“You’re not hurt?” Cyprus asked as soon as Saahira joined him and Melony.

  “No. Professor Gallowood healed my hand completely.” Saahira raised her palm for Cyprus to inspect. “I didn’t know that was possible. I thought for sure I’d need stitches.”

  Cyprus gently touched her palm and looked closer. “Impeccable work. Though I guess we should expect that from a master of spellcraft.”

  “It was kind of…creepy,” Saahira admitted. Watching her skin move on its own as it knit back together made her wonder how else flesh could be manipulated with magic. She shuddered.

  Cyprus chuckled. “You’ll get used to it.” He released Saahira’s hand, and the three began walking together to Alchemy.

  “Is mending skin something we’ll learn how to do?” Saahira asked.

  “Not to that level, no. That kind of magic takes years of practice,” Cyprus said.

  “Forget about that! What did Professor Gallowood want to talk to you about?” Melony asked, nudging Saahira with her shoulder. “Are you in trouble?”

  “Of course she is,” a haughty voice announced to their right. Saahira turned to find Talia and Dimitri sitting nearby on one of the metal benches installed around the sanctum. Dimitri lounged with his arms relaxed over the backrest. Talia sat perfectly straight, her icy stare fixed on Saahira. “The little inchoate could never afford a new glintsphere.”

  They were waiting for me, Saahira thought bitterly.

  Melony spun on the snide flügel and sneering elf. “How would you know anything about her?” she snapped.

  “Another jester for your court, Saahira?” Dimitri said, gesturing to Melony. “You must attract fools as easily as you attract flies.”

  “Melony, just ignore them.” Saahira touched Melony’s shoulder.

  “No! They shouldn’t talk about you like that,” Melony retorted.

  Talia frowned as she looked between Melony, Saahira, and Cyprus. “Surely your friends are aware of your peasant heritage. Even if I had not confirmed it, your manner of dress, old books, use of cheap paper, and lack of etiquette cannot be hidden behind a few layers of makeup.”

  Saahira bristled. Of course, they’d confirmed her background. Dimitri’s father likely had access to the student records with his position in the sanctum.

  “That’s interesting of you to say, Talia,” Cyprus cut in. “It seems fashion and makeup don’t do well to mask conceited, judgmental, disparaging nobility, either.”

  Dimitri laughed. “You say as if the three of you deserve to be treated with a shred of respect.”

  Melony’s eyes narrowed, and her fingers twitched. “Now I really wish I knew how to make things explode.”

  “Will this be your final day in class, Saahira? A sorcerer who cannot intentionally summon their energy has no place here,” Talia continued. “Besides, a glintsphere is no trivial bauble to replace. I would imagine you’ve nothing left to sell after covering your tuition costs.” Her gaze turned on Cyprus, and her frown deepened. “Or have the two of you perhaps…made an arrangement?”

  Saahira’s cheeks burned, and she searched the ground for a reply. Why? Why are they like this?

  -Call us forth, Saahira. Let us silence them.-

  For a few, brief moments, Saahira found their plea dangerously enticing.

  -These mortals know not who they mock.-

  “You…you’re like a freckled caraima,” Melony snarled. The choir went silent, and Saahira looked up. “You stand on a big rock, showing off your big feathers, screaming taunts at anyone who passes by. You think you’re safe. That no one can catch you because you can fly.” Melony’s hands balled into fists. “My favorite hunts end with plucking their feathers off. One by one.”

  Cyprus and Saahira stared at Melony. Saahira swallowed a smile; her frustration all but vanished. Cyprus cleared his throat—Saahira guessed that he was trying to hide a laugh. Even if her metaphor was strange, Melony was just so passionate in her defense.

  You were right, Saahira replied to the choir. They really don’t know who they’re mocking.

  Talia blinked, then looked at Dimitri. “Is the sanctum at risk, Dimitri?”

  “I don’t believe so,” Dimitri replied with an easy shrug.

  “Then why does Headmaster Erato allow creatures like this through the gates?” Talia asked.

  Melony stepped forward, and Saahira grabbed her arm. “Come on, Melony,” Saahira murmured.

  “She wants to fight? We can fight!” Melony cried.

