I bid Darren farewell from afar, unable to approach the graveside as they lowered the small coffin into the ground. I could not face his parents either. His mother hadn't stopped crying since she'd arrived for the funeral. They didn't know me, not truly, just as I did not truly know them—but my heart ached for the loss that day.

We did not stay for the whole ceremony, Elias and I. Mother stayed long enough to speak with the boy's parents, then we all left that cemetery together.

After that, I didn't see Elias for two days. I stayed with Mother, and though a storm had gathered overhead, the sun did eventually shine through. I continued healing my leg, sealing and recovering it slowly with the spell Varren had practically drilled into me after the branch lesson. It was slow going—Elias had told me it likely would have been easier had the bolt not been twisted around—and I still had a slight limp. I, for one, was proud that I was managing to heal it well enough on my own. Mother was curious about magic, so I tried to explain what I could to her.

"What does it feel like?" she asked as we sat on my bed one evening. "How do you command it?"

I considered it, trying to describe what it was that I felt. "There's this... hole, I guess. It lives there, inside me somewhere. It comes up when I will it to, but I have to focus. Then I shape it how I wish." At her puzzled frown, I shrugged. "It's sort of muddy to me too."

"How do you know what to do?"

"We memorize different instructions for different spells. Formulas, I suppose. I used to write them on my arm so that I could remember the steps, like this." I grabbed a pen from the desk and inked a few spells on the underside of my arm. As I did, I recalled the shadow step spell I'd wanted to learn and my "trap" that I'd set in the library. If it could even be called such a thing. I cringed at the memory and set the pen aside before pulling my sleeve down over the drying ink. "I don't really know how you'd make a new spell... plenty of trial and error, I suppose."

She asked a bit more about my track and if I had any spells from it that I favored, so I explained to her the spell that would make me silent and nearly invisible. It was the pinnacle of charm and illusion magic, and I did so desperately wish to master it. Cloaking myself entirely was difficult and draining. At my current level, I could maybe hold the spell in its entirety for about five seconds. Mother said she found it impressive, but I could see some disappointment in her expression.

I couldn't blame her. Adults were often that way when they learned of how fickle the so-called gift truly was. Certainly its users could perform amazing feats, but we were still children, all desperately in need of nurturing for our talents and our souls. Something that was in short supply.

I still couldn't bring myself to open the journal I had stolen, but I would lay awake and wonder if the men had sought to forge a pathway to magic of their own. They were disorganized and foolish, but often was the case with these sorts. What else could drive them but hunger and madness?

On my last night at home, Mother and I had crawled into bed late. I stared into the darkness long after that, waiting for sleep to find me, but it must have been as lost as I was. I'd thought Mother was asleep until I heard her whisper softly, "I'm sorry, Celestine. I wish it didn't have to be this way."

"What do you mean?" I asked, but she must have already drifted off by then. The soft patter of rain was the only answer I gained that night.

I did not sleep until just before dawn, and I was roused soon after by Mother gently tucking my hair behind my ear. "It's time to wake up," she whispered. "Pack your things."

It took several attempts for me to haul myself out of bed. My leg was particularly stiff, so I sat on the edge of the mattress to examine the wound before I tried anything else. It was healing well enough with another pass of the spell, coaxing the skin back together. It was becoming increasingly obvious that it would scar. I wondered what sort of mastery it would take to make it good as new. Reverie would probably know. I'd have to ask her when I got back.

I stopped myself, confused. A positive thought about returning to the school had crossed my mind. Dreadful indeed.

Though even I couldn't lie to myself—I missed my friends so much it hurt. Seraya no doubt had mountains of gossip to unload on me, and Reverie would surely be eager to help me make up the schoolwork I'd missed. Bren too was probably waiting for me. Or maybe at least thinking about me. Occasionally. Even just a single thought would be nice.

If you'd like, we can figure it out together. I looked at the journal I'd been avoiding, almost drawn to it. I'd left the stone flower beside it last night. The red in its petals reminded me of him, and I felt silly for it.

Perhaps I'd wait to read it until I was with him. It would feel less awful then.

"Celestine!" Mother's voice carried up the stairs with an edge of impatience and painful normalcy. "Do you need help?"

"Nope!" I shot to my feet and walked stiffly to the desk, grabbing the two artifacts and shoving them into my bag. I packed everything else with such speed that I terrified myself, but I'd never leave if I dragged my feet. Deep down, I knew it was time to go.

But I would be back.

<><><>

Mother stopped me in the doorway with a tight squeeze. I nearly fell into her when she pulled me back. In my ear, she whispered, "I'll see you soon, my celestine." Then she let go quickly, smiled at me, and stepped back. Her eyes were somewhat watery.

