“What’s that?” I breathed.

  “The shortcut. It’s a brief detour into the faerie realm. Space over there is different than it is here.”

  “Um… I’m not a faerie, remember?”

  He didn’t seem concerned. “You’re traveling with one so you’re good.” He stepped into the rippling portal and reached out a hand to me.

  “Are you sure it’s safe,” I started.

  “A bored Summer Sidhe built this portal a hundred years ago and used it to get to his classes faster. You just have to think about where you want to go, and it’ll take you there. The catch is you have to be Summer Fae.” He grinned mischievously and glanced down at me. “Or accompanying one.” He shook his hand. “Now let’s get to it.”

  I gave him a hard look, buying myself some time because I was still suspicious of the swirling portal before me. “Is this a ploy to hold my hand?”

  Oleander laughed aloud. “You’re pretty, but no. Truth be told, I only have eyes for Elly.”

  “Oh,” I said, surprised and at the same time sort of offended, but sort of not because it wasn’t like I was attracted to Oleander.

  “But she won’t pull her head out long enough to realize I’m smitten.” His smile faded around the edges. “Not that it matters, in the end.”

  I slid my hand into his. It was large and calloused from hard work, a reminder that he’d been working most of his life just to keep his head above water. He was already so different than any other faerie I’d met, in the Hollow or otherwise. How much different would he seem when we really got to know each other. I had a feeling we were going to be friends, if only because of our mutual dislike of Vivian Grimsbane.

  We stepped through and my eyes were momentarily dazzled by summer sunlight. It beat down, warming my skin, seeping into my hair to caress my scalp. A drop of pure, childish joy slipped into my belly. It smelled like freshly cut grass, linen on a clothesline, and baking asphalt. When I swallowed, I tasted sun tea, watermelon, and snow cones. Anything that made summer living so glorious. It bolstered me, made me stand a little taller, and keep my balance when we emerged from what looked like a solid stone wall, next to the statue of a long dead Grimsbane witch.

  “Why doesn’t it matter?”

  He shrugged. “Elly’s dad has already arranged her marriage for the day she graduates or drops out. So that means I don’t stand a snowball’s chance in summer of dating her.”

  My heart twinged in sympathy. I didn’t know a whole much about it or dating in general, really. I mean, I’d gone out with a few mundane boys at Haven High, but that hadn’t really amounted to much. And, truly, that really shouldn’t have bothered me. Witches were pleasure-seekers and didn’t do romantic entanglements.

  Oleander gave me a light push, pointing at a door straight ahead. It was propped open, letting idle chatter filter into the hall.

  “In there. Hurry, we only have two minutes left before we get locked out.”

  I fell into step behind him and found myself at the back of a huge classroom. It had to be augmented by some kind of dimensional magic, because it reminded me painfully of the high school gym. The desks were arranged in rows that stair-stepped down to the bottom, where the teacher’s lectern stood. There were at least fifty students in attendance, and they half-turned to regard us. I didn’t meet any of them in the eye.

  Oleander found a seat in the back, and I sat beside him. He crossed his arms over his chest, leaning his back against the seat in a slouch, supremely unconcerned by the looks we were getting. I took the hint and relaxed my rigid posture. The best way to bait a bully is to show weakness, and I was more than sure everyone in here was firmly in the bully camp.

  So, I pointedly ignored the gaggle of witches nearby, scanning the room to see who else was in attendance.

  There was a trio nearby that drew my eye, and I couldn’t help but stare. They looked unlike anyone I’d ever seen before, so inhumanly beautiful, they hurt to look at. Angels or high Sidhe. They had to be. The first had tied her silvery hair in a high ponytail. It bounced jubilantly, as if it had a confidence of its own. Her skin was opalescent. Like looking at a crystal reflecting in the sun, her appearance changing with every movement as a rainbow of color bounced off her skin and exotic features. The effect was so subtle, I had to partially close my eyes in an attempt to focus. The girls beside her looked similar though it was clear she was their leader.

  “Winter Sidhe,” Oleander said in an undertone when he caught me looking. “Not in the line of succession. Daddy is probably a bannerman for the queen. If she was a princess, she wouldn’t be hanging around here.”

