Pennyroyal Academy (14 page)

“Forbes, no!” shouted Remington. He knocked a young knight instructor aside and swung atop his black charger, following Forbes over the wall.

Run, Evie. Run faster and you can stop this.

“DRAGONSLAYERS, AHEAD! STOP THOSE BOYS!” came the panicked voice of the Headmistress.

The dragon swept into the air and unleashed another terrible roar. She hadn't seen either of the boys come over the wall, and was oblivious to the fleet of dragonslayers now doing the same. Suddenly, the field was full of very dangerous moving parts.

Evie ran as fast as she could toward the wall, but rough clumps of ground kept tripping her up. She fell onto her shoulder, then rolled to the side to see the horror unfolding before her.

Forbes charged at the huge, falling shadow of the dragon as she plunged in for another run of flame and thunder. Behind him, and closing fast, galloped the dragonslayers, their armor shimmering in the burning trees of the Dortchen Wild.

“SISTER!” screamed Evie. “SIS—”

Something ripped her from the ground. Pain fired through her ribs and she heard the sounds of tearing fabric and clomping hooves. Remington had grabbed her by the dress and hauled her onto his charger in one frantic pass.

“Hold on!” he shouted.

But Evie had lost all strength. She bounced limply on the horse, caged by Remington's arms, as they raced back to the wall. Another violent roar flattened the grass as the dragon swooped wide of the men waiting below. Her tail slapped into Forbes, launching him and his horse to the trees.

The metal tip of a dragonslayer's lance flashed upward, and a monstrous screech blasted across the clearing. Evie saw her sister's body recoil and knew she had been pierced.

“
NO!
”

And then she could hear nothing. Not the screams of the cadets as Remington's horse raced under the magical barrier. Not the roar of flame at the charred forest edge. Not the shrieks of her sister as she lurched off the ground and wobbled in the air, just beyond the reach of the dragonslayers.

Maggie, Demetra, Anisette, and Basil led the group that raced to help Evie from Remington's horse, but they were quickly pushed aside by staff. Hazelbranch and Wertzheim broke through next, lowering her limp body to the grass. They checked her for injury and covered her torn dress with burlap blankets. She didn't hear their questions. Her eyes were focused on her dear sister as she tried to flap her wings to escape, dropping in sickening jags back to the ground.

“Are you hurt?”

“What happened?”

“Clear some space! Give her air!”

“Your hand! What's happened to your hand? The dragon's scalded her!”

The wounded dragon desperately flapped her wings, finally building enough lift to clear the treetops. With erratic dips and bobs through the air, she disappeared into the low silver clouds.

“I'm sorry . . .” said Evie. “I'm so sorry . . .” The words were meant for her sister, but the staff heard them differently.

“You've nothing to apologize for, Cadet,” said Hazelbranch. “You haven't done a thing wrong—”

“What's happened here?” demanded Beatrice, shoving through the crowd with annoyance.

“She's in shock,” said Hazelbranch, dragging Evie to her feet. “We've got to get her to the Infirmary.”

“Everyone, back to your barracks!” shouted Beatrice. “Get the water butts down here and put out those fires! You, clear this hillside!”

As Hazelbranch and Wertzheim helped Evie stagger up the carriage ruts toward campus, she caught a glimpse of her friends up ahead. They were trying to break free from the herd to come to her, but the staff wouldn't let them through.

“You're all right, Eves!” shouted Maggie, and then they were shoved ahead with the rest of the cadets.

Evie's mind had gone flat and empty. It was all she could do to bring breath into her lungs.

Amidst the chaos on that hill, she glanced over and saw something entirely unexpected. Something so surprising she couldn't even comprehend its meaning. There, walking up the hill in the great migration of cadets, was Malora. Her eyes met Evie's, and in them was compassion. True, real, human compassion. It only lasted a moment, but in that compassion Evie saw that Malora understood. She understood the trauma of Evie's plight, and that she had been the one who had caused it. After that momentary connection, where Malora had allowed her vulnerability to shine through, Evie looked up to the black dome of clouds just as they began to drop white flakes of snow.

E
VIE STAGGERED
through swirling snow, her dress a punch of blue against the gray. Winds howled, throwing icy waves of powder through the air. She saw something in the snow ahead, a splash of black on the ground. It shimmered like the silvery snowflakes drifting all around her.

Dragon's blood.

She looked to her left, then her right, but the flurries washed past so swiftly it was impossible to judge direction. Something had crept up behind her—she could feel it there—and she turned to find her sister. The swampy green of her scales looked almost black in the whiteout. A horrendous gash in her side was washed with blood.

“
Find Saudade . . . find yourself . . .”
she growled.

“Is that where Father is?”

“
That's where you are.
”

A gust of wind howled, blasting the dragon to snow. Evie turned back and the blood was gone as well. She stood alone in the frozen heart of winter.

Then, so faint they could have been the shadows of snowdrifts, figures began to appear. Dozens of them, lurching forth from the white. They came from all directions, swaying like ghost ships in frozen seas. Witches.