  Cyprus stepped behind Saahira to stand on Melony’s opposite side, then took her other arm. “Only if you want to be expelled,” he warned quietly. “That’s not what your tribe wants, right?”

  Some of the fight left Melony, and she let them drag her away.

  “Your days are numbered, trash witch,” Dimitri said in a grating, sing-song voice behind them.

  Saahira tensed, but they kept walking.

  “Ekkel’s moons, what’s wrong with them?” Melony snarled.

  “A question that no spell or magic can answer, I fear,” Cyprus murmured. “The best thing we can do is ignore them.”

  Melony grumbled something under her breath while Saahira and Cyprus let go of her arms. Suddenly, Melony gasped and turned her bright eyes on Saahira. “Are you really in trouble, Saahira? If you need help replacing the glintsphere, I can help!”

  Saahira smiled and shook her head. “I’m not in trouble. Professor Gallowood wants me to practice focusing my energy outside of class, that’s all.” She patted her satchel. “He gave me another glintsphere to practice with.”

  “Oh, thank the night.” Melony sighed in relief, stirring the tufts of fur on her cloak.

  “What they said, though… They’re right,” Saahira said softly. She looked down, focusing on the scuffed toes of her shoes as they walked. “I’m from a tiny village. None of my family is magical, and I can’t imagine what they had to do to afford my tuition here.”

  “So what?” Melony said, surprising her. “My tribe lives in the middle of a forest. We deal in furs with Noctia for the winter only when we need supplies. I bet you’ve bathed in rivers and climbed trees for fun, just like me.”

  Saahira chuckled and met her friend’s gaze. “I have. Many times.”

  Cyprus leaned forward and shot her a knowing look with a confident half-smile. ‘This is what you get for trying to apologize again,’ she was almost certain was what he wanted to say.

  “Exactly! We’re not so different. And where I come from, we protect and help one another.” Melony sagely nodded, seeming to arrive at a very important decision. “We can be our own tribe!”

  “Just so long as I don’t have to eat with my mouth open,” Cyprus replied. “In fact, why don’t we be a tribe that eats with our mouths closed?”

  Melony cackled; her high spirits had returned. “If the king demands it, then I’ll, uh, try to get better at it.”

  “That’s a start.” Saahira laughed.

  When they arrived at the underground hatch, Cyprus opened it for the two of them, then followed after Saahira and Melony. Saahira’s eyes adjusted to the dim lighting as she descended the staircase, and the scents of herbs and elixirs swelled at the last step.

  Cyprus and Saahira took the same back table they’d shared two days before. Renelor sat alone at the table in front of theirs, and Melony slid into the seat beside him with a grin.

  “Hey! Is this seat taken?” Melony asked.

  Renelor inspected Melony with narrowed eyes and thin lips. “No…”

  “Great! Thanks!” Melony set her bag to the side and settled into her chair. Renelor inched his chair to the left, away from his new tablemate.

  Cyprus leaned toward Saahira and spoke so only she could hear. “Melony is quite a force of nature.”

  “At least you never have to wonder what she’s thinking.” Saahira giggled.

  Melony turned in her chair, her expression suddenly serious. “Alright, alchemy king. I will not turn the liver into a liquid this time.”

  “That’s right. Just a paste.” Cyprus straightened and crossed his arms over his chest.

  “And you won’t leave any chunks in the heron claw powder, right?” Saahira asked.

  “Right!” Melony brightened.

  Renelor glanced between Melony and Saahira and rubbed a hand across his thigh. “Wait, were we supposed to brew something?” he asked.

  Melony snorted. “You’re in trouble, friend.”

  Renelor’s face blanched, and he cursed softly as the final bell rang.

  “Good afternoon, class,” Professor Cardaimont greeted, appearing at the front of the room without warning. She held a notebook and quill at the ready. “As I said in our first meeting, today you will create a falcon’s eye potion without your books or notes.”

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  Some of the students at the other tables squirmed and exchanged uncomfortable glances.

  Cardaimont sighed. “In the interest of not watching you poison yourselves to death, I need those of you who did not study to raise your hands.”

  Nia and Renelor had the decency to look embarrassed as they raised their hands. Two more students appeared mortified. Dimitri and Kaylee smirked, appearing completely at ease in their seats.

