Chapter 27
A fine mist hovered over the landscape, obscuring the peaks of the snow-capped Banshee Mountains.
We had left the Pass of Pelthen behind two days ago and traversed a valley with evergreens taller than I had ever seen, the air thick with their perfume.
Above the tree line, the foliage was sparse and scrubby.
Patches of juniper clung to rocks that were carpeted in purple lichen.
To the west sat a murky black lake with a small muddy island in its center.
Hollybrook stood ahead of us, a stone fortress carved into the mountainside with turrets and lancet windows.
One of its walls was made entirely of stained glass, and as we neared I saw that there were three figures depicted in the image.
Each was standing at least two stories tall, and the woman at the center had a dark complexion and long black braids, the smooth edges of her silhouette lined with shards of gold.
To her right was a stout man in a scholar’s cap.
The final figure was tall and thin—a vampire, perhaps?
—with a bluish tint to his skin, and gray eyes.
I shook off the damp as we entered the school, leaving the horses behind with a caretaker.
The interior was as I’d expected, its stone walls bedecked with portraits of various men, women, and vampires.
Under our feet, an inky black raven clutching a scroll in its talons had been carved into the stone.
My eyes traced the words beneath the raven—wisdom lights the way.
I smoothed back the fine wisps of hair that were plastered to my hairline, my skin dewy with sweat. Over the last few days, the familiar warmth that throbbed beneath my skin had swelled like a stubborn fever, as if the Ealdorfyre lurking in my veins knew its time was coming.
I glanced up at the sound of steady footsteps.
A bespectacled woman made her way down the curved wooden staircase.
She had copper skin and a serious manner, her hands clasped together behind her back, and her salt-and-pepper hair was pulled into a knot at the nape of her neck.
She planted herself in front of us without a word, and did not bow.
I glanced sideways at Enhart, who was taking his time peeling off his coat and draping it over one arm. He must have enormous respect for this woman, I thought, to ignore such a brazen act of defiance. Straightening, he flashed a grin. “Vice-Chancellor Cartwright, always a pleasure.”
“Your Royal Highness,” she replied flatly. “If you’ve come to disrupt more of our classes, I’m sorry to inform you that the term has already ended.”
Enhart’s grin didn’t falter. “Not this time, I’m afraid. Did you not receive the King’s missive?”
She shook her head. “The Chancellor informed me only that we should prepare for visitors.” Her brown eyes flicked to me. “Pleasure to meet you, Miss—”
“Erramun,” I finished for her. “Finn Erramun.”
“Future adviser of the Arcane Arts to the King of Valen,” Enhart announced. “And Finn, this esteemed scholar you see before you is Agnes Cartwright, Vice-Chancellor of Hollybrook. This,” he pulled a letter from his cloak and handed it to the older woman, “should explain everything.”
Agnes took the wrinkled parchment, breaking its seal with a snap.
Her frown slipped as she dragged her gaze over an elegant scrawl I recognized as Mordric’s.
“Fascinating,” she said finally. “It’s been many centuries since a royal adviser has held such a title, and even longer since anyone has wielded the Ealdorfyre.
I’m sure you’ll have much to discuss with the Chancellor. ”
She gestured for us to follow, leading us to a study decorated with oddities: assorted animal specimens in glass jars, dried flora hanging from the walls, and baubles and trinkets that I did not recognize.
The Vice-Chancellor circled the desk, gesturing for me to take a seat in a straight-backed chair opposite her.
The air seemed to glow faintly around her as she settled into her seat. My eyes widened.
“You’re a witch, aren’t you?” I guessed.
She nodded once. “I am, although my power has never fully manifested.”
My eyes widened. For so long, I had held out hope that I would one day meet another of my kind.
Sitting before Agnes now, I wasn’t quite sure what to say.
I glanced over at Enhart, who leaned against the far wall inspecting his fingernails.
He’d told me he’d only met three witches in over two hundred years.
She must be one of them. She adjusted the spectacles that had slid down her long nose.
“It seems I have much to discuss with the Chancellor,” she said.
“Although I imagine that His Majesty has oriented you to the general purpose of your stay here?”
I nodded.
“Good,” she continued. “Although it may appear as if your arrival has a singular purpose, the school’s philosophy, wisdom lights the way, applies to all who cross its threshold.
We are in recess before the next term begins, but the Chancellor and I are available to you to address any inquiries you may have during your stay here.
