Chapter 2 Cendi
CENDI
By morning, the castle hummed with the scent of bad coffee and the sounds of worse rumors.
Word travels fast at Rune Academy, especially when a look-alike apparition swans into your mentor’s office and steals a very important key.
I tugged my cardigan tighter and tried to keep my stride normal, not “I-might-vomit-from-nerves” brisk, as I made my way to Vanderflit’s floor for the meeting he’d requested that I attend early this morning.
Two strangers were already outside his door, conferring with the headmaster and headmistress. Hunters.
Of course.
Hunters always seemed to appear at my lowest moments. Not there to lend a helping hand, but there to make things infinitely worse. They enjoyed pointing fingers and passing blame, rather than actually investigating to figure out what was really happening.
Jessie spotted me before anyone else did and intercepted me with a grim little smile that said this was going to be a long day. “Where are Robbie and Jaylynn?”
I shook my head. “Not a clue.” I would’ve thought that they’d beat me here.
“No bother,” she whispered. “Are you ready to do this?” Even as she asked, she smoothed her black skirt down against her legs, then fidgeted with the collar of her white shirt covered in tiny birds.
Just when I thought she was done, she patted her hair in every which direction, even though it did nothing to tame her messy bun.
Unable to help myself in the face of her nervousness, I ran my hands over my blue shirt and dark grey slacks, even though I already knew they were wrinkle-free, just to ensure they didn’t have too much cat fur on them, then took a deep breath and answered, “As I’ll ever be.”
She grabbed my shoulders. We nodded at each other. It was now or never.
We stepped inside. Mr. Vanderflit stood behind his desk, sleeves rolled up, tie crooked, the temperamental lights in his office flickering like a bad mood.
The two hunters turned. The man was tall with square shoulders and an assessing gaze.
The woman’s eyes were the kind that memorized exits before introductions.
“Cendolyn Ault?” the man asked, his black hair never moving an inch, just glinting with the pound of gel he’d used to slick it to the side.
“Cendi’s fine.”
“I’m Drew,” he said, his face expressionless. “This is Ava.”
Ava. The name sounded familiar, but I couldn’t quite place it. She nodded. “We’re here to understand last night’s event.”
“You mean the ghost,” I said, because dancing around it wouldn’t help. “It looked like me. It took the key from Mr. Vanderflit’s desk. Then the castle shuddered like it wanted to pitch us all outside, and that was about it.”
Vanderflit’s jaw worked as he addressed the hunters, but I got the sense he wasn’t angry at them, just the situation.
“The key is unique. It can open any lock, and we were going to use it to open a chamber beneath the castle. We’ve found no other key that can touch the chamber’s lock.
And the key is connected to Cendi, as she’s the one who rescued it from Zorand. ”
Drew folded his arms. “Walk us through everything again. Slowly. Starting with…” He exchanged a glance with Ava. “Zorand?”
So I did. I told them about the desert. The Lizard Wizard’s lair tucked under a huge rock with cricketmen on patrol and how Luna’s warning had been dead on.
I told them how Jessie had blurred us into the heat, so we blended with the dunes, then handed over little enchantments that kept ice from melting against our necks as we crossed the sand.
I took a breath and Jessie told them the chamber of crystals was only the prelude to a trap door and a hidden room of contraband, precious, stolen things, and the velvet cushion holding an ancient key that bit my fingertip before it accepted me, the same key I slid into my pocket and brought home.
I told them how Vanderflit saw it on his desk later and said, in a hush, that it belonged to our academy.
And I told them about the courtyard. The sliver of portal we closed, and the statues sliced so clean they toppled like dominoes when it first opened.
Where was Robbie right now, anyway? He should’ve been here helping us explain all this mess. Jaylynn too. It made me worried that they were nowhere to be found. I just hoped they were safe.
We described the blue light, the tremor, the way the air turned razor cold as the apparition reached for the key.
Ava’s questions were neat and precise. “Did it speak? Did anyone touch it? Did you see marks on the floor afterward?”
“No, no, and no,” I said. “It was quick.”
Her gaze slid to Vanderflit. “You said the key is connected to Cendi. Bound how?”
“Blood.” Vanderflit rubbed at the bridge of his nose. “She rescued it, and it desperately wanted to be rescued. Now only people she gives the key to can touch it. She handed it to me, so I can touch it.”
