“Constance, hi.” I turned toward the unfamiliar female voice and found a woman who seemed to be in her late thirties, maybe early forties. She was tall with black hair and warm brown eyes. She grabbed a book, then hurried over to us at the door. “Come, let’s talk outside.”

We followed her back out into the hall.

“Sorry, there was no one in there when I said to meet me here.” The woman chuckled. “I didn’t realize it was lunchtime.”

“No problem at all. I also forgot it was lunchtime⁠—”

My stomach took that as a sign because it growled loud. I grimaced. “Whoops.”

“Actually, I think it works to your advantage.” The woman smiled at me. She held her left hand out. “You must be Frankie? I’m Professor Rigdon. I teach potions classes.”

I shook her hand and smiled. “Nice to meet you. I think Constance has told you what I’m up to?”

Her brows pinched deeply in the middle. “She did. But potions . . . they’re not quite like performing spells with a wand or sparring on the mats. They’re . . . complicated and complex. They’re a language of their own and one that can be rather overwhelming.”

I sighed. “Bad time to mention I bombed chemistry class?”

“Don’t fret on that.” She giggled and held a book out. It was black with metallic gold foiling. “This is the book all Cups get their very first day here. Potions 101.”

I took it from her hands, and the weight of it seemed to mock my stress and pressure. “Starting from scratch, right?”

“It’s lunchtime. Take this book and read through it while you eat. Just see what stands out to you. Let your thoughts percolate, then come back to me and we’ll see what we can do for you.”

In the back of my mind, I registered saying goodbye to this professor and Constance walking me to the Great Hall, but my thoughts were far away. With every step I took, this book felt heavier and heavier. By the time I sat down at one of the tables, it was practically a lead weight in my hands. It was just . . . deflating. I hadn’t expected the professor to give me all the answers I needed, but apparently I expected some answers. Something. Anything. Not a sixty second conversation in a hallway while she handed me a book for basic potion-making. I knew I was new at this, but I just felt abandoned. Not by Constance, she wasn’t a Cup or potions master. She was den mother who had a coven full of teens to keep eyes on. But Professor Rigdon practically threw me into the deep end of a pool without a ladder and walked away.

“Frankie?”

I flinched and looked up to find Constance standing beside me still. I scowled. “I thought you left?”