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“Two Nagas, but no. I’m very grateful to them both. Having them here this year has made me feel much better about the safety of the students. I hope they stay.”
“Why wouldn’t they?” My heart does a stupid little stutter. It didn’t occur to me that Doctor Prince and Madame Serpa might not stay at Bevvy beyond this year. I know faculty move around and Doctor Prince only just started teaching here, but I can’t fathom being at Bevvy without her.
I won’t. If she leaves, I’ll transfer to wherever she goes.
Lords gives me an arch look. “Do you have to ask?”
I lean my hip against one of the reading tables. “Yeah, why wouldn’t they stay?”
“Two reasons.” Lords holds up two fingers. “First, because you four now know what they are. There’s a huge prejudice against shifters, particularly snake-shifters. You and I know they’re not all evil, but that’s the perception of most magi. If you can’t keep your mouths shut—which hasn’t been your strong suit—one or both of them might be forced to leave.”
I snarl at him. “We’d never hurt either of them like that.”
His lips twitch and he folds down one finger, leaving his middle finger up at me, which I’m sure is deliberate. I may be British, but I know that gesture, mate. “Second, despite the threat you represent to her career, Doctor Prince is absurdly devoted to you. If you stay at Madavar after the summer, which I expect Professor Tate and his entire university will offer you every inducement to do, Doctor Prince will undoubtedly take Madavar up on its many offers to head their Chronomancy department.”
It's my turn to suppress a smile. “I haven’t even gotten accepted into the summer program yet.”
“You will. While I’d very much like to pretend you four are normal freshmen, Teddy, you’re not, and people are beginning to notice you.”
“Yeah, well, I wish most of ‘em wouldn’t. We’re not leaving Bevvy. We love it here. Surfing’s fine for a summer, but sunshine year ‘round? That’s fucking unnatural, mate. I need seasons. And Darwin can’t ski somewhere there’s no snow.”
Lords drops into a chair at the reading table. “I hear he’s very good.”
“Of course he is,” Callan says, seating himself opposite Lords regally.
I leave him to his moment of paternal pride while I open the Spellcase and take out the Acta Capricornis. I’ll be the first to admit that the boys and I are messing with magic that’s way above our pay grade. Do I understand why we had to risk impalement by unicorns to create Saturn’s stone sigil to open the Spellcase the first time, but since then, all any of us have had to do to open the Spellcase is repeat the chant? No, I don’t. No more’n I understand why the spells in the Acta work one way for me but work another way for another magi.
Doctor Prince said we barely understand a fraction of the grand mystery that is magic. She’s the first of my professors to ever admit sommat like that to me. I always reckoned magic was learnable, if I studied hard enough. But I believe her.
I hope to unravel a little more of the mystery. Maybe someday, students at Bevvy will study my spells.
But not today. Today, I need the wisdom of my elders. I take the Acta to the table and sit beside Callan, facing Lords.
“Put up whatever wards you got,” I tell them. “Last time I did this, I accidentally summoned a fate and the time before that, I turned Darwin to stone.”
Callan clears his throat. “I assumed that was metaphorical.”
“No, not so much,” Lords says. He begins muttering under his breath, twisting the silver ring on his pinkie around. The air around him glitters.
The ring catches my attention for a moment. I’ve seen it, or one very like it, on my boy’s hand. When I came back from the future, Gabe was wearing rings I’d never seen before. They look like the one Lords is wearing. Now I know where Gabe got them.
I smile at him for taking care of my boy while I wasn’t around to do it; I unroll the scroll and read the eleventh stair.
Whether it’s the wards they have up, or that I’m not directing the spells at them, or that I’m getting better at not wreaking havoc on everyone around me, nothing happens while I read the last two stairs. The witchlight illuminating the reading room doesn’t flicker. No hairy spider legs whizz out of thin air at my head.
It’s a peaceful hour, all told.
When I finish reading each stair three times and the spells are firmly embedded in my brain, I roll up the scroll and return it to the Spellcase.
Callan wipes the air in front of him like he’s clearing steam off a mirror. I haven’t been able to see whatever ward he put up, but as he clears it, I feel the reduction in pressure, like a drop in altitude.
The Winter Prince holds his hand out to me. “I’d prefer to return via the Fae Ways, no offense.”
I screw my face up at him. “None taken.”
He chuckles and stands. Lords and I link elbows with him. Callan makes that ripping gesture through the air in front of him and, despite all of Bevington’s and the Bladelaw’s wards, leads us into the First Dark.
* * *
