Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 100859 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100859 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
“They’re having the annual bonfire this Friday,” my mother says as she scans the newspaper, her pair of spectacles held at her eyes. “If we move you to the school on Saturday, it would be a nice way to spend your last night here. You could go with Mary.”
Mary. I feel a pang of guilt. I’ve neglected her ever since I started school. In the beginning, she would often be waiting by the fence to meet me and Mathias on the way home, and after Mathias stopped riding with me, I only saw her once or twice. I should reach out to her and soon. She’s the only thing in my life that is relatively normal, though I’ll be even further removed once I start living at the school.
“I’ll make sure to ask her,” I say. Then against my better judgment, I say, “I’m sorry about last night. I didn’t mean to lose my temper.”
My mother lowers her glasses and gives me a small smile. “It’s quite alright. I know things are overwhelming right now. In time, everything will make sense again. Just focus on your studies and on Brom.”
“Can I ask you something?”
Her expression stiffens slightly, wary of what I’m going to ask. “Of course.”
“Why do you want me to marry Brom so much? Why did you and the Van Brunts promise us to each other at such a young age?”
She lets out a laugh. A nervous laugh. “Oh. To be honest, it was all your father’s idea.”
Lies. She’s lying right to my face.
“Why?” I press. “We were wealthy. We had far more money than the Van Brunts. Why would he want me to marry someone lower-class?”
“Katrina,” she admonishes me. “Lower-class? Just because your father had a lot of money when I married him doesn’t make us any better than them. Really, after the way you treated them last night and now these haughty thoughts, I think you should be directing these questions at yourself. Look inward for a change, hmm?”
And at that, she gets up in a huff, placing her glasses and paper on the table.
I watch as she goes over to her bedroom and shuts the door behind her.
Shutting me and any of my questions out.
I let out a growl of frustration, and the coffee cups on the table start rattling violently, the dregs of coffee spilling over the edges, even though I’m not touching anything.
Goodness me. What the devil is happening?
Famke comes into the dining room and eyes the mess.
“Did you do this?” she asks.
“I guess so,” I say.
“Your magic,” she says, lowering her voice, her eyes darting to my mother’s room. “It’s coming out in times of duress. It’s unfocused.”
“I thought you didn’t know anything about magic,” I say.
“I said I’m not a witch,” she explains in a hurried whisper. “But as I said, I listen, and I watch. I know what magic looks like when it’s waning and when it’s coming into power. If I were you, I’d bring this up with your teacher. Professor Crane. Him and no one else. I think he’ll know what to do with you.”
Another thing for me to worry about, I think as I get to my feet and try to help clean up, but Famke shoos me away and tells me to get on with my day.
I glance at the clock. I wanted to get to Crane’s class early so I could talk to him, which means I’m going to have to rush.
Luckily, it doesn’t take long for me to tack up Snowdrop and lead her out of the stable, but then I see Brom mounted on Daredevil outside the house, talking about something with my mother.
Shoot. I really thought if I left early enough, I’d also miss having to ride with Brom. I’m still not sure what I have to say to him. Do I apologize? Do I stay mad? Is he still the friend I always had? Is he someone else now?
With a heavy sigh, I mount Snowdrop and guide her toward them.
“Good morning,” Brom says, as if last night never happened, as if the last four years never happened. And yet, seeing him wearing a black suit and coat astride that magnificent black stallion, I can’t help the butterflies in my stomach, especially when the corners of his mouth lift just a little, bringing the slightest bit of light to that stony gaze.
“Good morning,” I say with a nod, my smile matching his, though perhaps a little less forthcoming. Especially with my mother staring at us like we’re two prized cows on the auction block.
“Well, you better not be late for class,” she says, a smile plastered on her face. “Are you both in the same one this morning?”
Brom shakes his head. “History, if you can believe it.”
“Energy manipulation,” I say.
She looks crestfallen at that. “Oh, well, I hope—”