Apparently, what my students had actually needed was a moment to listen toeach other, without any older figures trying to tell them what to think.
Now the young women who stood behind Miss Banks—eight girls of different heights, ages, skin colors, and backgrounds—all nodded in grim agreement as she finished, looking me directly in the eyes: “You do have other practicing magicians in this house, andallof us need this school to survive. So—whether you care for it or not, Miss Harwood—we are coming to face that creature in the woods with you.”
14
Ihad never in my life felt so torn between glowing pride and abject horror.
It took a long moment before I could summon words through my suddenly tight throat. “I appreciate your offer,” I said, looking from one strong, determined young face to another, “far more than I could ever possibly express. But you must know that I cannot accept it. I am yourteacher. I made a commitment to protect you all.”
“It’s not protecting us,” said Miss Hammersley fiercely, “to make us sit here twiddling our thumbs whilst you get killed and our school closes forever!” Her accent thickened as she spoke, her freckled skin flushed scarlet, and she rubbed nervously at the frayed ends of her cuffs, but her classmates all nodded immediate agreement.
“Besides,” said Miss Stewart, “we’re hardly children. I’m one-and-twenty, and Julianna”—she nodded warmly to Miss Banks—“is nearly three-and-twenty. We’ve no need to be protected from our own decisions.”
“We wantto help ourselves,” Miss Banks added, echoing Amy. “Weneedthis school. I know it was your idea in the beginning, Miss Harwood, but it’s not only yours anymore. It’s our future.”
“I understand,” I murmured. There wasso muchshining magical potential in this room. The idea of all of these young women being sent back to their families, their dreams snatched away and their education lost... “But the truth is, you’re still young and untrained, and this is too dangerous for any of you.” As their faces hardened before me, visibly refusing to accept the truth of my words, I looked to Amy for support. “Youtell them!” My sister-in-law could find the right words to persuade anybody.
But she slowly shook her head. “How young and untrained were you, Cassandra, when you first started taking perilous risks for the sake of your magical future?”
“Oh, for—that isnotthe point!” I stared at her in outraged disbelief. “Ihadto take those risks. I had no choice! No one wouldeverhave agreed to teach me magic if I hadn’t.”
“And no one is ever going to teach these girls, either,” said Amy, “if you don’t allow them to followyourexample and take a risk or two to win their futures.”
“Have you forgotten exactly howmy exampleended?” I let out a half-laugh, half-sob as I stepped back another inch from everyone else in the room, wrapping my arms around my chest. “When I took my last risk, Ilost my magic. Do you think I would ever, foranyreason, put a student of mine in that kind of danger?”
“But Miss Harwood...” Miss Banks’s pale eyebrows furrowed in concentration. “You lost your magic because you took those risksalone. You had to, to prove women could be magicians, because you were the only one available. But look at us now!” She swept out an arm to indicate her assembled classmates. “We’renot alone, any of us...because of you.”
It was such a simple statement. But for a moment, I couldn’t breathe as I absorbed it.
“That’s the trouble with being the first, isn’t it?” Amy’s tone was gentle but unrelenting. “You may have had our family’s support, but none of us could help when it came to magic. So I think you forgot, over the years, that even a truly remarkable, groundbreaking womancanlet others work by her side.”
“And how many more people will be hurt if I let them?” Bitterness coated my throat; I swallowed hard, fighting to keep my voice calm. “You say you don’t regret giving up your own career for Thornfell—but I found out last night that Wrexham losthisdream, too, because of mine...and that wasbeforehe went into those damnable woods this morning.”
I’d expected sympathy or horror in response to my awful revelation. Instead, Amy let out a bright peal of laughter. “I don’t believe that for an instant! Have you ever actuallyaskedWrexham what his greatest dream is?”
My eyebrows snapped together. How ignorant did she imagine I was about my husband? “He could have been the chief magical officer for the Boudiccate if it weren’t for this school. Mr. Westgate told me so last night!”
“And I know thatyouwould have loved that post for yourself. But do you genuinely believe that that was everWrexham’s greatest dream?” Amy shook her head at me pityingly. “Oh, Cassandra. How can you be so very clever when it comes to understanding magic...and so very, verynotwhen it comes to understanding other people?”
I blinked rapidly, caught off-balance. “What—?”
“Ahem.” Miss Birch cleared her throat. “If you ladies don’t mind putting off the rest of your conversation...” She tilted her head at the window, where the sky was rapidly darkening. The green streaks had faded from her skin since she’d first charged into the room, but her eyes glinted with gold flecks as she finished drily, “I believe you’re still in a hurry?”
“Yes.” I let out my breath in a whoosh. “Of course you’re right.”
There was no more time for arguments—and even I could tell when I had lost a battle for good.
I might not always understand other people, but right now, I didn’t have to. I had Amy and Jonathan to manage that. With the two of them by my side, I could safely focus on the magical issues whilst my students managed the active spell-casting...and Miss Birch’s first words, when she’d entered the room, had been nagging at the back of my mind ever since.
“Tell me again,” I told her. “The ring’s gone missing? When exactly did that happen?”
“When that creature broke through all of my barriers.” Her lips pursed as if she’d bitten into something sour. “I’d been looking it over just beforehand, trying to siphon any old kinships from it without luck. I’d swear it hasn’t been worn on any human finger in the past month, at least. But when I woke up, it was gone.”
“So someone took it.” But why had it been sacrificed in the first place, if its owner never even wore it? For a sacrifice to successfully seal a fey bargain, it had to carry real emotional value. “Was the door left open?”
“Didn’t need to be.” She grimaced. “The magic of the completed bargain claimed it.”
“Completed?” I blinked, twice. “That can’t be right. Abducting Mrs. Renwick couldn’t be enough to complete a full bargain of mischief against Thornfell. We haven’t even been forced to close down yet, or—”
