closed towel room door meant it was occupied.
She opened the door a crack, ready to tear into whoever was on the other side.
It was Broomstick. “A dragonfly just came in from Paro Village. Your ramparts were up so I figured you were here. I wouldn’t normally bother you, but I thought you’d want to know.”
“Stars, yes.” Fairy stepped outside the towel room and shut the door behind her. “What did the message say? Was it really Prince Gin?”
Technically, Broomstick wasn’t supposed to have access to the dragonflies. The Council’s communications with the Society command posts across the kingdom were strictly confidential. But Broomstick was the kind of person who everyone couldn’t help but like. He had an easy smile and stopped by every office in Warrior Meeting Hall each morning to say hello to all the staff. He remembered their birthdays, where their families were from, and what their hobbies were. Everyone in the building relaxed around Broomstick and chatted freely with him, because conversation with him was an effortless joy.
It also meant they told him all sorts of things he wasn’t supposed to know.
“The message said there was only garbage from a messy Autumn Festival celebration, and the ‘fortifications’ were simply part of a reenactment of the Blood Rift, mimicking the Citadel walls.”
Fairy frowned. “Have you told Spirit and Wolf yet?”
Broomstick shook his head. “We should go do that.”
“Wait.” She opened the towel room door and popped her head in.
“Racer, something came up. I’m sorry, but we’re going to have to do this another time,” she said.
His face fell. “Oh. When do you think—?”
“I don’t know. But I’ll come find you, okay?” She didn’t know when, if ever—it really depended on her mood—but she wanted to let him down easily. Besides, he was cute.
He smiled eagerly.
“All right then . . . see you later.” She shut the door, leaving Racer inside, and rejoined Broomstick.
“You know Spirit is not going to be happy about this, right?” she said as they exited the bathhouse and turned across campus toward the girls’ dormitory.
“I know. But I’m guessing it’ll spur some new scheme of hers.”
When they were nine years old, one of the other Level 2s bullied Broomstick about his then-puny size. Sharktooth drew pictures of Broomstick, pummeled him when the teachers weren’t looking, and stole his lunch nearly every day. So Sora “borrowed” a laxative from Fairy’s lab and baked a batch of cookies. Broomstick happened to bring them for lunch the next day. Sharktooth helped himself to them . . .
And never stole Broomstick’s lunch or uttered another mocking word about him ever again.
Fairy nodded now as they walked. “I feel a little guilty that the message didn’t turn out the way Spirit wanted it to, but I’m curious to see what she has up her sleeve next.”
Chapter Twelve
Sora sat with Daemon on the lawn between the girls’ and boys’ dormitories. He’d gotten them pumpkin ice cream wrapped in pancake cones from the mess hall, in an attempt to get her to eat something while they waited for the taigas’ report from Paro Village, but Sora just sat there, staring into the distance as the ice cream melted and dripped all over her hands.
As soon as she saw Fairy and Broomstick approaching, though, she jumped to her feet, her cone abandoned on the grass. The ice cream rolled in a sloppy globe into a patch of dirt.
Daemon sighed and rose too.
“Did the dragonfly come in?” she asked.
Broomstick nodded. “The conclusion was that what you saw was an Autumn Festival celebration. Prince Gin was just part of a reenactment.”
“What? No! Those were real scars we saw, not makeup. There were fortifications around the camp. And what about the fire?”
“You know, you can turn fire green with several different chemicals . . .” Fairy said.
Sora glared at her.
Fairy put both hands up as if in surrender. “Whoa. Hold on. I hadn’t finished. No need to scowl me to death.”
Sora still glowered, but she turned down the heat a bit.
Her roommate wisely did not challenge her but instead continued patiently. “You can turn fire green with chemicals, but you can’t change the flames into serpent heads.”
“So you believe us?” Daemon asked.
“If you think something’s off, then something’s off,” Fairy said.
“I do feel that way,” Sora said. “It’s like a cannonball in my stomach. Aren’t we taught to marry evidence with instinct? But the Council writes us off after one pair of taigas gives a once-over to a pile of trash.”
“It’s because we’re mere apprentices,”