Huh. He could’ve told me that little tidbit of information. “So since I hadn’t handed it to anyone else, only you or I can touch it?”
He nodded. “I suspect that’s why the ghost took on your form. To be able to grab the key.”
“Since when do ghosts need keys?” I muttered.
Drew scribbled a few notes. “We have two working theories,” he said. “A ghost would have to be manipulated by an outside caster.”
Ava nodded, thoughtful. “We’ll need statements. You, Ms. Ault. Your friends. Anyone who was in the corridors.”
I resisted the urge to salute. “Happy to cooperate.”
“Good,” Drew said. “Because if the key opens more than a storage closet, we’re not the only people who’ll come knocking. We don’t want this to escalate.”
There it was, that hint of something larger than our little crisis. My stomach didn’t like it.
They split us up for questions. Nothing scary, just a thousand clarifications that made me relive every shiver and bump and clatter I’d experienced since coming upon that strange key. I kept drifting toward the window where the gray morning had finally decided to be a beautiful day.
After a few minutes, Jaylyn appeared. Her big brown eyes looked even bigger in her narrow face. She’d put her long black hair up, pulling it tight, and making herself appear strangely fragile, while I knew for a fact that she was incredibly tough.
When they were done with me, I hovered by Jessie while Jaylyn answered her questions. Jaylyn’s hands trembled a little, and I wanted to squeeze them, so I loaned her my best “we’re okay, we’re together” smile until she cut me a grateful glance.
Ava gathered all our statements, then spoke quietly with John and Beth in the hall.
John, our headmaster, maintained that calm helm-of-the-ship look even when tempests pitched the rest of us around.
Headmistress Beth was all steel with a warm center, less inclined to coddle and more inclined to expect us to rise.
They’d both welcomed me on my very first day, right there in the castle entry, and the memory steadied me now.
Before they left, Ava looked back at me. “If anything changes—dreams, echoes, new lights—tell us immediately.”
“Dreams?” I asked, skeptical. “I already dream about forgetting pants in front of the class. Is there a checkbox for that?”
“A convenient amulet remedy,” she said dryly, then almost smiled. “We’ll be around.”
They moved on to Vanderflit again, low-voiced and quick. Pressure rose in the room like barometric guilt. We were dismissed after that, told to go to class, eat lunch, and act normal. Which was hilarious.
By noon, “normal” consisted of the entire student body funneling into the Great Hall for an assembly.
The student body consisted of our small group of future sugar daddies and godmothers, but also all the other students throughout the castle, many of them being kids.
Banners hung down the stone, bright as fruit peels.
A breeze nosed through the high windows, and a whisper ran the length of the benches.
Jessie and I sat together, excited for whatever the day might bring.
Headmaster John stepped to the dais with Headmistress Beth beside him.
“Thank you for coming on such short notice,” John began.
“We’ve had an exciting start to the term.
” Understatement of the century. “We’ll address security privately with our staff.
For students, I’ll simply say your jobs remain the same.
Learn, practice, and be kind to one another. ”
“We also have a few introductions,” Headmistress Beth added, and a small woman edged onto the platform as if she’d been pushed by her own nerves. She was petite, with a rumpled, misbuttoned cardigan, round glasses slipping down her nose, and hair in a frizzed bun that had declared war on hairpins.
“Maribelle Maple,” Headmaster John said, inviting her forward. “Our new librarian.”
She managed a birdlike nod and a tiny wave.
“Hello, ah, sorry, yes, hello,” she said, voice rushing ahead of her breath.
“Books. I mean. I like them. Obviously.” A muffled chuckle ran through the room.
“I’m, ah, here if you need help. With books.
Or, um, wards. Or shelves. I’m very good at shelves.
” She pushed her glasses up, realized she’d smeared them with her thumb, and fumbled for a cloth that wasn’t there.
She reminded me of a spooked rabbit with a library science degree. It was oddly endearing.
Headmistress Beth smiled at her, then turned to the crowd. “Please make Ms. Maple welcome.” We all applauded politely.
“And one more thing,” Headmaster John said, letting the pause stretch. “We’re pleased to announce a promotion. Jessie Crayne has served as a mentor with distinction. Effective immediately, she joins our teaching staff and will lead the new Job-Shadowing Program.”