Changeling (Sorcery and Society Book 1)(46)

“You handled that well,” she said, now that the foyer was empty. “Horrible, puffed up little man. He’s a low-level toadie for the inquiry commission, at best. He can’t even open official lines of questioning. He can only suggest politely that his betters look into matters he finds suspicious. He’s only pressing you because Mr. Winter defeated him in a bid for the appropriations committee. He has delusions of grandeur.”

“Aren’t he and Mr. Winter both descendants of House Mountfort?”

“Crenshaw has always been jealous of Mr. Winter. Ever since they were boys. Don’t let him worry you, dear. But don’t let him corner you again, either. The less you speak to him, the better.”

“He tried to,” I made a vague gesture toward my head and wiggled my fingers, as if trying to pantomime “he dangled a squid over my head.”

Mrs. Winter might have rolled her eyes if she wasn’t above such unladylike gestures. “Ceremancy, at a school social. How gauche.”

“It didn’t work. I only felt a little tickle in my brain.”

My mentor looked vaguely impressed before returning her expression to its neutral norm and tucking a tendril of hair behind my ear. “You’re doing very well, dear. Just continue to do what you’re doing. I will say ‘hello’ to everyone at home,” she said as the carriage rolled up to the front of the building. “I’m sure they miss you. I’ll send the carriage tomorrow for your visit.”

I was struck still while Mrs. Winter was handed into her elegant crayfire carriage. I hadn’t thought of my parents once since she’d arrived. I hadn’t given much thought to the visit home that weekend. I’d only thought of myself, my concerns, protecting my secret, building my new friendships. What did it say about me that I hadn’t thought about sending my family my love as Mrs. Winter was leaving? How could I trust Mrs. Winter’s kindness so easily when she’d been such an intimidating figure throughout my childhood? Why did my own mother’s efforts to protect me seem so clumsy and wrong by comparison? Was I foolish to feel confidence in Mrs. Winter?





11





Grim Tales





As predicted, my failure to help cement Callista’s new “friendship” with Alicia meant that I’d not only lost Callista’s support, but I’d been demoted to the misfit circle with Ivy. Callista did not meet me in the hallway each morning to join her entourage. Tables in the dining hall were suddenly full when I approached. All the girls in dance class had partners. No one wanted to take turns fetching arrows at my target in belomancy. If not for Ivy and Alicia, I wouldn’t have seen any friendly faces all day.

Well, Phillip was friendly. He cheeped happily the moment I walked through my bedroom door, flying to my shoulder and nuzzling his little beak against my cheek. But he was a bird, so I didn’t think he counted.

By the time Callista was done telling her version of the social, a large portion of the student body had been told that I’d thrown myself at poor, defenseless Alicia McCray demanding her absolute loyalty before over-indulging in fruit puddings and vomiting in a rhododendron. Oh, and I’d faked claiming the Mother Book with Mrs. Winter’s help – I wasn’t even all that powerful, just look at my abysmal classroom performance.

She might have had a point there.

Of course, Callista pretended to know nothing about this when I found her in my dormitory room Friday afternoon, as I finished some last-minute tasks before my visit “home.” She seemed to be searching for something, pacing back and forth in front of my desk. The Mother Book? It was still locked in its special cabinet. I could see the padlock dangling from the latch. The warded key was in my pocket. But I did notice that the window had been opened and Phillip was missing from his special perch.

Callista whirled as the door opened, all welcoming smiles and sweetness, though her eyes narrowed when she spotted the book in my arms. I crossed to the window and whistled softly. Phillip came zipping back through the window and landed on my hand. I closed the window and turned back to Callista, brow lifted. I would have to read up on wards. I was under the impression that the school’s magic wouldn’t allow students to enter each other’s rooms without permission. Maybe Ivy would have some advice.

“Callista,” I began, keeping my tone even and crisp as Mrs. Winter’s when she was correcting Mary. Before I could complete my thought, which was “remove yourself through the door before I make use of the window,” Callista practically shouted. “Say no more, darling, you don’t even have to apologize. I know that the social was your first gathering of cultured, refined people. Not like your simple farm people from Cambridgeshire. It was overwhelming for you. And I’m sure you didn’t mean to insinuate yourself into my conversation with dear Alicia, especially when it was going so well.”

Callista crossed the room and took my hands into hers, squeezing them tight. Her grip was so tight, the press of metal against her skin had to hurt, but she never even registered the pain. She tsked over me, as if my social ineptitude was something to be pitied. “For future reference, a good friend would help me by complimenting me and playing up my attributes while I’m trying to forge an important social connection. She wouldn’t stand there like a lump, distracting that potential friend with her awkward, country ways.”