they’re all leveling in my direction, then turns to me, stricken, his expression pained but open. Wide-open.

And suddenly I’m wide-open to him as well, letting him see all of it—my fear and mounting desperation. My terrible isolation; my appearance reflecting nothing of my true heart.

We hold each other’s gaze for a long moment as the room around us fades. The kitchen workers, the iciness of their stares, the crackling fires of the ovens, all of it dissolves like fog. There’s only him.

Only us.

Olilly whimpers, distracting us both, rupturing our safe, protected bubble, the world rushing back in.

Iris is still glaring at me, her eyes flitting suspiciously to Yvan, then me and back to Yvan again as he pulls his eyes away from me and resumes comforting Olilly, his hand on the young woman’s shaking arm.

Iris whispers something in Yvan’s ear and gestures sharply in my direction. Yvan fleetingly meets my eyes, his face tensed with conflict.

Fernyllia speaks softly to Olilly in encouraging tones, and Yvan joins in.

“They won’t send you back,” I hear him say, his low voice resonating deep in me. “We’ll help you get out. Your sister, too.”

And then they all leave together, Iris being the last to exit. She shoots me a jarring look of hate, then steps out of the kitchen and pulls the back door shut with a slam.

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