Chapter 27 Sofie
Chapter twenty-seven
Sofie
Istood in the shadow of the harbor master’s house, shoulder to shoulder with Lis, watching Temerity approach the harbor.
Thirty-eight deans, professors, masters and Headmaster Calliope Wolfe, always recognizable at a distance due to her bright purple hair, stood on the quay, the air shimmering around them as they wove threads of magic out of or around those of chaos.
It might’ve been my imagination, but Temerity had some damage on her that I hadn’t noticed when she’d left. Something that looked suspiciously like char marks marred her sides and the edges of one sail.
Noticing she’d been through a battle made my heart beat even harder. What if this wasn’t what I hoped it was? What if Violet was leading the fleet here to tell me something terrible had happened to Jax?
And what if Jax was fine and had simply come to his senses? What if he wanted me back? That thought also terrified me.
Judging by the six ships trailing after Carabosse‘s five, an apologetic reunion was probably not on the menu. Even now, no one was really sure what was going on.
Once Temerity was inside the horseshoe-shaped harbor, movement caught my eye above the deans’ and masters’ heads. But it was the strangest thing. Out of the forty wielders of elite magic standing there, counting me and Lis, no one noticed it but me.
A paper messenger bird was fluttering straight for me.
I snatched the paper out of the air. Only then did Lis notice the messenger bird. She let out a soft “oh” of surprise. “Where did that come from?”
I opened it so hastily, I almost tore the paper along its creases.
Wife, it said, the king of Endergeist comes for you. Shall we fight together instead of with one another?
I read the note three times before I remembered how to move.
“Pen and ink?” I asked Lis.
“This way,” she said, sliding back from where she’d been reading over my shoulder. “Shouldn’t we say something to the others? I mean, the king of Endergeist…”
“In a minute.” All I could think of right now was, This isn’t the time for you to be charming, Jax. It absolutely wasn’t the time to start a battle with Endergeist, either.
Vivid images of the day I’d attended the princess’s naming ceremony and set the curse on her rose to the fore of my mind.
King Venet of Endergeist presents to all who gather here his daughter, crown princess Auravelle Allender Venet, pride and joy of the kingdom. Behold, the future queen of Endergeist!
The royal herald’s words rattled around in my head as Lis guided me inside her dockside home.
What was the king doing here? All I’d done was my job.
If he was upset about the curse on his daughter, he should take it up with the other fairy godmothers!
They were the villains here. I would never have had to put a curse on her if not for them.
Yet I swayed as I set the nib to the opened paper bird. For the first time, that argument sounded hollow to me.
There could be only one reason for the king to come here personally: He wanted me to pay for what I’d done.
Also for the first time, I wondered if he was right.
Cursing an infant sounded awful. It was awful.
But all this time, I’d been telling myself I’d done what was right.
If I didn’t balance good magic with bad, chaos would grow in Endergeist’s own royal palace, stripping its mages of the ability to protect it.
It would only spread from there. Some scholars at Dewspell even spoke of a theory that when magic was too out of balance, the entrance to the world of monsters would open again, beginning a new era of strife.
Those were just a few of the reasons why balancers were so important.
I suddenly doubted the king of Endergeist was going to care about that. And I doubted there was anything I or the deans, masters and professors could say that would change his mind.
He was here to force me to remove the curse on Princess Auravelle—or to see me punished.
And Dewspell wasn’t going to stand for having the curse removed. Magic was fragile enough as it was, barely usable. What power Dewspell had was clawed back through balancing.
I knew then that Dewspell would protect me from the worst sort of punishment—but it would seek balance in this, too. I was going to be brought to account for doing what I was told.
Jax said once that villainy should be a choice.
Except I had made those choices. I’d chosen to follow my instructions.
I had chosen the curse. I’d thought it better than stripping her of other attributes or causing her direct harm.
Instead, Princess Auravelle would sleep away the remainder of her days, the overabundant gifts from those corrupt fairy godmothers neutralized.
I was going to pay for that judgment call.
I wrote back to Jax. No fighting. Negotiations required.
I couldn’t identify the enchantment Jax had used to conceal the messenger bird from everyone but me. I wasn’t sure if it was broken, either, so I let it go out of the back window of Lis’s house.
The reply came before I could walk down to where Headmaster Wolfe stood.
Again, Lis never saw it until I plucked it from the air, the enchantment vanishing. Who knew Jax had so many tricks up his sleeve?
Count me in. But if I were you, I’d consider running, his message said.
Oh, Jax. Something told me his presence wasn’t going to calm things.
With a nervous lump in my throat, I strode toward the diminutive headmaster with the towering purple hair and explained the messages from Jax.
The elder sorceress’s purple eyebrows did a few gymnastic movements before her expression settled into a frown.
“I suppose we couldn’t expect to make it a full year without someone accusing us of going too far,“ Headmaster Wolfe said with a sigh. “Well. I don’t look forward to explaining higher magical theory to King Venet.”
As if on cue, another paper messenger bird flapped toward the quay. This time, every set of eyes was fixed upon it. It landed neatly in Headmaster Wolfe’s outstretched palm.
Even before she opened it, I knew it wasn’t from Jax.
The headmaster read it in silence, then crumpled it in her ink-stained fingers.
Dread roiled in my stomach.
“Looks like I won’t have to explain anything after all.
” She raised her voice so that the rest of those gathered could hear.
“Dewspell Academy is being blockaded until we agree to turn over Godmother Dar’Vester.
Which, obviously, we will not be doing. Back inside, everyone. There will be no fireworks today.”
She spared a glance at me, her purple hair bobbing. “Make sure your pirate behaves himself. We aren’t looking to start a war with Endergeist.”
Though I nodded and intoned an automatic “yes, headmaster,” I was growing certain that Jax’s presence wouldn’t matter.
I’d started a war the day I cursed Endergeist’s princess. I just hadn’t known it yet.
And that was the first time I understood:
I was a villain. And I wasn’t cut out to be a fairy godmother of the realm.