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I knock on the door of the office and enter, breathing a quick sigh of relief when I don’t see any other students. The row of plastic chairs is empty, so I go straight to the desk and wait until Miss Worthy lifts her steel gaze.
“Yes? What’s so important, Mia, that you decided skipping class was a good idea?”
“It is important,” I say.
“I’ll be the judge of that.” She writes a few more words on an official-looking document and puts down her pen fastidiously straight and at an equal distance between the document and the edge of the desk. “So tell me, what can I do for you?”
“I need to speak to the Headmaster—”
“The Headmaster.” She blinks as if she isn’t sure she heard me right. “What about?”
“I have a problem… of a magical nature and I thought, I mean… He is a magical creature, isn’t he?”
She pushes her glasses up her nose. “What of it?”
“I need to speak to a member of a magical race.”
“Then why not talk to me? You know I’m a shifter.”
That’s a thought. Miss Worthy is magical, and she knows who I really am. Would she believe my unlikely tale?
“You’d help me?” I whisper. “I thought you didn’t like me much.”
“I usually don’t like girls who lie about being on the student roster and then force magic users to put her on there anyway.”
My hands ball into fists. “What? I never forced anyone to do anything. Ash did it all on his own.”
“Interesting. Am I to believe that Ashton D’Aube put you on the list and then the fae boy, Sindri Arash, paid your fees without any magicking?”
“Okay, back up. You think I used magic on the boys to make my way into the Academy?”
She shrugs her bony shoulders. “You’re an Apollinari witch.”
“I didn’t even know I was one back then. Didn’t know I had any magic. I grew up thinking I’d been adopted.”
“You did seem very surprised to find out who you were.” She moves her document an inch to the right. “Why would your uncle hide the truth from you?”
“I don’t know. I thought you might know.” I sigh when she says nothing. “Look, Miss Worthy… I didn’t come today to talk about that. What I came to talk about is a magical matter of grave importance—”
“Maybe you’d rather speak to a witch?” she says. “There is Vanessa Godwin. Decent witch family, though nowhere near as strong as the Apollinari. I’m not aware of any other witches here. These are the registered ones and no other student has exhibited witching magic so far.”
“Actually, I’d rather tell you or the Headmaster. I…”
“You look worried,” she observes.
“I am.”
She steeples her fingers on her desk. “Does it have something to do with the other Apollinari, you cousin?”
“Yeah.”
“Go on.”
So I go on as instructed and tell her what has been going on since Ophelia came back to the Academy—about the magic surges, the shooter, the enchantment, about Vanessa working with Ophelia to prepare the ritual of the Golden Moon.
“Oh. That,” Miss Apollinari says once I’m done with the story.
“That?” I echo, incredulous. “That’s all you have to say?”
