A Faerie's Secret (Creepy Hollow Book 4) (5 page)

Ryn sighs, looks at me, and asks, “Do you have everything?”

“I think so. Notebooks to write in, that textbook Vi said was really useful, clothes for training in, snacks for lunch time, that letter you gave me from the Chief Examiner, and my—”

“So, basically, you’re completely overprepared.”

“Ryn!”

“Ryn, that’s not helpful,” Vi says as she crosses the room to the hallway. “You know how nervous she is for her first day.”

“Of course I know. I can feel it. She’s being ridiculous, though, since she has nothing to be nervous about.”

With a groan, I push past my insensitive brother and head for the hallway. “Are you coming with us, Vi?”
Please, please, please say yes.
I need someone who actually gets how important this day is to me.

“I’m sorry, I can’t.” Vi gives me an apologetic look as she removes a weapons belt from the hallway cupboard. “I need to be Underground in fifteen minutes to set up that workshop for new instructors. Besides, if you want to make a good first impression today, walking into the Guild with me at your side isn’t going to help. You know how they feel about me.”

“Don’t be silly.” Ryn strides past us and raises his stylus to the hallway wall. “They love you.”

“Right.” Vi secures the weapons belt around her waist with a loud click. “Do they use the words ‘Guild traitor’ for everyone they love?”

“Well, no, but you’re married to the Council’s newest and sexiest member, so they can’t really hate you, can they?”

“Fantastic,” I say, grabbing Ryn’s arm and facing the doorway he just opened. “Now that I’ve had to listen to my brother call himself sexy, can we please go?”

“We can.” He blows a kiss to Vi and says, “Have a good day, my sexy Guild traitor.”

Shaking my head, I tug Ryn into the darkness of the faerie paths.

“So,” he says, “calling you ridiculous didn’t help your nerves?”

“No.”

“I’m sorry. I was trying to make you see you’ve got nothing to be nervous about.”

“Shh, I’m trying to focus.” I picture the small entrance room next to the Creepy Hollow Guild’s main foyer. We step out and find a guard standing there. He scans the markings on Ryn’s wrists with his stylus, then does the same to my pendant when I hold it up. “Thank you,” I say, giving him a wide smile. I still get excited every time I arrive here.

The guard steps aside and allows us to pass through the door and the curtain of invisible magic that exists there. It’s meant to detect dangerous magic, strange enchantments, and other threats. In the main foyer, I look up and admire the swirling cloud of protective enchantments in the domed ceiling as Ryn leads the way across the marble floor. We reach the grand staircase. An emerald green carpet that never seems to get dirty covers the stairs. The wooden banisters are decorated with carvings of curling patterns. I run my fingers over the grooves as we climb.

“So we’re meeting with Councilor Merrydale, right?” I ask.

“Actually, Head Councilor Bouchard is here. I got the message this morning.”

“
Head
Councilor?” My anxiety kicks up a level. “Like, the bigwig in charge of
all
the Councilors?”

“That’s the one. He’s based at the French Guild, but he visits the other Guilds periodically to check on things. I guess it’s our turn today.”

I clench one fist and press it against my lips. Why, why, why did he pick today? I’m nervous enough as it is without having to meet some scary Head Councilor.

“Hey, it’s fine. Don’t panic.” Ryn reaches for my free hand and squeezes it. “Trust me, there’s nothing intimidating about this guy. He’ll introduce you to your mentor and explain a few things. That’s it.”

I lower my fist to my side and release it, breathing out slowly. “Okay. You’re right. I’m sure I have nothing to be nervous about.”

“Of course I’m right,” Ryn says, flashing me a grin.

We continue climbing the stairs until we reach the floor housing the Council members’ offices. “Are you getting an office up here?” I ask.

Ryn shakes his head. “They offered me one, but I declined. Since I’m still leading a guardian team and don’t have many Council responsibilities yet, I’d rather continue working on the same level as my team members.” He looks over his shoulder, then adds in a low voice, “It’s far too boring up here.”

If nerves weren’t currently twisting my face into a pained expression, I’d probably smile at that. We stop beside Councilor Merrydale’s office, and Ryn knocks while I take another slow breath that does absolutely nothing to calm the building anxiety in my stomach.

