Blood of the Fey (Morgana Trilogy) Read Online Free PDF

hurry,” she says, her tone sharp, “you’ll miss Mass, which means you won’t get breakfast.”
    I hesitate only a moment longer before following her orders. Better the devil you know, I suppose. Besides, with food in the equation, how can I refuse?

     
    I join the last rank of freshmen, behind a boy with a severe limp and next to one with dark hair.
    “You ask her,” another boy with short black hair says, nudging the one next to me with his elbow.
    My neighbor pokes him back in the ribs, and he yelps. I roll my eyes—not only have I somehow been held back three years, but on top of that, I’m a full head and a half taller than everyoneelse, which makes me stand out like an ogre amongst children. How utterly humiliating.
    The tall torches fizzle and crackle on both sides of us as we march down the gravelly path toward the school.
    “My name’s Bri,” the boy next to me whispers to my shoulder in a high-pitched voice—a girl then. “What’s yours?”
    “Morgan,” I whisper back, keeping my eyes trained on the teacher’s back. She strikes me as the type of person one does not want to cross, and in this crowd, I make a very obvious target.
    The black-haired boy in front turns around, and it’s clear now that he and Bri are twins. “So how come we’ve never seen you here before?” he asks. “I can’t believe you swam all the way down here, by the way. That’s so rad! Didn’t think people could do that without the use of oghams.”
    I blink at the boy’s dialect, completely unsure what an “owe-em” is.
    “Don’t be rude,” Bri says, kicking him in the calf before adding for my benefit, “That’s Owen, and the other’s Jack.”
    Very violent siblings, it appears, which reminds me of Arthur. For a very brief moment, I wonder where he is and whether he can help me clear things up so I can avoid the torture of going through high school all over again. But seeing how he’s already abandoned me to my own devices twice now, I seriously doubt it. All thoughts of my brother, and any subsequent murderous intent, disintegrate the moment I take in the full massiveness of our school.
    The granite building rises five stories high, straight out of the ground, and stretches the span of a stadium. Dotting the ramparts like gaping wounds are arches and windows, soft light glowing through them. As we pass through the titanic wooden doors, I can’t help but gawk first at the hunting scene carved into them, then at the rows of colorful standards hanging along the high walls of the entrance hall.
    “There’s over seven hundred of them,” Bri says. “But the most prestigious ones are hung in the KORT room.”
    She pulls on my sleeve to force me to accelerate. We turn left into a narrow hallway, then engulf ourselves in a dark staircase where the din of voices is amplified tenfold. On the third landing, we encounter a young woman, dressed in an old-fashioned full-length black skirt and apron, who bows to us as we pass by before we head up another set of stairs.
    “Just a servant,” Bri explains when I ask her, but she’s too engrossed in her brother’s conversation with his neighbor Jack to pay much attention to me and I have to quell the thousands of questions warring in my already overtaxed brain.
    “Didn’t you see the news?” Jack asks, limping ahead. “They had to close all the schools in the Bayou Bartholomew area of Louisiana”—he lowers his voice even further—“for frog invasion!”
    “I’m sorry, did you say frogs?” I ask.
    “I would love for that to happen to us,” Jack continues as if I’m not there.
    “You’re crazy,” Owen says. “This is the week we finally get to practice EM!”
    “That’s exactly why,” Jack says.
    I have absolutely no idea what these people are saying, and the farther up we go, the more lost I feel.
    “We’re in the mental hospital, aren’t we?” I finally ask Bri.
    She looks askance at me. “Does it look like we’re in an asylum? Am I wearing a