Free The Strangely Beautiful Tale Of Miss Percy Parker by Leanna Renee Hieber Page B

third floor of Promethe Hall, not often used, was a basic yet stately affair; an open foyer with wide windows looking onto the school courtyard yet draped in white fabric, making the whole area softly but generously lit by the dawn. Two weeks into classes, Headmistress Thompson was ascending to this area when she stopped abruptly at the top of the stairs. The sight that greeted her had never before been there.
    Shimmering and flickering like a candle, a large, transparent feather made of glittering wisps of blue flame floated two feet above the seal of Athens Academy, which was engraved on the floor below. Rebecca approached in awe. As she moved close, the feather brightened and seemed to dance, almost as if it were happy to see her.
    The room had arches at either end, leading to the north and south wings of the hall, and the usual trickle of morning students began to pass through. A rush of nerves caused Rebecca’s skin to moisten, but she took care to mask her amazement and maintain her composure. The students passed by with a nod of deference and nothing more. As their headmistress hoped, they could not see the large, hovering feather that spontaneously burst into flame.
    Rebecca exhaled slowly. “Things like this are supposed to stay relegated to our sacred circle and the chapel, thank you very much,” she muttered, scolding the phenomenon.
    She glanced down at the seal of the academy, a golden eagle bearing a lit torch in its great claws. The school’s motto was inscribed below, first in Greek, then translated:
    AS THE PROMETHEAN FIRE WHICH BANISHED DARKNESS, SO KNOWLEDGE BEARS THE POWER AND THE LIGHT .
    The feather, ephemeral as smoke and delicate as spider’s thread, gave off no heat or sound, but its blue flame was instantly familiar to her, as it would be to all her coterie. Slowly returning down the stairs, she eyed the feather to the last before scurrying to her office. She had often wondered if there was more to the building than it cared to tell. Urgently, she sent Frederic to fetch Alexi.
    “Your English has improved greatly, Marianna.” Percy sat at the feet of the courtyard’s statuary angel, twirling the water in the fountain’s basin with distracted fingertips.
    Marianna reclined beside her, finishing her picnic breakfast. “I am trying. I wish we spent more than one class together, but I have made a few friends.”
    “Wonderful,” Percy replied in earnest, before glancing away. “You remain my only friend. At times I see that Edward boy. Every now and then he nods a greeting. Everyone else is afraid. I can’t blame them. I do look like a ghost—”
    “No, Percy. Do not make excuses,” Marianna said. When her friend stayed silent, gazing at the angel above, she declared like an elder sister, “I accept melancholy for one moment, Percy, but that moment has passed. So. Are language classes still your favourite?”
    Percy smiled. “I wish they were more challenging, but they do provide lovely escape to different worlds. It makes me forget myself—how I am, what I am—if only for a moment.”
    “Ah! Doth I hear melancholy again, my dear Hamlet?” Marianna chided. Percy laughed. “There. Much better. Is that Alchemic—what is it called?—class still giving you trouble, despite your ‘magnificent professor’?”
    Percy groaned. “Oh, that class remains my bane! I pay attention, take countless notes, but all I remember is the sound of Professor Rychman’s voice. Every syllable he speaks is like a hypnotic delicacy, like dark velvet. I try to grasp his explanations, but all I can see is how his robe sweeps as he moves, how his presence commands the room, how his brow furrows in thought, how his eyes blaze, how he calmly brushes a lock of dark hair from his noble face…” She trailed off, horrified by the vividness of her descriptions. With a fearful glance at Marianna, she folded her hands in her lap.
    Marianna’s eyes gleamed as she whispered in Percy’s ear, “Someone is most