  Professor Cardaimont wrote their names down in her notebook, then snapped it shut. “The six of you have lost full marks for the day. I will take this time to inform you that should you have two more days of all marks lost, I will have you removed from my classroom.”

  Dimitri dropped his arm and scoffed. “That isn’t the sanctum’s standard, Professor—”

  “No, Mr. Centofanti. It is my standard,” Cardaimont interrupted.

  Beside Saahira, Cyprus breathed a laugh.

  The professor’s gaze locked on Cyprus. “Something amusing, Mr. Reyner?”

  Cyprus straightened his posture and shook his head. “No, Professor Cardaimont.”

  She’s watching him so closely…

  Cardaimont narrowed her eyes, then returned her attention to the class. “For those who did not study, use this time to do so. You will review chapters one and two in your alchemy textbooks and write me a two-page essay on the use and importance of distillation. I expect them on my desk in our next class, or you will once again lose your marks.”

  Groans came from all six students. While she had hoped to see Dimitri drink a botched potion, Saahira did find satisfaction in Kaylee’s frustrated expression.

  “As for the rest of you,” Cardaimont said, “there will be no talking. No exchanging of notes. No peeking at textbooks in your bag. Ignore any of these rules, and you will join your peers in writing an essay for me. You may begin.”

  Cyprus, Saahira, and Melony were the first three to arrive at the wall of supplies thanks to their seats. Having held the supplies in her hands just the day before, Saahira found it much easier to navigate the shelves than when she’d made the bottled light.

  She collected the empty vials she needed, then gathered buriti oil and water from the “Bases” cabinet. After filling the vials with each, she found Melony finishing up with the black-eyed heron talons. Saahira plucked one talon from the jar and passed the container to Cyprus, then searched out the wickersnatch juice from the “Plants” collection. As she filled a vial with the blue liquid, Melony’s whispered hiss and glower of contempt as she removed a frog’s liver nearly made Saahira burst out laughing. But she swallowed it with great effort, corking her vial of wickersnatch juice before taking a frog’s liver of her own.

  When Saahira returned to their table and spread out the ingredients, she felt confident. It was a welcome change from her unease in the other classes.

  Saahira opened the tool chest and retrieved the mortar and pestle and a wooden spoon she’d eventually use for stirring. The first ingredient she added to the mortar was the black-heron talon. She couldn’t help but smile, recalling Melony adding it after her frog’s liver, then screaming at the sizable portion of the talon powder still stuck to the bowl.

  The talon was an opaque black, almost like obsidian, but it ground down effortlessly into a glimmering powder. Saahira carefully poured the powder into an empty vial and set it aside. Before starting on the frog’s liver, however, Saahira struck a match on the brazier beneath the cauldron. Cyprus had warned her to start heating it early so the buriti oil would reach the correct temperature for mixing. If the mixture was too cool, it wouldn’t break down the paste and powder correctly.

  Since they shared a cauldron, that meant Saahira would make her potion first. She caught the slightest nod of approval from Cyprus as he worked.

  Pride prickled her skin. She couldn’t control the choir or her energy, but she could control this.

  Saahira added the frog’s liver to her mortar and started to grind, though not too hard. The day prior, Melony had slammed her pestle against it with the force of a cudgel, creating a liquid instead of a paste. However, thanks to the brutal assault on the frog’s liver, forcing Melony to ask Cyprus for help, Saahira spotted a bile stone in her mortar as she worked. She plucked it free and set it to the side.

  The cauldron should be ready.

  Saahira picked up her vial of water and poured a single drop inside the cauldron. It hissed as it evaporated, and she nodded to herself. Perfect. The oil went next, which she poured in a circular motion, careful not to let it pool too heavily in one area. She waited, watching the oil until tiny bubbles began to form on its surface.

  ‘Add the paste first, it takes longer to heat than the powder,’ Cyprus had instructed. To which Melony shrieked, ‘Why is this so needlessly complicated?’

  Saahira hid her chuckle inside a quick exhale while she added the paste to her cauldron and mixed it into the oil with her spoon. She counted to sixty and then sprinkled the talon powder over the paste.

