and my ankle’s so sore I can’t feel my foot anymore. The worst part is going up and down the stadium’s seats for any additional gear I might have missed.
With a mighty huff, I sit down, leaving the basket aside. Of course, with a prat for a president, it’s only normal the rest of the student body wouldn’t learn to put their own things away.
The wind nips at me, mocking my plight, and I shake my fist in the air. “It’s all your fault!”
A questioning meow startles me. I find a cat sitting a few levels up from me, its golden eyes almost glowing against its raven-black fur. I extend my hand toward it and make small, friendly noises.
To my utter annoyance, the cat royally ignores me. Fuming, I grab the first thing from the basket I can find and throw it at the feline. The cat easily dodges the projectile, a glove with iron meshing, spits at me once disdainfully, then, tail held high, trots away.
“Yeah, just leave me behind,” I grumble. “Let me do all the work on my own, like everyone else!”
Joints stiff, I slowly make my way up to retrieve the gauntlet, regretting my burst of anger—as if a cat could actually understand me.
“What an odd thing to wear…” I say, turning the glove in my hands.
I slip it on. It’s too big for me and jingles when I move. Lodged inside the metallic rings, I notice a small emerald-green jewel. As I angle it toward the remaining daylight, a strange symbol flashes just below its surface. I shake the gem around like it’s a Magic 8 Ball, but nothing more appears, and I wonder if my vision’s playing tricks on me.
I put the gauntlet back in the basket and pick up a dagger instead. It doesn’t take me long to find what I’m looking for: set deep within the handle are three small round stones of a creamy white tint. I drop the knife back in and grab another weapon. Again, I find what looks like a ruby set into the blade itself.
I squint in the near darkness. What are these things? A picture of Arthur propelling himself into the air during his practice fight with Percy comes back to me. Are these the sources of power I’ve been hearing about, those things called oghams?
I grab the glove again and put it back on. “How, exactly, does this work?”
Tongue stuck out, I point my hand out, as far away from me as possible. The last thing I need now is to lose an eye or an ear because I don’t know what I’m doing.
I squeeze my eyes shut, imagining the green flash coming out of my hand. Nothing. Tentatively, I open an eye, then the other. Maybe something happened, but I didn’t see it because my eyes were closed. I concentrate again, pretending laser beams are shooting out of the gauntlet. Still nothing.
“Open sesame,” I say, shaking my arm.
I tap on the stone, but no symbol appears, not even the tiniest bit of a glow.
“Stupid thing’s broken.”
I fling the glove back amongst the rest of the gear and lug the basket back into the armory. It takes me another half hour to put everything away, but, finally, the task is done, and I dust off my hands.
All I need now is a hot bath, a warm meal, and heaps of sleep. I limp to the door and freeze at the sound of something rattling.
“Is-Is someone here?” I call out.
Stillness greets my words, and I slowly let out my breath.
As I open the door, the sound comes back again, louder. I fling myself against the wall, wary of any attacker. I gasp as a large trunk in the opposite corner hops and shakes furiously, bouncing over the tiled floor. I feel the blood drain from my face. Is this another demon beast?
I inch outside the room, then waver. Keva was clear that what happened to Owen had been an accident and that no Fey could enter the school uninvited.
Unable to decide what to do, my thoughts grind to a painful stop, until, at last, I make up my mind. Slowly, I tiptoe up to the chest, unfasten the lock, then carefully ease the cover open.
Something small and black bounces out of it. It lands on my head, sharp
With a mighty huff, I sit down, leaving the basket aside. Of course, with a prat for a president, it’s only normal the rest of the student body wouldn’t learn to put their own things away.
The wind nips at me, mocking my plight, and I shake my fist in the air. “It’s all your fault!”
A questioning meow startles me. I find a cat sitting a few levels up from me, its golden eyes almost glowing against its raven-black fur. I extend my hand toward it and make small, friendly noises.
To my utter annoyance, the cat royally ignores me. Fuming, I grab the first thing from the basket I can find and throw it at the feline. The cat easily dodges the projectile, a glove with iron meshing, spits at me once disdainfully, then, tail held high, trots away.
“Yeah, just leave me behind,” I grumble. “Let me do all the work on my own, like everyone else!”
Joints stiff, I slowly make my way up to retrieve the gauntlet, regretting my burst of anger—as if a cat could actually understand me.
“What an odd thing to wear…” I say, turning the glove in my hands.
I slip it on. It’s too big for me and jingles when I move. Lodged inside the metallic rings, I notice a small emerald-green jewel. As I angle it toward the remaining daylight, a strange symbol flashes just below its surface. I shake the gem around like it’s a Magic 8 Ball, but nothing more appears, and I wonder if my vision’s playing tricks on me.
I put the gauntlet back in the basket and pick up a dagger instead. It doesn’t take me long to find what I’m looking for: set deep within the handle are three small round stones of a creamy white tint. I drop the knife back in and grab another weapon. Again, I find what looks like a ruby set into the blade itself.
I squint in the near darkness. What are these things? A picture of Arthur propelling himself into the air during his practice fight with Percy comes back to me. Are these the sources of power I’ve been hearing about, those things called oghams?
I grab the glove again and put it back on. “How, exactly, does this work?”
Tongue stuck out, I point my hand out, as far away from me as possible. The last thing I need now is to lose an eye or an ear because I don’t know what I’m doing.
I squeeze my eyes shut, imagining the green flash coming out of my hand. Nothing. Tentatively, I open an eye, then the other. Maybe something happened, but I didn’t see it because my eyes were closed. I concentrate again, pretending laser beams are shooting out of the gauntlet. Still nothing.
“Open sesame,” I say, shaking my arm.
I tap on the stone, but no symbol appears, not even the tiniest bit of a glow.
“Stupid thing’s broken.”
I fling the glove back amongst the rest of the gear and lug the basket back into the armory. It takes me another half hour to put everything away, but, finally, the task is done, and I dust off my hands.
All I need now is a hot bath, a warm meal, and heaps of sleep. I limp to the door and freeze at the sound of something rattling.
“Is-Is someone here?” I call out.
Stillness greets my words, and I slowly let out my breath.
As I open the door, the sound comes back again, louder. I fling myself against the wall, wary of any attacker. I gasp as a large trunk in the opposite corner hops and shakes furiously, bouncing over the tiled floor. I feel the blood drain from my face. Is this another demon beast?
I inch outside the room, then waver. Keva was clear that what happened to Owen had been an accident and that no Fey could enter the school uninvited.
Unable to decide what to do, my thoughts grind to a painful stop, until, at last, I make up my mind. Slowly, I tiptoe up to the chest, unfasten the lock, then carefully ease the cover open.
Something small and black bounces out of it. It lands on my head, sharp
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