Her lips quirk up on one side, but she says nothing.
“And I suppose I just wanted to get a jump on things. Do you know yet what my community service will be for this semester?”
“Classes haven’t even started yet,” the headmistress says, arching one icy brow at me. “Yet you’re already here, eager to be of service?”
There’s a hint of amusement in her voice, but I stay focused. “Yes.”
“Hmm.” She reaches for her cup of tea and gives it a small sip, then casts her gaze out one of her office windows. The sun is still shining, and a few rivulets of snowmelt run down the glass panes. It feels like a lifetime that she spends staring out the window before she turns back to me. “I’ll admit, I’ve not yet determined who best to continue your community service, with Mr. Axton gone...”
I think she’s watching me for a reaction to his name, and I strive not to give one, though my heart squeezes at the reminder of his absence. When I say nothing, she continues.
“So for now, I’d like you to focus on your studies and on controlling that temper. I don’t want to hear any complaints from your professors, or you’ll be right back in that chair. Do I make myself quite clear?”
She’s giving me a break from community service? Maybe even for good? I’m so glad Juniper encouraged me to come up here. I’ll have to take her to a café as a thank-you.
“Quite, Headmistress.” I’m fighting hard not to smile.
“Good. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have”—her pale gaze flicks to the piles of papers on her desk—“a significant amount of paperwork to do, and I’d like to be done here before I die.”
At her unexpected joke, I let out a laugh. The headmistress smiles in return, then takes another sip of tea and shoos me toward the door with a waggle of her jeweled fingers.
She doesn’t have to tell me twice.
I’m across the room and about to open the door when the headmistress says, “And the next time you speak with Cairn, please send my regards. I’d like to know how he’s settling in.”
Slowly, I glance back over my shoulder, and the headmistress is giving me that knowing pointed-eyebrow look again.
“I can do that,” I say softly.
Headmistress Moonhart smiles.
Then I get the hell out of there before she can change her mind.
Epilogue
Cairn
Two Months Later
THE DAYS HAVE BEEN RAINY and cold, and my hooves are caked in mud more often than not. But today, the sky is a clear blue, with no clouds to be seen.
It’s going to be a perfect spring day.
I’ve settled into my new position here at the Columbine Conservatory—at least, as much as is possible after only a few months. I’m not the type of person who adjusts easily to new situations, so it’s taken me some time to find my place here, but everyone has been warm and welcoming, and though the work is demanding—I’m outdoors sunup to sundown most days of the week—I thrive on it.
Today, I’m planting a new field of potatoes for the community garden. I created the hills and trenches yesterday, and now I’m lugging around bucketfuls of potatoes, bendingto press them six inches into the dirt, then patting soil back around them gently.
The field is quiet save for the calling of crows in the nearby trees and the whisper of the spring breeze, so when I hear footsteps in the distance, it catches my attention.
I plant another potato, tuck it into the soil so it’ll stay warm, then straighten and lift one hand to shield my eyes against the morning sun.
There’s a figure walking toward me, but the sun is at their back, casting them in shadow.
Milo, maybe? He always makes a point to come say hello whenever he sees me working the fields or tidying the orchards, and surprisingly, I’ve appreciated the company. But this figure doesn’t have his lanky stride, and they’re not nearly tall enough to be Milo.
So, who is it?
I’ve met most—if not all—of the other employees here, but we’ve got lots of volunteers too, so there are always unfamiliar faces around. And though I’m notreallyin the mood to talk to someone new, I draw myself up and prepare a smile.
