Solene hardly remembered dinner or the rest of the walk back to Hawthorne. All she could think about was the Headmistress's speech. The Astarte Coven was active again, the group who had tried to murder her father during his final year at the Anouir Institute.

  Her parents had never told her directly about what had happened. Even Aunt Soleil avoided the topic, the few times that Solene ever pried around her.

  Horus had been the only one who had been willing to discuss it with her. And even then, it was a fleeting thing. His words were a dance, more metaphor and poetry than the facts—those she learned once she'd come to the Anouir Institute, where her father's picture hung on the wall in one of the forgotten corridors of the Big House, along the photographs and name plaques of victims. She'd discovered it when she was only eleven years old, when she'd gotten lost between classes.

  The realization of what had truly happened haunted her. How could someone do something like that to children?

  It was something Solene still did not understand—nor did she ever want to.

  She barely remembered going to sleep that night. But what she did recall was the wake-up to Carmen's alarm clock.

  Her roommate rose before the sun, and often took the bathroom they shared for that first hour. So Solene kicked on a pair of shoes and one of her jackets to head downstairs to the common bathroom on the first floor. She also stopped in the first floor kitchen area and brewed a pot of coffee before taking a mugful for herself. She could enjoy the world waking up on the front porch of the Coven House, in the last lingering hours of the night.

  Then by the time she returned to her room, Carmen was out and getting dressed. The Beltanes were an old witching family, with money and a long history of serving in the Covenant, the governing council for all magical beings in Verana. As a result, Carmen had learned to dress before she'd learned to walk, talk, or cast a basic levitation spell. Her preppy, gorgeous clothes were often the envy of other students at the Anouir Institute.

  Her short hair, with the pearl clips was perhaps her one rebellion. It was dark, as the LaGuardia witches tended to have, and not white like the rest of the Beltanes had, and wasn't the long, flowing style of the Headmistress.

  Solene wondered if Carmen kept it short to prevent the comparisons.

  Not that she'd ask.

  Then it was Solene's turn to shower, get changed, and prepare her supplies for the day. She walked with Carmen up to the Big House, and the usual breakfast room was open. There, Solene snagged a blueberry muffin and a glass of orange juice. They sat together for a little while before Carmen had her first class and Solene had hers. They parted, entering the main hall.

  Seeing the Big House like this, with students bustling about in small packs and the few stragglers and lone wanderers, this was when the building felt alive. Solene sometimes liked to straggle herself and watch the others move about their business. There was a longing to it, however, a certain wistfulness. For even with the little coven sometimes, or her associates in Hawthorne, Solene felt as if there was an invisible curtain between her and her classmates—something that kept them permanently apart in someway, herself perpetually adrift in a sort of isolation that was uniquely her own.

  She could not describe it any further than that.

  But she couldn't stick around and watch in the corridors this morning. She had Professor Balder's senior Green Magic class at nine sharp—and Professor Balder held no tolerance for tardiness.

  Solene found his classroom on the third floor on one of the right wings. Professor Balder kept his classroom rather neat and old-fashioned, with individual desks in rows and columns in a matrix, with a chalkboard to the front and no real decorations or signs of life. That was, except for the bookshelf in the far corner, which was overflowing with books and plants.

  Other students had already gathered in and claimed their desks. They now sat around, chatting about their summer vacations and she heard snatches mentioning the announcement the night before.

  She sat down at the front, as she elected to do in all classes where she had a choice. She pulled out her textbook, notebook, and pen and straightened them on her desk until the arrangement satisfied her.

  "Excuse me?"

  She looked up—and felt as if a curtain had been flung away.

  Because standing in front of her was none other than Dorian Beltane, with the one blue eye and one brown that seemed to see right through her.

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  "Yes?" She barely managed to find the word on her tongue.

  "I was wondering if I could sit here, next to you?" He glanced around nervously.

  "It's a free country." Solene had to break the stare, so instead she looked to the front of her notebook. A deep red with white unicorns printed on the front amongst sprigs of holly. "You can sit wherever you'd like. I don't mind."

  "Oh, okay." She heard shuffling noises and dared to steal a glance—he had indeed taken the spot next to her. Then those eyes, those arresting eyes, had caught hers once more. "I'm Dorian, by the way."

  He then stuck his hand out—awkwardly, but earnestly so.

  Solene couldn't help but smile and accept. "Solene Frey."

  He let go quickly, as if she'd burned him—but he looked at her with the same awe reserved for sunrises or the pale light of the full moon in a star-filled sky. "I've seen you before."

  "Oh?" She looked away, to her notebook again. "We are in the same year, you know. I'd imagine we have."

  Stupid, stupid— Why did she sound so awkward?