  The next part was the most important step in the process. Cyprus had run them through it four times. If she reacted even a few seconds too late, it would render the brew ineffective.

  Saahira stirred slowly, combining the oil, paste, and powder while watching the color closely. It gradually shifted from a dark, rusty brown into a deep golden hue. The moment that the entire mixture took on the gold color, Saahira poured in the blue wickersnatch juice and water.

  The concoction rose to a slow simmer, and Saahira stirred it together until it turned a lovely shade of emerald green.

  With a ladle from her tool chest, she spooned the finished potion into an empty vial hanging on a small metal rack, then corked it. There would be plenty of time for it to cool. Then she took the cauldron to the sink to rinse it out for Cyprus to use next.

  She returned and replaced the cauldron, and he smiled as he relit the brazier beneath. Saahira relaxed in her chair, looking over the other tables to see how her classmates were doing on their potions.

  Melony was visibly sweating, chewing the inside of her cheek as she tapped the bottom of her cauldron with her spoon.

  You can do it, Melony! Just get it close enough! Saahira wished she could project her encouragement into Melony’s mind.

  Arthur had, unsurprisingly, already finished. But Saahira was glad to see that the shimmering green of his falcon’s eye potion looked exactly like hers. Eland and Lily waited to use their cauldrons, and Celeste was still bent over her ingredients.

  Nia’s nose was in her book, and her hand moved quickly over her notes. Saahira couldn’t help but feel bad for her since she’d dealt with Kaylee the night before and hadn’t slept well. Maybe I should have warned her this morning. It wouldn’t have been enough time to practice making one, but at least Nia could have given it a try if she’d known the ingredients.

  Professor Cardaimont scanned the room like a bird of prey, glowing eyes evaluating them one by one. She strode between the tables, silently watching them work. Her gait held a feline tension suggesting she would pounce if any dared to break her simple rules. While Saahira waited, she caught Cardaimont’s stern gaze shift to Cyprus on at least three occasions—once while she stood on the opposite side of the classroom. He completed his potion, and it matched Saahira’s and Arthur’s in color and density. Despite his clear proficiency in alchemy, Saahira wondered if Cardaimont would allow him to continue practicing in his second year.

  A frustrated hum from Melony brought Saahira’s attention back to the therianthrope. The liquid inside of her final vial was more blue than green—it was as if it wanted to be green, but didn’t quite make it. Did she dilute it enough?

  The other students gradually completed their potions, and Cardaimont returned to the front of the room. On the chalkboard, she wrote four lines of random letters, each one gradually smaller than the next. It would have been impossible to read more than the first line, even from a table at the front of the room. The bottom line—assuming they were still letters—appeared as teeny dots no larger than Saahira’s fingernail.

  “It appears everyone has finished,” Cardaimont announced after filling out the board. “Very well. Please have a quill and something to write on at the ready as we test your brews.”

  And now I have to drink the frog liver.

  Saahira shuddered as she tugged a sheet of brilight paper from her satchel with a bottle of ink and a quill.

  As she did on their first day, Professor Cardaimont began at the front table, her notebook open and her pen poised.

  “You will consume your potions one by one, then write down the smallest legible letters from the board,” Cardaimont instructed. “Miss Osekai, we will begin with you.”

  Lily raised her vial. The liquid was a very faint green, and Saahira understood right away that Lily had added too much water. Melony had done the same thing on one of her attempts. Lily tipped the glass to her lips and squeezed her eyes closed as it went down. Her wince was understandable. Saahira had tried just one of her potions the day prior, and it had a shockingly bitter taste.

  “Now, please write down the smallest letters you can read,” Cardaimont said.

  Lily squinted at the board and frowned. After a few moments, she scrawled them on her parchment and handed them to Professor Cardaimont.

  “The second line. A good effort.” Cardaimont passed the parchment back. “How much water and wickersnatch juice did you use?”

  “Three parts water and one part wickersnatch juice, Professor,” Lily replied.

  “That’s to be expected, judging from the color of your potion.” Cardaimont nodded. “Two parts water to one part wickersnatch creates a more potent effect.”

  Melony visibly flinched and looked at her potion.

  “Right. Thank you, Professor,” Lily said.

