He is no human.
Fae, through and through, pupils wide and flecked with fire, the outline of his would-be wings clear against the fabric of the chair behind him. His breath steams out as he lets go of the glamour, and his eyes drift closed. I fetch water and perch on the chair next to his, and then Tash strides in with Principal Ashworth.
‘Look!’ she exclaims. ‘Look at the state of him. Wild, he was, downstairs.’
‘He’s fine,’ I say. ‘He’s just tired.’
‘Well he’s here now, and I’ve heard no alarm. We’ll entrust Stella with his care, shall we, Tash?’ Principal Ashworth says, casting a dark look at her.
‘It’s not safe, him being like that around people. He could expose us all.’
‘If you are exposed, young lady, it will be your own doing. Now, I have business to see to, and I suggest that you go and find some lunch.’ Principal Ashworth stares at her until she backs down and flounces out of the room.
He turns his attention to me. ‘Well done for getting him up here. Yanny is rather overtaxed at the moment.’ He looks down at him with a frown. ‘I’m glad he has a friend, Stella. Let me know if there’s anything I can do.’
I nod, and he bustles out again.
I take a deep, steadying breath, thankful there’s nobody else in the room. I don’t know what to do next, and Yanny certainly isn’t going to pass for human any time soon, but at least it’s quiet in here.
Until Zara bounces in.
‘This place is awesome. I snuck in as Tash was leaving. She didn’t even see me, she was in such a strop. What’s going on, Stella? What do you all do up here?’
‘Oh, Zara! You’re not allowed up here – there’s going to be trouble!’
She scowls at me. ‘Well. There’s already trouble, I’d say, and you’d think it would be good to have a friend here to help you. I don’t care what’s happening, so long as you let me help. What is going on with Yanny? I’ve seen him tired before, and he gets clumsy, but that was something else entirely!’
She looks down at him, and her eyes widen.
‘Stella! What . . .’
‘He’s a fairy,’ I say.
‘But –’ She sits hard on the chair next to him. ‘But –’ She stares around the room, her eyes widening at the ethereal glow of the lights in the walls, the silver charms set up high. ‘Oh. But I . . . But –’ She stares at Yanny. ‘What happened to his wings?’
‘It’s part of the shadow curse, I think . . . I don’t know. I’ll explain what I can later, we just need to get him through the afternoon, and then get him home.’
‘How can he go to lessons like this?’
‘I can’t,’ Yanny says with a grin, steam escaping from between his teeth.
Zara flinches, but she sits firm.
‘What happened?’ I ask. ‘Why are you so . . . fae?’
‘The glamouring’s a bit shaky,’ he says, his eyes still closed. ‘I was on watch last night. I thought I could manage. Then Laurel got to me when we were duelling.’
‘Did she hurt you?’
‘No! I’m just tired.’
‘I didn’t think you were allowed to go on watch,’ I say.
‘Watch?’ Zara mouths, but I shake my head.
‘Later, Zara!’
‘Did it anyway,’ he murmurs. ‘And it was fine, the fight was good, but today the . . . the stitches kept coming undone. I couldn’t keep the ends together . . .’
I shake my head. ‘What do you need?’
‘Mrs Mandrake.’
‘Mrs Mandrake? My Mrs Mandrake?’
‘I don’t know whose she is,’ he says, blinking. His pupils have filled his eyes, and Zara swallows hard as she sees it. ‘Pa said . . . I should call her, in an emergency.’ He grabs for his bag, but it falls to the floor, and steam billows from his mouth as he hisses with frustration.
‘Let me,’ Zara says, pushing him back. She reaches down and starts rummaging in the pockets of the bag, eventually finding a crumpled piece of paper with a number on it. She gets out her phone and dials with no hesitation and speaks quick and firm.
‘She’s on her way,’ she says.
‘Oh good,’ says Yanny. ‘That’ll be trouble later.’
‘Never mind later. We need to fix you now,’ she says.
‘OK,’ he whispers, closing his eyes.
Zara gives a low whistle, staring from him to me. ‘I mean, I knew there was stuff going on, and I knew magic was real, but what is all this? It’s a nightmare! How are you involved, Stella? What’s going on?’
‘Let’s just . . . get through this, and I’ll tell you – I promise.’ I hold her gaze and take a deep breath, seeing Nan and Peg in my mind, how horrified they’re going to be, and saying it anyway: ‘You can come to mine after school.’
She nods. ‘OK.’
Mrs Mandrake raises an eyebrow in surprise when she sees us all sitting there. I smile, but it feels a bit hopeless.
‘Stella. Glad to see you’re making friends,’ she says. ‘This must be the Zara your nan spoke about. What a fine mess you’ve got yourself caught up in, my girl. And here is Yanny.’ She frowns, taking in his form. ‘It’s a good job you called.’ She starts rummaging in her bag, eventually coming out with a small purse.
I open my mouth to say something. Anything. But nothing comes out.
‘We’ll talk later,’ she says. ‘Let’s get this boy sorted out for now.’ She stares at him for a moment, noting aloud the steam coming from his nostrils, the monochrome of his complexion.
She looks up at me. ‘His eyes – how do they look?’
‘Um. Fiery. Then his pupils sort of filled them.’
She tuts and unzips a small purse, using tiny silver tweezers to draw out a bunch of very smelly dried twigs.
‘What’s that? Is he going to be OK?’ asks Zara.
‘Oh yes –’ she shakes her head – ‘for now, anyway.’
She looks angry in a way I’ve never seen before. She takes a deep breath and thrusts the bundle under Yanny’s nose. His eyes snap open, and he tries to jerk away, but she holds him firm, her mouth a set line, and slowly whatever she’s doing begins to work. He is still very clearly unhuman, but colour starts to bleed back into his skin.
‘OK,’ she says. ‘That’ll do it.’
‘What was that twig thing?’
‘Bit of a mer-fae nest,’ she says. ‘He’s been overdoing it. Keeping up the glamour is a tall order when you’re half-starved and sleep deprived, never mind all that fighting he’s been doing in there. I’ve just calmed it all down a bit and restored a little of his energy. Now – I’ve got to go. I’ll go and see Principal Ashworth now and make sure you’re not disturbed. I’ll tell him that I’ve allowed you in here, Zara – that should save you all some trouble. We should talk, you and I . . .’ She looks at Zara long and hard, as if making her mind up about something. ‘Yes, we should. Now, get Yanny home once the coast is clear, and make sure he rests. No glamouring for him, not for a good few days.’
And with that, she’s gone, leaving us with a very confused, bleary-eyed Yanny.
‘Well, she’s pretty awesome,’ Zara says. ‘Is she human?’
‘Yes.’
‘So humans can have magic of their own . . .’
‘Course they can,’ whispers Yanny. ‘If they want to.’ He chuckles to himself, steam still billowing.