“Miss Harwood?” Miss Rao—a tall, elegant nineteen-year-old with light brown skin, a fashionable burgundy gown, and elaborately arranged, glossy black hair—spoke beside me, frowning. “Is something amiss?”
“I...beg your pardon?” With a blink, I forced myself back into the present moment—where I found myself surrounded by my entire, waiting class and inspectors.
How long had I stood, staring, silent, and unmoving? From the smirk on Annabel Renwick’s face, I knew the answer had to be:too long.
“Forgive me!” I said hastily to the group as a whole. “I was only...thinking through an opportunity for our next lesson.”
“Oh?” Annabel raised one mocking eyebrow. “Do enlighten us, please.”
“I’m afraid you’ll have to simply wait and see.” Shaking out my skirts, I stalked forward. “There’s no more time to be lost if we don’t want to fall behind with our schedule for the day!”
“Anyfurtherbehind, she means,” muttered a low voice behind me. I didn’t recognize the speaker—but then, it hardly mattered. Whoever she was, she could only be saying what everyone else thought by that point.
If I didn’t want my new students to lose all faith in me and my curriculum, I had to focus on making our next few hours of lessons as challenging and satisfactory as possible...
But all that I could see before me as I strode up the graveled pathway toward my family’s ancestral home was that poisonously familiar hint of deep, dark green that I’d glimpsed on Mr. Luton’s cottage, just where it looked out onto the woods full of fey magic...
And I knew I wouldn’t be able to concentrate on any other problem, no matter how vital, until I found a way to inspect it for myself.
9
By the time my final morning session ended, I was ready to burst from my skin with impatience. I’d always known it would be a significant challenge to take on all the teaching at my own school apart from weather wizardry. At the Great Library, each lecturer had sole responsibility for only one or two classes per term; here, I was doing the work of at least three people, as no other magician would anger the Great Library by accepting a teaching post here.
Still, I’d never anticipated how it would feel toknowthere was a creeping menace encroaching on my property without being able to excuse myself and let anyone else take charge for the space of a single lesson.
It would have helped, of course, if my own solitary staff member had been available to assist me...but the more time that passed, the more that a new, piercing worry grew at the back of my mind, like thorny vines unfurling and stretching themselves luxuriantly.
Young Luton was more than stubborn enough not to answer his door when he was absorbed in a magical challenge; I’d experienced that scenario myself when I’d been forced to interrupt him in the midst of last winter’s house party. But still...
What if hehadn’tbeen immersed in work and stubbornly refusing to emerge for his lesson?
What if, instead, he hadn’t been able to?
“You’ll find a delicious luncheon from Miss Birch in the dining room,” I said at the end of the morning’s final lesson, “and I’ll see you all at one o’clock.”
There!Without waiting for any of the many questions sure to follow from our final exercise, I brushed off my hands and headed swiftly for the door.
“Miss Harwood?”
“Miss Harwood!”
“Aren’t you joining us for our meal, Cassandra?” asked Lady Cosgrave.
“Not today.” I forced a tight smile for the class’s sake as I threw the door open. “But I do hope you’ll all enjoy it!”
I whisked my way through the next room, walking quickly, until I was well out of sight...and then I ran.
I should never have let myself wait so long.
As I hurried through Thornfell’s small back door, I peered past the gardens toward Luton’s cottage and the vast woods beyond—and let out a heartfelt curse. Wicked green, leafy tendrils curled around both sides of the cottage now.
I couldn’t see the thorns from here. But I knew they must be there, waiting. I’d seen those vines far too many times in my dreams not to recognize them in reality.
Heedless of any potential observers, I picked up my skirts and tore through the garden pathways like the wild, irrepressible girl I’d once been.
Too late, too late...The words drummed in my ears.
I rounded the final hedge and leapt onto the graveled pathway that circled around Luton’s staff cottage, ignoring the closed front door and curtained windows that faced me. Sharp stones bit through the thin soles of my ornamental silk slippers, which had already been worn thin by my unexpected hike earlier.
