Professor Azula continues to stare at me, her red eyes narrowing slightly. Whatever she’s looking for, I’m not going to give it to her.
“You’ve taught many students over the centuries,” Headmistress Moonhart says. “What do you propose Miss Vandermere needs?”
My mind flashes with images of Maeve, overlapped with my own thoughts and struggles since I felt the first draw of interest in her. And when I speak, it’s both to the headmistress and to myself.
“If control is her problem, perhaps she needs to be set free.”
Professor Azula has yet to cease staring at me. “Set free? She’s a storm witch, Severin. Do you have any idea how much devastation their magic can cause?”
“Yes,” I say simply. “I’ve centuries of experience, Bia. I’ve seen what happens when powerful witches lose control. You’re welcome to sit in on my Dangerous Magic Across Time lecture if you need a refresher course.”
Professor Azula’s lips twitch with displeasure. Beside the headmistress, Professor Fleur tries to hide a smile behind her hand.
“My point,” I continue, “is that trying so hard to maintain control may be the problem in and of itself.” As the words run out of me, I internalize them, wondering what they mean for me and my life, for the way I’ve survived all these years.Suddenly, I remember something Maeve said to me in that first lecture class, when she insisted on arguing about the Tempest Cataclysm. “Storms need guidance, not dominance.”
Headmistress Moonhart tips her head at me, and a small, subtle smile plays at the corner of her mouth. “Perhaps you can help her with that.”
Now Professor Azula’s sharp gaze snaps to the headmistress. “What? He’s a history professor. How is he going to help her?”
The headmistress is unfazed by Professor Azula’s cutting tone. She takes a leisurely sip of her tea, then says, “He’s had centuries of experience in control. Perhaps he knows better than the rest of us how to balance it with storm magic’s natural inclination to be free of constraints.”
The other professors seem unsettled by this, and I can’t fully blame them; I don’t have a drop of magic in my blood, and they all know it. What the headmistress doesn’t know, though, is that since I met Maeve Vandermere, my level of control has been in a steady downward spiral, and two nights ago, it almost ceased to exist.
I didn’t bite her, I remind myself. I may have done a number of other things I shouldn’t have, but that’s the one line I didn’t cross. The one line I can’t cross.
“Well?” the headmistress says when I don’t respond. “Do you have time in your schedule for a mentorship, Severin?”
I consider saying no, trying to create some figment of distance between myself and Maeve. But if I don’t help her and she doesn’t get the chance to stand before the board of the Arcanum Collective...
I’m quite certain I’d never forgive myself. And she’d never forgive me either.
“Yes,” I say, to what appears to be the utter distaste of Professor Azula. “I’d be happy to mentor Miss Vandermere.”
“Good.” Headmistress Moonhart nods once, silver-blue hair catching the autumn light coming through the windows of the staff meeting room. “For now, Miss Vandermere’s endorsement will remain provisional. We’ll reassess after her next demonstration.” Her pale eyes meet mine, and if I’m not mistaken, there’s a challenge there. “That’s six weeks from now. And I look forward to seeing what she can do.”
Chapter 25
Maeve
“YOUR ESSAY TOPIC IS DUE to me next class,” Severin says moments before the clock chimes, marking the end of the class period. All around me, the other fourth-years scurry to put their notebooks and quills away, but I move more slowly. I know better than to make my feelings for Severin obvious in class, but I still like to take my time so that I can at least catch his eye on my way out of the classroom.
When most of the other students are gone, having already filed out into the history wing, I stand from my seat and sling my bookbag over one shoulder, being careful not to squish Isis where she’s curled around my throat.
Severin is talking to another student as I step down from the raised seating, and I think he won’t notice me leaving, but before I can make it to the door, he calls out, “Miss Vandermere, a moment.”
I go still, a tiny thrill dancing through my veins. In response, Isis lets out a gentle hiss.
“If you need more guidance,” Severin is telling the other student, “come to my office hours.”
“Yes, Professor. Thank you.” The witch walks away, passing me on her way to the door.
When we’re alone, Severin meets my eye.
“Professor,” I say, a hint of curiosity painting my tone.
I expect him to smile in that small, secret way he’s started to. But instead, he looks at me seriously, and I wonder what this is about.
“The Arcanum Collective fellowship came up during our staff meeting this morning,” he says.
