Chapter 30
OPIE
Opie’s stomach growled as she shot a glance at the clock beside her bed.
Mrs. Wickersham would be working on lunch – pastrami sandwiches, if she remembered right. She seriously doubted that it’d fix her mood, but, as Wickersham had told her the last time she went to the cafeteria early, it was better to be angry than hangry.
She fixated on the clicking of her shoes as she strode down the stairs . . . anything to avoid thinking of Harlow or her own new, messed-up magic. She didn’t have any classes for the rest of the day, but she couldn’t bring herself to be happy about it.
Should’ve gone with Krishna to the shops, she thought. Her friend was really trying to keep her spirits up, but it was so hard to act normal when everything felt so wrong.
“Keeping secrets has a way of isolating you from the people that love you,” Harlow’s voice echoed in her head.
“Yeah, too bad you didn’t take your own advice, sis.”
The door swung open as she reached the bottom of the stairs, and she glanced up, praying that her eyes didn’t look too red from spending so long on the verge of tears.
She held in a wince as Tarquinius’s wizened old face appeared, glancing up from the book he’d been looking at as he heard her coming.
He snapped it shut, his lips curving into a slight smile. “Ophelia. How’re your studies?”
“Uh . . . not bad,” she said with a shrug.
“Doyenne Storm says you’re doing excellent with your wind runes. Maybe the best in your class when it comes to the movements. Your magic will come, just keep your nose to the grindstone and don’t get discouraged.”
She was just another student to him, but he’d always been reassuring, and had been especially kind to her since Harlow had been gone.
It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him the truth, but something made her stop short.
His gaze narrowed on her face, his eyes filling with something like worry.
“By the way, have you heard from Harlow? We’re still searching for her, and anything you could tell us would mean a lot. We just want to get her back to Neverthorn, safe and sound, especially after what just happened at Heathermoor. It’s a dangerous world out there these days.”
She shook her head instantly, cringing at the instinct to protect Harlow above all else. Harlow had broken her trust in so many ways, but this was a line she wasn’t ready to cross.
“Haven’t heard,” she said, frowning. “I hope wherever she is, she’s doing alright.”
A brief look of disappointment flashed across his face, then shifted back to a smile as he began his walk up the stairs. “Very good. Let me know if she gets in contact, won’t you?”
“Of course.”
He didn’t know the full truth, but his advice about not getting discouraged still fit.
If she could just get it together, the whole world would open for her.
New runes, chances for more friends, heck, she might even be as cool as Harlow one day.
Maybe even as important, too. Nobody would be able to underestimate her or look past her, as so many had before. She’d be special.
The magic was strong within her, she could see it clearly, despite her inexperience. An endless well of energy, ready to be used.
Dying to be used.
She let out a breath, stopping just before the door as an ache in her stomach, almost painful, pulsed inside her.
What the heck was that?
Whatever had come over her was gone now, having receded into the background as quickly as it’d come. But the worry it caused lingered . . .
“I – Headmaster Tarquinius?”
He snapped the book shut once again, smiling as he turned. “Yes?”
Her stomach twisted into a confused knot, but she pressed on anyway. She needed to tell someone about all this. Letting it well up like she had been was killing her.
“Could we . . . talk for a minute? I’ve actually had something on my mind.”
“I’m headed up to my office now. I’ll be free for the next hour or so, if you’d care to join me.”
She turned on her heel, stepping back toward the stairs. “Thank you, yes.”
“You can grab your lunch first, if you’d like,” he offered, but she shook her head, continuing to climb. It was now or never. And she couldn’t handle another minute of this hanging over her.
He chattered about random topics as they walked, telling her about a new class that Doyenne Storm was planning, and a festival they had coming up in a few months.
Things were more tense since Nocta’s last attack at the Solstice Games, but the headmaster really was trying to keep the school running as normal.
It must’ve been such a burden, having so much pressure on his shoulders, and he took it in his stride. Who better to go to for advice? Her problems were unique, but truth be told, they paled in comparison to his.
“Do you like chamomile tea?” he asked, withdrawing his key from his office door and pressing it open.
She was halfway through shaking her head when she thought better of it. “That’d be great, if it’s no trouble.”
“No trouble at all,” he said warmly, setting his book and satchel down on his desk before stepping over to the small sink at the room’s edge. He lifted the teapot from the counter, filling it from the tap. “Do you like it with honey?”
