Violet's Story

Chapter 2

Two

“Dammit, Ryn,” I mutter. With one swipe of my hand, I clear the words from the amber and stuff it back into my pocket.

“What was that?” asks the guy whose name I don’t care to know. “Did you get a message on that thing? What’s it made—”

“We’re leaving,” I snap. “Try to keep up.”

“Wait,” he says. I turn back, ready to give him a piece of my mind, but the look on his face stills me. I know he’s around about my age, but he seems younger all of a sudden. Lost, almost. “This … this is all real?” he asks. “I’m not actually fast asleep in my bed, dreaming some crazy dream?”

For a moment my frustration dims, and I see a confused young man standing in a world he was never meant to know about. I should at least try to be civil, shouldn’t I? But then I think of what I’m about to lose because of him. I could be expelled, or, at the very least, suspended. All my training could be for nothing. All the blood, the bruises, the pain. The nightmares that come after having to kill someone. I may have gone through that for nothing—all because this human couldn’t just stay in his damn bedroom.

“Yes,” I say, doing my best to keep my voice free of emotion. “It’s real. And you have no idea what you’ve cost me by being here.” I turn away from him and climb over giant, twisting roots as I head in the direction of the Guild.

“Hey, what do you mean?” he asks as he catches up to me. “What have I cost you?”

My fingers curl automatically into fists, and I force my words out between my teeth. “I am two months away from graduation, Mr. Draven Avenue. Two months. That’s how close I am to being the best guardian the Guild has seen in years, and you may have just ruined that for me.”

I hear nothing but the sound of our footsteps, and then he says, “My name’s actually Nate.”

Well, clearly Nate doesn’t get why I’m so upset. And why should he? He has no idea why that top place is so important to me, and I’m certainly not about to tell him. I skirt the edge of a clearing where giant mushrooms are swelling as they soak up the silvery glow of the moon. “Don’t stand on the mushrooms,” I tell him. “They don’t like it.” And the last thing I need now is for him to show up at the Guild covered in poisonous goop.

An eerie howl vibrates through the air, rustling the leaves above us and causing a nest of tiny airhorses to take flight and disappear into the night. I quicken my pace. I can handle pretty much any creature we might come across, but having Nate with me would no doubt complicate things. I glance over my shoulder at him, only to find that he’s stopped to watch the airhorses fly away. “Come on,” I call.

He shakes his head and hurries after me. “This is incredible,” he says. “I know I should be freaked out or something, but … wow.”

I don’t say anything.

“Hey, since you’re magical and everything, are you also, you know, immortal?”

I don’t know if he’s deliberately ignoring the angry vibes I’m sending his way, or if they’re simply passing right over his head. Either way, it’s getting tiring. With a sigh, I say, “Faeries are not immortal. Old age catches up after several hundred years.”

“Several hundred—wow. So you’re actually old even though you look my age?”

I give him a withering look. “I’m seventeen.”

“Right. Cool.”

The forest thins as we get closer to the Guild. We move faster, but every time we pass something vaguely out of the ordinary—a group of pixies climbing onto each others’ shoulders to reach a high branch; a lone faun looking a little tipsy—I sense Nate’s reluctance at having to keep moving. I know he wants to stop and stare, but I won’t keep Tora waiting any longer than necessary.

I watch for the entrance. It’s never in exactly the same place, and it would be easy to miss if I didn’t know what to look for.

“There,” I say, breaking the silence and pointing to a tuft of goldenrod flowers growing at the base of a tree. They glitter faintly in the darkness. I head straight for the tree and rest one hand against the smooth bark. With the other, I reach for my stylus.

“You guys live in trees?” Nate asks.

I don’t bother replying. I set my stylus against the tree trunk and etch a few words—in a language I know Nate can’t understand, despite the fact that he’s trying to read over my shoulder—into the bark. A brilliant gold light fills the letters and then disappears, taking the words with it.