“Enter,” calls a high-pitched voice that definitely does not belong to Councilor Merrydale.

“Leave your bag outside,” Ryn says. I let the bag slip to the floor as he opens the door. He lets me walk in ahead of him. Behind the large desk I’ve become accustomed to seeing the cheerful Councilor Merrydale sitting at, I find a short man with slicked-back hair arguing with a woman I’ve seen several times near the training center. The man is one of those unfortunate male faeries whom nature decided to grace with a feminine color. Looking into his annoyed pink eyes, I’m reminded for a moment of a rat.

Focus, Calla!

Next thing I’ll ruin everything by projecting an image of Councilor Bouchard scurrying around on the floor. Something tells me I wouldn’t be able to explain that one away without landing myself on the Griffin List.

“So this one is the fake?” Councilor Bouchard asks the woman in accented English. He waves a bronze bangle decorated with clockwork parts and green gems in front of her face before smacking it down on the desk. “And you do not know how long the real one has been missing?”

“No,” the woman says. “It’s an exact replica. And the alarm was never—”

“And why was it here? Do you not know the procedure? Artifacts such as this must be sent to the vault at the Seelie Court.”

“Harmless artifacts, yes. But as I’ve already explained to you—”

“No.” Councilor Bouchard holds a hand up as if silencing a child. “No more explaining. I will be downstairs in ten minutes to address your entire department.”

The woman snatches the bangle from the desk and strides past me, her lips pressed together in anger.

Councilor Bouchard crosses his arms and turns his pink gaze to me. His eyes widen briefly as he takes me in. It’s a reaction I’m used to. Faeries come in all colors of the rainbow, but, as I’ve discovered after attending seven different schools, gold isn’t a common one. In fact, I’ve never met anyone with hair and eyes the same color as mine. “And who are you?” he asks in a way that leaves me feeling like I’m wasting his time simply by standing here.

I try to answer, but my voice gets stuck somewhere at the back of my throat, and all I can think is that I’ll never trust Ryn again when he tells me someone isn’t intimidating.

“This is Calla Larkenwood, sir,” Ryn says. “She’s the new trainee starting with the fifth years this morning. We were supposed to meet with Councilor Merrydale, but I received a message saying I should bring her to you instead since you’re here today.”

“Oh, yes, yes. Miss Larkenwood.” Councilor Bouchard sifts through the papers on the desk before lifting one and frowning at it. “Private training. Passed all requirements as set forth by the Council. Excellent results for all written examinations. Some trouble with guardian weapons.” He lowers the page and looks at me. “You know you cannot be a guardian if you cannot use the weapons.”

I clasp my hands to stop my fingers from twisting together. I clear my throat to make sure my voice works this time. “Yes, sir, I know that. But I can use the weapons.” Figuring out how to pull invisible weapons from the air was the hardest part of my training. In the beginning, I’d stop in the middle of fighting so I could fully focus on picturing and feeling for the required weapon until it materialized in my hand. By that time, of course, Ryn would be staring at me with a bored expression while saying something like, “I’ve killed you three times already.” It took a lot of practice for me to get to the point where pulling weapons from the air felt more like instinct than effort. In fact, I’m still not entirely sure I’m there yet.

“You can use them?” Councilor Bouchard says. “Oh good. Please show me a sword.”

“I—I must—You want to see a sword?”

“Yes. Hurry up, I haven’t got all day.”

My right hand twitches, but I can’t seem to picture the sword. All I can see are those impatient little rat eyes, boring into me. Labeling me not good enough. A failure.

Come on, Calla. See the sword. Feel the sword. Make it—

Ryn tugs me against his chest, wraps an arm around me, and brings a knife to my neck. Jolted out of my frozen state, I reach forward and slash my hand through the air as if with a sword. Halfway through the motion—and to my great relief—a sword glittering like a thousand stars welded together appears in my hand. Ryn steps swiftly away from me, and I’m left with adrenaline coursing through my body and a glowing sword in my hand. It disappears when I release it, leaving a trace of sparkles in the air that vanish seconds later.

