AFTER A LONG morning of dreading I might be escorted out of each of my classes by guards, I take a seat next to Layla in the dining hall. The tables have been removed except for the one on the raised platform where the teachers eat, and the high-backed wooden chairs have been arranged in rows. With the large chandeliers fully lit above our heads, the ornate arched ceilings, and the decorative stonework on the walls, it looks like we’re about to meet some sort of dignitary. But from what I can tell, the entire school has been assembled, and I would bet anything we’re not here for entertainment.
Three rows ahead of us, Brendan looks at me like he knows something I don’t and takes a seat next to Nyx and Charles.
“About what I did in knife throwing—” I whisper to Layla.
“Not now, November,” she says, and her tone is harsh. She doesn’t look in my direction.
Headmaster Blackwood stands on the platform in front of the teachers’ dining table, watching us all like a bird of prey. She clears her throat even though the room is already silent and doesn’t remotely resemble the mob scene that ensues every time we get called to the auditorium in my school at home. My stomach does a quick flip.
“Some of you are wondering why you’ve been called from your classes this morning. Some of you are not,” Blackwood says, scanning the room. A handful of teachers stand against the stone walls between the somber portraits and arched windows—they stare at us and not at Blackwood. Conner is one of them, and he has the same probing look he wore when he was assessing me. I want to sink down in my chair, but I’m sure one of the teachers would notice and interpret it as an admission of guilt.
“A student was murdered last night,” Blackwood says without any fanfare, and surprise ripples through the crowd. “Stefano,” she continues. The students throw questioning glances at one another, shifting in their seats, and it seems like everyone starts whispering at once.
Layla looks at me in shock and I do my best to mimic her. Damn she’s good.
Blackwood clears her throat once more and the room instantly falls back into uncomfortable silence. “I am severely disappointed that we find ourselves in this position yet again.” She sounds more annoyed than upset. “You all have become too comfortable here, too sure that you are untouchable. I assure you that you’re not. Our tactics during the course of this investigation will not be typical, so do not presume. The guilty party or parties may think they’ve evaded discovery. But in the end, we will find you out and you will be made an example of.” For a split second, her eyes settle on me, and I can feel the blood drain from my cheeks.
When Blackwood mentioned student deaths to me in her office the day I arrived, I didn’t for one minute imagine she meant murder. My stomach churns uncomfortably, and I fight the urge to shift around, rub my hands over my face, do anything that might show how sick I feel about this whole situation.
“Your privacy is revoked, and you’ll be subject to tests and observation whenever and wherever Dr. Conner and I choose. And just because you can’t see guards, that doesn’t mean they’re not following you.” Blackwood smooths a wrinkle in her blazer. “For the time being, all meals will be served in your respective suites rather than the dining hall. That is all you need to know; you may go.”
I look at Layla, hoping she’ll explain the brevity of that speech and the cold cruelty of Blackwood’s demeanor. There was no sensitivity to the fact that students have just lost their classmate, no reassurance that we’ll be safe; in fact, it felt like the opposite—we’ve been assured that we’re not only in danger, but also potential suspects. However, Layla just stands and heads for the door like all the other students. No one says a word. No one looks at anyone else.
Someone taps my shoulder and I nearly jump out of my skin. My heart sinks when I whip around to find Conner right behind me.
“Follow me, November,” he says, and I catch Ash watching me from across the room.
Conner leads me back to Blackwood’s office. I take a seat in the armchair in front of Blackwood’s desk while Conner settles into a chair near the wall, his folder and pen at the ready. The fireplace is ablaze with crackling and snapping wood—a familiarity that I would usually find comforting. But the coldness in Blackwood’s and Conner’s expressions and the heavy stillness suck any sense of comfort out of the room.
We all sit there silently for so long that I wonder if this horrible moment somehow got frozen in time.
“So…,” Blackwood finally says. “You left your room last night after curfew, November.”
My pulse throbs in my temples and my stomach twists uncomfortably. I’ve always been good in conversations with principals and deans. And I’ve definitely been in trouble enough to know my way around them. But that was back when the worst thing that could happen to me was suspension, not an eye-for-an-eye punishment system. “Yes, I did.”
Blackwood folds her hands on her desk. “And a student is dead.”
“I know.”
“How do you know?”
I hesitate. “You just told us in the assembly.”
“Hmmm,” she says, and Conner takes notes.
I immediately regret my answer. I feel like I’m not only sweating all over her office, but that every single thought I’m having is knowable by her. The only tactic I really have is to take Layla’s advice. “Hang on. You don’t think I had anything to do with what happened, do you?”
“Oh, don’t I?” Blackwood says, and gives me a warning look.
