Page 3 of Faeheart (Widdershins Supernatural Academy #2)

I spotted a few familiar faces, other fae who looked as thrilled as I felt to be here, a coven of witch girls giggling over their class schedules, and some shifters lounging near the fountain like they owned the place. The usual hierarchy was already reasserting itself after the summer break.

“Wilderain of the Briar Hall,” a crisp voice called from behind me.

I turned to find Professor Zante, the academy’s vice-dean, approaching with her signature disapproving expression. Her silver hair was pulled back so severely it probably gave her a permanent headache, and her black robes billowed dramatically despite the complete lack of wind.

“Professor,” I replied with a lazy grin. “Miss me over the summer?”

Her lips pursed. “The Dean wishes to see you immediately. Your... unique schedule requires explanation.”

“Unique how?” I asked, though I was pretty sure I already knew. My parents had probably pulled strings to get me into the most boring, rule-heavy classes possible.

“You’ll find out,” she said, turning on her heel. “Follow me.”

We walked through the familiar corridors, past portraits of long-dead magical scholars who seemed to frown disapprovingly at my casual attire. The scent of burnt sage and old parchment filled the air, along with the underlying hum of protective wards that made my fae magic itch beneath my skin.

The Dean’s office hadn’t changed. It was still stuffed with ancient artifacts and books that probably predated human civilization and not a lick of personality. Dean Eolens himself sat behind an enormous oak desk, his dark brown eyes lifting as I stepped inside.

“Ah, Wild,” he said, not unkindly. “Sit.”

I dropped into the chair across from him, slouching deliberately. The dean didn’t seem like a bad guy, but he was authority, so I disliked him on principle. “So, what’s this about a unique schedule?”

“Your parents have requested certain... alterations to your curriculum this year,” Dean Eolens said, sliding a piece of parchment across his desk.

I snatched it up, scanning the list of classes with growing disbelief. “Advanced Magical Theory? Ethical Applications of Fae Glamour? Diplomatic Relations Between Realms?” I couldn’t stop the disgust from creeping into my voice. “This is bullshit. These are all court preparation classes.”

The Dean cleared his throat. “Your father was quite insistent?—”

“Of course he was,” I interrupted, tossing the schedule back onto the desk. “He wants me following in his boring-ass footsteps, playing nice with witches and vampires and whoever else the Seelie Court needs to schmooze.”

“Mr. Briar Hall,” Professor Zante said sharply from her position by the door. “Mind your language.”

I rolled my eyes. “What if I refuse?”

Dean Eolens sighed, leaning back in his chair. The wood creaked beneath him as he steepled his fingers. “I’m afraid that’s not an option. Your tuition has been paid with these specific conditions.”

“So basically, I’m trapped,” I muttered, running a hand through my still-damp hair. The maple-sweet taste of dryad cum lingered in my mouth, a reminder of the freedom I’d just left behind.

“However,” the Dean continued, a hint of something unexpected in his voice, “there is one addition to your schedule that might interest you.”

I raised an eyebrow. “What, Advanced Ass-Kissing 101?”

The Dean’s lips twitched, almost like he wanted to smile. “Professor Blackwood has specifically requested you for a special independent study program. Only three students have been selected.”

That got my attention. It was no secret that Professor Blackwood hated me, just like she hated anyone else that stood outside her perfect, little magic equations.

She’d given my roommate, Caden Cromwell, a pretty nasty fucking time during the previous year.

But now she was selecting me for a special program? Why the fuck would she do that?

“What’s the catch?” I asked, leaning forward despite myself.

“The study focuses on pre-colonial magical practices,” Dean Eolens explained. “Wild magic, to be precise. Magic that existed before the formal structures we teach today.”

My pulse quickened. Wild magic was exactly the kind of chaotic, untamed power that called to my fae nature. It was also strictly forbidden in most academic settings. “And Blackwood is teaching this?”

“Supervising,” the Dean corrected. “The students will be largely self-directed in their research and practice.”

“Who are the other two?” I found myself asking, curiosity overriding my usual disdain for anything academic.

Professor Zante stepped forward, consulting a leather-bound ledger. “Elias Thorne and Caden Cromwell.”

I nearly choked. “Caden’s coming back? I thought his father’s death meant?—”

“Mr. Cromwell has apparently manifested new abilities since his father’s passing,” Dean Eolens said carefully. “Abilities that warrant further training.”

Interesting. Caden had always been the shy, quiet type, practically powerless and invisible despite his powerful bloodline. He’d been my roommate for the past two years. I knew him better than anyone. But new manifestations after a parent’s death? That was interesting.

And Elias Thorne... I’d heard the name but knew nothing about him. Probably another stuck up witch like the rest of them.

“When do we start?” I heard myself asking.

“Tomorrow evening,” the Dean replied, sliding another parchment across the desk. “You’ll meet in Professor Blackwood’s private study. Seven o’clock sharp.”