Chapter 20
Twenty
Lucien
The academy transforms in the days before Yule. Garlands of pine twist along the railings like snakes, their scent refreshingly clean against the usual mustiness. I watch a young staff member struggle to hang a wreath, the thing tilting precariously as she stretches on tiptoe.
Though there is still time left in the term, it’s quiet and subdued, a noticeable change from the usual undercurrent of excitement at this time of year.
Most students have retreated to their rooms to prepare for the coming break, packing their luggage, eager to get away from the darkness that has settled over Serpentine Academy like a hulking, squatting beast. The quiet is welcome after several weeks of Jasmine’s blood sport, but this is almost unnerving.
And then there is Jasmine Wickersly herself.
Three days ago, she simply stopped. No announcement, no explanation.
The trials ceased, and Jasmine retreated to her quarters.
Rumors spread like wildfire. She’s planning something catastrophic, she’s finally lost what little sanity she had left, or, the most ridiculous one, she feels remorseful and will stop entirely.
I don’t particularly care which it is, so long as the reprieve holds until the term officially ends.
The last trial ended up with over thirty students in the infirmary, several at death’s door.
Despite my worry, Rose has yet to be called up to compete.
That in itself causes me great anxiety. Jasmine Wickersly is not sparing Rose out of the goodness of her black heart.
I pass beneath a cluster of enchanted mistletoe that giggles when I glare at it, as it calls out ‘Kiss, Kiss!’.
Whoever thought sentient holiday decorations were appropriate should be drawn and quartered.
Yet even I must admit that the warm glow of fairy lights softens the academy’s harsh edges, making it look quite lovely, and almost welcoming.
Almost.
A flash of gold light catches my eye as I near the courtyard, where Rose caused the stone fountain that’s been dry for decades to flood and ancient water spirits to cause chaos. What a very long time ago that feels like now.
I pause at the arched entryway, staying within the shadows.
Rose stands in the center of the courtyard, her back to me, hands extended.
Golden light flows from her fingertips, and taking shape before her is a bird, detailed enough that I can make out individual feathers, wings outstretched in silent flight.
I don’t move, not wanting to break her concentration.
The bird hovers for a moment, then begins to fly in slow rings around her. She turns with it, laughing softly, and the sound hits me where my heart should be beating, if I were still alive. The bird dissolves into sparks that rain down around her like falling stars.
It’s remarkable. A few weeks ago, she could barely manage a simple shield. Now she’s creating intricate constructs with apparent ease. Ash’s training, no doubt. The thought sours my admiration slightly.
She tries again. This time, the golden light forms a wolf, its posture alert, ears forward.
It pads around her, so lifelike I half expect to hear the click of claws against stone.
Her control is impressive, her power even more so.
It’s becoming more apparent every day why she is so important to the witches.
Why covens would slay each other to control her.
“You’ve been practicing,” I say, stepping from the shadows.
She startles, the wolf dissolving instantly, and whips around. “Holy hell, Lucien! Wear a bell or something!”
“And sacrifice the pleasure of seeing you jump? I think not.”
She shakes her head, but she’s smiling. “Stalking is still considered creepy, just so you know. Even for vampires.”
“Observing,” I correct, approaching her. “There’s a distinction.”
“Yeah, one’s a felony and one’s just morally questionable.” She puts a hand up to fix her hair. “How long were you standing there?”
“Long enough to be impressed.” I stop a few feet from her, maintaining a proper distance. “Your control has improved significantly. The bird was particularly well-executed.”
“Thanks. I’ve been working on it. Figured I should have something to show for all those midnight sessions with Ash.”
I ignore the surge of something uncomfortably close to jealousy. “It shows.”
“Yeah, well, turns out all I needed was a psychotic witch to flip my magic switch to full blast, and a morally ambiguous warlock to teach me how to use it.”
“Drake?” I ask, because it would be strange not to acknowledge the ghost’s absence.
Her expression brightens at the question.
“We found something that might help him stay longer, it’s complicated, and I still don’t understand it fully, but he’s been able to stay, like before.
Better, actually.” She shivers, and I realize how cold it must be in the courtyard.
Snow dusts the fountain’s rim, and I can see the cloud of her breath in the frigid air when she speaks.
“You should come inside. It’s nearly dark.” I gesture toward the door. “And freezing.”
“Cold doesn’t bother you, though, does it?” She falls into step beside me as we head back into the warmth of the academy.
“I sense it. I simply don’t suffer from it the way you do.”
“Must be nice.”
“It has its advantages.”
Rose smiles at this and allows me to escort her indoors.