Councilor Rat-Man-Bouchard blinks, then says, “I suppose that is good enough.” He turns back to the page in his hand. “Your mentor is Olive Stockland. I’m sure she can take things from here.” He waves a dismissive hand at us before searching through more papers on the desk.

I turn and just about run for the door. Ryn follows close behind me and pulls the door shut. I pick up my bag, fix him with a glare, and whisper, “What happened to that guy
not
being intimidating?”

Ryn pulls me away from the office and down the corridor. “What happened to you being able to use the weapons?”

“I can use them. Sometimes I just need some … encouragement.”

“Like a knife to your neck?”

My bag strap slips, and I pull it back onto my shoulder. “Yes,” I say with a sigh. “I think I froze or something. He was staring at me with those weird little pink eyes, and I couldn’t focus enough on the weapons. So thanks for kicking my brain into action.”

“You’re welcome.” We head back down the stairs. “And I’m sorry about Councilor Bouchard,” Ryn adds. “He’s usually pretty tame, but something’s obviously caused him to lose his temper today.”

“Well, hopefully my new mentor has more patience than the Head Councilor.”

“Hmm.” Ryn directs me down the second floor corridor. “I’m not sure ‘patient’ is the word I’d use to describe Olive Stockland.”

“Oh dear.” This day just keeps getting better.

“Hey, stop stressing about everything. I’m sure the two of you will end up besties.”

I punch Ryn’s arm. “I’d like to remind you that I have no besties.”

“So here’s your chance to make one.” Ryn stops and spreads one arm out toward the closed door in front of him. “All the best, baby sister. I’ll see you later.”

My stomach plummets. “You’re leaving me?”

“I am.” He gives me a brief hug. “Time for you to do this on your own.”

CHAPTER

FIVE

After clearing my throat and pulling my shoulders back, I knock on Olive Stockland’s door. Ryn is right. He got me into the Guild, he spent all summer training me, he quizzed me before every exam, and he saved me from making an idiot of myself in front of the Head Councilor. So now it’s time to step up and do the rest of this on my own. It’s time to prove I have just as much right to be here as every faerie who’s spent the past four years—

“Come in!”

Okay, time to focus.

I place my hand on the doorknob, then hesitate as it hits me: I’m about to meet my mentor. My
guardian mentor
. This is really happening! I twist the knob and push the door open.

Olive’s office is a mess. The desk is invisible beneath piles of reed paper, several knives, some dirty mugs, and a broken crossbow. Her chair is piled with boxes, and the chair on my side of the desk has a plate of something that was probably breakfast sitting on it. On the right side of the room, a tall woman—Olive, presumably—is stacking books on the highest shelf of a cabinet that reaches the ceiling. She flicks her right hand in a repetitive motion, causing the books to fly one by one from her left hand onto the shelf.

When she’s done, she steps back, pushes stray wisps of short hair away from her face, and looks at me. “Yes?”

My hand tightens around my bag strap. I clear my throat once more. “Hi. Good morning. I’m Calla.” When she does nothing more than place her hands on her hips and blink at me, I add, “Calla Larkenwood. Um, I’m the new trainee starting with the fifth years. You’re … my mentor?”

Olive lets out a puff of air and gives me a grim smile. “Wonderful. As if I don’t have enough on my plate already, I now get to mentor yet another trainee. And, to make matters worse, it’s a trainee who thinks she can skip four years of hard work and start at the end.”

“I …” I pause with my mouth partially open, stunned by her immediate hostility.

“Well?” she says. “Do you have anything to say, or is that vacant expression something I should get used to?”

I snap my mouth shut and turn my gaze to the floor in humiliation. Why, why,
why
did the Council have to give me a mentor who doesn’t think I should even be here? Or do all the mentors feel this way about the new trainee who ‘thinks she can skip four years of hard work’? An ache behind my eyes warns me that tears are on the way. I blink several times until I’m certain the tears won’t surface. I’ve had practice in this department. I’ve dealt with people like this before. And, while it isn’t ideal to have a mentor who thinks I’m nothing but a waste of her time, I can make it work if I have to. It’s what I’ve done at every other school.