A giant of a man fills the doorway, his broad shoulders nearly brushing the fra on either side. He's easily twice the size of any man I've ever seen, with pointed ears that stretch back into his salt-and-pepper hair. Despite the gray streaks, his face is unwrinkled, but his eyes—swirling from blue to black and back again—hold a wisdom that speaks of countless years.
"You're late," he bellows, his voice reverberating through the courtyard like a clap of thunder.
His larger-than-life presence fills the courtyard, very different from the Fae guards who led us here.
Marcus and Vanessa move to step between us, their stances protective, but the strange man roars at them. "Stand back, you flea-ridden mutts! Let see my pupil!"
There's an excitent in his tone that belies the aggressive volu of his words, leaving more confused than frightened. Selene slinks forward, her ears pressed back against her skull as she sniffs at the air to scent the new arrival.
"Your pupil?" I ask, my voice sounding small and uncertain even to my own ears. "Are you the one Sister Miriam told about?"
The man throws his head back and laughs, the sound booming like a cannon shot. "Who am I? I'm the one who's graciously allowed you entry into the Fae Ward, girl. The one who's going to teach you to control that wild magic of yours before it consus you whole."
All the Fae to this point have been elegant, their movents natural and flowing. Even the intimidating guards move with a grace that seems to co from deep within.
This man, this teacher of mine, is like a bear, with wide movents and a lumbering gait. Even so, his excitent shines through, making his sinister-seeming phone calls feel innocuous now in the light of his energy.
"You may call Magister Orion," he says, his voice dropping to a more conversational volu. "And you, Ava Grey, have a great deal to learn. It took you too long to get here."
"A more friendly phone call might have helped." Trying to keep my words firm and even, I hold out my hand in greeting. "Hello, Magister Orion."
His massive head tilts, his eyes glittering down at in the brightest shade of blue I've ever seen. "Was I not friendly? I warned you about your friend, and you interrogated as if I were her captor."
"When you disguise your voice like that—"
"Disguise?" Magister Orion rears back, distaste crawling across his face. "I, a respected wizard and Magister, disguise myself? Why would I do such a thing?"
Marcus pulls back, scowling at the giant Fae standing before us. "Are you not the one to call Ava's phone, then?"
"Call? Ah, yes. Of course I called her. The daft child has no business running amuck without training."
"I can explain," a tiny, tinny voice says from behind him, and we all step back, startled by a new addition to our little group.
"Magister Orion's secretary," Layla says from behind us, sounding amused. "We call her little Tinker, after one of your human movies."
A tiny figure erges from behind Magister Orion's knee, her chanical wings glinting in the light. She's even shorter than Layla, with vibrant pink hair and sparkling lilac eyes that dance with mischief. As she smiles at us, I can't help but stare at the robotic contraptions protruding from her back.
Noticing my fascination, the little Fae titters and spins around, revealing a remote control in her hand. With a flick of her wrist, the wings flap open and closed, a whirring sound filling the air.
"I just love the idea of wings," she gushes, her voice high and lodic. "Ever since I saw that fabulous movie about the tiny Fae and the flying children. Of course, you humans butchered our existence, but still—it was inspiring!"
Vanessa and I exchange an uncomfortable laugh, unsure how to respond. "This place is far more amazing than any movie I've ever seen," I admit.
"What, the Fae Ward? Balderdash. We're just a cheap imitation of the Fae Realm, but it helps us feel more at ho here." Tinker chuckles. "We have more freedom, too."
That sounds like a lot of history to dig through, but Magister Orion clears his throat, drawing our attention back to him. "Shall we head inside? We have much to discuss."
Tinker nods enthusiastically, her wings fluttering with excitent. As we follow them into the cottage, she falls into step beside , her head barely reaching my hip. "I should explain about the, mm, what's the word? Oh, yes. The phone call," she says, her voice lowering conspiratorially. "Magister Orion did it, but we used a new device, aid to muddle our communication against wolves.
It reconstructs his words, but Sister Miriam says it makes him sound sinister. Did it have the sa effect on you?"
The curious look on her face is almost rabid, her eyes eager and glistening.
"It did," I confirm, watching her over-enthusiastic nod with so confusion. It takes a second for her words to dawn in my overwheld mind. "This device of yours is why none of the shifters could understand him?"
Tinker's eyes light up, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. "Precisely! Isn't it just brilliant? The Fae Ward functions with quite a bit magitech—ah, magical technology—but it doesn't always work the way we intend. Human innovation is fascinating, but doesn't seem to sh well with magic."
A small notepad appears out of thin air, and she scrawls sothing on it. The letters are similar to the runes I saw within the book Mrs. Elkins brought , and I curse myself silently for not bringing it here. I'm sure they would have been able to tell more about it.
"Sinister. Hmm. Indeed. I thought the dhampir was being a bit overblown, but I suppose it can't be helped. The device was supposed to go for austere and majestic."
Tinker's words co out in the absent-minded fashion of soone talking to themselves, and I'm not sure if I'm supposed to respond.
Before I can figure it out, we step into the cottage, and the words die on my tongue. Beside , Marcus and Vanessa halt abruptly, their eyes widening in shock.
Despite the unassuming exterior, the inside of the cottage is a true marvel. A spiral staircase dominates the center of the room, stretching up into darkness far above our heads.
My jaw drops as I take in the sight before . Books—countless books—line the walls from floor to ceiling. So float lazily through the air, as if guided by an invisible hand. There's the scent of ink and paper, a coming-ho sort of cozy scent that fills my nostrils, and there's a huge part of that wants to live here forever.
Don't start thinking like that, Ava, Selene warns. The Fae don't give back what co willingly into their fold.
Her warning is like a bucket of ice water on my face, and I stare at the heaven within with a little more wariness after that.
Magister Orion stands tall amidst the stacks, his chest puffed out with pride. "Impressive, isn't it?" he booms, his voice echoing through the cavernous space. "Centuries of knowledge, all at our fingertips."
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