biggest idiot. “He is Merlin. And it’s obvious why he lied—”
“What? Why?”
“Hell—oo.” Gia leaned against the mirrored wall of the miniscule elevator and checked out her teeth. “He’s the most powerful wizard of all time. And he likes you. He probably didn’t want you to freak.”
But I was freaking. And I didn’t like Merlin. I liked Matt.
***
Early the next morning, a mass of students filled the courtyard and veranda as they rushed to classes. Grey and I walked together. Grey wore khakis, a long sleeve t-shirt, and a jacket. He looked at my jeans, rumpled shirt and barely-made hair with amusement.
“Tough night?” he asked. The school map application on the iPad directed us into an imposing stone building.
I yawned. “Gia is not the quietest sleeper.”
“Who?”
“My new roommate. The girl with red-hair. One of Vane’s candidates.”
He nodded. “Hot girl. The brute’s girlfriend.”
We walked down a long hallway with classrooms to the left and right.
I rolled my eyes. “She may be someone’s girlfriend, but she kept mumbling about Merlin all night.”
“Oh, that’s why,” he deadpanned.
I punched him in the shoulder.
Grey yelped. “Watch it, bruiser. Why is it that every time he-who-must-not-be-named is even mentioned you turn violent?”
“He-who-must-not-be-named, bullshit!”
His eyes flickered over me. “You look soft but you pack a mean punch.”
I opened and closed my mouth, but didn’t get a chance to retort. We reached the end of the hallway and entered into a corner classroom. It was a huge room. At the front stood three blank black chalkboards side by side. The sterile smell of forced learning didn’t seem to be present. High open windows and the scent of wild flowers seemed far from the dungeon-like atmosphere of the classrooms I was used to. Grey and I sat on one long bench-seat attached to a mahogany bench table, nothing like the flimsy individual metal desk and chair combo that were the norm back home.
Dinner last night had been odd. Round tables with fine white tablecloths and sit-down service felt more suitable for a wedding a school cafeteria. The heavy silverware we used might have even been real silver. Everything about the wizard school from its immaculate landscape to the iPads to the gourmet food screamed money. Of course, if every wizard family was as rich as the Ragnars, I guess the opulence shouldn’t have surprised me.
It was a far cry from the life my mother’s teacher salary could have afforded. I smoothed down my jeans nervously. I hadn’t felt this out of place in Boston, mostly because there had been enough normal kids in school to make up for the crazy rich ones. But here even the superfine softer-than-silk cotton sheets on my bed last night had brought to my attention how completely out of my element I was.
To distract myself, I glanced at the kids in the room. There were around forty or so. The Regulars made up about half. Vane’s candidates sat in the back. A row of about fifteen kids sat in the front. I didn’t recognize them at all. They hadn’t been at the admissions test.
Outside the clock tower chimed. I tapped my iPad. The calendar told me that I was scheduled for Basic Elements in the morning, then a break for lunch, and then Physical Training in the afternoon.
The classroom door swung open.
Matt strode into the room. He crossed to the teacher’s desk and set a leather satchel down. “Welcome. For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Merlin. But I go by Matt Emrys. A modern name for a modern time.”
He held up his iPad. “Many of you have these. I’m here to tell you—they’re useless.” Matt snapped his fingers and copies of a heavy tome appeared out of nowhere onto our desks.
Groans filled the room. It was one impressively thick book.
“Part of learning magic is to feel it. To touch it. To smell it. You can’t get that sense from one of these—” He pointed to the iPad.
“Why do we care
“What? Why?”
“Hell—oo.” Gia leaned against the mirrored wall of the miniscule elevator and checked out her teeth. “He’s the most powerful wizard of all time. And he likes you. He probably didn’t want you to freak.”
But I was freaking. And I didn’t like Merlin. I liked Matt.
***
Early the next morning, a mass of students filled the courtyard and veranda as they rushed to classes. Grey and I walked together. Grey wore khakis, a long sleeve t-shirt, and a jacket. He looked at my jeans, rumpled shirt and barely-made hair with amusement.
“Tough night?” he asked. The school map application on the iPad directed us into an imposing stone building.
I yawned. “Gia is not the quietest sleeper.”
“Who?”
“My new roommate. The girl with red-hair. One of Vane’s candidates.”
He nodded. “Hot girl. The brute’s girlfriend.”
We walked down a long hallway with classrooms to the left and right.
I rolled my eyes. “She may be someone’s girlfriend, but she kept mumbling about Merlin all night.”
“Oh, that’s why,” he deadpanned.
I punched him in the shoulder.
Grey yelped. “Watch it, bruiser. Why is it that every time he-who-must-not-be-named is even mentioned you turn violent?”
“He-who-must-not-be-named, bullshit!”
His eyes flickered over me. “You look soft but you pack a mean punch.”
I opened and closed my mouth, but didn’t get a chance to retort. We reached the end of the hallway and entered into a corner classroom. It was a huge room. At the front stood three blank black chalkboards side by side. The sterile smell of forced learning didn’t seem to be present. High open windows and the scent of wild flowers seemed far from the dungeon-like atmosphere of the classrooms I was used to. Grey and I sat on one long bench-seat attached to a mahogany bench table, nothing like the flimsy individual metal desk and chair combo that were the norm back home.
Dinner last night had been odd. Round tables with fine white tablecloths and sit-down service felt more suitable for a wedding a school cafeteria. The heavy silverware we used might have even been real silver. Everything about the wizard school from its immaculate landscape to the iPads to the gourmet food screamed money. Of course, if every wizard family was as rich as the Ragnars, I guess the opulence shouldn’t have surprised me.
It was a far cry from the life my mother’s teacher salary could have afforded. I smoothed down my jeans nervously. I hadn’t felt this out of place in Boston, mostly because there had been enough normal kids in school to make up for the crazy rich ones. But here even the superfine softer-than-silk cotton sheets on my bed last night had brought to my attention how completely out of my element I was.
To distract myself, I glanced at the kids in the room. There were around forty or so. The Regulars made up about half. Vane’s candidates sat in the back. A row of about fifteen kids sat in the front. I didn’t recognize them at all. They hadn’t been at the admissions test.
Outside the clock tower chimed. I tapped my iPad. The calendar told me that I was scheduled for Basic Elements in the morning, then a break for lunch, and then Physical Training in the afternoon.
The classroom door swung open.
Matt strode into the room. He crossed to the teacher’s desk and set a leather satchel down. “Welcome. For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Merlin. But I go by Matt Emrys. A modern name for a modern time.”
He held up his iPad. “Many of you have these. I’m here to tell you—they’re useless.” Matt snapped his fingers and copies of a heavy tome appeared out of nowhere onto our desks.
Groans filled the room. It was one impressively thick book.
“Part of learning magic is to feel it. To touch it. To smell it. You can’t get that sense from one of these—” He pointed to the iPad.
“Why do we care
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