Free Dark Mirror by M.J. Putney Page A

who is both plain and cursed with magic, being governess to a family of the middling sort is the most you can hope for.”
    Even life as a governess would be better than staying in this horrible school. Fighting to keep from breaking down, Tory said, “Good day, Miss Macklin.”
    She bolted out into the corridor, her hands hurting so much she could barely grasp the doorknob. As she turn to flee, she crashed into another person. Before she could take off again, a quiet voice said, “Come into my office, Miss Mansfield.”
    Tory blinked back her tears and saw that it was Miss Wheaton, the mage teacher who’d examined her the day before. Though she was again drably dressed, her eyes were compassionate as she held open the door on the opposite side of the corridor.
    Warily, Tory stepped into Miss Wheaton’s office. The room was small but welcoming. Pretty watercolors of flowers brightened the walls, the floor was softened by a worn but cheerful rug, and the small bookcase was full to overflowing.
    Miss Wheaton frowned at the welts caused by the ruler. “Your hands must hurt.”
    “All I did was answer Miss Macklin’s questions.” Tory tried to keep her voice from shaking. “I was trying to show her that I was cooperative and wouldn’t cause any trouble. But she hit me with her ruler. T … twice.”
    “Lackland students are used to wealth and privilege, and sometimes they need to be reminded of their changed situation,” Miss Wheaton said in a neutral voice. “Some teachers feel that point must be made very emphatically.”
    “So they want to break us as horses are broken to the saddle,” Tory said bitterly.
    “Not everyone agrees with that approach.” Miss Wheaton took gentle hold of Tory’s hands. “Let me see if I can do something about the pain.”
    Tory winced as the teacher carefully straightened her swelling fingers but managed to avoid whimpering. Miss Wheaton moved her hand through the air above Tory’s. “Fortunately no bones are broken.”
    “Does that beastly woman break bones?” Tory gasped, forgetting that she shouldn’t criticize one teacher to another.
    “Sometimes, usually when a girl does particularly well on her academic examination. Perhaps she believes that a good education makes one prideful.” Miss Wheaton cradled Tory’s right hand between her palms. “Let’s see what I can do.”
    Warmth began flowing into Tory’s palm and fingers. After a minute or two, Tory exclaimed, “The pain is going away! You must be a healer.”
    Miss Wheaton nodded and transferred her attentions to Tory’s left hand. “I could do more away from Lackland, but I have some power even here.”
    “Are students beaten regularly?” Tory asked warily. Though she’d been spanked sometimes as a little girl, her parents thought it unseemly to spank an older child.
    “The boys are, but not usually the girls,” Miss Wheaton replied. “I can’t say I approve, but all boys’ schools allow caning.”
    “My brother said that at Eton, students were told caning builds character. I suppose girls are caned less because we aren’t thought to have much character.”
    “Which is the sort of thing males say when they don’t know any women.” Miss Wheaton chuckled, looking younger and much prettier. “The fog has lifted, so I’ll take you to the village for your magical evaluation.”
    “Away from Lackland?” The prospect cheered Tory. She brushed at her face, hoping there were no tear tracks. “That would be lovely.”
    Seeing Tory’s gesture, Miss Wheaton said, “I’ll lend you a shawl and bonnet so you don’t have to go back to your room.”
    Miss Wheaton was so nice ! This was like talking to Tory’s sister, Sarah. Yet despite her kindness, Miss Wheaton held ultimate power over the girls of Lackland.
    As the teacher retrieved shawls and bonnets from a clothes peg, Tory studied her class schedule. All her academic classes were marked as advanced, except for Italian language and literature with