Chapter 17
Arman’s presence at Vaukore certainly didn’t go unnoticed. Rumor had it the Headmaster’s protested his post, but Arman reminded them that it was The Premier’s legal right to station his soldiers at Vaukore. Any of them.
They couldn’t argue.
Students huddled behind newspapers lined with that which Maeve already knew. The Human leader of Germany was dead. And Kietel was in full control. Maeve unintentionally slept through her first class, missing her charms exam.
When she woke, there was a scroll beside her bed, sealed with the Vaukore crest in red wax. She peeled back the seal, popping it loose from the ivory parchment, and pulled the oversized scroll open with both hands.
Gold letters in a swirling handwriting glittered across the page.
On the first of May in the year one thousand nine hundred and forty-five, it is hereby declared that the third child of Ambrose and Clarissa Sinclair named Maeve is excused from her third year Charms examination by order of Ezekiel Carlton Rowan, fifty-second named Headmaster of Vaukore Academy of Enchantment.
Rowan’s swirling signature slashed across the bottom of the page.
She dropped the scroll onto her lap, it curled back under itself at once.
She didn’t care about the exam. She didn’t care about the newspaper that sat on her bedside table. She didn’t care that anyone was dead. There was only one thing on her mind.
Her hand crept to the nape of her neck. Where an unfamiliar and unwanted feeling still lingered.
And she knew it meant trouble.
Down the spiral staircase of Volaticus East Wing sat Mal. He was lounging along a sofa, knees pulled in and a book resting against his legs. One hand lazily propped on the side of his head.
She crossed the common room towards him.
“Tell me you didn’t stay here all night.”
“Of course not,” he said, turning a page. “Arman had the night shift. I slept like a baby in my own bed.”
He finished the next page and then closed the book, swinging his legs to the ground. His eyes traveled from her face to her stomach to her toes and back up. Maeve shifted her weight.
“How do you feel?” He asked.
“Fine,” she lied.
His mouth pulled tight. It was difficult to lie to him.
“You pulled me out, didn’t you?” She asked, hoping he wouldn’t press her.
He nodded. She looked away towards the windows that lined the common room. Sunlight poured onto the plush sapphire floor. “How?” She looked back at him. “How did you know I was in danger?”
Mal answered with certainty. “Like calls to like.”
Even though Mal was satisfied with his discovery of Vexkari Magic, he insisted they continue to visit the Restricted Area of the Library to learn as much as possible about what they weren’t being taught in school. Maeve, of course, agreed wholeheartedly.
She held up her hand, her lux charm illuminating the spines of books along the tall shelves. Many of them didn’t have titles or authors, even. They were visiting during their normal Paragon duty hour, and tonight Abraxas and Hendrix were covering for them.
She heard Mal remove something from the shelf and went to peek over what he was reading.
“Have you noticed how many of these Magical experiences happened on the Dark Planet?” Maeve asked Mal.
Mal nodded. “I have.”
“Father says that was the origin of Shadow Magic.”
The pair continued pulling books and reading for close to an hour. Maeve spent most of that time nose deep in a poorly handwritten book on memories and magic. Most of it was hard to decipher, as it was also written in French.
“How many detentions do you reckon Abraxas has given out so far?” Asked Maeve.
“Probably not enough. Come look at this,” said Mal. “‘The army of Di Inferius.’ Do you know that word?”
“The Latin would roughly translate to ‘underneath’ or ‘below,’” said Maeve. “What’s it referencing?”
“It’s not very specific. It’s some kind of list.”
Maeve scanned it over. “Those are Gods, or something. ‘Dis Inferius’ she repeated twice over “God’s below,” she said finally. “That’s it.”
“God’s of the underworld,” said Mal.
“I think so,” said Maeve. “Oh no,” said Maeve. Her face dropped, and she grabbed his arm. She shook her wrist quickly, the lux charm at her wrist extinguished.
They heard the distinct sound of a door opening just a few shelves over, followed by the rapid clicking of heels on the floor.
Mal placed the book back swiftly, but there was no time to escape.
“Lux,” said a high-pitched voice Maeve hated as light popped into the air. Madam Florence stepped towards them, her mouth in a thin line.
“How unbelievably unacceptable. Two Paragons in The Restricted Area of my Library. You both should know better.”
“Madam-”
Florence cut Mal off quickly. “I have no time for excuses this late, Mr. Peur, as disappointed as I am to see you of all students here. To the Headmaster’s office, both of you.”
