Free Pennyroyal Academy by M.A. Larson Page B

forward and addressed the entire company. “Does anyone else wish to join them?” The Ironbone girls looked at one another, each hoping no one else would take the offer. “There is absolutely no shame in it. Some people simply aren’t equipped to battle witches.”
    Evie ground her jaw back and forth. It was as though Hazelbranch were speaking directly to her.
Go,
she told herself.
You’re only here because of some silly parchment, not to get in the middle of a war. Go. Now.
    But she didn’t.
    â€œVery well,” said Hazelbranch. “For the rest of you, I will now administer the Pennyroyal Academy oath. If you’ll all place your hands over your hearts, and after I’ve finished, say, ‘I swear it so.’”
    Evie’s hand rose to her chest. It felt light and numb, as though it belonged to someone else. She turned to face the Pennyroyal coat of arms above the door, with its princess, knight, dragon, and witch.
    â€œI promise to do my duty. To support and defend the free peoples of the world against all witches. I will practice Courage, Compassion, Kindness, and Discipline to the best of my ability, and will always endeavor to live a life of high moral character.”
    No one spoke. It was as if they all—from Maggie to Malora—wanted to give the moment the reverence it deserved. Swearing the oath was a final step and a first step all in one. The journey toward princesshood would now begin, and each of them knew it.
    â€œI swear it so,” they said in unison.
    Evie, softly, and after everyone else, said, “I swear it so.”
    â€œCongratulations,” said Hazelbranch with a smile. “You are now officially princess cadets, third class. You have just joined the ranks of the greatest princesses ever to live, and if that witch’s prophecy is correct, at least one of your year will someday be listed among them.”
    The jubilant buzz slowly returned. Hazelbranch began working her way through the room, congratulating each of the girls.
    Maggie turned to Evie with a smile. “We did it!”
    Evie dropped to her bunk. A black cloud swirled through her head. Swearing the oath had sentenced her to face that which she had hoped to never encounter again.
    Despite her overwhelming fatigue, she lay awake hours after the last torch had been snuffed. She stared outside as dull gray clouds spread from one corner of her window to another, slowly swallowing the white moonlight like a curtain being drawn.
    What’s this?
the witch in the cottage had said, eyes wide and hungry.
    What’s this?
speaking of Evie as though she were a piece of candy waiting to be devoured.
    What’s this?
said the witch.
    What’s this?

“WHATAREYOU LOT STILL DOING IN BED? IT’S TIME FOR . . .”
    In an instant, the pink sunset and crashing seawater of Evie’s dream became the dull gray of the barracks. She blinked herself back to consciousness, disoriented to wake somewhere other than the woods. And that’s when she saw the incensed face of the Fairy Drillsergeant looking straight at her.
    â€œBloody hell . . .”
    The swish of bedsheets and tunic dresses, the clop of shoes on stone, everything stopped at once. The cadets followed their commander’s gaze across the room, where Evie squatted atop the footboard of her bunk. She scrambled to the floor, but it was too late. The Fairy Drillsergeant darted across the barracks.
    â€œDID YOU SPEND THE ENTIRE NIGHT PERCHED UP THERE LIKE A MAGPIE?”
    â€œI . . . I’m sorry, Fairy Drillsergeant.”
    â€œWhy?” said the Fairy Drillsergeant, shaking her head. “Why do
I
always get the bloody fopdoodles? I’d lay my wand there’s not a single cadet in Bramblestick Company who SLEPT ON THE END OF HER BUNK!”
    Evie’s mouth quivered. Her eyes had begun to mist over, but she would not let herself cry. “Please, Fairy