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Dazmine rolled her eyes, but I didn’t mind the lack of tact. Because Terrin was right. Glancing at Sasha and Sylvie again, I bit down on a string of curses as they released me.
Object Summoning, it seemed, was more powerful than any of us had ever imagined.
CHAPTER
8
RAYNA
The Good Council flew in at dawn like they always did on Branding Day, their carriages pulled by harnesses of pure wind that the Element Wielding coachmen controlled. Emelle, Wren, and I watched them veer toward the courtyard from Wren’s balcony, mugs of spiced coffee in hand.
Despite the sips of warmth I forced down, I shivered at the thought that Dyonisia Reeve was once again in the vicinity, just behind the closed door of a carriage.
Would she summon me to the Testing Center again like she had last year? Gift me new dresses or new knives? My old ones were strapped to my thigh like usual, but my talk with Coen last night hadn’t fixed the anxiety that spiked in my veins at the thought of so much as touching the handle of one.
“Didn’t anyone teach them it’s rude to point?” Wren grumbled beside me, startling me out of my worries.
I blinked and followed her line of sight down to Bascite Boulevard below, where hordes of first-years were beginning to explore campus in chattering droves. Their sweat and excitement floated up to us, and a few groups, indeed, were pointing fingers at all the various displays of magic from older students on their porches or balconies—including us.
“Well,” I mused, glancing at Emelle with a smile, “it’s not every day you see so many different types of birds all in one place.”
A shade of pink touched Emelle’s cheeks at the attention, but it was true. A different species of bird perched on each of her shoulders, her lap, and the arms of her chair, with an extra dozen hopping around near her feet or ruffling their feathers on the ledge of the balcony beside her. Pedwill himself fluttered in excited circles over her head.
I’d gotten used to their constant pecking against our window and chirping conversations whenever Emelle left the Wild Whispering mansion and they descended upon her, but even I had to admit the crowd had grown to an astonishing number in the last few weeks.
“How many new friends do you have now?” I asked her.
Emelle’s face lit up at the question. “Oh, a few! This is Lucille.” She nodded at a golden-headed manakin on the balcony. “And Taillow.” She pointed at a crimson hummingbird as it zipped overhead. “And Iago, one of the last of his kind—a potoo.” She gestured toward one of the birds on her shoulder, a splotchy gray thing with doleful eyes and a curved beak that made it look like it was permanently smiling as it swished its head toward me.
I wiggled my fingers in greeting, just as Felicity swung herself down in front of me from the eave above. A habit of hers, I’d learned, to appear out of nowhere.
“Hey, I’ve heard of potoos!” She loped toward the gray bird until it was leaning away, that smile still etched on its face. “My family used to eat your kind’s eggs for breakfast whenever we could find them!”
“Felicity,” I whispered, my eyes widening. When she turned to me, I gave a quick shake of my head and shot a thought into her mind. Not the time to talk about eating bird eggs.
When can I, then? she asked innocently, cocking her head at me. They were delicious, by the way.
I’m sure they were. I patted her shoulder, and scrounged around for a change of subject as the potoo began trembling on Emelle’s shoulder. “No signs of an insulting yellow parakeet this year?” I halfway joked.
Even though I knew the parakeet in question would be in hiding with the Leake sisters, part of me still expected to see a flash of yellow wings from the corner of my eye, as if something about the past was determined to haunt me.
Emelle gave me a glance filled with understanding, shaking her head. “Nope. We’ve only got nice, polite birds here this year.”
“Debatable.” Wren nodded at some wet splatters at Emelle’s feet. “If I crapped all over someone’s balcony, I’d probably be considered rude.”
“You think everyone’s rude,” Emelle laughed.
“Can you blame me?” Wren jerked her head back down at yet another group of first-years who were jabbing their fingers in our direction, mouths hung open.
Felicity just grinned and waved.
By the time the sun had sunk below the silhouette of the jungle, we all began to make our way toward the pentaball field for the Branding.
Wren went off to find Gileon, so Emelle and I followed the surge up Bascite Boulevard together, waving goodbye to Felicity and all her birds. I was still waiting for the icy power of Dyonisia’s presence to crash up against me, but so far, she hadn’t sent anyone to summon me or give me any other cruel tasks.
And it had better stay that way.
Even after all this time, that dark, fathomless voice brushing up against my mind still made the back of my neck tingle. Coen must have just materialized somewhere in the vicinity, earlier than usual. Maybe for the special occasion.