  Cardaimont moved to each table, patiently waiting while each student ingested their potion. A few had failed to grind their talons completely, leaving tiny floating pieces of obsidian in their vials. Their brews only allowed them to read the largest line of letters. Arthur’s, of course, was perfect. Celeste’s potion was rusty brown—a sign that she’d ground the frog’s liver to more of a liquid, as Melony had the day prior. The potion didn’t have any effect at all.

  When Cardaimont reached Melony, beads of sweat gathered on the therianthrope’s brow.

  “I…only used one part water and one part wickersnatch, Professor,” Melony admitted, lifting her vial.

  “A common mistake, Miss Truefang. However, it seems the other ingredients were tended to appropriately, and now we will test them. Please drink your potion.”

  “Do I have to?” Melony murmured.

  “I find the best way to remember our mistakes is to experience them firsthand,” Cardaimont replied. “An incorrectly brewed falcon’s eye will do no permanent harm. However, many other potions will. Consider this an additional lesson in attentiveness.”

  Melony nodded grimly, swallowed hard, then threw the potion back in a shot like Hugo would his ale on rough nights. When the vial was empty, she pulled it away and coughed violently. Tears formed in the corners of her eyes, and Saahira winced.

  “Gah! That burns like the sun!” Melony rasped, wiping the tears from her eyes. She coughed again, chuckling between breaths. “That’s awful.”

  “Write down the smallest letters you can read, Miss Truefang.”

  Melony rubbed her eyes on the back of her arm and looked at the board, another series of coughs escaping her lips. She scribbled down the letters with a shaking hand.

  “The third row. Very good.” Cardaimont nodded with approval, writing in her notebook.

  “Hooray for me,” Melony wheezed. She leaned an arm on the table and rested her forehead against it, her shoulders shaking with her uneven breaths.

  Professor Cardaimont moved on to the back row. Renelor regarded Melony with a long, indecisive look. Then, to Saahira’s surprise, he slowly raised an arm and patted Melony on the back.

  “Thank you.” Melony’s weak voice was muffled even more by the table. “I hate alchemy,” she grumbled.

  Cyprus drank his potion without so much as a frown. Then, just as Arthur had, he easily copied down the tiniest line of letters. Cardaimont didn’t offer him a modicum of praise; just the barest nod before moving on to Saahira.

  Saahira tried her best not to gag on the concoction. The thought of the frog’s liver, combined with the biting flavor of the wickersnatch, caught in her throat and made her eyes water. But she held back her gag and swallowed it down.

  Then the room came into sharp, intense focus. Saahira blinked and glanced around. She could read a passage from Nia’s book that poked out just beneath her arm. Even the letters on Lily’s notes at the front of the classroom were legible. The sensation was as dizzying as it was fascinating.

  “Please write the smallest letters you can read, Miss Montarac,” Cardaimont said.

  Saahira looked at the board. The tiny, nail-sized letters read just as clearly as if she were inches from the chalkboard. She was only the fourth student in the class who could read them. She smiled and copied the letters down. P, M, N, I, L, O. Once she was finished, she handed the paper to Cardaimont and waited.

  Cardaimont reviewed the letters, then checked over her notebook, and finally looked between Cyprus and Saahira with narrowed eyes.

  “The two of you will sit at separate tables for the remainder of the year,” Professor Cardaimont said, returning Saahira’s paper.

  Cyprus hissed a breath between his teeth.

  Saahira gaped. “Professor, I don’t understand—”

  “I will not accept students assisting each other on individual tests,” Cardaimont interrupted.

  Anger simmered in Saahira’s stomach. Dimitri’s pompous grin brought it to a boil. “I crafted that falcon’s eye on my own,” Saahira said, working to keep her voice even. “He didn’t assist me at all.”

  “Then you will easily prove it to me in subsequent classes.” Cardaimont made a note in her book and shook her head. “You earn full marks today, Miss Montarac, but consider this your final warning. For both of you.”

  Disbelief extinguished Saahira’s pride. She’d worked so hard, and still… She turned to look at Cyprus, and a chill crawled through her veins.

  Cyprus’s burning glare followed Cardaimont as she returned to the front of the room.

  He looked furious.

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