Headmistress Moonhart nods once, then lifts her teacup and takes a sip.
Professor Stone finishes his muffin before saying, “Perhaps we should require more proficiency before allowing access to the practice room.”
Professor Azula shoots a look at him. “Requiring proficiency before practice defeats the purpose of practice.”
He shrugs and wipes a few crumbs from his lips. “Maybe. But it’d protect the castle.”
Moonhart raises a hand, cutting them off. “We won’t restrict access. However, I do expect clearer thresholds for advanced elemental demonstrations.” Her gaze flicks to Azula. “Particularly as we approach fellowship season.” Moonhart sets her teacup down and folds her hands on the table in front of her. “Correspondence from the Arcanum Collective arrived this morning; they’ve requested performance summaries for all fourth-year candidates.”
Professor Stone sighs. “Already? We’re only halfway through the semester.”
“They’ve tightened their review process. Apparently, several other academies have been... optimistic in their endorsements.”
A small murmur of laughter goes around the table, but I don’t react.
Because Maeve is applying for the fellowship. And I know she more than deserves it.
“So,” the headmistress continues, picking the parchment back up off the table, “let’s review our fourth-year fellowship candidates.”
She starts going through students alphabetically, which means Maeve will be at the end of the list. I tune out most of the discussions; as a history professor, I don’t have much to contribute.
Then the headmistress says, “Vandermere, Maeve.”
My body reacts to her name being spoken aloud, my stomach tightening and my fangs pulsing with a single burst of sharp thirst. I strive not to react outwardly, keeping my face neutral and disinterested.
“Miss Vandermere shows incredible potential,” Professor Azula says, “but she continues to struggle with control.”
Don’t we all, I think, clenching my teeth.
“She’s close but still lacks refinement. And with storm magic, precision is a necessity.”
Headmistress Moonhart takes another sip of her tea. “As her advisor, what do you suggest?”
Professor Azula sits back from the table, forehead creasing thoughtfully. “I hesitate to say this, but we may need to delay her formal endorsement for now.”
My eyes flick to Professor Azula’s, but she’s not looking at me.
Delay Maeve’s endorsement to the fellowship board? That might hinder her chances of getting selected, of even getting to stand before the board and demonstrate what she’s been working toward.
She’d be devastated.
“Miss Vandermere is powerful,” Professor Azula continues, “but power isn’t the issue. Storm magic is volatile, reactive. In a fellowship review, that will be tested.” She lifts one shoulder in a subtle shrug. “If she cannot display magical stability, I will not put her name forward.”
She says it so simply, but I know this would be crushing. Imagining the hurt in Maeve’s eyes makes me want to leap to her defense, protect her in any way I can.
And before I can stop myself, I say, “Miss Vandermere is capable.”
All the professors—and the headmistress—shift their focus to me.
“I don’t question her capability,” Professor Azula says, arching a sharp brow at me. “It’s her consistency.”
“You have her in lecture, Severin,” Headmistress Moonhart says. “What’s your assessment?”
I sit up a touch straighter and look the headmistress in the eye. “She demonstrates discipline. She’s not afraid to stand her ground.” Before saying the next few words, I have to ensure asmile doesn’t slip through and give my real feelings away. “She doesn’t back down from a challenge.”
“Storm magic isn’t a history lesson,” Professor Azula says, voice edged with heat.
“No,” I say. “But discipline is what leads to consistency, as you put it.”