There, beyond their slow, ragged advance, one towered above all others, her face obscured in the shadows of a thick black cloak—

Evie startled awake. She was asleep in her chair in the Infirmary waiting for another round of treatment. She wiped a bit of spittle from her chin and sat up. Though it had only been a nightmare, the image of Calivigne's grim silhouette lingered.

“Good, you're awake,” said Princess Wertzheim. “Just in time for this.” She set a small vial of red liquid on the table and made some notes on her parchment. Evie picked up the potion, rolling the smooth glass between her fingers, then set it down with a clink.

“I'd rather just get back to my company, if that's all right.”

“And you shall. Once you've had your treatment.” Wertzheim sat behind the table and busied herself with her notes.

Evie scowled at the tiny stoppered vial. In the weeks since she had awoken here after the assault on the wall, she had returned to the Infirmary each day for treatment. And each day when she stepped through the doors, the awful memory of her sister's screams washed into her mind like seawater into a tidal pool.

“It's not brewed for its flavor. Go on.”

Still, Evie didn't move. She stared into the depths of that liquid and could think of nothing but her sister and her father and her red hatred of the enemy.

Wertzheim lowered her parchment. “Drink the potion, Cadet.”

“No. I don't care about some make-believe past. I don't care about potions or memories or any of it. All I want is to fight witches.”

“Cadet Eleven—”

“I've been drinking these bloody things for months and I've had one memory.” She jabbed a finger in the air. “
One.
About a bloody pie—”

“Watch your words, Cadet,” said Wertzheim, her demeanor hardening. “You will treat every member of staff with respect, and that includes me, or I shall be forced to send you home—”

“Then do it!” spat Evie, shooting to her feet.
Why am I acting this way?
she thought. She had nothing but affection for the Academy's nurses, but a reckless part of her had been unleashed and she didn't know how to control it. “I'm not drinking that bloody potion—”

An arm snaked Evie's waist, pulling her back from the table.

“Forgive her, Princess, she's under duress,” said Forbes. “Loads and loads of duress.”

The sight of him enraged Evie. She tried to worm free of his grip, so he pinned her arms to her sides and lifted her off the floor.

“What are you doing? Let go of me!”

“Cadet Forbes, release that girl!”

“I'm only trying to save her from herself.”

“Put me down!” She thrashed and wriggled, but his grip was too tight.

“All right!” he said. He gently lowered her to the floor, but kept his arms clamped around her. “All right, but just, please, calm yourself. Before you say something you'll regret.”

He eased his arms open. She shoved him back, fixing him with a dark scowl.

“That's enough!” shouted Wertzheim.

“Perhaps we might forgo this round of treatment, Princess?” he asked.

“You don't speak for me, Forbes!”

“Our companies have joint exercises this afternoon. Let me take her now, and I assure you she'll return for her next treatment in an entirely different frame of mind.”

Wertzheim glared at Evie, then gave Forbes the slightest of nods.

“She does apologize, if not with her mouth, with her heart.” He took Evie's hand, but she shook him off. “Come with me now or you'll do something you cannot undo,” he said. The intensity in his eyes cut right through her anger. She knew what he was saying was right.

He thanked Wertzheim again, then ushered Evie away. She opened her mouth to shout at him, but he had already shouldered through the door. He didn't hold it for her.

“Ah, lovely. Clouds.”

“Who do you think you are, handling me like that? You have no right—”

He stopped, and she nearly crashed into him. “Right, shall we just go back in, then, and you can complete your self-destruction?”

She had no words at the ready. She hated the way he made her feel like a child.

“Those ladies have cared for me these five years gone, and I don't like to see them mistreated. Especially by some stroppy cow who shouldn't even be here in the first place.” His boots ground the frosted dirt as he turned to march on.

“Oh, so you'll judge me by my blood as well!”

“I'm not judging you by your bloody blood, I'm judging you because you ran away. You quit. A Princess of the Shield never quits, highborn or otherwise.”

She trudged to a stop. Once again, he left her with no response. It would have been easier, and perhaps hurt a bit less, had he just been one of the aristocracy who looked down on commoners.

“Come on, it's cold,” he said, annoyed. “Or do you want to lie down in the road and have a sulk?”

He disappeared around a corner, and she quickly realized she didn't know where she was going, so she chased after him. He had already started walking along the top of a stone wall, deteriorating and covered in leafy gray lichens, with gnarled roots pushing through the rocks. The wall had been built to brace a stand of trees that had long since outgrown it, and rather than take it down, the groundskeepers had decided to let it crumble away on its own.

“Where are we going?”

He didn't respond. She stumbled along the wall behind him until they were even with the peak of Stendal's Forge. The Forge wasn't a particularly high structure, but it was high enough to break a bone. Eventually the wall leveled off and Forbes hopped into the grove of trees behind it. She followed, tracking his black doublet through the green.

“The staff attempted to enchant these trees years ago for training, but they never got the magic quite right. They decommissioned them, and they've just been growing here untouched ever since.”