I couldn't find anything to say, caught off guard as I was. "Goodbye," I managed. "Be safe."

Then Elias bid her farewell, passing along some rather lengthy instructions that would aid her escape—including people he had arranged to protect her—and promised to safely return me to her when the time came. She thanked him and pressed a small box into his hand. A ring-sized box.

Sooner than I'd have liked, we were loaded into the carriage and once more on the road. I stared out the window at the town until it was little more than a tiny silhouette in the distance, wishing I could see Mother just once more. But it was time to face reality. So I took a deep breath and let it out slowly before facing Elias. "There's something I need to tell you," I said. "And I have questions. We have a long road ahead of us, so can we talk?"

He fingered the sides of the little box, glancing at me awkwardly. "I have things to tell you too."

"Great," I said, but I couldn't wait for him. If I waited, I'd probably back out of what I needed to share. So I sat a little straighter. "Do you remember the student who attacked me?"

"I would not forget so easily."

"What did Varren tell you about the incident?"

"The student had been detained and that the school would handle his discipline—which Yvonne and I tried to argue. This sort of violent behavior should get him removed from the school and delivered to proper authorities, but Varren said otherwise." Elias's face turned stony, as if the memory had tainted his whole mood.

I nodded. The school, I was learning, always behaved that way—burying violence rather than turning it over to justice. I doubted the crest-bearing enforcers from the court would ever find Anya's killer. Maybe the school had isolated and detained him, too. "His name is Vesper, and he's threatened me before. Well, sort of vaguely. Never to this degree. I don't know what made him escalate things this time."

I told him, finally, about the note and my previous run-ins with Vesper, how I could never trust him but I'd never felt I had enough proof to condemn him either. I still had no clue how he knew about my search for the grave or what he feared I'd find there. I even told Elias about the time in the courtyard when it had seemed as if no one else saw him. Even Bren had denied his presence there.

Elias's face darkened, and he looked almost sick by the time I finished. "I will speak with Varren about this. In the meantime, if he is returned to the school, stay away from him. Keep yourself with others if that will deter him. Do not try to engage him on your own."

"Why?" I asked. "Aside from the obvious fact that he wants to kill me. What do you know?"

"I don't know anything for certain, but I have a suspicion."

"Which is?"

He hesitated again, so I prodded him. "I'm trying to be open with you," I said. "I want you to do the same."

"If I tell you, you must promise not to be rash."

"I promise."

He searched my face, holding my gaze. For once, I was earnest, so there was no lie to be found. Then he released a breath, exhaling some of the tension that had gripped him. "The day I... took you from your home, there was an illusionist with us. A young man. Very powerful, but somewhat difficult. He had a different name on his papers, one I can't really recall, but he told us to address him as Vesper."

The space inside in the carriage had never been very large, but it was suddenly even smaller as I took in Elias's words. For a moment, I wasn't sure I was breathing, except that the air did taste rather stale. "Then, he could be—"

"Do you trust me to handle this?"

"No," I said, all too quickly. "I mean, I do, but—I don't understand what this means either. Why would he be at the academy? The more I think about it, the more it seems the whole place needs to be torn down. I've never been told what I'm looking for, so why don't we just get rid of it all?"

Elias fell silent for a time, allowing me the chance to fester before re-emerging into myself again. The movement of the carriage and the clop of the horse's hooves calmed me. I'd all but forgotten the conversation when Elias finally said, "I think he'd like that more than you know."

I watched him, waiting for another revelation of the bitterness he held toward the king. I'd never expected to find such things beneath the surface, but the more I dug the more I learned that Elias had never been the man I assumed him to be. I shifted in my seat and finally looked away from him. "Who is the ring for? Yvonne?"

The silence came upon us again, colder this time. Heavy. Elias clutched the box tighter. "I wanted to talk to you about that. Do you mind if we make a quick stop?"

"No," I said, a puzzled frown making its way to my face. I started to ask him more but stopped myself. I had prodded him enough.

I didn't need to anyway. Facing the window, he said, "The ring is for my daughter. I'd like to drop it off before we go home."

If I'd had other questions, they left me in a rush. My head emptied, and in its emptiness it spun. I clamped my mouth shut to keep from making a fool of myself—because the most I could think to ask was how such a thing could be possible. I realized, again, that I'd put Elias into a box that he had long since outgrown.

And if he was ready to open up, I'd like to let him.

Sorry for the delay! I realized I had a lot I wanted to say in this chapter, but the order of those things didn't quite add up. It took me a bit to reconcile with departing from my notes again >:/