Pennyroyal Academy by M.A. Larson Page A

be a joke. But she only looked down at Evie with a cold smile.
    â€œDid you really come all the way over here just to insult us?” said Anisette, but the moment was cut short as Princess Hazelbranch approached, reading from a parchment.
    â€œCadet . . . Eleven?”
    â€œOffer stands,” said Malora to Demetra, and then she and her friends walked off.
    â€œIs there an Eleven here?”
    â€œThat’s me,” said Evie, standing.
    â€œCome along, dear.”
    â€œWhere are we going?”
    â€œTo the Infirmary. Or have you already forgotten your memory curse?” She chuckled at her own joke as she walked away. Evie followed, then hesitated. She looked back at her friends. Only moments after finally starting to feel like she belonged, she was being singled out and led away because she was different.
    By the time Ironbone’s cursed cadets had traversed campus and reached the Infirmary—there were quite a few more than Evie had expected, including Sage, who always looked as though she hated the sensation of being alive—the sun had nearly reached the horizon. This would be the first night in many where Evie could sleep soundly, without worrying that a goblin or wolf was creeping up through the undergrowth. She found herself actually looking forward to the night.
    Light flooded the Infirmary through a glass ceiling, while nurses in white dresses moved swiftly amongst the sickbeds attending the unwell. The girls were asked to gather near a treatment area, which consisted of several tables surrounded by shelves of tiny bottles of blue and black and green and yellow potions, exotic powders, bubbling chalices, and clay pots filled with unknown substances.
    Evie had been one of the first called forward. She sat before the Academy’s chief caregiver, dowdy and droopy-eyed Princess Wertzheim, and answered yet another series of questions. She made one last attempt to explain that her memory wasn’t faulty, but when Wertzheim started to probe further into her family history, Evie decided to abandon the cause. She hadn’t told a soul about her mother and father because she felt protective of them, and would rather drink the odd potion than expose them to these strangers. So when Wertzheim mixed her a small vial of red liquid, she choked it down without complaint.
    Now, as she waited for the others to finish their consultations, she started to notice strange things about the Infirmary. Statues of men and women, boys and girls, were strewn about the room. Some stood next to bunks, but most were shoved into the far corner, as though the Infirmary doubled as a royal garden’s storehouse. In addition to the statuary, animals roamed the floor unchecked. Goats, ponies, and what seemed to be an entire flock of ducks trailed behind the nurses as they made their rounds. Lizards clung to walls. Pigs and swans napped together on one of the bunks.
    A fox walked past on its hind legs, as though it was a person. Her eyes followed it, and found Sage standing behind her. She had a face like a pear leaf, soft and round and tapered into a sharp chin, though always darkened with hostility. Still, for Evie, it was a familiar face in an odd place. She decided to start a conversation. “Lost your memory, too, then?”
    â€œAs if it’s any of your business, I’ve lost my sense of humor.”
    Evie chuckled nervously, unsure if it was a jest.
    â€œI’m happy you can laugh. I can’t.”
    â€œI’m sorry, I didn’t mean to . . .” Sage scoffed and turned toward the table, where a nurse was feeding a cadet a spoonful of smoking yellow liquid. But Evie missed the cue and continued talking. “Why do you reckon they keep all these animals and things in here?”
    â€œThey’re not
animals
,” said Sage with a huff. “They’re people with curses.”
    A dog lying at the foot of one of the bunks scratched its ear. Evie studied