Page 109 of By the Moonbeam and the Mist
Hoping I hadn’t just made things worse.
I was the last to be called back into the classroom for Mr. Conine’s test, where I successfully lulled a weasel to sleep by singing it a lullaby about its favorite thing: killing frenzies in the moonlight.
Mrs. Wildenberg had nodded off against her own chest by the time I entered her testing room and passed right by all the cold cups of tea and pots of curare plants littering the table before her.
Dyonisia Reeve was waiting for me in the last testing room.
She sat in the bloodred armchair like she had during our last meeting under the dome, the perfect picture of rejected royalty. Ms. Pincette stood behind her with her hands knotted behind her back.
To their left, a tank of oily black leeches streaked the inside of the glass with a crisscrossing mess of mucus trails.
“I’m glad to see you are wearing those dresses I bought you.”
I jerked my head back to the woman—faerie—in the armchair.
Dyonisia’s gaze cut to the slit in my current attire, as if seeing through the fabric to the sheath dutifully strapped to my thigh. One side of her mouth squeezed up in satisfaction.
She can’t be my mother. I’m nothing like her.
Now that I knew Dyonisia had to keep a harsh leash on her own power encircling the island, I didn’t have to worry she hadthe magic of Mind Manipulating to hear my thoughts. It was a strange relief, to be able to think what I wanted without the fear that she’d overhear.
I gave a slight bow of my head.
“Thank you for the dresses, ma’am. They are very pretty.”
I hate the dresses. Not because they’re ugly, but because they came from you.
Dyonisia sat back, her hair shimmering with the movement.
“Lexington reports great success with your weekly check-ins. He says you are closer to capturing your target than ever before.”
I didn’t let a single part of me twitch as that news sunk in—that Lexington had followed through with our deal. That he’d been lying to Dyonisia every week in the hopes that I could grow closer to Steeler and steal his entire stash of Nara’s pills.
Good.
“But.” When Dyonisia raised her chin, I traced the ebb and flow of her hair over her shoulders. “Ms.Pincettereports that your power fails in the face of her class’s tasks. Why do you think that is, child?”
Oh yes, she definitely knew I was part-faerie, mother or not. I could see that knowledge in the predatory tilt of her head, in the wild ice that seemed to be cracking behind her pupils as she observed me.
“I don’t know, ma’am.” I rubbed my chest, right where my memories had shown me my innate power stemmed from. “Sometimes it seems like something is brewing in here and wants out.”
Behind Dyonisia, Ms. Pincette’s eyes flew open in alarm. She gave a jerky shake of her head, but I ignored it.
Dyonisia nodded at the tank of leeches. “Let me see.”
I glanced at Ms. Pincette, who cleared her throat.
“Your task today, Ms. Drey, is quite straightforward: don’t lose a single drop of blood.”
That seemed more like a warning than a task. I wasn’t quite faking the shivers that strummed my body as I forced myself toward that wretched tank I’d come to loathe.
The leeches seeped and dribbled over each other, the faintest fizzing sound emanating from their squishy mass—whispers of half-baked thoughts, words that trailed off like mush.
When I stepped up onto the stool beside the tank, it took a surge of willpower for me to bow my head over the edge and whisper down into the squirming depths: “I’m a friend. I’m a friend. I’m a friend.”
Ms. Pincette had taught us that much like worms, each segment of a leech’s body had to echo information down to its other parts, so repetition with a slight fizzing, spitting of our tongues was key.
“Frien… fr… frien…” they whispered back.
