Chapter 62

The next few weeks were among the strangest of all Alastair’s time spent at Emberstone—and it had already been a very strange year. The skies were blue, the gardens were full of bright flowers, birds were singing in the trees. Classes had returned after his promised two-day break, and they were still following their end-of-year schedule as if nothing had happened. Sort of.

Yet despite the beautiful weather, the mood was somber. The Rock twins never returned, and they were presumed dead. They’d held a small memorial with the staff, and did their best to maintain a hopeful attitude with the students. Eloise had handed her Summoning classes over to Alastair—who was trying his best to do what she’d asked. Alastair, himself, hadn’t taken a Summoning class in over a decade.

“Should this class just be an independent study for the rest of the year?” Rachel asked good-naturedly one day in late May after Alastair botched the containment runes on a Summoning circle for the third time.

Was it azul or azuz?

“No, Ms. Fearson wants you all to continue through the end of term.” He sighed. “And there’s no one else to teach it.”

“Don’t you have enough on your plate?”

He did have too much on his plate. One would think that with Ozelius still in recovery, he wouldn’t be barking orders every time Alastair came to visit—and if too long had past between times paying the headmaster a call, Ozelius sent notes through Quicksilver.

Partly, Alastair wished he could just relinquish his title of interim headmaster now that the old man was back.

And to everyone’s dismay, Sebastian still hadn’t woken up. He lay next to the headmaster on his narrow hospital bed, unmoving and wrapped in bandages. Eloise sat with him most nights after the healers had gone to bed, hoping for a miracle. So far, none had occurred.

“Whatever hit him,” Healer Marmaris, the head of the infirmary, confessed to Alastair privately late one night, “it was bad. Dark Magic on top of the physical injuries. I’ve administered all the Healing charms I can. Beyond that, it’s on him to fight it off.”

“Thank you,” Alastair had said grimly.

The city was still in disarray, and now, Mayor Lamkin was requesting a meeting. Alastair hadn’t had the opportunity to talk with the man yet—and after their disappointing discussion before the riot, he wasn’t sure what to say—but it was clear they’d have to see each other before the end of term.

He hadn’t forgotten about poor old Montgomery, either. The man was still trapped in the north with the dwarves, and even though spring had sprung this far south, it was still ice for miles up there. They were no closer to getting him back.

There was a lot going on, and stumbling through Eloise’s Summoning classes wasn’t helping. He felt awful about Sebastian, and couldn’t shake the feeling that the incident was partly his fault. Had he’d been quicker on the draw… blocked Gold’s curse… or if he hadn’t insisted on saving Marco and his family from the undead, wasted too much of their magic… or if he hadn’t let Sebastian come with him at all; had insisted on going out into the city alone… maybe things would have been fine.

No one would have allowed that.

“Alright,” he said, triumphantly drawing the correct series of runes. “Now we can start.”

Luckily, the lower-level Summoning students were calling on benevolent spirits who wouldn’t take advantage of a misplaced rune, and the more skilled children had things well under their own control.

Perhaps some of them should be teaching the class.

Thankfully, there’d been no word from or sighting of Gold’s friends since the battle in the city. Hopefully, the man’s gruesome demise brought an end to the Night Coven’s crusade.

Denny, Gold’s son, was missing as well, and unfortunately, the school was still facing a budget shortfall.

Not my problem. Not anymore.

His time as interim headmaster was drawing to a close. After the school’s annual End of Year Feast, he’d be leaving Emberstone for good and handing things back over to Ozelius. He’d put off packing his things as long as possible, and finally, the night before the feast, he whistled for his steamer trunk. Amby trotted enthusiastically out of the closet and sat obediently at his feet.

“Hey, buddy,” Alastair said, feeling sadder than he’d expected to. “Time to go on a trip again.”

The trunk hopped with what could only be described as glee. The poor thing had been stuffed in Ozelius’ quarters for far too long.

Alastair had to admit, he’d almost embraced the idea that he might stay on here—but with the headmaster back, that wasn’t possible. He reached into the back of his closet for his Glimmerglass robes. He hadn’t seen them since the previous August. The Alastair who’d come here felt like a different person to him. He couldn’t imagine how he’d fit back into his old life.

There wasn’t much to pack—just his old uniforms and a few non-school robes he hardly wore. After fifteen minutes, he was done and sitting on the bed gloomily when he was startled by a loud banging on his office door.

“What now?” he groaned.

Half-thinking the school was under attack again, he went to the door and threw it open. Eloise was outside, looking exhilarated.

“He’s awake!” she shouted.

“Well, of course I am,” the gargoyle knocker said. “How could anyone sleep through this racket!”

“Sebastian’s awake!” Eloise said, ignoring the knocker as usual.

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

They rushed downstairs to the infirmary.

“Close the door!” the knocker shouted. “Bah!”

Most of the faculty were already gathered when Alastair and Eloise arrived. Ms. Snapdragon had even brought a small cake with a tiny candle in it.

“Praise the gods.” She beamed. “I was so worried. We all were.”

Inside, Sebastian was sitting upright in bed. His head was still bandaged, and from what Alastair could see of his expression, he looked uncomfortable.

“This is unnecessary,” Sebastian said flatly. “I don’t need all this fuss.”

“You just came back from the dead, practically,” Alastair said. “I think it’s warranted. Have some cake.”

“No.”

Except when Ms. Snapdragon offered him a slice, he took it.

Ozelius, looking significantly healthier than he had when he’d first returned to Emberstone, crowed with delight. “That’s my lad. It’s good to see you back.”

“Can I have my Alchemy notebook?” Sebastian asked, acting as if he hadn’t just slept for the better part of a month. “I have some thoughts I want to write down.”

Alastair tilted his head. “You were thinking about Alchemy while you were in a coma?”

“Of course. I love Alchemy. I wouldn’t expect you to understand, Meade.”

Alastair thought about making a snippy response, but he didn’t want to ruin the mood. Everyone was so happy. Why spoil it? Now that Ozelius had returned, the school was one big family again—and that family didn’t include him. Once he was satisfied Sebastian hadn’t suffered any major brain damage from the battle, he slipped away.

He’s no weirder than he normally is.

Everyone at Emberstone was a little cracked, though. That was the sort of person the school attracted.

* * *

On the day of the feast, Alastair rose early to work on his speech. He had no idea what to say or how to put the school year into words, but he took his best stab at it. The day flew by as he taught his last Summoning class—an easy one, to his relief—walked in the gardens, checked the wards on the castle ramparts one last time. This would be his chance to say goodbye to Emberstone for good.

That night, he put off going down for dinner as long as possible, until Quicksilver poked his head in to check on him.