  "Oh, no, I meant on the beach, over by Solana Boulevard?" He tilted his head. "I like to walk around on that beach, it's a lot more quiet, and I can listen to my CDs in peace."

  "Yeah, we did." Solene hated the heat rising in her face. "I—"

  The bell rang, and Solene looked forward, grateful for the excuse.

  Professor Balder emerged from his office adjoined to the classroom and surveyed them all for a moment from the relative safety of his desk.

  "Well, then, let's get into it." Professor Balder straightened his tie, then removed his want from the pocket of his tailored trousers. With a single tap, the chalk leapt from its resting place in silver and began to quickly, elegantly script the words: Welcome to Senior Green Magic Theory.

  "Right then, so I am sure, unless many of my colleagues have failed me, that all of you are aware of the basic theory behind our magic, known as Green Magic, as coined by Professor Rachel Goodfellow in 1952, which lends the title of our class." Professor Balder paused, and peered over his round wire-frame glasses at all of them. "Unfortunately, a great many of my colleagues have failed me in the past, so I will be teaching this to you again, just to ensure that you have learned it correctly. So—"

  A collective groan rose through the room.

  Solene raised her hand into the air.

  Professor Balder pressed his lips together into a thin line before he answered. "Ah, yes, Miss Frey?"

  "With all due respect, Professor, we know the basics of Green Theory, any eleven-year-old child, mortal, witch, kitsune, werewolf, or elf or similar could tell you that."

  There was a cold glint in Professor Balder's eyes. "Well then, Miss Frey, perhaps you could enlighten us and remind the class of these basics, as you call them?"

  Solene sat up straighter, raised her chin higher. "Gladly. Green magic is the theory that explains magic as a natural life force running through all living things within Verana, even mortals, plants, insects, animals—all of it. Because of its importance to the ecosystem, it is thought to be highly sensitive to the actions of those who use it."

  Professor Balder narrowed his eyes. "Care to elaborate on that last point, Miss Frey?"

  Right.

  "It's karmic, Professor, the Rule of Three, as some shamans say." She folded her arms in front of her and leaned forward. "Do an act of harm, an act of healing or help, and it will be paid back threefold."

  Professor Balder clicked his tongue. "The Rule of Three is more spiritualism than actual magicological theory, Miss Frey."

  He closed his eyes and winced before addressing the class once more. "That said, Miss Frey has gotten it mostly right. I presume all of you could understand what she said and don't require for me to reiterate it?"

  The silent stares in return seemed to reassure him, as he continued by tapping the chalkboard again with his wand. As the chalk came back to life, he continued his speech. "But green magic is a tricky thing, in that it manifests quite differently in all the living beings. Most cannot access it—and even the majority who can are quite limited in how they can do so. Does anyone know why that is?"

  Solene raised her hand again—but Professor Balder pointed to beside her.

  "Mr. Beltane?"

  Solene blinked as she lowered her hand and stole another glance at Dorian.

  Maybe it was just her imagination, but she could have sworn he stole the quickest of glances at her, too, their eyes interlocking for only the briefest of glances. But she already knew that feeling all too well to be convinced it was anything else.

  "Only humans can do all the different kinds of magic." Dorian's voice was quiet, and Solene thought of the white streaks in his hair and his heterochromic eyes—both traits common to werewolves. "Werewolves, kitsunes, elves—they all can only do magic from certain circles."

  Professor Balder's eyes gleamed a dangerous amber through his circular glasses. "Precisely, Mr. Beltane—but you have neglected to explain the circles of magic."

  Anger surged through Solene, and before she could consider it any further, she thrust her hand into the air.

  "Miss Frey?" He said it like a sigh.

  "That's because even children without magic can name them—"

  He raised an eyebrow. "And they are?"

  "Earth, Water, Air, Shadow, Ice, Fire." Dorian cut in. "There, is that what you wanted?"

  "Yes!" Professor Balder sank onto his desk. "Was that really so hard for a class of seniors?"

  He glanced at the board—the chalk had finished drawing out a diagram with the major circles. "I'd like you all to copy that down, and we will then explore the Rings, the lesser-known terminology for the smaller subcategories under the major Circles of magic and their interactions."

  From there, Professor Balder had continued relentlessly through his review, and no longer demanded participation from his captive audience. Solene supposed that he'd gotten out of his system whatever condescending disdain he held for his colleagues and students alike.

  Still, she was glad to get out of there. She'd thrown her things in her school bag in a blur, and was maybe halfway out the door when she'd felt his eyes on her again. She'd stopped, turned around, and indeed saw Dorian Beltane staring at her.

  She gave a little wave, not sure what it was that he wanted.

  His face turned entirely pink, and he waved back—before barreling through the classroom and out the door.

  Wonder what that's about.