Faybelle almost burst into tears. But she didn’t. She maintained her cool demeanor. While Justine and the other students headed to the vending machines for their break, Faybelle walked down the row, up the aisle, and into the lobby. She’d pretend nothing had happened. No one would know that her wings didn’t work. No one would see her in this weakened state. Never!
If word of this got around, she’d be forever after humiliated. To allow a spell to backfire would elicit comparisons to Raven Queen. That was an insult she couldn’t bear.
And if Justine found out that Faybelle couldn’t fly, she’d give the role of the wicked fairy queen to Cupid. A demigoddess playing a fairy queen? Not on Faybelle’s watch!
As she stepped out of the building, the afternoon air felt different. It was a pleasant temperature, as usual, and tinged with the scent of warm cobblestones and buttercups. But the air did not embrace her as it usually did. It did not call to her, welcome her, or lift her. Without the buoyancy of her wings, she might as well have been wearing boulders on her feet. She was grounded, like a tree, like a mountain. How could the wingless stand this lack of freedom?
“Ms. Thorn!” The bellowing voice was unmistakable and could not be ignored.
“What now?” Faybelle grumbled to herself. She wanted to find someplace private. Someplace to gather her thoughts and process this situation. But the school’s headmaster was walking straight for her.
Headmaster Grimm was very tall, which was why he often looked down his nose at his students. He had quite a lot of hair for a man of his advanced years, and his thick mustache was streaked with white. He bore a gentlemanly look, reminiscent of bygone days when men were dapper and ladies, elegant. The heavy key ring hanging from his belt symbolized his authority, for only he possessed the keys for many secret and forbidden rooms.
“Hello, Headmaster,” Faybelle said. She folded her arms behind her back, hoping to hide the droopy wings. “You called?” She kept her voice calm, her gaze confident. But her mind reeled. Had she been found out? What would the punishment be? Dungeon detention, surely. Every good villain expected to be sent to dungeon detention on a regular basis, but if the headmaster tried to impose another kind of punishment, should she defend her actions? Her excuse was straightforward—a villain was supposed to act like a villain. A villain was supposed to pursue her destiny. And the headmaster was a firm believer in respecting one’s destiny. He’d installed signs all over campus to remind students of this fact.
No, she couldn’t confess. She’d have to play dumb. She could never admit that she’d become a victim of her own dark magic.
The headmaster halted. Then he looked up and waved. “Ms. Cupid, I require your presence as well!”
Faybelle cringed as Cupid landed next to her. “Hello, Headmaster Grimm,” she said. “Do you need some love advice?”
“While I am a fan of your MirrorCast show, I am much too busy for matters of the heart.” He smoothed his vest. “Ms. Thorn and Ms. Cupid, I just got off the MirrorPhone with Madam Baba Yaga. She would like both of you to report to the infirmary.”
“I can’t go,” Faybelle explained. “I have a meeting of the Villain Club.”
“While I appreciate your dedication to your hextracurricular activities, Ms. Thorn, this is not open for debate.” He raised his bushy eyebrows. “A mysterious wing ailment has spread among some students, and you must both be checked out. Do not delay. This appears to be very serious.”
“Serious? Oh, that’s terrible news,” Cupid said. “I’ll go right now.”
“I don’t need to go,” Faybelle insisted.
“And why is that, Ms. Thorn? Do you believe you are impervious to disease?”
“Have you ever seen a dark fairy get sick?” she asked.
Cupid shifted her little golden bow onto her other shoulder. “I get sick sometimes. Last year during holiday I caught Athenian Acne. It lasted for a whole week. And one time I came down with the Herculean Flu. All the ambrosia in the world couldn’t make me feel better.”
Faybelle’s wings might have twitched with annoyance, except they were currently as lifeless as woolen drapes. “May I be excused from this super-interesting conversation? I have so many things to do.” Did she dare call her mother and ask for help? Surely the Dark Fairy would know how to undo magic. But Faybelle had wanted to pull off this scheme on her own. To make her mother proud with her success, not disappoint her with failure.
