Persie Merlin and the Door to Nowhere by Bella Forrest Page 0,15

good here.” I forced a smile and kept my chin up. But a nagging doubt crept into the back of my head. Is this what Dad was talking about? He hadn’t always been a stuffy traditionalist. He’d gotten us out of Atlantis precisely because he didn’t agree with a lot of what they did. But that had changed over the years, after he’d started working as an Atlantean envoy for the integration program. There had been a slow shift in his mindset. He’d sat me down a thousand times and warned me that the wider magical world didn’t think kindly of us. It was his main reason for wanting to cart me off back to Atlantis. I’d called nonsense on it, but… what if he’d been telling the truth?

“Seriously, did someone say something? You look… sad.” I couldn’t pull the wool over her eyes. She knew me too well. Although there was one thing she hadn’t caught onto just yet. A secret, of sorts: that I needed her as much as she needed me. A fearless façade did not a fearless woman make.

“I was thinking about someone, that’s all.”

She nodded in understanding. “She’s rooting for you, Genie.”

“Yeah, I think she is.” I dipped my head and battled more tears until they gave up. Jeez, this independence thing came with a lot more weepy moments than I’d expected. But there was an old Atlantean sentiment that I kept close: “Loved ones never leave us, for they are within us. You cannot lose what is intrinsic to your heart. It is but a brief parting, not a forever farewell.”

Charlotte stopped in front of more familiar doors. “This is the banquet hall. First-year students take their breakfast in the old chapel at the back, if you didn’t already know from your orientation packages.”

“What packages?” I shot a confused look at Persie.

She shrugged. “Maybe ours got lost in the post?”

I took a quick look at the banquet hall, though I’d already seen it once today.

“This way.” Charlotte walked on, pointing out the way to the infirmary, four of the smaller libraries, and the laundry room. Apparently, they weren’t interesting enough to take a peek at. But we could always investigate more later, schedule permitting. We were supposed to receive our schedules at the end of the tour, and I guessed they’d be jam-packed.

Trekking on through the labyrinth, she halted halfway down a vast hallway and swung open a set of medieval doors. I expected a classroom or another library. Instead… well, what a view. To the right, there was a beautiful courtyard with pear trees growing along the perimeter, and benches beneath the rustling leaves. To the left were manicured gardens with vivid flowerbeds in full bloom, despite the chill in the breeze. Beyond the sandstone walls, from Charlotte’s curt description, were more gardens, where hunters and students liked to stroll. And, down a central path, rolling green hills stretched as far as the eye could see, even beyond the confines of the Institute. From inside, it was easy to forget that the outside world existed. But here it was, in all its lush green glory.

“This place is so beautiful, isn’t it? Everywhere you look, there’s something new and exciting to see!” Persie gushed breathlessly. “I wonder if those pears are ripe enough to eat?”

I shook my head. “They’d give you the collywobbles, make no mistake.”

“What?”

“A tummy-ache.” I grinned, feeling better with some fresh air in my lungs. Ironic, considering I’d spent most of my earliest childhood in a manufactured bubble, but hey—I didn’t make the rules.

“Even without the pears, I’d love to sketch out here,” she said wistfully.

I leaned my head on top of hers. “Then sketch you shall.”

In the distance, I noticed the ghost of a gray, church-looking building—a smidge of non-magical civilization. Churches had always unnerved me. And this one had a flavor of the eerie about it, intensified by the bruised swell of rainclouds rising up on the horizon.

“You can walk out here whenever you like, but don’t go outside Institute limits without express permission,” Charlotte warned. “It’s nicer in the summer.”

I’ll bet it still rains. I smirked. In the five days we’d been there, it had rained on four of them. Ah, Ireland. No wonder everything was so green.

Moving on, she showed us the common areas: big lounge rooms with roaring fireplaces, comfy sofas, and cozy vibes—the perfect defense against grim weather. Though maybe we’d just been spoiled by the San Diego sunshine. At least here, I wouldn’t have