Evie's attempts to stay angry began to falter. She had been in so many forests that wanted her dead that the sensation of being in one safe behind the Academy's protections was bizarrely soothing. These were oaks and spruce, red firs and giant's-toe pines. Calm, peaceful trees that reminded her of home.

“Believe it or not, I do have some sympathy for you,” said Forbes, ducking the lower fork of an oak branch. “I understand your aversion to the potions. The
uncursed
watch us go off for treatment like we're some sort of curiosity.” He couldn't disguise the contempt in his voice.

“I don't care about them,” she said. “I'm here to fight witches, not piddle about with curses and potions and other distractions.”

“You have quite a high opinion of yourself, don't you?” he said with a laugh that dripped arrogance. “I suppose you'd classify me as a distraction as well?”

“As a matter of fact, I would.”
And I'd also like to punch you right in the mouth.
She might have enjoyed this walk if he weren't so skilled at making her angry. Everything about him, from his condescending sneer to his ease in weaving through the trees, was just so . . .
certain.

“My father is one of the great military strategists of our time. He's led armies in countless battles, some of the most famous ever fought. My mother died when I was quite young, and he took it upon himself to teach me the ways of men, but most of these lessons came from his absence. He'd be away weeks on end, sometimes months, collecting lands and treasure. Prestige, as well. It was difficult to understand as a boy, but it was always made right when I'd see his sails on the horizon. I was in awe of him, really. I understood quite early on that most boys didn't have fathers like mine.”

Suddenly the trees ended. Evie and Forbes emerged into the shadow of a behemoth structure of cut yellow sandstone.

“See there? The Bronze Keep. Just round this way.”

They followed the wall, then emerged into a cobblestone hub with roads that spiderwebbed in every direction. Without hesitation, he selected a path and led her into a serpentine alleyway flanked by white plaster buildings crisscrossed with dark brown timbers.

“After my father returned from his last campaign, something had changed,” he continued. “He didn't greet me at the port or take me riding, as he normally did. There was no treasure in his hulls, and there were no tales of faraway lands to send me to sleep at night. There was only a portrait.”

Evie grimaced.
That bloody portrait again.
He hadn't had a chance to bring it up since their walk to the Dining Hall that day, and she was hoping she had already heard the last of it.

“My father is a hard man. He's a noble man, but not exactly a good man. The portrait, which he'd won through some unscrupulous deal or another, had been cursed by a witch. She told him if he ever laid eyes on it, he'd be punished for his greed. So he locked it away deep in the castle and forbade anyone from entering, on penalty of death. I saw even less of him then, though I always knew exactly where he was. Just sitting there outside that door. The portrait consumed him, though he was destined never to see it. It was all he thought about.”

Evie said nothing. She despised Forbes, but there was something quite genuine in his voice.

“I had to know what had taken my place in his heart, so I went down there one day when I knew he was away on some diplomatic mission or another. I snuck past his guards and got inside. It was a dusty old room, no windows, no furnishings. Just a lone portrait sitting on an easel. I lifted the cover, and that's when you and I first met. And that's when I earned my hooves.” He paused and turned to face her. The smile on his face was the thinnest of covers for a poorly buried anger. “You'll forgive me if I've been a
distraction.
”

Her eyes fell to the cobblestones. He glared at her for another moment, then charged ahead. She followed, winding past unknown structures until quite suddenly the Queen's Tower loomed overhead. It looked like it had been spun of the most delicate glass, a perfect, crystalline structure buried in the clouds. Unfortunately, Forbes marched right past its astonishing beauty.

“I didn't mean to insult you,” she said, leaving the tower behind to keep pace. She felt chastened, as though she was partially to blame for what had happened to him. “I just . . . I have had other memories, but I lied to Princess Wertzheim about them because they don't matter.”

“Oh?” he said without breaking stride.

“They're just flashes of things, and none of it makes any sense. A table, a mountain, a man with a beard . . . a screaming dragon.”

“Did you hear that monster scream the other night?” She couldn't see his face, but she could hear the smile in his voice. “He nearly got me, but the dragonslayers made up for it. I only wish it had been me who put the lance in him.”

“In
her,
” said Evie, and whatever thaw had started between them iced right back over again. “And I suppose there's some honor in murdering dragons?”

“Murder, is it?” he said with a laugh. “And why are you suddenly so concerned about dead dragons?”

Evie faltered. She didn't trust Forbes, and she certainly didn't want to reveal that she was the daughter of dragons to someone with so much hate in his heart. “Some knights care more about chivalry and honor than killing, that's all.”

“And I shall do my best to avoid their bones as I kill the dragons that killed them.”

She wanted to throttle him, to say she wished her sister had killed him that night, but she didn't dare. “You may be a human, but you're still a pig!”

“Is that so?” he said, turning to face her with a scowl. “Well, mark this: I wouldn't be able to slay a single dragon had you not given me these back.” He flexed his gloved fists in front of her face. “Thanks for that.”