Pennyroyal Academy by M.A. Larson Page A

fair.
    Beatrice turned in her chair and looked out the window at the slithering clouds. “To have never even heard of Cinderella . . .” She trailed off with a cluck of her tongue, the thought too absurd to finish. She looked to Lieutenant Volf, who kept his eyes fixed on the crossed wooden beams of the ceiling, unwilling to take a stand.
    â€œI take my stewardship of this institution very seriously. I understand well the burden of greatness I must require from each and every cadet who passes through my doors. When the Queen decided to accept commoners, I agreed without question. But I also made a promise to the great princesses who had come before that I would not make special allowances for anyone, despite our desperate situation with the witches. And yet here I am, in the very first week of term, doing just that.”
    Liverwort gasped.
    â€œYou may stay, Cadet.”
    â€œThank you, Headmis—”
    â€œPerhaps you’re right. Perhaps there is a bigger reason the Fates brought you to us. But if I’m right, and your purpose has already been served, then we shan’t be seeing much more of each other, I’m afraid.” She held the parchment over a candle until it began to blacken, and a small stripe of flame climbed across her signature. “Having little experience with the lowly of birth, I am quite curious to see what lies inside of you, buried beneath untold layers of curses.”
    Evie nearly ran down a second-year instructor, a young woman with dark features called Princess Moonshadow, as she raced through campus toward the Infirmary. After apologies and angry looks, she continued on, and so did her smile. Yes, she would be allowed to stay, and she was thrilled about that. But the thing that had so energized her on leaving Beatrice’s office was that she had found a way to stand up for herself.
I may yet be sent away, but at least it will be because I’m not good enough, and not because I was too scared to try.
    She sprinted around the great bowed wall of Skymeadow Mews, which echoed with the cries of the Academy’s hawks. At the far end, a gust of wind hit her with the must of centuries of bird droppings, but even this didn’t dampen her spirits. Nothing could bring her back to the earth . . . until she reached the Infirmary and saw another of Princess Wertzheim’s bitter red potions waiting for her.
    â€œMust I drink another? Nothing happened last time.”
    â€œThree times in four this treatment works for restoring missing memories. But it can sometimes take many, many doses, I’m afraid.”
    Evie fingered the vial, then shut her eyes and downed it in one gulp. “It tastes like blood,” she said, wiping her mouth.
    â€œOh, come now,” said Wertzheim, “there’s very little blood in there—”
    The mournful wail of a horn echoed through campus. Everyone fell silent, save for the ducks and one barking dog. Wertzheim shot up, clapping her hands in sharp staccato.
    â€œEveryone on your feet! I want absolute silence when they arrive. You, move those geese away.”
    Evie rose in confusion. Nurses scrambled about, clearing a path through the cadets and animals near the stone archway framing the doors. The horn bellowed again. She glanced around, but everyone else seemed as confused and shaken as she was. Then, across the room, her eyes met Prince Forbes’s. He had been staring at her from his place with the cursed knight cadets. Uniformed in black and with two days to readjust to life as a human, he appeared rugged and hard, a youthful composite of all the portraits of knights hanging in the castle’s rotunda. Patches of dirt marred his humorless features. A long scratch of dried blood ran down his arm. She quickly looked away. Why was he staring at her like that? After the embarrassment he had caused her the other day, she would have been perfectly happy to never see him again.
    The doors