Chapter 16
Poppy
PROFESSOR SILVERMOON PERCHES ON HER desk, long silver hair hanging around her face and down to her elbows. She tips her head at me as I tap my quill against my open notebook while I sit at one of the first-row desks in her classroom.
“Self-reflection,” she says thoughtfully. “It’s a somewhat simple theme, but for a ball, I think it’ll work. What are your ideas for expressing that theme?”
I flip the page in my notebook and turn it on the desk so she can see. “I was thinking we could use mirrors and water—reflective surfaces. And they’ll fit a blue-and-silver color scheme as well.”
Professor Silvermoon regards the sketches and notes in my notebook, and her pale pink lips turn up into a small smile. “I like that. And we could have quiet areas for reflection as well, to provide an opportunity to step away and be alone with your own thoughts.”
Or with someone else.
The thought feels unlike me, but recently, I’ve not been feeling entirely myself—and the reason is big and green and has an achingly charming smile.
Professor Silvermoon is younger than many of the other professors, but I think she sometimes forgets what it’s like to be a student here. I almost tell her that I think quiet areas will likely be used for something other than self-reflection, but then I’m reminded of one of my dreams last night.
I was standing in water again, my feet bare, a lightweight summer dress tickling my calves.
As I moved through a hedge maze—the Whim, I believe—I got the feeling that someone was following me, pursuing me through the twists and turns of the maze.
And though my heart beat fast at the thought, I wasn’t scared.
After getting turned around in the maze, I found myself at a dead end with a big tree towering over me.
With nowhere to go, all I could do was wait for my pursuer to catch up.
And he did, though I never saw his face.
I felt him behind me, hands on my waist, breath on my neck as he traced his lips along the column of my throat.
When I woke, I was frazzled, heart beating fast, skin warm to the point of being clammy. And all I could think about was Aric.
Maybe I wouldn’t mind being able to slip away into a quiet space with him at the ball—if he goes, of course.
So I just smile at Professor Silvermoon and nod. “I think that’d be a great idea. I’m not sure where we’re going to get mirrors and water features though.”
Professor Silvermoon lifts her teacup and takes a delicate sip, then hums thoughtfully. “I’ll think on that. But first, we need to decide where we’re hosting the ball. I assume here at the academy, unless you have a better idea?”
“Actually, I asked my roommate, Alina Ravenscroft, if we might be able to use the castle, and—”
Professor Silvermoon lets out a small excited gasp, her dark blue eyes going wide. “That’s brilliant, Poppy! What did she say?”
“She said she’d ask her grandfather, but I don’t think she’s heard back yet.”
“A ball at the castle,” Professor Silvermoon says wistfully.
“Wouldn’t that be dreamy? I’d get to live out my youthful dreams of being a princess.
” She laughs, the sound soft and almost twinkling, like her.
Then her eyes meet mine, and she says with more seriousness, “But if we can’t host it there, that’s fine.
We’ll host here instead.” She stands from her spot on the desk and puts a hand on my shoulder. “No pressure.”
I smile up at her, nodding, but I’ve actually started hoping myself that His Majesty will say yes to having the ball at the castle.
It’ll probably encourage more students to attend—because who doesn’t want to attend a ball at Ravenscroft Castle?
It might be a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for most of us, and it’d certainly make this event one to remember.
The academy’s clock chimes, its song resounding loudly through the castle’s halls, signaling the end of the period, meaning I need to pack up and head to my next class.
I close my notebook and put it away, then stand and sling my bookbag over my shoulder. But before I can leave, Professor Silvermoon says, “Try the blueberry vanilla with walnuts. They’re delightful.”
Turning to look at her, I blink and cant my head. “What?”
But in her typical divination-professor way, she just smiles and says, “Have a good day, Poppy.”
Then a few students come flitting into the classroom, very nearly jostling me out of the way, and I know I won’t get any answers from my professor. So I slip into the wave of students moving through the hall and put her odd remark immediately from my mind.
THAT NIGHT IN THE DINING hall, I’m enjoying dessert first—Lyra is a bad influence on me—when Alina sweeps up to our table, Raelan a few steps behind her.
She slaps a letter down in front of me, and I almost drop crumbs on it from the cinnamon-apple turnover I’m eating.
After brushing the crumbly crust from my lips and fingers, I glance up at her and adjust my glasses. “What’s this?”
Alina sits across from me, and Raelan sits beside her.
He no longer lingers at the edge of the room like he used to when we were first-years; instead, he’s Alina’s true shadow, always a step behind, ready should she need anything from him.
At first, I thought it must get irritating, having someone always following her around, but it’s impossible not to see how deeply in love they are—even now, they sit close, and Alina leans toward him subtly, almost subconsciously, like her body seeks him out without her even being aware of it.
Lyra and Maeve stop bickering about whose magical element in more likely to cause world destruction for long enough to look over as Alina says, “It’s a letter. From my grandfather.”
Her grandfather. The king.
I look down at the letter again, suddenly very grateful I didn’t sully it with my crumbs.
“What did he say?” Lyra asks, leaning forward expectantly. Even Juniper pops her head out of Lyra’s sweater pocket to stare at Alina with her big shiny eyes.
Alina smiles and nods to the letter. “Go ahead. Read it.”
She wants me to read His Majesty’s correspondence? Is that even legal?
I hesitate for long enough that Lyra reaches for it, swiping it away before my fingers have even touched the parchment.
Maeve lets out a tired sigh. “Has anyone ever told you how rude you are?”
“Mm-hmm. You do. All the time.” Lyra flashes Maeve a smile, then opens the letter and begins to read. Her crimson eyes track across the page, and they brighten with every passing moment. Then she squeals, “Yes!”
All the students around us turn to look at her. But I’ve become a bit more used to it over the past couple years, and rather than ducking my head in embarrassment, I snag the letter back from Lyra and read it myself.
My darling Alina,
The leaves have started falling from the magnolia trees. This time of year always reminds me of you and your grandmother. Do you remember sitting on the bench beneath the trees together, you in her lap as she read from those fairy tales you loved so much?
I stop reading and glance up at Alina. “Are you sure you want us reading this?” I ask quietly. “It’s kind of . . . personal.”
Alina gives me a soft smile and nods, scooting a bit closer to Raelan.
I continue to read, though I opt to skip down the letter a ways, trying to preserve some of her privacy.
A ball? Here at the castle? Of course you can! You’ll want to coordinate with your mother and Mrs. Fairhaven—it seems they’re always planning something—but it would be lovely to host your classmates for a soiree.
My eyes widen as my lips pull up in the corners. “He said yes,” I whisper. Then my gaze meets Alina’s again. “Is this real?”
She nods excitedly, some of her wispy blue hair swaying around her face. “He said yes!”
Immediately, the girls launch into a joyful conversation about the ball, but I sit quietly, my mind swimming with thoughts and visions from my recent dreams: a hedge maze, water reflecting the moonlight, warm hands encircling my waist as we dance through opaque mist. And this is one dream that I’d very much like to come true—unlike the ones in which I drop my books or trip going up the stairs or somehow lose my way in the academy’s halls despite this being my third year at Coven Crest. Unfortunately, those dreams usually do come true.
I look down at the letter again, feeling excitement building inside me.
For perhaps the first time, I’m really looking forward to the ball—and hoping a certain orc might even be there beside me.