Pennyroyal Academy by M.A. Larson Page B

groaned open, and a blast of wind scattered some parchments. The nurses stood still and tall, and the cadets followed their example. A handful of princesses entered, girls only a few years older than Evie. They were battered and bloodied, their tunic dresses torn and stained. Two of them carried another on a handmade canvas stretcher. Her eyes were closed, a hand draped over the side flopping with each step. Each of these princesses had a haunted look on her face, and Evie knew it could only have been put there by a witch.
    â€œThis way, princesses,” said Wertzheim, her voice just above a whisper. “Come through.”
    The princesses trudged across the room toward an archway in the back, the private chambers Forbes had been ushered into after his transformation. Evie studied their faces as they passed. The weariness and loss sent a shiver through her, yet there was something else there, too. Something behind the horrors they had seen.
    Goodness.
It was the first and only word that came to mind. These were quite simply not ordinary girls; they were
princesses
, and they possessed a grace and nobility that shone through any physical wounds.
    They disappeared beneath the archway with several members of staff. Slowly, the remaining nurses coaxed the cadets back to their treatments, and normality returned to the Infirmary. Evie dropped to her chair, despite having already drunk her potion. The eyes of those princesses lingered in her mind, as did the fire that so clearly burned behind them. For those few brief moments, she thought she could actually see the courage, the compassion, the kindness, and the discipline that the Academy taught.
    She was so consumed by her thoughts that she hadn’t noticed the corners of her vision beginning to darken. She stared at the lattice of cobblestones at her feet and thought of those burning eyes. And then she saw less and less, and then blackness . . .
    â€œCadet?” The word wobbled through her mind, and she realized she couldn’t breathe. “Princess Wertzheim, over here!”
    The whole world fell silent, save for the insistent whistle of wind. From the blackness, a dim light appeared—sunlight—and then a figure. It was a little girl. She had deep green eyes and wore a simple gray dress beneath a woolen mantle embroidered with butterflies. The girl stood on a small mountain meadow of wispy grass and bright blue wildflowers. At the cusp of the meadow, where the earth spilled over a cliff like a waterfall of green, the world fell away into a stomach-clenching valley of tree and rock. In the near distance the mountains roared back up again. Huge, thick cones of trees covered the wall of stone like the fur of some great, green elemental beast. But the girl took little notice of the vastness of her surroundings. She was focused on a small pie with several bites already missing. A trickle of brown gravy ran down her tiny fingers as she happily crunched into the crust for another mouthful . . .
    â€œCadet! Cadet, you must open your eyes!”
    Evie blinked back to consciousness. She was lying on her back on the cold stone floor, and all she could see was princesses looking down at her with sympathy.
    â€œShe’s back,” said Princess Wertzheim. “Easy, girls, help her up.”
    Evie felt her limp body lift from the floor as they set her in the chair. Someone handed her a glass of water and helped her drink. “I saw something,” she said. “I think it was me . . .”
    â€œAh, good,” said Wertzheim with relief. “We weren’t certain if it was a memory or some sort of head trauma from when you hit the floor. It’s quite rare for a treatment to work this quickly.”
    Now a throbbing pain started to announce itself on the side of her head. She touched it and winced, her fingers bloodied. One of the nurses pulled back her hair and began to dress the wound.
    â€œYou’re all right,