Page 29

“Not this time,” she murmured to herself, grabbing her bag. This time, she would not accept scraps. This time, she would win . This time, it would be Jesy Bellchant leaving in disgrace.

She would make sure of it.

***

At dawn, they arrived on the wraparound porch to find two lists of chores with their names neatly printed at the top.

This sight would dictate the first few weeks of their stay on Elixane.

The chores ranged from mopping the porch and mucking out the rafters to gathering herbs for the Archmage’s potions and making chalk for his summoning circles.

All the while, Langford was like a wraith, appearing in the distance to watch Margot in silence before shaking his head as he disappeared, as if she was already disappointing him.

She gritted her teeth and walked even further into the forest, not returning until her basket was brimming with leafy greens.

She rarely saw Jesy during the day. She often returned to the cottage much later than Margot, filthy from whatever sludge Langford had made her crawl through for his materials, and she fell asleep shortly after taking a long bath.

Two weeks in, Margot gathered some extra items and, when Jesy stumbled through the door, she had a cauldron full of stew simmering in the fireplace.

The cottage smelled of potatoes and homemade sausages, parsnips and mushrooms, carrots and a pinch of red wine.

Margot brought a spoonful of the brown liquid to her lips, wrinkled her nose, and added more salt.

When she looked up, it was to find Jesy staring at her. “What’s this?” she asked, eyes round as dinner plates.

“We made it through the first fourteen days,” said Margot, setting the spoon atop the mantel. “I thought we should celebrate.”

Jesy took a step forward then seemed to think better of it, hesitating in a way Margot could only describe as awkward. “I didn’t know you could cook.”

“I live alone, so it was cook or die.”

Firelight danced across Jesy’s face, bronzing her high cheekbones.

Her hair was pulled up into a bun today, a mane of curls sitting like a cloud over her head.

She wore a pale-blue button-down smeared with mud, black trousers that were smeared with mud, and black boots that trailed mud across the wooden floor.

Leaves were caught in her hair – yet the most arresting thing about her was her gaze and the way it rested, unblinking, on Margot.

She understood even more why Jesy was always surrounded by admirers. Her focus was a heady, intoxicating thing. Margot was drunk on her attention.

“I can’t cook,” said Jesy, scratching at a dry patch of mud on her pointed chin. “But I can wash dishes.”

“Wash yourself first. You smell.”

She didn’t, not really, but Margot could no longer stand the feeling of those long-lashed eyes so fixated on her.

She wandered into the kitchen to get away from them, hating the way the lingering awe on Jesy’s face made her chest warm.

As if, even now, she still longed for Jesy Bellchant’s approval.

Once she heard the water running, she went to her room.

Everything in her bag had been transferred into the trunk at the foot of her bed.

It took her no time at all to find her bundle of letters.

Sixty-three letters that she could recite from memory, and Jesy had dismissed everything that they had been to each other to talk a Hexenhall professor out of offering Margot a job.

Her fingers traced the letters, the careful way Jesy had written her name and addresses on the envelopes, and anger flared to life in her chest. She stoked it into something constructive, building a wall between herself and the way her heart wanted to soften at the sight of Jesy Bellchant and her impossibly beautiful face.

***

Two weeks of chores turned into a month of them, as if Archmage Langford had realized that two hands were better for getting to the end of his bottomless to-do list. It wasn’t until the last day that Margot and Jesy were assigned to the same item, and, of course, Langford had picked the worst day for it.

His library took up an entire floor of the townhouse, his enchanted books giggling as they purposefully left their own shelves to visit friends.

They had until the end of the day to sort them alphabetically ahead of their lesson the next morning.

Rain splattered the island, making the trees bend and the paths flood.

The library had three balconies, and the wind slammed each of their doors open, letting water pool across the carpet toward the texts.

Margot and Jesy barely arrived in time to save some of the rarer parchments, which had moved from their displays in order to get some summer sun.

“You catch them, and I’ll sort them,” Margot said, her eyes narrow as a dictionary skirted around a shelf to place itself between an almanac and a grimoire. “You’re fitter than me.”