Mal didn’t look Maeve’s way, but she could see his wheels turning.
The walk to the Headmasters office was silent, save for Florence muttering under her breath about naughty children and the rhythmic click of her kitten heels.
Maeve felt they suited Florence as they were incredibly tacky.
She remembered her father once told her Madam Florence and himself butt heads quite frequently.
They stopped before a large floor to ceiling mural of a sleeping knight.
“Evening Sir Kale,” said Florence sharply.
The man in the painting awoke with a snort. “Heavens, Betsy,” he crooned. “Don’t you know it’s bad luck to wake a sleeping knight?”
Sir Kale shifted his armor and shook his head sleepily.
Florence ignored him. “I need to speak to the Headmasters about these two.”
“Password?” Asked Sir Kale his eyes fluttering shut.
“Thimble,” said Florence.
Kale’s head dropped.
“Sir Kale!” Screeched Florence.
The knight startled angrily and huffed at her. “The Headmaster’s are away!” He snapped. “You can harass them when the sun rises.”
Florence’s lips pulled into a thin line. “Where are they?’
But Sir Kale was already snoring.
Florence stormed down the corridor, commanding them to follow.
“Come,” she said sharply. “I suppose your Court Heads will have to hear of your disobedience.”
After a long and silent walk across the castle they reached the Staff Quarters.
Florence swung open the double doors of the suite, revealing Professor Larliesl, Hummingdoor and Harquinton.
They followed Florence into the living area. It was decorated with layered rugs and mismatched armchairs of deep tones. The candelabras across the room dripped yellow wax onto the wood below them.
Larliesl’s face fell flat when he saw Mal and Maeve. Hummingdoor’s face lit up.
“Mr. Peur!” He shouted. “And Miss Sinclair!”
Florence frowned.
“What is it now, Florence?” Asked Larliesl lazily.
“Evening, June,” said Harquinton as he excused himself with polite nods to everyone.
“Good evening, June,” said Hummingdoor in a singsong voice. “Miss Sinclair, Mister Peur, shouldn’t you be on Paragon duty? Has something happened?”
Madam Florence stepped forward. “Indeed they should be and indeed it has. I found them in The Restricted Area of the Library, Clifford.”
There was an awkward silence. Hummingdoor looked back and forth between Mal and Maeve; his brows pulled together. Larliesl took a swig of his dark colored drink.
“Whatever for?” Asked Hummingdoor, laughing nervously.
“I know!” Madam Florence said, raising her finger. “They don’t think the rules apply to them, Clifford.”
“They are Paragons, June,” said Larliesl sounding bored. “Two of Vaukore’s finest.”
Madam Florence cleared her throat.
“Pardon me,” she started, “but I believe they are entitled children who’ve never gotten in trouble for anything they’ve done wrong.
They likely never imagined standing here, having been caught for breaking school rules.
Never in all my years of education at Vaukore has a student dared to enter the Restricted Area of my library.
I don’t even understand how! No doubt the Orator’s Office will furious. ”
The room remained silent. Hummingdoor’s face had grown quite serious. Maeve knew it was now or never. The time to pull them out of this disaster had arrived.
Florence pointed at Mal. “They were simply up to no good.”
“No, ma’am, I’m afraid that’s simply not true,” said Maeve, her voice breaking.
Mal’s head shot towards Maeve, where she stood crying.
“Professor Larliesl, I’m terribly frightened, you see,” said Maeve, addressing the head of her house.
Larliesl’s attention shot to her as he quickly set down his drink and moved to the edge of his seat.
“My dear!” Hummingdoor flew to his feet and rushed to her, helping her to a seat in one of the squishy armchairs. “Whatever has caused you such distress, Miss Sinclair?” He looked over his shoulder at Larliesl. “Grab a hanky from my bag, will you?”
Maeve wiped the corner of her eye. “You see. . .surely you heard about my meeting with the Headmasters a few nights ago. And while I can’t divulge the details of that privileged arrangement, I was weakened after using my memory-” she wiped her face with her palms. “I even missed my exam the next morning,” she cried.
“I’ve been weak for days now. But I was in the library studying, and I heard someone coming towards me loudly.
It was already past curfew, and I was scheduled to meet Mal to begin our Paragon duties together.
See, I’ve been scared to do them alone lately. ”
Maeve took the handkerchief from Larliesl, thanking him. She dabbed her eyes gently.
“Heavens, why?” Hummingdoor asked her.