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CHAPTERONE
THE WITCHES
Iwake with a bad feeling rotting in my chest, and usually that means someone is about to die.
I’m no seer. By most definitions, I’m no witch, although the Pillar might disagree. When I can help it, I don’t touch any magik at all, but a girl has to sleep from time to time. That’s when the magiks shaping the world touch me, when I’m too vulnerable to stop them. Long-forgotten spells, primal forces, the lost consciousness of errant gods. You name it, it’s interested in messing with me.
Maybe my unease is just indigestion. The generous helping of Marline’s seafood chowder I ate last night might have been delectable, but like everything else about my cousin, it’s also notoriously dangerous. Mar doesn’t differentiate between ingredients meant for cooking and those for potion brewing.
Lying might have been a sin in the eyes of the light, but surely the rule doesn’t apply when I’m only lying to myself?
I throw my duvet over my head, intending to ignore the world for a few more minutes. My clock hasn’t seen fit to wake me yet—I have no reason to rush out of the comfort of my bed.
A hard knock on my door ruins my plan. “Alis? Get ready. We need to head to Five right now.”
I groan into my pillow. Ihatebeing right. “Who died?” I ask Mar, but she’s already gone.
Marline is the eldest of my cousins still in training. She’s twenty-four. Next year, she’ll take the trials and ascend into her full, devastating powers. As such, the elders of my clan trust her to keep us younger Frejr in check. After her ascension, that role might fall to me. A daunting prospect I don’t let myself think about.
Considering she wants us at Five this early, I glean we should be in formalwear. One of my younger cousins stops by to confirm what I suspected: we’re to wear whites. I barely have time to hunt down my attire and get dressed before I’m ushered into the clan’s official transport; a sleek, forest-green hovercraft I seldom get to ride in. The floating car, I like. What it represents? Not so much. Stamped with our coat of arms on the passenger doors, the long vehicle cost more than an average mansion. It’s a symbol of wealth and power, reminding the world that we Frejr are a force to be reckoned with.
Each of my cloaks and bags bear our sigil. I used to avoid wearing them. After three years at Five, I know better.
My cousins and I are still half asleep, so we barely exchange a word until we reach the borders of Magnapolis. Only then does Maelys start to whine. “Why did we have to leave at the crack of dawn? I thought school starts in three days.”
The university campus opened about a week ago, but the Frejrs are generally latecomers, only turning up a day before classes start. We don’t need time to accommodate. The world moves to accommodateus.
I’m told our family wasn’t always as influential, but it’s hard to believe it. In my twenty-three years in this world, I’ve seen a word from our elders start and stop wars. No one wants to be on the bad side of our matriarch. The last time a kingdom pissed her off, she reduced its armies to rubble. The fields where Valina massacred the forces of her enemies are still scorched and barren, centuries later.
None of my family’s influence makes my life any easier. I’m not like them. I don’t use magiks. I’m the weakling in a line of titans. It’s a path I’ve chosen, and I don’t regret it.Not much, in any case. I know the alternative, and I’m not prepared to pay the price that comes with my abilities.
Five is no place for weakness, so the school year utterly sucks for me.
Mar’s applying black polish to her pointed nails. She doesn’t bother to look up from her fingertips to answer Maelys. “Blythe Ostra was murdered on her way to the campus.”
“Iknewsomeone died,” I say. I should have bet on it.
Maelys sighs, clearly put out with Blythe for having the audacity to get herself killed before sunrise.
Our craft slides at high speed through the misty streets of Magnapolis. I don’t see a soul through the window. It’s too early for business and too late for thieves and conspiracies. In no time, we’ve passed the heavy gates of the Five Kingdoms’ Superior University.
The five of us exit the back of the vehicle and move as one, drawing all eyes to us. Some are fearful, others challenging, but no one fails to look.
A flock of students storms the grandiose halls of Five, all clad in black. Mourning attire is a second uniform at the university. Hardly a week passes without a stabbing, a poisoning, or a lost soul tumbling off one of the high towers. Death is a faithful companion in these cavernous halls.
Bringing up the rear of our short procession, dressed in my pristine cloak, I do my best not to stand out. Which, admittedly, is impossible in this getup. The rest of the world considers black the color of death. The Frejrs have their own practices in most things, and mourning is no exception. We wear black to coven gatherings, birthday parties, weddings, and on any other day of the week if the mood strikes us, but we greet births and deaths in the colors of the light—white and gold.
I can’t help standing out from the throng, but I try to blend with my four cousins.
The whispering crowd of half-asleep students stumbles to part in front of us, giving us a wide berth. A gangly kid too young to grow a decent beard is in such a rush to scamper, he trips over his own awkward feet and falls gracelessly right in front of my oldest, cruelest cousin.
I wince on his behalf before Marline has the time to react. Mar is already in a mood—like me, she doesn’t enjoy mornings. The poor boy might as well have volunteered as a willing victim.
“Sorry!” he yelps, struggling to stand up when faced with Mar’s polished white leather boots.
Marline has a bit of a reputation, and she deserves all of it. Her temper is as legendary as her knack with hexes.
The black witch at the head of our group lifts an imperious hand and waves briskly, wordlessly. She is magnificent and terrifying, with her dark golden skin, and the bright eyes that no doubt flash as her transformation magik surrounds her, coating her skin.
