Page 8 of Serpent and Shadow

“Where did you learn these spells?” the King pressed.

“At school.” I thought about mentioning Bones, then decided against it. “From my instructors in offensive and defensive magics.” I cleared my throat. “Up until today, I never had reason to use any of it outside of a controlled, academic setting.”

Silence greeted my words.

“If they were illegal, I wasn’t aware,” I added.

Right after I’d fallen silent, I realized I’d forgotten to say, “Your Majesty.”

The King did not look impressed.

He turned to the witch sitting next to him, who wore an emerald green robe and a thin, gold crown adorned in diamonds. Her primal, a leopard the same color as her robe, stalked up and down the table, snarling. The King murmured something in the witch’s ear which made her nod subtly, right before he turned to Professor Forsooth.

“Who is her instructor?” Roland demanded.

“I am,” Forsooth lied calmly. “She is correct, Your Majesty. I failed to be clear with her about which of those spells were meant for theoretical understanding only.”

“You taught her illegal blood spells?” the King asked, quirking an eyebrow. “Is that a normal thing to do with a second-year student?”

“She is a very strong student, Your Majesty,” Forsooth replied, without missing a beat. “I have noticed in her an interest in esoteric magicks, and a gift for them.” He glanced at me and smiled. “I confess, I hope to add her to the faculty of Malcroix Bones Academy, following her graduation. Perhaps to work alongside Professor Blackstone.”

I stared at him. Then, realizing I was gawking more than staring, I shut my mouth, and looked at the King.

Roland did not look appeased by Forsooth’s explanation, either.

A wave of sickness hit me then, and my vision slanted.

I struggled to focus on King Roland, and the other faces around the moon-shaped table. I struggled to focus on Forsooth, and his golden bear.

I broke out in a sweat, although the hall wasn’t overly warm or stuffy. Fresh air flowed down the length of it, presumably from windows and doors at the other end, but the cool breeze didn’t help. Dizziness made it difficult to think. I swallowed thickly as my heart started hammering in my chest, even as I struggled to focus my eyes.

I couldn’t make sense of it.

My vision began to telescope.

It felt like falling into a black pit.

Strangely, I thought of my parents.

Something about this resonated, not with the day they died, but a few days later, when it finally sank in that they were dead. When it hit me they weren’t coming back, that I would never see their faces again, feel their hugs, hear their laughter or excited voices, watch them look at me, eyes alive and filled with love, something like this happened to me.

My world collapsed in on me, right before I fainted dead, right in the middle of my aunt’s living room. She dealt with it by moving me to what would thereafter be my bedroom.

I hadn’t left that room in the Victorian house in Southhampton for days.

I hadn’t been able to eat, sleep, think. It felt like being crushed from within. Aloneness mixed with an utter powerlessness to change something so fundamental to my existence. I think I died too during those days, and had to crawl out of my grave to reach the other side. As an adult, I could categorize it as shock, but the term felt almost meaningless.

I felt like that now.

The feeling scared the shit out of me. I couldn’t imagine anything worse than being in that place again. It felt worse than death, worse than having a limb cut off.

It felt organic, like something in my cells.

I could hear screaming in that void behind my eyes, even as I fell into it.

The crescent-shaped table faded from view, as did the marble columns, the white and gold lions, and the red, stained glass windows behind where the King sat. The floor under my feet seemed to turn to sand, and I briefly felt fingers tighten on my arms as I lost control over my limbs.

I couldn’t have stopped it if I’d wanted to.