Every last inch of the school was covered in flowers and vines.
When she had run out of room on the walls, the girl who drank the Headmaster's potion turned the power upon herself, and now wore a lovely gown of her own making, with flora draping from ears to ankles.
Several students plucked flowers to place in their hair, or carried batches in their arms to hang on their beds as ornaments. The only people not delighted with the new look were the domestics, who didn't spare a second glance at the décor and acted like nothing was there, even when they had to sweep away mountains of petals from the hallway floors. A few domestics begrudgingly wore flower crowns atop their ancient heads, which had undoubtedly been spelled there against their will.
When dinner came, the school's new look, and its decorator, were the center of attention. Tildy was caught up in the excitement, twirling and laughing alongside the younger children as she threw armfuls of petals into the air, so distracted that she didn't greet Credence at the door, having forgotten her older friend entirely.
Credence was relieved that she didn't share sleeping quarters with the girl who drank the potion, for she was growing tired of hearing the same story over and over, of the girl looking at a wall, the girl pointing to a wall, and the girl watching the wall sprout with pink flowers and green leaves.
Her mild jealousy was interrupted by giggling, and she turned to find two of her female classmates whispering into each other's ears. When she questioned what they found humorous, one of the girls shrugged.
"It's nothing," she said with a giggle. "It's our secret."
"They're talking about the Headmaster," Gregory interjected with disdain. "They like the look of him."
"Shut your mouth," snapped the other girl. "You don't know what you're talking about."
"You think I can't hear you braying about him like jackasses? Your whispers are barely lower than a shout."
"Is he right?" Credence asked. "Do you think the Headmaster is handsome?"
"Well," muttered one of the girls, a blush rising in her cheeks, "just a little."
"Ridiculous," Gregory said before stabbing his fork into his food.
"I can't help it if his eyes put me in a trance," argued one of the girls.
"Or if his lips are begging for a kiss," added another. "What about you, Credence? What do you think of the Headmaster?"
"She's from the woods," Gregory said. "She'd probably think a wolf was handsome."
"Maybe you're jealous none of us think much of you," Credence bit back.
The girls laughed and Gregory threw a scowl in Credence's direction.
"I don't care about any of you," he mumbled. "Least of all some woodfolk savage."
"Go on, Credence," urged one of the girls, "do you think the Headmaster is handsome?"
Credence began to reply but stopped herself. Embarrassment bloomed across her face and the girls grinned knowingly.
"I knew it, of course she does!" said one.
"Who wouldn't?" said the other.
They burst into another fit of giggling before speaking in rapid succession.
"I'm going to practice my poise until the Headmaster notices me!"
"Did you see the way he looked at me yesterday?"
"Then he'll give me a reward."
"A smile from him would be reward enough!"
Credence agreed but remained silent.
"You'll sing a different tune when you're older," Gregory said ominously. "When the Headmaster asks more of you than balancing books on your head and you have to do the same as the older students."
"What does that mean?" Credence asked, suddenly interested in what Gregory had to say.
Smugness broke across the boy's face.
"It's none of your business, but..." He looked around, searching for an uninvited listener, then leaned over the table and dropped his voice. "I heard they're forced to do things that are painful."
"What?"
"They get boiling beeswax and smear it all over their skin. They let it cool, then riiiiip—they tear it off!"
"Why would they do that?" Credence asked, not believing a word.
"Because the Headmaster tells them to," Gregory answered matter-of-factly. "And it hurts so much that they can't walk or sit or even sleep without pain."
"You're trying to scare us," said one of the girls. "It's not working."
"Oh? That's not even the worst of it! When they run out of beeswax they use very thin and sharp blades instead, and they drag them across their bodies, slowly."
"They peel their skin off?" Credence asked in a whisper.
"That can't be true," said the other girl. "If it was, the older students wouldn't have any skin left."
