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Okay, well that one had always been there. Maybe it wasn’t all that far-fetched after all.
Basil laughed, the sound low and appealing. “I’ll take your silence as a ‘no’. I suppose that’s to be expected. In my experience, most witches don’t know their fathers.”
“No,” I admitted. “I didn’t. But I guess it makes sense. My brother is a warlock, and I’m...” I jabbed a finger at my hair. “This.”
Basil’s eyes twinkled with good humor. “Yes, a powerful Fae parent would augment a child’s gifts. Have you noticed any non-witch like abilities manifesting lately? Aside from what you just did, I mean.”
I nodded and couldn’t hold his gaze. I had begun noticing new gifts, but I thought they were a part of my witch legacy, not some kind of weird Fae puberty revealing itself. This was just too strange. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him nod thoughtfully to himself.
“Yes, I’d say you’re definitely part-Fae. Autumn, from the looks of it.” He picked a bit of crushed leaf from my palm with a wistful smile. “Me too.” He looked at the leaf fondly for another few seconds before he returned his attention to me. “Has it always been your favorite season?”
Yes. I loved it. I’d always loved it, but that hadn’t seemed so odd because Autumn was a time for revelry. It was a time of parties and festivities. I got to dress up with Wanda and drink mead. Who didn’t love All Hallow’s Eve? I couldn’t find my voice, so I nodded again.
“Chin up. It’s nothing to be ashamed of, and it’s completely understandable you didn’t know. Though I think you ought to skip class the day the Autumn guest speaker arrives. You withstood the others well, but your reaction to Autumn song is a dead giveaway. I’ve been inured to it after years as a servitor to the Lords of Autumn. Come to me for private lessons, and we’ll see if we can increase your tolerance over time.”
“Thank you, Professor… I mean... Basil.”
“Not a problem, Astrid. I recommend you spend the time between classes to do a little research about your court. It could come in handy.” He paused a moment and the smirk returned to his mouth. “And… the ability to create elements from your court is quite impressive. Your parent must have been one of the higher levels of Fae—royalty, I’d wager.”
My voice failed me again as I nodded, turned my back on him, and took the stairs two at a time, trying to scrub faerie dust off my hands as I went.
Chapter Twelve
The library was located at the end of a marble hallway, looking up at a ceiling that must have been several stories tall.
The ceiling was domed and painted with incredible murals, hosting an array of carved fantastical and mundane creatures: mermaids, fawns, wolves, and eagles. Doors, nearly as large as those at the entrance, lined either side of the hall.
At the very end, beneath an equally great stained-glass window, was a desk. My wonder quickly turned to dread when I realized who sat behind it, minding the visitor’s log. The light from the window enhanced the ineffable quality of her smooth, ivory skin. It was one of Vivian’s cronies, who only shared half her schedule with her idol. I was pretty sure her name was Reed. She looked up from a book casually, face creasing with dislike when she saw me.
“Ah, if it isn’t the little backwoods blood whore,” she said in an undertone, making sure only she and I could hear. “I didn’t realize you could read.”
“You know, I’m more offended by your lack of originality. I’ve met mundane high school bullies that can outdo you and your gymnastics coach on their worst day.”
“Gymnastics?” she repeated, frowning in confusion. “What kind of nonsense is that?”
“You’re part of the elite brown-nosing gymnastics team. Vivian says jump, you say how high, and on what pole? Honestly, I’d rather be a blood whore than a brainless sheep. At least I have a little more dignity.”
Reed half-rose from her seat, two fingers poised in a beckoning gesture. Power coalesced in the air between us, crackling with malice. I tensed, ready to defend myself against whatever hex she was about to throw at me, but it never came. The power died away when someone poked their head out of the library doors and cleared their throat. Reed’s spine went ramrod straight, and she turned her head to face the intruder.
It was the older, come-hither witch that Oleander had been meeting up with. Going to the library hadn’t been a lie, after all. He just hadn’t gone alone.
“Sign her in, Reed,” the woman said. Her voice was throaty and suggestive, even when addressing another woman. “I would hate to have to report you to my aunt for not doing your job.”
“Stay out of this, Morgana,” Reed hissed back. “This has nothing to do with you.”
I felt my heart speed up at the mention of the woman’s name.
“It has everything to do with me,” Morgana countered. “Auntie made it my business when she decided to scapegoat me, instead of one of her precious daughters. Sign Astrid in, or I will crack open your skull to see how empty it really is.” Then she blinked sweetly, and I almost laughed.
Reed lowered herself into her chair, face pale. I wasn’t sure what Morgana had done to Vivian and her crew to make them react this way, and I didn’t care. Watching them lose their bravado around this woman was worth every second of torment they’d put me through.
“You’re signed in,” Reed muttered and refused to look at me.
“Good,” Morgana said, turning away, somehow conveying that she’d dismissed the girl as she faced me. “Well, come on then.”
I followed the mysterious Morgana inside.
The library was immense, even larger than its outward appearance made it seem. What space wasn’t taken up by towering shelves and sliding ladders was occupied by large wooden tables with clawed feet. The floor was covered in ornate, red carpeting. Sunlight dappled the ground, pouring in through the immense windows and the gilded skylight above. The air itself was musty and stiff, the smell of a million aged pages all but demanding silence. Bright flakes of dust swam lazily around the beams. Only the gentle flutter of turning pages interrupted the hushed ambiance of the place.
