Chapter 49
Lyra
OUR SPRING SEMESTER STARTS TOMORROW, and the campus is already thrumming with activity. I have to dodge students and spirit companions as I walk the candlelit corridors, and everywhere I go, I hear laughter and excited voices.
There’s something about a new semester that feels so promising, like a fresh canvas just ready and waiting to be painted.
But before I can paint mine, there’s something I need to do. It’s something I’ve needed to do for far too long.
I make my way out the side entrance into the gardens. The weather deities have blessed us with a beautiful January day, though it’s still so cold that I have to pull my thick cloak tighter around my body to ward off the chill despite the heat from my fire magic.
The grounds are crunchy with snow—I guess the headmistress hasn’t found a replacement for Cairn just yet—as I cross the garden and pass the raised beds still frozen and dormant. When I reach the big greenhouse, with light reflecting off the glass, I pause and take a steadying breath.
I have to do this. It’s the right thing to do.
Inside my cloak pocket, Juniper says, “I’m proud of you.”
I stroke a finger over her warm fur, then take a breath and say, “Well, better get it over with.”
Yanking open the door, I’m immediately bathed in warm air. The greenhouse is pleasant—so pleasant that I even consider taking my cloak off. And stooped over a raised bed two rows over is Professor Fleur.
She’s muttering something to herself as she presses seeds delicately into the soil, giving them an early start to the growing season. She twists her wrist, and a little sprinkle of water falls on each newly planted seed. Her eyes flick up to meet mine as I approach.
And a storm cloud rolls through her gaze.
Yeah, I expected that.
“Miss Wilder.” Professor Fleur straightens up and closes her fingers around the tiny seeds like she’s afraid I might set fire to them, then dance on their ashes while cackling maniacally.
Her pale green hair is twisted into a chignon at the base of her neck, and her green eyes narrow suspiciously at me.
Okay, fair.
“What can I do for you?” she asks, voice about as frigid as the weather outside the greenhouse.
Last semester, Professor Fleur could hardly bring herself to speak to me after I burned down her precious midnight lotus flowers, and I likewise could hardly bring myself to speak to her, though for me it was a matter of shame, and for her it was barely contained rage.
Even now, she looks like she wants to prick me with thorns, which I’m sure she’s more than capable of with her earth magic.
“Nothing,” I say, closing my fingers into fists at my sides, trying to brace myself. “I just want—no, need—to apologize for last semester.”
Professor Fleur’s brows rise, and some of the anger flickers from her eyes. “What?”
“I should have said it months ago.” I hold her gaze.
“I’m sorry for ruining your flowers. I know how much they meant to you.
It was an accident, but that doesn’t excuse what I did, and it especially doesn’t excuse me from giving you a proper apology.
I’m so sorry, Professor. If there’s anything I can do to make up for it, I absolutely will. ”
“No.” She holds up her free hand, the one not clinging to the seeds. “That won’t be necessary.”
I think what she means to say is that she doesn’t want me any closer to the greenhouses than is strictly necessary. And I’m not taking any classes with her this semester, so she’ll finally be free of me.
“But,” she continues, lowering her hand and letting out a slow breath, “I appreciate the apology. I know it was an accident, Miss Wilder, and I hear you’ve been working hard since then to better control your magic. How is it coming along?”
I allow a small smile to pull on my lips.
“It’s . . . still difficult sometimes. But I feel better.
Stronger.” I picture Cairn and his steady patience, imagine roots curling down from the bottoms of my feet and into the earth, helping me to ground myself and my emotions.
“At the very least, I’m learning the skills I need to control my emotions.
And I’ve not burned anything down in . .
.” Tapping my chin, I tip my head dramatically to one side. “Three days?”
Professor Fleur’s eyes widen, and I quickly let out a laugh.
“Kidding. I promise.”
This time, I get her to smile. A little bit. “Well, thank you for coming, Lyra. It means a lot to me.” She shifts her weight, and her gaze flicks toward the raised bed.
I can tell she’s anxious to get back to work.
“I’ll get out of your hair,” I say, taking a step back. “But really, if you ever need anything, you know where to find me.”