“You may not be excused,” Headmaster Grimm said. “This is a strange ailment that we have never before encountered. Therefore, it is of the utmost importance that all winged students undergo an examination. That is why I am instructing you to go to the infirmary.” He did not use the word ordering, but that was his meaning. As the headmaster, he was the final decision-maker.
With a swift turn on his heels, he strode toward his office.
Faybelle groaned. “This is all your fault,” she grumbled at Cupid. She started across the quad, fists clenched, teeth grinding. If Cupid hadn’t signed up to audition, Faybelle wouldn’t have been forced to add the cheer factor to her spell and she’d be with her team, celebrating her victory at this very moment. Stupid Cupid.
An invasion of pink appeared out the corner of her eye. C.A. Cupid was walking beside her.
“What are you? My shadow?”
“We’re going to the same place, so I thought it would be nice to walk together,” Cupid said sweetly. “You seem upset.”
“Your powers of observation are astounding.”
“You’re worried about your friends, aren’t you? You and your teammates are very close.”
“Yeah, that’s it. I’m worried about my friends.” Faybelle wanted to zap her with a dizzy spell and send her spinning to the ground. But there were too many witnesses milling about. How could she get rid of this pink problem?
Cupid ducked behind Faybelle, then reappeared. “Is there something wrong with your wings?”
“No.”
“Really? They look kinda—”
“Kinda what?” Faybelle stopped walking and pointed a finger at Cupid. “Kinda what?”
Cupid shrugged. “Different.”
“I’m tired. That’s all. I stayed up late memorizing my monologue.” Faybelle needed to deflect the conversation away from her wings. “What makes you think you can play the role of the wicked fairy queen better than I can play it?” she demanded.
“Oh, I’d never think that,” Cupid said, her cheeks turning as pink as her dress. “Never. You were amazing. But Justine said she needed an actor who could fly, so I thought I should try out. I really don’t care what part I get.”
“If you don’t care, then drop out.”
“I don’t want to drop out. I do want to be in the play. If Justine casts me as the wicked fairy queen, then I’ll be happy to play that part. But if I get a part in the chorus, that will be fine, too.” She ran her hand along her bow. “Theater is a huge tradition back home. Except all the plays are kind of depressing. All that Greek tragedy. I prefer love stories.”
“Of course you do.” The day was beginning to feel like a Greek tragedy. Everything was going wrong. Faybelle was supposed to be the hero of her own story, but this hero was not getting what she wanted.
“What kind of stories do you like?” Cupid asked.
The kind that ends with me in charge. “I don’t have time for stories.” Why was it taking so long to get to the infirmary? Walking was the slowest, most tedious means of travel ever invented.
Cupid kept jabbering. “I think you might be one of the busiest students on campus. I’ve watched you hurrying between practice and meetings. But you never seem super happy. Is there something missing in your life?”
“In case you hadn’t noticed, Cupid, I’m not a guest on your MirrorCast show, so quit trying to analyze me. And in case you just woke up from a sleeping spell, I’m a villain. Villains aren’t supposed to be super happy. We fester, we dwell, we’re prone to years of melancholy. You know, proper villain emotions.”
“But villains still feel love, right?”
Faybelle stopped walking again. They’d reached the stone steps that led to the infirmary. “What are you getting at?”
“Well…” Cupid raised her eyebrows. “Do you have love in your life?”
“I don’t have time for love.” Faybelle snorted. “Love makes you crazy. It makes you weak.” Her gaze darted to the top step, where Ashlynn and Hunter were sitting. His arm was wrapped around her shoulders. They were whispering. “Love distracts you from the important stuff.”
“I think love is important stuff,” Cupid said. But Faybelle didn’t care about Cupid’s opinion. She marched up the steps, and as she did, Ashlynn and Hunter stood.
“Professor Yaga’s in there, examining the fairies,” Ashlynn told her. “She doesn’t know what’s wrong with them. She said she doesn’t have a cure!”
“What are we going to do about regionals?” Hunter asked. “Do you think we’ll have to forfeit?”
“No,” Faybelle said firmly. “Champions never forfeit.”
And while she believed that with every cell in her body, she had no idea how she was going to fix the mess she’d made. She reached out and grabbed Hunter’s cloak, which was lying on the steps. “I need to borrow this.”
With Cupid at her heels, she entered the infirmary.