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She scribbles it down. “Which House are you affiliated with?”
“None.”
“You’ll room with the other unclaimed mortals, then. But don’t fret, you’ll have the company of others of your sort there.”
She hands me a booklet. “Read the Old Code bylaws pertaining to the Gentle Interlude thoroughly. Some have changed since last year, especially for any mortal who...” Her voice trails off as she stares at my face and clears her throat. “Subterraneans, too, I suppose. Pay notable attention to the laws of Pristine Appearance, Conducted Conflict, and Radiant Sovereignty. Do you have weapons to check, my lovely?”
I nod and remove my rucksack so I can withdraw the bone sword. The blue, pulsing elven glyphs along the blade give my heart a homesick tug. I’ve only been gone for half a day but already miss familiar sights.
Peablossom recoils at the sword, picks it up with dainty fingers, and remarks, “One sword made of... bone?” Her complexion pales, and she dry retches. Then, she quickly places the weapon on her desk and magically adds some kind of tracking symbol. “Just a precaution,” she notes. “In case we have any violations.”
She gingerly slides the sword back, and I sheath it between my shoulder blades. A high-pitched giggle erupts from her lips and she fans her face.
“Phew. I’m delighted that’s over. Kindly bear no offense, dearest confection. Now, where were we? Ah, yes, presentation.” She squints at my figure. “Regarding your uniform, you appear to be of small size. I believe I have one remaining. Lucky you.”
She retrieves a folded pile of gray garments from below her desk, hands them to me, and then adds a pair of black sturdy boots. I see no embroidery or fancy embellishments like the fashion in the city. The fabric is coarse to the touch and will likely irritate.
“Wear that garment daily, cleanse it, and suspend it to dry by your dormitory cot come dusk. You will indeed receive a stern reproach if you neglect to grace official events in your designateduniform. Rest assured, dearest, you will be given a fresh uniform if you are assigned to a House.”
If?
“There’s more to explain,” she says, standing up quickly. “But if you don’t tidy yourself before the pageant, it’s my good nature on the line. And I don’t fancy losing another eyebrow today. Quickly now. Embrace the flutter. Moments aplenty await.”
With a clap of her hands, she leaves the sanctity of her desk and walks toward the same door Goodfellow went. I’ve never gushed over fashion before, but awe fills my soul when I take in her gown. The brocade corset is covered in gems and cinches a tiny waist. As she walks, the gem-encrusted skirt swishes and tinkles like bells. If the number of enchanted charms indicates status, Peablossom must be very important. She’s covered in them.
Didn’t she say she’s a lady-in-waiting? Does that mean she works for the queen?
We enter a long hallway with lancet windows overlooking a stunning garden filled with blossoms, green foliage, and the forest I glimpsed while journeying. More snow has fallen, and now frost touches the windowpanes and tips of the leaves outside. Mist swirls down paths in the dense woods.
Peablossom waltzes gracefully down the hallway, a whimsical lightness to her delicate step. Her hands wave from side to side as though she conducts an invisible orchestra.
“And we are having fun,” she sings, glancing through the frosted windows. Her smile seems forced as she continues. “And we are joyful.” She pushes through another set of wooden doors. “Chin isup. All iswell.”
She faces me and broadens her fake grin, pointing to her appled cheeks. More singsong. “We are smiling, yes?”
“Sure,” I intone.
My lack of interest doesn’t bother her. She continues chanting platitudes about pleasantry and joyful manifestations. The next set of doors leads outside. The fresh air brings the scent of ice, pine, and moss. Even though she shivers in her gown, she pretends not to notice the cold and keeps her chin up. We head to another gray building at the end of a short, winding path.
“You will notice the fort on the right,” she cheerfully says, tossing a graceful hand toward the woods.
I only glimpse two towers within the tall forest at this lower level, but I don’t think they’re what she’s directing me to. One tower is a dark stone with red glowing veins. Air shimmers around the building like a mirage. Since snow avoids the area, I guess the air must be warm. The second tower is less visible but glimmers with green and turquoise adornments that might be seashell shaped.
She briefly turns and sings through chattering teeth, “There is a map in your registration leaflet. House of Embers.” She points to the red-veined tower. “House of Tides.” To the greenish one. She groans and then forces her smile back. “Yes, we are smiling. Hurry along. Embrace the flutter.”
The most surprising part about this journey is that Ifeelthe Six here somewhere. The awareness is in every fiber of my being, like a tug from my center with an invisible string. Are we connected? What does that mean?
Jogging to keep up with her brisk steps, I look for signs of the them and hug the uniform closer to my chest. Not because I am afraid, but because I just realized I never offered her my dagger after she checked my sword.
And I won’t.
Chapter
Eight
WILLOW
When Peablossom leads me into the dormitory commons, heads swivel our way. Long tables are filled with impeccably groomed people wearing gray uniforms—some smirk at me, some recoil, and some deadpan. Heat rises to my cheeks. I fight the urge to touch the ropy scars and misshapen angles. Instead, I touch Tinger’s pendent and remember why I’m here, where I’ve come from, and who taught me.
