Эприлинн Пайк: Spells

A tall faerie with a stern face and brown hair starting to gray at the temples stood in front of a younger, more simply dressed faerie who was holding a large stack of books. The older faerie wore what looked like linen Yoga pants and a silky green shirt that hung open at the chest in a way that was not the least bit sensual. Laurel considered her own tendency toward tank tops and decided this was similar. His demeanor was distinguished, formal — and quite at odds with his bare feet.

“Laurel, I presume?” he said in a smooth, deep voice. He studied her. “Well, you haven’t changed all that much.”

Taken aback, Laurel could only stare blankly up at him. She had seen pictures of herself as a child; she had changed immensely!

“I am Yeardley, professor of fundamentals. May I?” the faerie said, inclining his head.

“Oh, of course,” Laurel blustered, opening the door wider.

Yeardley strode in and the faerie behind him followed closely. “There,” Yeardley said, pointing to Laurel’s desk. The other faerie stacked the pile of books on Laurel’s desk, bowed low to both Laurel and Yeardley, and backed out of the doorway before turning to walk down the hall.

Laurel turned back to the professor, who hadn’t looked away.

“I know Jamison is eager for you to begin classes, but, to be quite frank, I cannot start you on even the most basic lessons until you have some sort of foundation on which to build.”

Laurel opened her mouth to speak, realized she was in completely over her head, and closed it again.

“I have brought you what I believe to be the most basic and essential information that is requisite to beginning your true studies. I suggest you start immediately.”

Laurel’s eyes swung over to the stack of books. “All of those?” she asked.

“No. This is only the first half. I have one more batch when you have finished. Trust me,” the faerie said, “these were as few as I could possibly justify.” He looked down at a piece of paper he had pulled from a shoulder bag. “One of our acolytes”—he looked up at her—“that’s the level you would be at, by the way, under more favorable circumstances — has agreed to be your tutor. She will be available to you during all daylight hours, and explaining such basic concepts to you will hardly be a strain, so feel free to use her. We hope you spend no more than two weeks relearning the things you have forgotten since you left us.”

Wishing she could disappear through the floor, Laurel stood with her fists clenched.

“Her name is Katya,” Yeardley continued, paying no attention to Laurel’s reaction. “I suspect she will come introduce herself soon. Don’t let her social nature distract you from your studies.”

Laurel nodded stiffly, her eyes fixed firmly on the stack of books.

“I will leave you to your reading then,” he said, turning on his bare heel. “When all the books are read, we can begin regular classes.” He paused in the doorway. “Your staff can summon me when you are finished, but don’t bother until you have read each book completely. There simply isn’t any point.” Without a good-bye he strode through the doorway and pulled the door shut behind him, a loud click filling the deep silence of Laurel’s room.

Taking a long breath, Laurel walked over to the desk and looked at the spines of some of the ancient-looking books: Fundamental Herbology, Origins of Elixirs, The Complete Encyclopedia of Defensive Herbs , and Troll Anatomy . Laurel grimaced at the last one.

She had always enjoyed reading, but these books weren’t exactly light fiction. She looked from the tall stack of books to the picture window across the room and noted that the sun had already begun its descent into the western sky.

She sighed. This was not what she had expected of today.

LAUREL SAT CROSS-LEGGED ON HER BED WITH A PAIR of scissors, cutting sheets of paper into makeshift note cards. It had taken her less than an hour of reading to realize that the situation demanded note cards. And highlighters. A year of studying biology with David had apparently turned her into a neurotic method-studier. But the next morning she was dismayed to discover that the “staff,” as everyone called the soft-spoken, plainly dressed servants who scurried about the Academy, had no idea what note cards were. They were, however, familiar with scissors, so Laurel was making her own note cards out of a fine card stock. The highlighters, unfortunately, were a lost cause.

A soft rap sounded at the door. “Come in,” Laurel called, worried that she would scatter bits of paper everywhere if she tried to actually get up and open it.

The door swung open and a small, blond head poked in. “Laurel?”

Having given up trying to recognize people, Laurel simply nodded and waited for the stranger to introduce herself.

The short, pixie-style haircut was followed by a bright smile that Laurel found herself automatically returning. It was a relief to see a smile directed at her. Dinner the evening before had been a complete disaster. Laurel had been summoned around seven to come down for the evening meal. She had hurried downstairs behind a faerie who had showed her the way to the dining hall — Laurel should have gotten a clue when she heard dining hall instead of cafeteria —in her sundress and sandals, her hair still pulled back in a ponytail. The moment she entered the room Laurel realized she’d made a mistake. Everyone was dressed in button-down shirts and silk pants, or floor-length skirts and dresses. It was practically a white-tie formal affair, minus shoes. Worse, she’d been pulled to the front of the room by Aurora to be welcomed back and presented to the Fall faeries. Hundreds of Fall faeries with no one better to look at than her.

Note to self: Dress for dinner.

But that was last night, and now here was a genuine smile, aimed at her.

“Come on in,” Laurel said. She didn’t particularly care who this faerie was or why she was here, just that she looked friendly.

And that she represented a reason for Laurel to take a break.

“I’m Katya,” the faerie said.

“Laurel,” she said automatically.

“Well, of course I know that,” Katya said with a little laugh. “Everyone knows who you are.”

Laurel looked self-consciously down at her lap.

“I hope you’ve found the Academy to your liking,” Katya continued, sounding like the perfect hostess. “I know I am always a bit unsettled when I have to travel. I don’t sleep well,” Katya said, coming to sit beside her on the bed.

Laurel avoided her eyes and made a noise of agreement without actually saying anything, wondering how far Katya could really have traveled within Avalon.

In truth, Laurel hadn’t slept well. She hoped it was the new environment, as Katya had suggested. But she’d been ripped awake several times by nightmares, and not just the usual ones of trolls, guns pointed at Tamani, pointing a gun at Barnes, or icy waves closing in over her head. Last night it wasn’t her running from Barnes, her feet in slow motion; it was her parents, David, Chelsea, Shar, and Tamani.

Laurel had risen from her bed and walked to the window, pressed her forehead against the cool glass, and looked down at the twinkling lights scattered throughout the darkness that spread below her. It seemed so contradictory, coming to Avalon to learn how to protect herself and her loved ones, and in so doing, leaving them vulnerable. Though if the trolls were hunting her , maybe her family was safer when she wasn’t around. The whole situation was out of her control, out of her very knowledge. She hated feeling helpless — useless.

“What are you doing?” Katya asked, pulling Laurel from her dreary thoughts.