"The Headmaster gives them a special potion to grow it back," Gregory said. "They say the wax hurts the most, but the blade makes you itch something fierce after they rub oil into the flesh."
"But why," Credence pressed. "What's the reason?"
"It's not to get rid of the skin," Gregory explained, proud of the knowledge he held over his classmates. "It's to get rid of the hair on the skin. It has something to do with being a walker."
"Angels do it, too?" one of the girls questioned in disbelief.
"Are walkers and angels the same thing?" Credence asked, only just making the connection.
Gregory shot her a look that said he thought her question wasn't worth addressing and continued, "Of course they do it! The less hair you have, the more beautiful you are. Except the hair on your head. That's the only kind worth having."
"Liar."
"Am not! You'll see, and then I'll have a good laugh at how stupid you all are. No one wants hair that doesn't come from your head, not a keeper or a stranger. It's dirty, and walkers must always be clean."
"I don't believe you at all," Credence scoffed. "Ripping off skin to take away hair. What a foolish thing."
"Don't care what you think. It's been done longer than we've been alive, and the school makes you practice. One day we'll have to do it too, and if we don't we'll get punished."
***
Bedtime arrived, but for Credence, sleep did not come with it. She rose from her bed and went to a window, resting her elbows on the sill. None of the windows at the school held glass, which allowed heat and cold to pass through freely. It carried the stench of the towns into the school, but underneath was a faint, blessed hint of nature. A full moon hung in the sky, shining onto the peaceful courtyard below. If Adam caught her, at least it wouldn't be in an attempt to escape, and surely he would take pity when she explained she needed a moment to collect her thoughts.
She had to find a way to meet with the Headmaster alone. She had to show him her power.
Or was it simply that she wanted to be alone with him...just to be alone with him?
The other girls were right, and Credence did think him very handsome.
Watching his lips move as he talked, or listening to his pleasant voice was the only relief she found in the monotony of school. She almost wished she had joined the girls in talking about him, to find a sliver of peace from the burden of affection building inside of her.
The way his fingers brush across the air, how his eyes crinkle when he smiles...
She could list his qualities all night long and never grow tired of it.
Hair like fall. Eyes like winter. A presence both commanding and warm.
He had been intimidating at first, but now...
It's not a bad thing to have a small fancy, she told herself. It certainly makes lessons more interesting.
She had come to the window—for what? To plot a way to get the Headmaster to herself, she remembered, so she could show him her power.
Convince him to help her.
She thought of trying to call upon the element of earth in the courtyard below, to practice and grow her confidence. Credence hadn't attempted magic since leaving Lilith's house, and she was beginning to fear that while she was in the towns her power might somehow be diminished.
Magic is like a muscle, and she would hate to weaken it from disuse.
But it was a dangerous risk here, and to be caught might mean terrible retribution.
She was not free. She was not safe.
Credence looked back at the room of sleeping bodies, squinting to see if she could spy movement. Throwing caution away, she turned to the courtyard and cupped her hand close to her chest, taking care to cover the view of it from the room behind her. With a soft snap of her fingers a small flame popped into life, and swayed across her fingertips with the careless shiver that only fire knew how to achieve.
The way it moved over her skin, twisting and writhing in the pure joy of being alive, reminded her of a dance she once had in the woods. It felt like hundreds of years had passed since she'd experienced such lightness, such blithe surrender.
The moment that came after it, however, had been the end of her bliss.
The Collector stole it away, just as he'd taken everything else that was good and innocent in her life. She thought of his face on that night, that deceptively attractive but threatening expression. How his hair, brother to a crow's hue, tickled her cheek when he bent near and whispered of a kiss.
It was beyond vulgar to think of that monster in such a way, to entertain even an indifferent observance of his physical appearance.
Credence couldn't stop herself from wondering—
"Can you see me now?" she whispered to the night. "Do you know where I am?"
A disturbing notion crossed her lips before she could stop it.
"Do you have the power to save me from this place?"