“If you have it.” She staggered back as his hand blurred into a quick sequence of runes, including one that she recognized as a fire rune.
A whistle cut through the silence a half second later, a cloud of thick steam already rising from the spout as he grabbed a crimson mug. “Please, sit,” he said, glancing over.
She did so, pressing a hand to her temples as she mentally prepared for what she was about to do.
As stressful as it was to spill the beans, she knew the sense of relief once she was done would make it worth it.
Someone else was finally going to know. And maybe she’d be able to stop sitting here stewing and start to move toward something . . . more.
A plop pulled her attention back to him as he swirled around the teabag, bringing out a honey dipper to ladle in a healthy bit of sweet.
“I love the stuff.” He slid the cup across the desk.
“My mother always told me that no problem looks as difficult after a cup of tea, and that has always held true for me.”
She nodded, watching the darkness spread to the edges of the cup as she twirled the teabag.
The floral flavor washed over her tongue as she sipped, perfectly accented by the sweetness of the honey.
The silence stretched on for a long moment, and he just sat there patiently, waiting for her to speak.
“I . . .” she began, finally having worked up the courage. “I think it’s easier if I just show you.”
She set the tea back on the table, her hand shaking as she lifted it, palm up. Energy arced down her arm and into her fingertips, as easily as ever, and he let out a breath as she pressed her fingertips together in a tight bundle, forming the rune for light.
A sense of relief washed over her as she let the magic loose, sending up a shimmering ball that dissipated a half second later. She looked up, feeling a flash of embarrassment as she looked at his stunned face.
It shifted into a grin a moment later, and he shot up from his desk. “That’s amazing. When did you figure it out?”
“It’s been a week or so.”
“You’re quite powerful, if these old eyes don’t deceive me.”
“I’m a late bloomer, just like you said.” She remembered his words from her first day at school.
“Indeed. So, this is what’s been bothering you?”
She looked away, steeling herself for the other reveal. “It’s more about how it feels when I use it. It’s . . . off, somehow. I get this strange feeling sometimes . . . like it’s calling me to use it more.”
“Growing pains.” He reached across the table to clap her on the arm. “What matters is that you have found your way to your magic. You’re in good hands here at Neverthorn, and we’ll be here to guide you through the process.”
Relief flowed through her. Maybe this was all normal then? “Thank you. I’m sure you’re right. It’s just . . . it really does make me feel a little strange sometimes.”
“It won’t last, I promise. Now come, tell me more. Have you told your roommates or other teachers about it?”
“Not yet,” she said. “I’ve been worried about anyone seeing it, since it seems . . . different from the magic that other people have.”
He smiled kindly, his eyes crinkling around the edges.
“You’re still new to this, Ophelia. Raw, and untrained.
With time, you’ll master it. I’ve no doubts.
With that said,” he cut off as a ding sounded from his desk.
He glanced down, frowning. “Actually, we’ll need to discuss this another time.
I’m expecting a call from the Senate any minute now regarding this Heathermoor issue, but we have a lot more to talk about.
I’m thinking we should begin one-on-one lessons, until you get up to speed.
Let’s start first thing tomorrow: you and I are going on a little field trip. ”
She nodded, dumbfounded, as she took another sip of her tea, emptying the cup. The headmaster of Neverthorn wanted to give her private lessons? Take her on a field trip??
She must be stronger than even he realized.
Special.
“I’d be honored, sir,” she managed, hoping she didn’t sound too excited. “I’ll see you then. And thank you. For everything.”
“Good luck with your studies today, Ophelia. I look forward to seeing you tomorrow.”
She stood, placing her mug into his sink as she made her way to the door. He stopped her as she put her hand on the knob.
“Ophelia, let’s just keep this between me and you for now, shall we? We’ll want to get you a little more seasoned before showing your skill set off to others. Jealousy is a powerful thing, and I don’t want you being treated differently just because you’re special.”
She turned back to him, nodding. As much as it hurt, maybe it was a good thing that Harlow had abandoned her, after all. Now that she could finally be her own person, she’d awakened her magic. And now, even the strongest wizard in the school seemed impressed with her.
At first, she’d been going with the ‘fake it til you make it’ thing.
But maybe she really didn’t need Harlow after all . . .