Ithal extends the flower to her. It's there in his fingers, red and fragrant. "Beauty for beauty," he says in his low growl of a voice.
I can hear Cecily whispering, "The nerve," under her breath. Felicity's face is a stone as she tosses the flower to the ground. "Miss Moore, can't we clean out these woods of all this riffraff? It's a blight." Her words are a slap. She raises her skirts delicately with her hands, steps on the flower, crushing it with her boot, and races ahead of the pack. The others fall in behind her.
I can't help feeling humiliated for Ithal. He stands at the wall and watches us go, and when we reach the turnoff for the school, he's still there with the mangled flower in his hand, far behind us, a small, dying star fading out of our constellation.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
We sneak out just past midnight, weaving through the woods by lantern light till we're deep inside the dark womb of the caves. Felicity lights candles she's stolen from a cupboard. Within minutes, the place is alight, the drawings dancing again on the rocky walls. In the eerie glow, the skulls of the Morrigan twist and bend like living things till I have to look away.
"Ugh, it's so damp in here," Pippa says, sitting gingerly on the cave floor. Felicity has managed to talk her into coming, and all she's done so far is complain about everything. "Did anyone think to bring food? I'm famished."
Her gaze falls on Ann, who has pulled an apple from her cape pocket. It sits in Ann's hand while she debates which will win, her hunger or her need to belong. After an excruciating minute she offers it to Pippa. "You could have my apple."
"I suppose it will have to do" Pippa says with a sigh. She reaches for it, but Felicity grabs first.
"Not yet. We have to do this properly. With a toast."
There's a gleam in Felicity's eye as she reaches into her shift and pulls out the bottle of communion wine. Pippa's squeals of delight fill the cavernous space. She throws her arms around Felicity. "Oh, Fee, you're brilliant!"
"Yes, I am rather, aren't I?"
I want to remind them that I'm the one who risked life, limb, soul, and explusion to get the wine, but I know it would be pointless and I'd just look sullen.
"What's that?" Ann says.
Felicity rolls her eyes. "Cod-liver oil. What do you think it is?"
The color leaks from Ann's face. "It's not spirits, is it?"
Pippa clutches at her throat melodramatically. "Heavens, no!"
Ann is just realizing what she's in for. She tries to make light of the situation by putting the joke on someone else. "Ladies don't drink spirits," she says, mimicking Mrs. Nightwing's plummy tones. It's a dead-on imitation, and we all laugh. Thrilled, Ann repeats the joke again and again till it's gone from amusing to irritating.
"You may stop now," Felicity scolds. Ann retreats behind her mask again.
"Mrs. Nightwing certainly never misses her sherry at night. Oh, they're all such hypocrites. Cheers," Pippa says, taking a generous, unladylike swig from the bottle.
She passes it to Ann, who wipes its mouth with her hand and hesitates. "Go on, then, it won't bite you," Felicity says.
"I've never had drink before."
"Really? I'm shocked." Pippa giggles in mock astonishment, and I can't help wondering what it would be like to pour that bottle right over her perfect ringlets.
Ann tries to hand the bottle back, but Felicity is firm. "It's not a request. Drink or you're out of the club. You can make your way back to Spence by yourself."
Ann's eyes widen. The spoiled girls haven't any idea how agonizing it is for Ann to break the rules. They can always charm their way out of a certain amount of trouble, but for Ann, an infraction could be her undoing.
"Let her alone, Felicity."
"You're the one who wanted her to comenot us," she says, letting the cruelty sink in. "No more favors. If she wants in, she has to drink. The same goes for you."
"Fine, then. Hand it over," I say. The bottle passes my way.
"And no spitting it back in," Felicity taunts.
Raised to my lips, the bottle smells sweet and harsh at the same time. The scent is all things powerful, magical, and forbidden. It burns going down, making me cough and sputter, as if someone has set a match to my lungs.
"Ah, the vine of life." Felicity breaks into a devilish grin, and they all laugh, even Ann. There's gratitude for you.
I can barely croak out, "What is this?" It's like no wine I've ever sipped from my parents' glasses, and I'm sure it's something the servants use to clean floors or mix varnish.