Whether born from nature or the King of the Wood, Credence couldn't guess, but she was answered with a breeze across her face.
The fire in her hand was growing warm, threatening to burn her out of annoyance from going unused. She snuffed it with a flick of her wrist, mumbling a brief apology for conjuring it without a task in mind and thanking the element for remaining cooperative as long as it had.
Her timing proved paramount as her eyes caught movement in the courtyard. Two figures were walking along the stone pathway. Credence recognized one of them as the Headmaster, and his presence sent a flutter through her stomach. She crouched so she would not be seen, but kept her eyes over the sill to watch.
"Have I been a good student?" the other figure asked, and Credence discerned it was Adam.
Hadn't he been present for bedtime? When had he slipped away—and had he seen Credence leave her bed? Panic ran through her, that Adam may have already alerted the Headmaster to her mischief.
"You've been an excellent student," the Headmaster said, "and that is why I trust you to help me."
A pang of jealousy rose in Credence, that she had not been chosen to attend the Headmaster in the courtyard.
They broke from the pathway, heading towards the cluster of gnarled trees. Adam was carrying a bucket in one hand, and something far too small for Credence to make out in the other. They stopped before a tree and Adam knelt, holding the smaller object up to its trunk. He retrieved a tool from inside the bucket, and it was only when he struck with it that Credence realized Adam was hammering a tap into the tree.
"Deeper," the Headmaster instructed. "You must reach a vein."
"What if I hurt it—"
"You've hit it! The bucket, quickly! We don't want to waste a single drop."
"Does it...can it feel what I'm doing, Headmaster?"
"It lives, doesn't it?"
"I don't want to cause it pain."
"As long as it gives us what we need, it serves its purpose."
There was a short silence before Adam asked, "What's its name?"
The Headmaster placed his hand on the trunk.
"This one is called Arlon."
"Do they talk to you, Headmaster?"
The question confused Credence.
"Some more than others," the Headmaster replied. "Have you got half a bucket yet?"
"I do."
"Remove the tap—use the hammer to help."
Adam struggled against the tree. Once, he almost knocked over the bucket, and received a quick admonishment from the Headmaster, who demanded the boy be more careful. After several apologies and a hard yank, Adam accomplished his task and held the bucket towards the Headmaster.
"This is where our medicine comes from, isn't it, Headmaster?"
"Yes. Straight from the heart of nature itself. Would you like a taste?"
"I would, Headmaster—if it's all right."
"Go on."
Adam dipped his finger into the bucket, and whatever he pulled out went straight into his mouth.
"You've served the school well," the Headmaster complimented.
"I like serving the school, and you."
"Good lad. Have some more."
Adam dipped his finger into the bucket, and when his lips met his fingers he let out a long, contented sigh.
The Headmaster's tone turned.
"All children leave the school," he said grimly. "No one can stay here forever."
"I could."
"What would you do when there are no more lessons to learn?"
"I could help you with your labor. Like I'm doing now."
"That would make you happy? To stay here?"
"It would. I'd do anything."
"Have some more."
Adam reached into the bucket several more times. The Headmaster said little else, other than a gentle encouragement for Adam to carry on, until Adam was grabbing handfuls to crush against his lips, no longer caring if he created a mess.
His appetite grew, and Adam suddenly took the bucket from the Headmaster's hands and tipped the contents directly into his mouth. The Headmaster did nothing to stop the boy, only watching in complete stillness as Adam's slurps turned to panting, and the sounds that filled the courtyard became almost animalistic. Adam did not stop until the bucket was empty, and even swirled his hand around the inside to gather the last drops.
"A fitting reward, don't you agree," the Headmaster said with a chuckle, "for the best student at my school?"
"Thank you, Headmaster, it was delicious!"
The Headmaster took the bucket from Adam's hands and pulled him to his feet. The pair made their way back towards the school, and the last thing Credence heard was Adam's voice softly pleading, "When can I have some more, Headmaster?"