I stick my head out the window, letting the wind whip my hair. A bird’s eye view of Castle Raven Night greets me. “We’re flying!”
Droplets from Pilot’s amused snort tickle my face. Of course, my lady.
As I wipe my face and look back to see more of the view, I yelp, “Stregen!”
The ghoul is standing on the outside well, holding on to the side-handle with a nonchalance indicative of any other footman riding a carriage firmly on the ground.
The count chuckles. “There is no need to worry, Everly. Stregen is fine where he is.” The count quirks his lips into a half smile.
“But he could fall!”
“He’s done this before… numerous times.” The count looks me square in the eye. “He is very strong.”
I huff and sit back with my arms crossed. But my worry overrides the count’s chastising, and I stick my head out the window again. Stregen looks steady and unconcerned, kind of like how he always looks. “Are you okay?” I ask the ghoul.
He turns his eyes to me, and I see something of a spark in those usually lifeless orbs. There’s more life in his expression, and the faintest smile adorns his lips. Um… I’m not sure, but I think he might be an adrenaline junkie. A ghoul adrenaline junkie. I sit back and breathe.
He’ll be fine.
Some of the tension bleeds away as my two male chaperones ignore each other, and me too, for that matter.
The count huffs a sigh and murmurs, “Go ahead.” I’m not sure to whom he’s speaking and he doesn’t explain. Probably Pilot.
We rise higher until the gray clouds touch our window and leave dewdrops streaking along the glass. The count slips on a pair of mirror sunglasses, and a burst of light punches through the gray. We’re in the sweet spot above the puffy clouds. The white cotton balls look deceptively comfortable, reminding me of the warm hearts and unicorns guarding my sleep last night. Above us, the sky is a darker blue. But the sun… the brilliant light is a well-missed friend greeting me.
“Pilot thought you might want a chance to soak in the sun rays before going back under the oppressive cloud cover,” the count offers. He looks exhausted now that he and Harlow aren’t trying to cut each other with words.
“Yes! Thank you.” How thoughtful. And it’s exactly what I need.
Thank you, Pilot, I think
You are most welcome, my lady.
For a good ten minutes, I close my eyes and let beams of warmth thaw out my third eye—the one at my forehead, hidden deep under my skin.
I wonder what the Academy of Necromancy will look like. The Academy of Divination was a classroom of trees. Most our textbooks were about animals, plants, and the forest around us. Brochures of the Academy of Enchantment boasted beautiful gardens, manicured forests, mystical creatures, and towering spires among a land of glowing light.
“Take a look, love.” Harlow points out the window.
I lean forward for a peek.
A dark castle of thirteen towers sits on a dormant volcano. The architecture is smooth lines, tall spikes and brown tones. The stronghold isn’t shiny, but it has a proud magnificence about it. The Academy of Necromancy is both beautiful and foreboding.
“People say a dragon lives underneath the academy, protecting the students.” I recite the only thing I’ve ever heard about the school. “Is it true?”
“You’ll have a chance to meet Cackus when we get to Riven’s office.” The count recites the words like an ultimatum. I don’t understand what he means.
As we near the castle, a huge raven next to us flaps its wings. Its rider, hunched over the reins, wears a hood and robe. The cape flows in the wind, and I wonder if it’s magic that keeps the cowl from flipping off his head. A large dragonfly with an open cart on its back, carrying half a dozen little fuzzy-haired trolls, buzzes past both of us.
Huge birds, large insects, and other winged equines—though not as stunning as Pilot—accompany us, converging towards a short, squat building, peeking from a cloud, shielding the entrance to the academy.
Below the cloud, sitting on the volcano and leading up from the base, appear spiral stairs that lead to the towers. From this height, people on the ground look the size of ants.
“Where do we land?” I notice the cloud doesn’t expose the lower levels of the castle.
Harlow concedes and waves a hand to the count.
“There is a courtyard that receives students.” Jean-Claude doesn’t seem concerned, but there’s a lot of traffic out there.
“Will the courtyard fit us and everyone else at the same time?” I peek out the window, nervous at how many mounts out there are competing for such a seemingly small landing area.
This time Harlow grins. “Getting there is half the fun.”
“What do you mean?” I throw a concerned look to the incubus.
His smile grows wider, and it’s dubious. “It’s a bit of a race.”
Oh no. “That doesn’t sound like fun, Harlow,” I choke out.
“Pilot is a professional,” the count’s voice soothes me. “We won’t have a problem.”
I feel Pilot pouring on more speed. At the same time, I watch the raven beside us beat his wings faster.
“My bet’s on the raven!” Harlow says, most probably just to piss off Jean-Claude. “Although I hope Pilot grounds him against the side of a cliff.”
“What?” I ask, shocked.
“That ass deserves it,” Harlow preens. “Trust me.”
“Is that Mr. Glassglow riding the raven?” The count shows a slight interest in what I can officially now call a race.
“Yeah, that’s him.” Harlow narrows his eyes and makes a rude hand gesture out the window.
The carriage lurches straight down, and at first, I’m caught in the inertia and
