Chapter 5
Aric
MIST CLINGS TO THE RUNEBALL field, and the grass is damp.
It’s still early in the semester, so summer hasn’t yet given way to fall, but as I jog around the track, breathing in the crisp air, I can smell the first hints of autumn: wet earth, the shift in the sky, the change in the leaves.
Autumn is out there, crouching in the Mistwood, still tucked into the soil, just waiting for its time to emerge.
I’m only half orc—on my mother’s side—so my sense of smell isn’t as strong as it could be, but it’s still much better than a human’s.
So, when I finish my fourth lap around the track and catch the scent of peppermint in the air, I know someone else is close by.
It’s still early, so not many students and professors are up and about yet.
Mornings are my favorite time to be alone.
It’s when my mind is clear, when all the pressures of my life haven’t yet crept up to perch on my shoulders and whisper in my ears.
I don’t have to worry about passing my classes or being a good runeball captain or deciding what I want to do with my life after I graduate from Coven Crest. For these few quiet moments, I can just be.
I pause, using the break to catch my breath, and peer through the gray fog. And sure enough, someone else is out here—a small someone, from the looks of it. And they’re headed right toward me.
Stretching one arm across my chest, I watch as the small someone turns from a shadow in the fog into a witch with shoulder-length lavender hair and big round glasses.
Poppy, I recall. The witch from my cooking class and one of Maeve’s three roommates.
I glance left and right, but there’s nothing to see but the slowly dispersing fog and the early-morning sunlight glinting off the stained glass windows of the castle’s towers.
Poppy stops a distance away from me—an odd distance, like I’ve been sneezing and she’s afraid to catch a cold.
She’s wrapped in her academy-issued robe, trimmed in third-year green, and has a knit scarf around her neck.
I don’t think it’s cold enough for winterwear just yet, but I run warm, and Poppy is so just . . . tiny.
“H-hello,” she says, glancing away from me.
“Hey.” I switch to stretching my other arm.
I tweaked my shoulder during the runeball game last weekend, and it’s still sore and tight.
If I were any good at healing magic, maybe I could ease the strained muscles.
Instead, I’m floundering to keep my grades above failing.
And hopefully Poppy is here to tell me some good news. “Are you out here looking for me?”
Poppy’s light brown cheeks turn pink.
Adorably pink.
“Um, yes. Maeve told me you’d probably be out here.
I’m on my way to Professor Silvermoon’s classroom.
I’m her student assistant, and we’re doing a tasseography unit, and—” She cuts off suddenly, and I think I see her hand shaking as she reaches up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.
“And I just wanted to say that I’ll do it. ”
My chest warms. Why is this witch so cute? And why haven’t I noticed her before?
“You’ll do what?” I ask, dropping my arm and reaching for one foot to stretch my quad.
“I’ll tutor you,” she says, glancing away again.
A tingle of surprise goes through me.
“Seriously?” I drop my foot and take a step toward her, the grass soft beneath the sole of my shoe. “You’re really gonna help me?”
“As long as you’ll still help me with the ball,” she says softly.
Planning the ball. Right. Forgot I said I’d do that. But if it means I get someone to tutor me and help save me from getting kicked off the team, of course I’ll do it. Besides, I’ve always enjoyed a good party.
“Absolutely.” I take another step, closing the space between us.
Poppy tips her head back to look up at me, and she looks kind of like a frightened woodland animal.
She looks like she needs a hug. But I’m pretty sure she doesn’t want one from me.
I think I’m the one that’s frightening her right now.
“You save me from getting kicked off the team, and I’ll help you plan this ball. ” I hold out a hand. “Deal?”
Poppy looks down at my hand. She stares at it for so long that I’m starting to feel a little awkward, and that rarely happens to me. But finally, she pulls her hand from the pocket of her robe and places it in mine. It’s small and soft, and I’m careful not to take her whole arm off when I shake it.
“Deal,” she says, then quickly slips her hand out of mine and back into her pocket.
“Great. When do we start?”
Using a knuckle to push her glasses up the bridge of her nose, she says, “I have a free block on Tuesday and Thursday afternoons. Would that work?”
“I’ve got runeball practice on Thursday afternoons. What about Saturday mornings?”
Poppy tips her head, and the sunlight catches on the thin silver hoops hanging from her ears.
“Tuesday afternoons and Saturday mornings? I can do that.” Then she smiles at me, and I wonder again why I’ve not paid more attention to her in our cooking class.
She’s so quiet, never calling attention to herself.
But I’ll definitely notice her now. I’m sure of it.
“Great. Where should I meet you on Tuesday?”
“Um . . . how about the astronomy tower? I like studying there. It’s . . . peaceful. And pretty quiet in the afternoons.”
Dread washes over me.
Of all the places on campus, she had to pick the astronomy tower. I’ve been up there once, and I immediately dropped that class and never went up there again.
But she’s staring up at me, her cheeks round and pink, and for some reason, I find myself saying, “Sure. It’s a date.”
Now her cheeks are red. Bright red.
“Okay, um, well . . .” She pushes her glasses up again. Why are they so loose? “I’ll, uh, see you then.”
Before I can say anything else, she turns and leaves—well, more like flees—sending a whoosh of peppermint dancing in the air behind her.
I watch her until she disappears in the mist curling between two outbuildings, then resume my stretching.
But for some reason, the little lavender-haired witch is the only thing on my mind.