Page 73 of An Arcane Education
“Holy shit,” I breathe. “You’re a miracle worker.”
Callista grins. “I do my best.”
Twenty minutes later, we’ve all finished our makeup and have shimmied into our dresses. Mine, which I’ve borrowed from Callista, fits like it was made for me. The dark green satin shimmers faintly, perfectly complemented by the delicate gold jewelry dangling from my ears, neck, and wrist. My hair is pulled back in a half-up, half-down updo with a gentle curl.
Max stands beside me in a black dress with a lace overlay that emphasizes her tall, thin figure. The long sleeves have no lining, creating an intricate pattern of black lace over her pale skin. She’s applied her hallmark dark red lipstick and sharp winged eyeliner that makes her look simultaneously dangerous and elegant.
Callista, unsurprisingly, looks like she stepped out of a fashion magazine. Her strapless yellow dress hugs every curve before flaring out at the knees, and she's woven small white flowers into her long brown hair.
Delilah’s navy blue gown is a classic A-line with a skirt that gently cascades outward and glitters with tiny silver sparkles in the tulle. Her tight, natural curls frame her face, and she radiates a soft confidence.
Avery looks like she could kill someone and make it look like an accident. Her maroon gown with off-shoulder sleeves shows off the toned muscles of her arms, and there’s a slit up the side of her leg that shows off the dagger attached to her thigh.
“We look amazing,” Delilah states with wide eyes.
“Damn right we do,” Callista agrees. “Come on, let’s go cause some trouble.”
The castle steps are crowded with students posing for Professor Liu, one of the art teachers who's been given the task of official photographer for the evening. Since phones and cameras aren’t allowed at the school, Professor Liu has been given express permission to take the photographs and print them for distribution at the end of the semester.
After waiting for couples and friend groups to pose on the castle steps, our turn finally arrives. We arrange ourselves side-by-side, smiling widely as the camera clicks. The autumn wind tosses our hair and raises goosebumps on my bare arms.
“Beautiful,” Professor Liu says. “Now give me something fun and silly.”
We don’t need to be told twice. We all make various forms of ridiculous expressions, with Max giving herself devil horns with her fingers and Callista doing finger guns. Avery feigns an angry expression with dramatically furrowed brows and a frown, pointing at Delilah who feigns offense, her jaw dropped in a pretend gasp with her hand over her heart. I go for the classic pose, sticking out my tongue at the camera like I’m twelve years old.
The shutter clicks just as I hear a familiar condescending voice behind us.
“Yeah, that’s about the maturity level I’d expect from this group. Brightest minds of our generation right here.”
I turn to find Clarissa ascending the steps, her arm linked through Mitchell's. She's wearing a look of disdain and a silver dress that hugs her body.
Mitchell, to his credit, looks like he'd rather be anywhere else.
“Just so you know,” Callista retorts in a saccharine voice, “wisdom and whimsy are not mutually exclusive.”
I'm genuinely impressed by the maturity of her response, the way she doesn't rise to Clarissa's bait until she adds a dramatic, “So get on my level, bitch.”
We all choke on our laughter as Clarissa’s face flushes red, but before she can respond, Professor Liu calls out, “Next group, please!”
We ascend the final steps with barely suppressed laughter, and by the time we reach the top, we're all giggling like schoolgirls.
“I can't believe you said that,” Delilah snorts.
Callista shrugs. “Someone had to.”
The Great Hall of the castle has been transformed for the Samhain Ball. Atop the room’s checkered black-and-white tile, round tables draped in black cloth line the perimeter, leaving the center open for dancing. Hundreds of candles sit upon tables while sconces line the walls, the flames casting shadows along the dark surfaces. At the far end of the room, a massive fireplace crackles and warms the room.
“Let’s get drinks first,” Avery suggests, not waiting for our responses before she leads the way toward the refreshment tables. We pass a band on a raised platform as they play a lively tune, and the room is a kaleidoscope of color as students mill about and take to the dance floor.
The official drinks for the ball are tame—punch, sparkling cider, water—but I catch more than one student pulling a flask from their pockets.
I pour myself a glass of cider and scan the room,trying not to be too obvious. Multiple faculty members linger around the edges of the party. Dr. Lowry leans against the wall with his arms crossed, though Professor Showen is talking with him animatedly.
It takes a couple minutes for me to spot Alaric partially hidden by a shadow in the back corner. He’s standing there with his hands in his pockets and is watching the crowd with an intense focus that makes me think he’s doing the same thing I am.
My breath catches in my throat when his gaze finally lands on me, and the corner of his mouth lifts in a smile.
“Vivian.” Max’s voice is sharp as she tries to get my attention. I must’ve tuned her out. “You alright?”