  “I thought Winter Sidhe tended to be solitary types,” I whispered back.

  “They are,” he said. “But circumstances are forcing the Fae together these days.”

  “Circumstances?” I echoed. “What circumstances?”

  Oleander didn’t answer. He kept his eyes forward, lips drawn into a thin, unhappy line. There was a flinching around his eyes that immediately put me on edge. I’d been around enough disasters to know that look when I saw it. Something was wrong. Something he obviously couldn’t talk about in public, or I imagined he’d quickly tell me. I’d have to get the story tonight after supper.

  A chorus of giggles drew my attention to the front of the room. Vivian was at the center of her own group of followers, all dark-haired and classically beautiful. I couldn’t tell if they were her relatives or just her clone sycophants there to laugh at whatever she said. It was clear to me from the get-go that she was the queen bee, which meant the rest would have to fall in line or face her wrath.

  “Oh, look,” she said, her voice ringing and harsh. The other students shifted in their seats, their attention searching to find the object of her scorn, which, of course, was me. “The Academy’s newest charity case. And you’ve already found a loser boyfriend. Cute.”

  My mouth opened, and I half-rose out of my seat, ready to shout at her and throw a hex or two her way. Oleander pulled me back down by the arm and offered Vivian a lazy smile.

  “Loser? That’s the best you have for me, Viv?” Her eyes narrowed on Oleander as he chuckled and shook his head like the joke was on her. “Your tongue is usually the only sharp thing about you. Shame. Don’t worry though, you’ll still have your average looks to last you well into your hundreds.”

  I erupted into a fit of furious giggles. I just couldn’t help it. The look on Vivian’s face was a mixture of rage and disbelief, as though she couldn’t imagine that anyone would spit even the mildest of insults her way. I guessed she hadn’t just been born with a silver spoon in her mouth, but with her mother in charge of this place, that silver spoon had been upgraded to a diamond-studded rhodium she’d been suckling all her life. The Grimsbanes were some of the oldest known European lines in existence, and with that came entitlement that made the Crescent Circle Coven seem austere in comparison.

  Her eyes shifted to me. “You think that’s funny?”

  Yes, I did, but telling her that would only start a fight. I just smiled innocently back at her. “Sorry. I’m a bit slaphappy. Early morning, you know.”

  She sniffed delicately at the air and then made a face. “Ah right, you’re working in the kitchens. I thought I smelled bacon grease.”

  Her followers laughed obligingly at that. Oleander joined in, which made them stop and stare at us, befuddled.

  “What are you laughing at?” she demanded.

  “I’ve seen that troll of a man you’re dating,” Oleander answered. “You wanna talk bacon grease? He’s so oily, he looks like he bathes in the stuff.”

  I gawked at Oleander. Was he looking to get himself killed on his first day of school? Because I had a feeling Vivian would hex him into oblivion if she could get away with it. Her face was shifting from red to puce as we watched, and her fingers were splayed outward, ready to cast.

  We were saved when a woman swept into the room, her wide black skirts billowing out from her like a storm cloud. The matching black blouse had the school crest emblazoned on the breast pocket. Her eyes scoured the room when she reached the front, staring us all down like she was taking stock of an enemy camp. She’d tucked her dark hair under a scarlet wrap, with only a few strands curling loose around her ears.

  She was beautiful in the way that a falcon is beautiful. Sleek, dark, and willing to kill you if necessary.

  “Ms. Grimsbane, may I assume that you’re about to face forward?” Professor Hecate asked, raising a slim, imperious brow.

  Vivian faced forward, flashing the professor a pageant-winning smile. Hecate didn’t appear impressed, which made me like her more.

  “Sorry, Professor Hecate. I was just giving Astrid a warm welcome. My mother and hers go way back.”

  “I see,” Professor Hecate drawled. “Be that as it may, there is no talking in my class unless you are called upon, and that rule applies equally to all students, even you, Ms. Grimsbane. If you break my rules, I will write you up. Are we clear?”

  Vivian nodded. “Crystal, Professor.”

