Prologue
Norlocke Academy, located in the northernmost regions of the Republic of Fraighe, didn’t often receive new students.
Which is why, instead of eating supper in the dining hall with the rest of my peers, I was crouched just outside the Headmaster’s office door, listening intently.
The voices from inside the office were muffled, but I could tell from the woman’s tones that she was anxious. At the beginning of the conversation, while they had probably been discussing technicalities and things – such as lodging, food, expenses, curriculum, and any benefits – the anxiety had only barely managed to leak through. But the longer they talked, the more apparent the woman’s agitation became, and, as a result, her voice grew louder. I began to pick out a few words.
“… previous schools … issues … worried.”
None of those words were particularly useful to me. All of the students at Norlocke Academy had issues, and most had been expelled from at least one school. That’s why they were here, and that’s what Norlocke was for: to help the unfortunate vagabonds of society, such as myself, receive an education and change for the better.
What I really wanted to overhear were any specific details about the new student. Was it a boy? Was it a girl? Were they somewhat nice, or completely awful? Why had they been sent here? What kind of story did they have? Although most of the students usually had similar circumstances, it was always worth digging into. There were always a few intriguing differences.
The Headmaster said something in response to the woman’s worries, something that I couldn’t hear. Although it was risky, I silently crept closer, and practically rested my ear against the door.
Suddenly, I could hear everything, but whether that was because of my new position, or due to the sudden raised voices, I couldn’t tell.
“I’m warning you,” the woman said, her voice shaking with an emotion that sounded an awful lot like fear and not worry, “you will be taking a risk if you accept her.”
“All of my students,” the Headmaster said calmly, “are risks. But just because that’s the case doesn’t mean I will turn them away. Every child deserves a proper education.”
I heard the woman suck in a deep, ragged breath. She sounded as if she were shaking. “Just promise me, then,” she whispered, “that there will be no storms.”
There was a short pause, long enough for me to wonder which storms the woman was referring to. Emotional storms? Mental storms? Social storms? Or was she talking about natural storms, caused by the weather? Because if it was any of the former, no one can promise something like that, especially in regards to a child with issues. And if it was the latter … well, no one could promise that either. But in Norlocke, you almost could. The weather was always the same: cold, wet, and likely snowy. The only storm was an occasional blizzard. It was too far north to have anything else, even something as potentially mild as a thunderstorm.
“I promise,” the Headmaster said, his voice as calm as ever.
It must be natural storms then.
The woman sighed in relief, and I heard tears in her exhale. And then I heard something far less thought-provoking and far more dangerous: the sound of her standing up, quickly followed by the Headmaster.
Snooping time was over, which was just as well. My legs were getting cramped.
Fleeing silently down the hall, I heard the office door open, and the Headmaster say, “Norlocke Academy is looking forward to having Ms. Glass join us next week. Safe travels, Ms. Harcourt.”
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