Changeling (Sorcery and Society Book 1)(28)

“Miss Reed, I am Callista Cavill. I’m the student body representative, president of the Athena Scholars. Headmistress Lockwood asked us to show you around the school grounds,” she said, giving me a smile so sweet it couldn’t possibly be genuine. I didn’t like her eyes. They were over-bright and reflected nothing, like dolls’ eyes. “She wanted to make sure that you were given the right sort of introduction to Miss Castwell’s.”

She sneered down at Ivy, who hadn’t looked up from her plate. “Cow.”

My brows rose. Had I heard Callista correctly?

Choose wisely.

Mrs. Winter probably would have advised me to welcome any attentions from a Cavill. She would want me to stay on Callista’s good side, to curry favor with her, if for no other reason than to protect myself and my secrets from an enemy house.

My mother would have wanted me to travel the path of least resistance. Mary would have wanted me to befriend Callista, if only to try to talk her out of the elaborately worked golden combs tucked in her hair.

But still, Ivy had been friendly towards me first and seemed to have no reason for doing so beyond kindness. I glanced at Ivy, who was staring at me with wide eyes. “Oh, well, thank you, but I believe Ivy was willing to escort me to my first class.”

Ivy blanched and flicked her eyes toward Callista, who was glowering down at her.

“Oh, no,” Ivy said, shaking her head and standing so quickly, she knocked over her chair. Titters of laughter echoed through the dining hall as she struggled to right it. “I’m suddenly feeling unwell. I’m afraid I will not be able to make it to the first class after all. Cassandra, you should go to class with Callista.”

“Oh, al-alright,” I stammered, more than a little ashamed at the relief I felt, not having to awkwardly excuse myself from a connection to Ivy.

Ivy was just a few steps away when Callista cleared her throat and called, “Excuse me?”

Ivy stopped in her tracks and turned slowly.

“I don’t believe I gave you leave to call me by my given name, did I?” Callista asked sweetly. “Calling me by my first name is a privilege I only grant to my closest, most intimate friends. And trust me, Miss COW-ell, you are not even close to being considered my friend.”

I squirmed in my seat, watching in quiet horror as humiliation rippled across Ivy’s face. Why was Callista being so blatantly awful to a girl who seemed very sweet and unassuming? Was it because Ivy had African heritage? There were several girls of similar descent sitting in the dining hall, as well as girls whose families originally hailed from other continents. The Restoration had done much to overcome tensions between these cultures as magic users across the globe decided that they distrusted non-magicals much more than they valued keeping to their own ways. No major House was strictly Anglo-Saxon these days.

Was Callista equally rude to all girls whose backgrounds were different than her own, or was Ivy her favorite target?

To my shame, I looked down to my hands twisting in my lap. To Ivy’s credit, she didn’t cry or shrink back. She simply nodded and said, “My mistake,” and walked out of the dining room.

“Now that’s out of the way,” Callista sighed, dropping into Ivy’s abandoned seat. “Welcome to Miss Castwell’s, Cassandra. Given your near-disastrous choices this morning, I am going to take you on as my special friend. And my friends understand the rules here at Castwell’s. Rule the first, we do not attach ourselves to pariahs before we manage to finish breakfast. The Cow is social poison, darling. Keep making this sort of mistake, and you’ll end up friendless and alone, no prospects, no husband. And you’ll have to work for a living, just like –”

At that very moment, Miss Morton appeared at my left and laid a hand on my shoulder. “How are you this morning, Miss Reed? Did you sleep well?”

The smug expression that overtook Callista’s face was downright sickening.

“Yes, Miss Morton,” I said, giving her a tight, uncomfortable smile.

“Well, do let me know if you need anything at all.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Girls, I know I can count on you to make sure that Miss Reed has a pleasant first day,” Miss Morton said, her dark eyes staring over the tops of her spectacles.

“Of course, Miss Morton,” the trio chorused in an eerily uniform tone while Callista positively simpered at the woman.

Miss Morton gave my shoulder one last pat and departed. Callista’s scornful expression returned.

“The unfortunate Miss Morton only proves my point,” Callista told me. “Follow my advice, darling, or end up stuck here at Castwell’s, teaching the daughters of better families how to go out into the world and have more fabulous lives than you. Now, shall we walk to our first class?”

Choose wisely.

I was standing at a precipice, the sort of choice that could determine how I would fare at Miss Castwell’s, and I could feel my toes going over the edge. I wanted to get as far away from Callista as humanly possible, but I didn’t want to end up starring in her next dining room spectacle, or worse yet, get treated to my very own bovine nickname.

I wasn’t in any sort of position to make someone like Callista angry. A few badly chosen words on my part and she could make my life here at school very difficult. Or worse, she could end up ferreting out the fraud I was perpetrating on the school and Coven Guild society at large. I remembered a snippet of wisdom I’d overheard Mr. Winter giving his son over dinner one evening, when he was having trouble at school. He’d told him, “Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer.”