  “Well,” Hecate continued as she addressed the rest of us. “Open your books to page nine. I expect most of you are familiar with the basics of Germanic runes, and we will start there as a refresher. Before the end of the semester, I expect you to be able to adequately cast using Elder Futhark, Latin, Dalecarlian, Enochian, Inferni, and Old Sidhe script.”

  My heart sank as people began unloading their bulging backpacks. I’d been told that books would be provided as a part of my scholarship in my acceptance letter. I’d been too tired and discouraged to realize that meant I was completely without the required reading materials. That meant I had to sit here, twiddling my thumbs on my desk as the rest of them turned to the page indicated. I could practically feel Vivian smirking at my misfortune from the front of the room.

  “You can share with me,” Oleander said as I offered him a quick smile.

  Professor Hecate’s eyes landed on me a moment later. “Where are your books, Miss Depraysie?”

  I wanted to point and shout at Vivian, to claim this had all been her fault, because it was. She and her bitchy witch of a mother had set me up to fail. My face was warm, and I had to blink back the desire to cry. This was so unfair.

  “I accidentally left them at home, Professor,” I said quietly.

  If I whined about Vivian’s trick, I looked like a victim and a tattletale. I’d find a way to get her back without sacrificing my pride, thank you very much.

  Professor Hecate’s lip curled. “How absentminded of you. Come to class unprepared tomorrow, and I will send you packing. Understood?”

  I stared at the wall behind her as the desire to cry intensified. I wasn’t sure where I’d find the money for books before tomorrow morning. I’d come with fifty dollars in my bag, just in case I needed it. But I was more than sure fifty dollars wouldn’t even cover one textbook, let alone the eight books and sundry supplies I’d need for the term. I could always call Wanda and ask for more, but then I’d have to confess the whole humiliating thing, and it would start a fight between Wanda and the headmistress and I didn’t want things to get worse for me than they already were.

  I nodded fervently, sinking lower in my seat.

  Then Professor Hecate turned with a flick of her skirts, striding to her place behind the lectern. “Now, Miss Grimsbane, can you recite the first three runes in the Germanic Script?”

  I tuned Vivian out. If I heard satisfaction in her voice, I’d scream. Instead, I focused on Oleander’s open book, looking at it so intently that the runes seemed to waver and change shape the longer I looked.

  “Don’t go cross-eyed,” Oleander teased. “It’s not going to go anywhere.”

  In answer, I plunged a hand into my purse and pulled out a small bag. Poppy had slipped it to me before I’d left as an apology for not being able to see me off in person. It contained a few candy bars, essential potions, crystals, and a tiny talisman. She’d worked with Wanda to create it, but the crystal at its center was all Poppy’s doing. I pressed it into Oleander’s hand.

  He glanced down at it with a frown. “What’s this?”

  “A charm to ward off harm,” I whispered back. “You’re going to need it after what you said to Vivian.”

  “You need it as much as I do,” he pointed out, shaking his head as he frowned at me. “She’s really got it in for you.”

  I stared daggers at the back of Vivian’s perfectly coiffed head. “I can handle her.”

  Oleander made a soft sound of disbelief but tucked the talisman into his pocket, anyway. It made me feel a little better to know he’d avoid the hexes that were sure to follow. He’d said all those things to get Vivian’s attention away from me. And that meant he was definitely a friend—only a friend would stick his neck out for me, even though we barely knew each other. So, I figured I could repay the favor by making his life a little safer.

  “Thank you,” he said at last, voice pitched so low that only I could hear.

  “No, thank you for standing up for me.”

  His smile was soft and boyish when he shrugged and said, “Hey, what are friends for?”

  Chapter Six

  Runecraft had been the appetizer to an eight-course meal of misery.

  Every class was worse than the last, with almost every teacher having something scathing to say about my lack of textbooks and supplies. The only exception to the rule was Professor Lavant, who’d chided me, but ultimately let the matter drop with a warning, just like Professor Hecate.