“The headmistress’s office?” Professor Fleur asks with an arched eyebrow.
I blink at her, then realize there’s a smirk trying to tug one side of her mouth up.
“I didn’t know you could joke like that, Professor,” I say as I walk backward toward the door. “It suits you.”
She rolls her eyes and gives me a real smile then. “Goodbye, Miss Wilder.”
I step out of the greenhouse and into the cold. As the door closes behind me, Juniper wriggles up to the top of my pocket.
“That went well,” she says.
“Yeah. Better than expected.”
“Since you’re having such good luck, maybe we should stop by the headmistress’s office.”
My gaze cuts down to her. “And why would we want to do that?”
“It’ll show her your initiative. Better than hiding out and waiting for her to call on you.”
Breath steams around my mouth as I blow out a big sigh. “You’ve got a point.” I flick my gaze up to the castle, wishing I could climb the stairs to the north tower and cuddle up in front of the fire for the rest of the day.
But Juniper’s right. And though my feet are reluctant, I force them to carry me into the castle and straight to Headmistress Moonhart’s office.
“COME IN,” THE HEADMISTRESS CALLS.
I have my hand held aloft, knuckles poised and ready, but I’ve not yet knocked.
“Witchcraft,” Juniper whispers from my pocket.
I smirk for a second, then wipe it away before I grab the door handle and enter the office.
Unlike the chilly corridors, the headmistress’s office is warm. It smells like sage and peppermint tea, and apart from the towers of papers sitting on the desk, the room is impeccably clean.
Barron sits on his perch, and he blinks his big yellow eyes as I close the door behind me.
I’ve always found his gaze unsettling. Probably because he’s the headmistress’s eyes and ears around campus.
“Miss Wilder,” Headmistress Moonhart says. She sits back from her desk and removes the spectacles from her nose, letting them dangle from the beaded chain around her neck. “Please, sit. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
I sink into the chair in front of her desk—the very one I sat in last semester when she assigned me community service with Cairn. Everything feels so different now compared to then.
“Well,” I say slowly, trying to get my thoughts in order, “last semester, you let me take a hiatus from my community service. Which I really appreciated, by the way.”
Her lips quirk up on one side, but she says nothing.
“And I suppose I just wanted to get a jump on things. Do you know yet what my community service will be for this semester?”
“Classes haven’t even started yet,” the headmistress says, arching one icy brow at me. “Yet you’re already here, eager to be of service?”
There’s a hint of amusement in her voice, but I stay focused. “Yes.”
“Hmm.” She reaches for her cup of tea and gives it a small sip, then casts her gaze out one of her office windows.
The sun is still shining, and a few rivulets of snowmelt run down the glass panes.
It feels like a lifetime that she spends staring out the window before she turns back to me.
“I’ll admit, I’ve not yet determined who best to continue your community service, with Mr. Axton gone . . .”
I think she’s watching me for a reaction to his name, and I strive not to give one, though my heart squeezes at the reminder of his absence. When I say nothing, she continues.
“So for now, I’d like you to focus on your studies and on controlling that temper. I don’t want to hear any complaints from your professors, or you’ll be right back in that chair. Do I make myself quite clear?”
She’s giving me a break from community service? Maybe even for good? I’m so glad Juniper encouraged me to come up here. I’ll have to take her to a café as a thank-you.
“Quite, Headmistress.” I’m fighting hard not to smile.
“Good. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have”—her pale gaze flicks to the piles of papers on her desk—“a significant amount of paperwork to do, and I’d like to be done here before I die.”
At her unexpected joke, I let out a laugh. The headmistress smiles in return, then takes another sip of tea and shoos me toward the door with a waggle of her jeweled fingers.
She doesn’t have to tell me twice.
I’m across the room and about to open the door when the headmistress says, “And the next time you speak with Cairn, please send my regards. I’d like to know how he’s settling in.”
Slowly, I glance back over my shoulder, and the headmistress is giving me that knowing pointed-eyebrow look again.
“I can do that,” I say softly.
Headmistress Moonhart smiles.
Then I get the hell out of there before she can change her mind.