Blood of the Fey (Morgana Trilogy) (36 page)

“She’s right,” Keva says, backing away. “Means trouble for you, and I mean to stay well clear of it. See you around!”

My summons to a hearing propagates through the school like wildfire. But this time, exam week and the upcoming Samhain festival are enough to dampen my own notoriety. I, on the other hand, plunge myself wholeheartedly into my studies. The fact that I’ve been ill turns out to be a great excuse to avoid both training sessions and my regular duties at the infirmary, and I use the extra time to hole myself up in the library.

Finally, the last day of exams arrives. Just in time, for I can feel my mind grinding to a halt as I stare at Sir Boris’s questions. When the bell tolls, I let my pen drop on the table and stretch in my chair.

“What did you put down for the Fuath?” Jack asks as Nadia walks around to collect the tests.

“That they’re linked to nymphs,” I reply. “Aren’t they?”

Bri clicks her tongue. “Only in so much as they both live in water,” she says. “Fuath are Fomori, and by their very nature aren’t the kind you want to come across.”

Jack slaps his hand on his forehead. “They’re the hairy ones, aren’t they?” He grunts. “I knew it! I put down that they were scaly with pointy teeth that shot out when they sneezed.”

Bri rolls her eyes at him as Keva comes over. “What are you wearing for tonight?” she asks, her eyes bright with excitement.

“Aren’t we supposed to wear our formals?” Bri asks.

“Don’t be such a nincompoop. Do you think people actually follow that rule?”

“I’m still wearing mine,” Jack says. “We’re going to be leaving the campus grounds, and our uniforms are safer than traditional clothing.”

Keva snorts. “You think any Fey’s going to attack when there’s so many of us around? Please.”

“What are you going to do?” Bri asks me.

I fling my backpack over my shoulder and head out. “Maybe I won’t get to participate,” I say

“Oh, right,” Keva and Bri say simultaneously. “The summons.”

“Do you need us to go with you?” Bri asks.

“Hey, don’t include me in that,” Keva says, “I’ve got higher priorities.”

Bri throws her a warning look.

“No worries,” I say. “I’m a big girl. I can get there myself.”

“Very well said,” Keva says, pulling on Bri’s arm to get her going before she can word any objection. “We’ll see you later.”

“Right, later,” I say.

“Don’t take too long,” Jack says, “or all the good food’ll be gone.”

With a sinking heart, I walk over to KORT’s headquarters. I stare for a minute at the hunting scene carved into the black doors, sympathizing with the dragon surrounded by vicious hounds.

An appropriate depiction of my own life. I sigh. Arthur must really hate me.

I knock. The indistinct murmurs coming from behind the closed doors cease, then Gareth lets me in. He winks at me as I step inside.

The room is the most beautiful one I’ve seen in the whole school—tall arched windows let in light from the two angled walls, while colorful tapestries depicting knights on their various quests hang opposite them.

Along the wall closest to me are suspended twelve banners, each displaying different coats of arms. I immediately recognize the one at the forefront—two dragons standing back-to-back, the Pendragon sigil.

Taking up most of the room is a wide, ringlike table of dark wood, around which are enough straight-backed chairs to seat thirteen people, though only seven knights are now present.

Despite having met most of them, only the cousins smile at me, and Percy gives me a small nod. The others stare at me like I’m some cockroach that needs to be stomped on.

“Have a seat,” Arthur says.

I go for the chair nearest me. The seat looks more like a throne, made out of a single piece of dark wood. I grab the back of the chair to pull it out, admiring the carving of an angel descending along the back, sword first, onto a horde of snarling demons depicted about the feet.

“Not there!”

I freeze at the shouted order and notice the shocked looks of the people around me.

“You told me to sit,” I say, exasperated.

“Yes, but not there.”

I raise my chin. Guess I’m not worthy of being at his hoitytoity table.

“I prefer to stand then,” I say, staring straight ahead of me, above the heads of the seated knights. Maybe I should look bored, to show them I don’t care.

“Miss Pendragon,” Arthur says, “you are here now on trial for reckless behavior that not only nearly cost you your life, but those of others as well.”

My jaw unhinges from its socket. “On trial, me?”

“As well as for theft,” Arthur finishes without looking at me. “In the second case, we found a knife missing from our armory, which was presently found with you in the surface world.”

“I object!” I say. “First of all, I did not steal that knife. I borrowed it. Second of all, who is to blame my reckless behavior, as you call it, but you people?

“You allow base accusations to be thrown at me that are false and unsubstantiated, turning my life into a living hell. Yet you take your sweet time with your so-called investigation of that squire’s death and K’s disappearance. How can you blame me for wanting to take things into my own hands and solve the case myself?”

“By risking other people’s lives?”