  The others made my first two teachers look positively cuddly. I’d gotten a lecture from the history professor, a tall, forbidding Winter faerie named Verglas, that lasted five whole minutes and had left me shaking. At least I could chalk it up to cold to anyone who asked. The temperature had dipped beneath freezing as he dressed me down. Patches of ice remained on the floor for the rest of the lesson. I’d slipped on one as I filed out, and the chorus of snide laughter that followed had told me it wasn’t going to be easy to make friends at this awful place.

  In fact, pretty much every wretched moment I experienced was courtesy of Vivian and her cronies. By the end of the day, I was regretting handing my defensive charm to Oleander, because I’d been hit with at least six different hexes of varying intensity and unpleasantness. They weren’t overt enough to draw the attention of any of our teachers or to send me to the nurse’s office, but they were unpleasant, all the same.

  One of the hexes made me itch in all the wrong places and I had to white-knuckle the edge of my desk to keep from scratching in front of the whole class. The second hex had made me feel like I had to go to the bathroom almost constantly, so I sat with my legs crossed, unable to think much past the desire to sprint out of the classroom and to the nearest toilet. The third made me tongue-tied, which meant that I answered questions slowly or not at all. The fourth kept fouling up my feet, and the fifth gave me the absurd impulse to curse, which would have been disastrous in Verglas’ classroom.

  The sixth was the most insidious of all. Fatigue. It was so subtle that I didn’t notice it at first. I was already tired, unused to getting up so early and working so hard before sitting down to a series of grueling lectures. But when a dose of caffeine didn’t do much to keep my eyes open, I knew the fatigue had to be something else. It got worse and worse as the day wore on, until I was only catching every fifth word the potions professor was saying. Which really, really sucked, because I liked potions. It was my best subject at home and I’d been beyond excited to get to studying practical applications. Especially because doing something might keep me awake. But no dice.

  “Are you going to be okay?” Oleander asked as we left class.

  I was staggering, using the wall for support. I didn’t trust my two left feet to carry me all the way back to the kitchen without help. The klutziness and the sleep hex were a bad combo. If I wasn’t careful, I’d fall down a staircase and break my neck. The last hex had been the most powerful, which meant it was probably Vivian’s. Damn her.

  “I will be,” I said weakly. “Just... go ahead without me. I’m going to duck into an empty classroom and try to undo the hexes from Vivian and her hive.”

  “Hive?” he asked.

  “Because she’s the queen bee.”

  “Okay, so… hexes? That sounds kind of serious.”

  I shook my head. “Don’t worry. It’s nothing I can’t undo. Let Mads know what I’m doing though, okay?”

  Oleander tugged at his bottom lip with his teeth, glancing at the stained-glass windows. I’d been right the night before. In the last rays of the sun, the windows cast a fiery kaleidoscope of color over the hall. It was just enough to see by as we traversed the corridors. Soon torches would have to be lit to allow the non-vampire night class students to navigate the castle.

  “I don’t know...”

  “I’ll be fine,” I insisted. “Go without me.”

  He still looked unsure, but eventually did as I asked, glancing back at me anxiously as I searched for an unlocked classroom. Finding one, I figured it must have belonged to a night class professor, because I didn’t recognize the decor. Lots of red and black fabrics obscured the stone walls, broken up here and there by mounted weaponry. An array of staves, épées, and knives were arranged on a table near the front. This had to be a defensive course.

  “Typical witch arrogance,” I muttered, sliding into an empty seat. “We teach our students how to show off with magic. They teach theirs how best to skewer us.”

  Lorcan had pointed out that exact oversight in my education to Wanda many times. Those with magic leaned into it so hard, they rarely learned how to do anything else. What if there came a time when I couldn’t use my magic or I came across someone more magically talented than I was? What then? Wanda had quipped that if he was so worried about it, he could teach me self-defense.

  And he had. Well, sort of. He wasn’t exactly Mr. Miyagi, teaching me karate skills. Lorcan had grown up in 18th-century Ireland, so he’d learned the not-so-fine art of brawling and he’d perfected his technique in bars and small skirmishes with the British men who harassed his cousins on their way to and from church. That meant, I now knew how to throw a punch and how to fight dirty in general, all while slinging some pretty pithy Irish insults. It wouldn’t do much against someone who had a black belt, but it was more physical training than most witches my age had.