She had meant to say faster . Her mistake echoed through the room.

“Thank you,” Jesy said without meeting her eyes. She went to lock the balcony doors, leaving Margot to consider banging her head against the shelves until a blissful darkness claimed her.

The sun had gone to sleep before they met in the center of the library, both of them breathing hard from exertion.

Jesy had dutifully chased the books and parchments around the room, strapping them down when necessary, and Margot had found an arrangement for the shelves that allowed them to be alphabetical and near to their friends.

Even the displays were facing the doors, safe from the elements while still able to see a gorgeous view of the dark island.

Rain continued to pelt the windows, but it felt cozy rather than threatening.

The clouds were dark purple, but no lightning cracked through them.

The wind had calmed from a howl to a whimper.

Jesy dragged her arm across her forehead, wiping sweat on the sleeve of her button-down. “We start lessons tomorrow. Finally . What do you think he’ll teach us?”

“I can’t even begin to guess,” answered Margot, eyeing a nearby armchair and wondering if it would be rude to sit while Jesy was standing. “But it will be the start of our final month here, so it better not be a spell to get bats out of the attic.”

Jesy laughed, a bell-like sound that Margot immediately wanted to hear again.

She sat in the armchair, folding her hands in her lap.

She could feel Jesy watching her, but didn’t want to look up to see how much more the woman could tower over her.

Margot was exhausted, both from the physical labor and from the abrupt realization that she was no closer to being chosen as Langford’s assistant than when she arrived.

“What if he doesn’t plan to choose either of us?” Margot whispered. “What if this is all he intends to use us for before he sends us back with nothing?” Her nails dug into her palms. “I can’t leave here with nothing. I just can’t .”

She felt Jesy settle onto the arm of the chair. She could feel the heat wafting from Jesy’s body, smell her mint shampoo. Her throat was dry, and she wasn’t sure it was just from the desire to cry.

“You don’t have nothing, Stern,” Jesy whispered back.

“I’ve followed your career over the years.

You’ve made incredible advancements in the use of magic in the field.

You invented a spell to multiply food without the need for a word anchor.

You’ve never left an expedition that didn’t speak highly of your contributions.

Archmage Langford needs you far more than you need him. ”

“Too bad I lack leadership qualities.”

“I—” When Margot looked at her, Jesy’s face was grim. “Am I finally allowed to explain myself?”

“No.” Margot stood, but she didn’t get more than a step before Jesy’s hand caught her wrist. Lightning of a different sort zinged up her arm, but she kept her face blank. “Let me go.”

“You were wasted on Hexenhall,” said Jesy fiercely. “They would have kept you there, kept you small. You had the world waiting on you to do great things, and the school knew that. They didn’t want to give you a job. They wanted to clip your wings before you could fly too far from their influence.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Of course I do! So many of the greatest minds of our age are on the staff there, confining themselves to classrooms and tenure, instead of going out and innovating. Somewhere along the line, they chose safety over creation, and I couldn’t let that happen to you. Not you.”

“Dedicating oneself to academia is a noble pursuit. Sharing knowledge instead of hoarding it, inspiring the next generation of magicians, that’s every bit as important as innovation in the field.

” Margot tugged at her hand, but Jesy held tight.

“And you don’t know me, so what I do or don’t do is none of your business. ”

“I know everything about you.” Jesy caught her other wrist, gently pulling until there was only a couple of inches between them.

She was still sitting on the arm of the chair, allowing her to gaze upward at Margot with an intensity in her dark eyes.

“I know the names of all your siblings, and I know how you like your tea. I know your soul is as restless as mine, and I know that you could have never stayed in Sunderland when you could learn so much more beyond the borders of our small town. I know that you contain yourself because you’re used to not standing out, but I know that when you’re in a room, you’re the only thing worth looking at. ”

Margot tried to swallow, but couldn’t around the sudden lump in her throat. “Even if you were right about Hexenhall, you – you were cruel. I bared my soul to you in every letter, and you humiliated me in front of our peers.”