Our world-renowned library is also open to you. ”
“Thank you,” I said, thrilled by the prospect of being surrounded by ancient books on complicated magic that I was free to read at my leisure.
“Before I dismiss you to your quarters, do you have any questions?” she asked.
I paused as several fought among themselves on the way to my tongue.
I was eager to pick the brain of the only other witch I’d ever met.
“I’m grateful to you and the Chancellor for your hospitality,” I said, “and I look forward to working with you, but I find myself wondering what your specialty might be.”
The burst of amusement that hit me from Enhart’s direction warmed my cheeks, and I could’ve sworn that the corners of the Vice-Chancellor’s straight-lined mouth nearly turned up. “I’ve dabbled in alchemy throughout my career.”
“You’re far too modest, Agnes,” said Enhart. “The Vice-Chancellor is the realm’s foremost thinker in Alchemic Experimentation and Ethics.”
“Hubris does naught to further one’s academic pursuits, Your Royal Highness,” she scolded him gently. “As I have told you many times before.”
“Have you?” he asked, a grin spreading across his face. “I can’t recall.”
She frowned at him. “I imagine that the Chancellor will want to speak with you both when he wakes. In the meantime, we’ve taken the liberty of arranging your quarters in his apartments. I trust that you can find your way there?” she said, addressing Enhart.
“Undoubtedly,” he replied.
The Chancellor had provided us with two bedchambers, a drawing chamber, and a small dining room.
The sturdy wooden bed inside my bedchamber was piled high with blankets.
A writing desk stood beneath the window, complete with a set of fresh quills, parchment, and a sealed pot of ink.
Though the rooms were less extravagant than what I was now used to in Valnar, I wasn’t about to complain.
It was a luxury just to be inside after sleeping on the ground for much of our journey.
The breeze carried the scent of the forest in through the open windows.
I set my things down at the foot of the bed, looking forward to diving under the blankets as soon as possible.
Finn.
I straightened, glancing around the empty room. “What?” I called to Enhart across the sitting area.
He peeked around his door, his brow creased. “Pardon?”
I tapped my right temple. “You called?”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Oh,” I said, stepping into the sitting area. I scanned the chamber, searching for the source of the voice.
“You’re hearing voices now?” asked Enhart, appearing at my side. “That’s not concerning at all.”
“Maybe it was Agnes,” I reasoned.
“I don’t believe Agnes can practice psychal magic. Besides, she’s speaking with the stablehand right now.”
I glanced sideways at him, wondering if it was ever a burden to have such carefully honed senses. A voice called my name again and I whipped around, drawing closer to the window. Enhart fell into step behind me, as if ready to catch me should I fall. My eyes panned over the landscape.
Our quarters overlooked a forest of gnarled trees at the edge of the grounds. Their thick masses of needles could likely block out the sun if it dared show its face. “What is that?” I asked. Hoarse whispers met my ears, but I could not make out the words.
Enhart paused, frowning. “What’s what? The trees?”
I stared at him blankly. The whispers grew fainter.
“They’re yews, I think,” he said.
“Yews,” I echoed. “We had one in the graveyard in Wealdstone.” I could picture the tree perfectly. It was ancient and scarred, squatting over the remains of our dead like a sentry.
My breath hitched in my chest as he peered into my eyes, concern written plainly across his features. “Are you feeling alright?”
I swallowed. “I suppose I’m just tired.”
“Well, lucky for you, the Chancellor won’t wake for a few hours. You’ll have plenty of time to sleep.”
“Alright, I’m going,” I said absently. I squinted at the woods. There was something strange about them that I couldn’t put my finger on.
“Hey.”
I turned, meeting his worried gaze. “What?”
“Get some sleep. I mean it.”
I threw up my hands, backing toward my bedchamber. “Of course, Your Royal Highness.”
The moment the door closed behind me, I stripped off my traveling clothes and crawled into bed, exhaustion outweighing my desire for a bath. I pressed my brow to the cool side of the pillow, leaving behind a damp imprint.
For a short, panicked moment, I wondered if I had caught an illness on the road.
I came to a seat, shaking my head free of sleep.
My skin was free from the purplish hue of violet fever, I reminded myself.
And we hadn’t encountered a single soul on the road.
It was only nerves. Flipping onto my back, I kicked off the sheets, letting them fall to the floor.