The tree’s shape begins to change. Leaves are sucked into branches. Branches curl downward and merge into the trunk, which widens and changes color and texture. A set of double glass doors shimmer into view. Stairs push their way out from the roots. In a matter of seconds, we’re standing in front of the entrance to the Guild of Guardians.

“Um …” Nate says. “Perhaps you could punch me now, because I’m pretty sure I’m dreaming.”

I roll my eyes, clutch the sleeve of his T-shirt, and pull him up the stairs. “Don’t tempt me. And aren’t you meant to pinch people who think they’re dreaming?”

The glass doors slide open to reveal the night guard, Tank, blocking the way forward. “Evening, Vi,” he says. “Bit late, isn’t it?”

I gesture to Nate. “I’m in trouble.”

Tank’s eyes bore into the human boy beside me. “Yes. I can see that.” He holds up his stylus. My fingers go to my neck and tug the chain out from beneath my shirt. I hold up my trainee pendant and Tank scans it with his stylus. He steps aside and nods toward the stairs at the other end of the foyer.

“Thanks, Tank.” I pull Nate across the open space. He tilts his head back to stare at the domed ceiling high above us. Clouds of purple, grey and midnight blue swirl within the dome. “Protective enchantments,” I tell him.

We climb the stairs to the second floor, Nate trailing his hand over the leafy vines that twist around the banisters. At this time of night there aren’t many people here—most trainees with evening assignments report to their mentors the following morning—and the only person we pass is Amon, the Guild’s head librarian.

“Are those … dwarves?” Nate twists to look over his shoulder as we pass two short figures arguing in a corner. I can’t think about answering him, though, because in about five steps we’ll reach Tora’s office door.

Anxiety chews at my insides.

We come to a stop.

I tug a strand of hair over my shoulder and wind it around and around my finger. “Don’t say anything,” I tell him, and then I knock.

After a second of silence that lasts about half an eternity, I hear Tora’s voice: “That had better be you, Vi.”

I bite my lip and push the door open. Tora sits behind her desk, scrolls of reed paper piled neatly around her. She crosses her arms and leans back in her chair, watching me. Light shifts across her youthful face as the giant glow-bug on the ceiling squirms and settles down.

“It’s called rule number one for a reason, Vi,” she says, nodding her head toward the two chairs in front of her desk. I move to the one on the right. After a moment’s hesitation, Nate sits down beside me. Tora doesn’t acknowledge him, holding her hand out instead for my tracker band.

I unclip the strip of leather from my wrist and push it across the table. Tora smoothes it flat beneath her forefingers and whispers something under her breath. Tiny black markings appear on the leather. Markings that tell her whatever she needs to know about the assignment I just completed.

“Well,” she says, leaning back, “you got rid of the reptiscilla in excellent time, but that means nothing considering you not only revealed yourself to a human, but also brought him back into our realm. And—” her eyes slip from my face down to my arm “—just to top it all off, you got yourself bitten.”

“What? A single bite costs hardly any points.” I glare at the two crescent shapes of healing skin. They’re at the pale pink stage, about an hour away from being perfectly healed.

“Nevertheless. You still broke the Guild’s two most important rules. This is serious, Violet. You know why we have to enforce these laws.”

“Yes,” I say, taking a deep breath and gearing up to start reciting. “Some humans are greedy, and what they want above all else is power. If humans know that magic exists, they could convince some power-hungry faerie to turn against his or her own kind, just like Lord Grundheim-something-or-other did all those centuries ago. Faeries will die; humans will die; life as we know it will cease to exist.”

“Exactly,” Tora says, ignoring my sarcastic and overly dramatic retelling of the story we’ve all known since we were old enough to use our own magic. “So I don’t understand why you would—”

“I didn’t.”

“Please, Vi, let’s not—”

“I didn’t bring him back with me. He grabbed onto my arm as I entered the paths. And I did not let my glamour slip.” I glance at Nate. “He just seems to be able to see through it.”

