Page 90 of The Black Witch

I feel myself becoming instantly caught up in his grand sweep of Gardnerian history. And liking this professor of mine a great deal.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

The Lupines

Vastly heartened, I catch up with Aislinn in the White Hall after History.

“Fallon’s in my Metallurgie class. And Yvan Guriel’s in Math,” I breathlessly say to her then relate all that’s happened, desperately relieved to be back with my newfound friend. Scholars pass every which way around us on the way to their next classes, sunlight streaming from the dome overhead.

I tell her about Fallon’s ice.

Aislinn knits her brow in concern, hugging her books tight, a heavy bag slung over her shoulder. It seems like my archivist friend is always lugging around a small library, enough books to weigh down a sturdy mule.

“You need to stay away from Lukas Grey,” she cautions once again.

“Well, that’s rather difficult,” I counter, “seeing as how Aunt Vyvian has made it her life goal to see us fasted.”

Aislinn shakes her head. “Elloren, Fallon’s really not to be trifled with.”

“She froze my ink,” I blurt with outrage. As if that’s reason alone to defy her to the wall.

“That’s not all she’ll freeze if you don’t stay away from Lukas,” Aislinn warns with deep concern.

I blink at her. How do I explain to this friend of mine who abhors kissing what it’s like to kiss Lukas Grey? And that’s not the point, really. Why does Fallon get to bully everyone in sight?

“I’m from just as powerful a family as she is,” I grouse. “More powerful.”

“Not anymore,” Aislinn reasons, sighing as if I’m a child who just won’t listen and keeps putting her hand in the stove fire. “And she might be the next...”

“Black Witch, yes, I know.” I cut her off petulantly, frustrated by my damnable lack of magic. I take a deep breath and look back at Aislinn. “My Metallurgie teacher’s a Snake Elf.”

Aislinn’s eyebrows go up. “How can that possibly be?”

I shake my head. “I don’t know, but I’ll be studying with him directly.” The Snake Elf’s bizarre appearance reverberates in my mind. “He’s covered in green scales. They look like jewels.”

“I’d transfer immediately,” Aislinn states emphatically. “The Alfsigr Elves keep the Snake Elves locked underground for good reason.” She gives me a significant look.

“Well, I can’t transfer,” I grumble. “There’s no room in my schedule to move. So I’m stuck with a potentially demonic Snake Elf as a professor, and Fallon Bane torturing me through every class.”

Aislinn gives me an appropriately pitying look, which makes me feel a tad better.

“How’s History?” she finally asks.

“Fantastic,” I tell her, fishing a small, napkin-wrapped bundle out of my pocket. “There’s an overabundance of cookies. It’s the one bright spot in my life right now. That, and new friends.” I smile gratefully and hand her an oatmeal cookie.

Aislinn laughs and gives me a sweet smile before taking a dainty bite out of the cookie. “C’mon,” she says, hoisting her bag, “we’ll be late for class.”

* * *

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.

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