“I got there after those two knights had already been attacked. You can’t blame me for that.”

Every knight there is poised at the edge of his seat, waiting with bated breath for the result of this exchange. Arthur pinches his lips together in displeasure.

“How did you find out about the banshee?” he asks.

I shrug. “Heard some people mention strange noises at night coming from around the island, and when I…overheard…people talk about a banshee roaming about…I put two and two together. It wasn’t very difficult.”

“Why didn’t you report it to us?” Percy asks.

I let out a short, derisive laugh. “I was already being accused of murdering a person and kidnapping another. Who would have believed me?”

A silence settles over the assembly that seems to stretch on for hours. I shift my weight from one foot to the other, scared despite my bravado. Nobody’s ever told me anything about these KORT meetings, least of all about trials. And here I am, facing both at once, and with no idea what type of punishment I’m facing. I pray it doesn’t entail being quartered or beheaded.

“How did you manage to get to the surface?” a knight asks, a spindly boy with long black hair slicked back into a ponytail.

I cross my hands behind my back. “I, uh, I flew.”

“You flew?”

I ignore the shocked looks crossing between the knights.

“You mean to say someone flew you there?” the boy asks.

“No. I mean I flew there.”

“But that’s not possible,” another boy with spiky red hair says. “The only way to do that is with EM, and everybody knows you can’t do it.”

“Ah, but it appears that she can after all,” Percy says with a tight smile. “And well, too, from the sound of it. A rare feat for a page, I may add.”

Lance whispers into Arthur’s ear.

“A moment, please,” Arthur says, getting up, then heading for the back wall, where beautiful drapes of damask hang down in shimmery gold and burgundy, the colors of our school.

Arthur pulls one of the curtains aside to uncover a small passage into which he disappears. We all remain motionless, like the standing armors displayed outside, while we wait for him to come back.

When my legs are about to cramp up, the drapes open up again to let Arthur through. His face is pale, but otherwise betrays no emotion as he resumes his seat.

“The Board has spoken,” he says, avoiding all eye contact with me. “Miss Pendragon is now forbidden from going anywhere without reporting to one of us directly. She is also not allowed to go anywhere beyond Lake High without supervision, which means the only way in and out for her is with the barges, like every other freshman here.

“In the matter of the theft, the Board agrees to drop all charges, as the knife was recovered intact. The case is now closed.”

The moment the verdict is given, there’s a flurry of activity as every knight rushes to join the feast outside. Each one passes by me without so much as a glance in my direction, not even Percy and the cousins, until only Arthur and I remain in the room.

He stops before me, opens his mouth to say something, but I throw him the dirtiest look I can muster, and he shuts it again.

I wish he knew how much I hate him right now, how much I wish I could shove his stupid rules down his throat and have him choke on them.

There’s a slight clearing of the throat, and we both turn to find Jennifer. She gives Arthur a kind smile and reaches for his hand. I can tell she’s enjoying this as much as a dog loves to roll in poo.

“Everyone’s waiting,” she says. “They can’t start the festivities without you.”

“I’ll be right there,” Arthur says.

“What about her?” she asks, threading her arm through his.

Arthur doesn’t answer, but I know exactly what he’s thinking: I can’t go to the festival unless I’m accompanied, which means
that I’d have to go with them, like an obedient lapdog. And there’s no way I can watch Jennifer preen before me all night long.

Without a word, I flee.

I run past classrooms, down long hallways and dark staircases, not caring who sees me. Once outside, I keep running, across the now-empty courtyard, my feet pounding against the ground. I wish the Banshee had killed me. It would have saved me from this latest degradation.

And to think that I owe it all to Arthur and that stupid, evil witch Jennifer. I’ve never felt worse in my whole life, not even when I was at the police station back in Switzerland.

Burning tears stream down my cheeks. Out of all the people at school, it had to be Arthur. Why did he even bother teaching me how to fight and use oghams if I’m not supposed to use them? And now he’s punishing me for it?

The party’s lights rise in the meadow east of me and I veer in the opposite direction. The sound of distant shouts and singing carries over to me; everyone’s having such a jolly good time while I have to watch my whole world crash and burn around me for the second time this year.

I wipe away at the tears angrily. I should not be crying, especially not because of Arthur. That boy doesn’t deserve anything from me, except perhaps a solid kick in the crotch.

It’s not until the forest’s looming high over me that I pause. Panting, I stare back over my shoulder. Dusk has taken over the school, and the multiple bonfires are glowing like fireflies in the distant fields. I bet no one’s noticed I’m gone, or even cares.

I really can’t trust anyone; I see my error now, but the little girl who believed in fairy tales and happy endings has finally grown up.

I face the forest’s foreboding recesses and, without a second glance backward, step inside them.