Tora looks at him for the first time. After about a minute of silence she purses her lips. “Ryn didn’t mention that.”

“Well, of course he didn’t. He wasn’t there when it happened.”

Tora frowns at me. “You said you returned via the paths?”

“Yes, that’s the other thing. Shouldn’t he be dead now?” A small sound escapes Nate’s lips at the word ‘dead’.

Tora runs a hand through her sleek blonde and green hair, leaning so far back in her chair that the front legs leave the floor. “Interesting. I’ve heard there are some humans who can see through faerie glamours. Perhaps this ability is what allowed him to pass safely through the paths.” The front legs of her chair meet the floor with a thud, and she pulls a scroll from her top drawer. “Right. Well, you obviously need to take him back home, Vi,” she says as she weighs down the corners of the Assignment Report with several stones and begins filling in the blank spaces. “And I don’t think you should use the paths; he may not be protected a second time.”

“But it will take us days to return to his home on foot. I’ll miss at least one assignment.”

“True,” Tora says, continuing to scribble across the page. “And you’ll most likely fall behind in the rankings. But you’re a guardian, Vi.” She signs the bottom of the page with a flourish, rolls it up, and places it in a box on her left. “This life is about helping people, not scoring points on assignments.”

I slump down in my chair, knowing she’s right.

She turns to Nate. “I’d like you to wait outside for a minute, Mr. …”

“Oh, my name’s Nate,” he says.

“Nate. Please wait outside.”

Nate pushes his chair back and stands. “So—so that’s it? I discover that this magical world exists, and I just have to go home and forget about it?”

Tora’s emerald eyes narrow. “I believe I asked you to wait outside.”

The muscles along Nate’s jaw tense, but he manages to leave the room without opening his mouth again. Tora’s face softens, and she reaches across her desk for my hand. Her fingers are warm. “In nearly five years of training you’ve never done anything like this, Vi, which is why I believe you when you say what happened tonight was an accident. The Council, however …” She presses her lips into a thin line. “Well, there’ll be a hearing when you return—that’s protocol—and there may be some serious consequences.”

“Like expulsion?” I ask, voicing my fear.

“I doubt the Guild would go that far. They’d be stupid to kick you out.”

I look down at my lap. “But whatever the consequences, I’ll lose my place at the top.”

“You’d probably lose that anyway, just by failing this assignment and missing the next one.” I try to pull my hand out of hers, but she won’t let me. “Vi,” she says, and waits for me to look up. “You need to stop placing so much importance on the rankings. Everyone knows you’re the best trainee here, even if your name doesn’t end up on that plaque in the Hall of Honor.” I force a smile onto my lips, knowing it’s what Tora wants to see. “Anyway,” she continues, “I’ll talk to the other mentors and the Council members, and I’ll try to explain that you didn’t break the rules on purpose.”

I nod and squeeze her hand, despite the fact that I don’t think she’ll have much success. Being the least experienced mentor in the Guild and still ending up with a top-of-the-class student hasn’t helped Tora win the favor of many of the older mentors.

Tora releases my hand, swivels in her seat, and opens the cabinet behind her desk. She removes a tiny glass vial and places it on the desk in front of me. “Once you’ve returned the boy to his home you’ll need to give him this. It’s a potion that will erase any memory he has of magic and our world.”

“Seriously? It’s that easy?” I can’t believe what I’m hearing. “Then why the heck does the Guild make such a big deal about us revealing ourselves to humans?”

“Because the potion doesn’t always work,” Tora says, folding her hands in her lap. “And the ingredients are rare and expensive.”

I pick up the vial and squint at the miniature label. It says Forget. Wow. Original. I push the vial carefully into my pocket, slide my tracker band back across the desk, and stand.

“And Vi?” Tora adds as I reach the door. “Be intelligent about it. Something tells me he won’t easily take that potion.”