“You read people or analyze them—you both do.” I wave my hand to include Conner. “And I know I’m new. But if you’re any reader of character, you know without a shadow of a doubt that I didn’t do it.”
“Don’t you dare suppose what I know or what I don’t,” Blackwood says.
“Don’t you remember what happened with Matteo? I didn’t even want to hit him in the face. You practically had to threaten me to get me to retaliate. If I’m uncomfortable punching someone, killing a person is an impossibility.”
Blackwood purses her lips and sits back in her chair. “Actually, if you planned to attack Stefano, the very first thing you might do is create a situation meant to illustrate how nonaggressive you are.”
I try to adjust my position, but there’s no place to shift to and I just wind up looking more agitated than I did a few seconds before. “I wouldn’t even be able to think of that, much less—”
“Enough,” Blackwood says, and her word is like a slap, which at least tells me that my naïveté must be convincing enough to frustrate her. “What were you doing out of your room last night?”
My heart races. There’s no way around it. “I was meeting Ash,” I answer.
“Where?”
“In the vine courtyard.”
She pauses a moment. “Why?”
I cringe reflexively. I’m in murky freaking waters right here. “To find out more about the school.”
“You were told that anything you need to know about the school, you could ask Layla.”
“I…well…”
“Unless you mean to learn more about the students, which I have already told you is strictly forbidden.” Her tone harshens and she leans forward.
“I just…I wanted to learn more about what the school is really like.” Here we go.
“By breaking the rules.”
“No,” I say carefully. “I’m not saying that it’s good to break the rules. But if I’m going to live here with these people who’ve known each other for years and understand the way this place works, I have a ton of catching up to do. And I’m the only new advanced student. Fifty percent of me was just curious.”
“And the other fifty percent?”
“I didn’t mean that literally.”
“But you did mean there was another reason.”
Great. I’m stepping in one sinkhole after another. “Ash is interesting…I, well…He’s cute.” True, but totally meaningless. And it places me well within the clueless range.
Blackwood leans back in her chair like she’s wondering how deep I’m going to dig myself in—I’m wondering the same thing. “Dating is not allowed,” she says flatly.
“But looking is, right?” I know I’m pushing it here, but if I don’t sell this reason, she’s going to go digging for another.
For a second, she doesn’t move. Then she says, “I’m going to lay this out for you as plainly as I can, November, because otherwise I fear you will yammer on about every kind of nonsense, and I don’t have time for nonsense. Last night you were out of your room. Last night one of our students was murdered. If there is some evidence or reason that I should not suspect you, you should state it now.”
“I…” I’m completely at a loss. “I’m sorry I left my room and broke the rules. I shouldn’t have. But I absolutely did not kill anyone. I wouldn’t do that. I just wouldn’t.”
“Did Layla know you were gone?”
I resist the urge to rub my forehead, because I can’t show them how rattled I am. This is bad. Real bad. “No. But she heard me when I came back.”
“Did you speak?” Blackwood asks.
I nod. “I told her I was out with Ash and she got angry.”
“Did she report you?”
“I told her she didn’t have to because a guard had already seen me.”
“Which hallways did you take that night?”
It takes all my willpower to stay still. “I took the staircase closest to my room.” Does she know I’m lying? Can she see it?
“And Ashai?”
I pause. “I don’t know.”
“But you were with him.”
“I was paying too much attention to not getting caught myself that I honestly couldn’t say which way he went.”
“But he came and left when you did?”
“I assume so.”
“But you don’t know.”
I want to say something that prevents Ash from looking suspect. The last thing I need in this dangerous situation is to make an enemy out of him. But for the life of me, I can’t think of anything. “No, I don’t.”
“Whose idea was it to go to the vine courtyard?”
I tense. “Ash’s. Well, both of ours, really. It’s my favorite place on campus.”
“And Ash was generous enough to break the rules to show it to you?” There is an insistence in her tone, and I know that I’ve somehow made this worse, not better.
“We just thought it would be fun.”
“And how was Ash benefiting from this arrangement?”
She clearly knows him. I shrug as casually as I can in this tension-filled room. “I can’t be sure, but my guess is that he wanted to be the first person to figure out the new girl.”
Blackwood glances at Conner, but her expression reveals nothing of what she might be thinking.
Conner levels his gaze at me. “Did Ashai tell you which way to go?”
The image of Stefano’s body lying on the cold hallway floor flashes through my thoughts. What’s Conner fishing for with a question like that? “Like I said, we were both in a rush to get to our rooms when we got inside. We didn’t really talk.”
By the way Conner looks at me, it’s clear he knows I’ve evaded the question. I also know that he’s not going to let it go unless I turn the tables on them.
I shift the conversation back to Blackwood. “The bigger question no one seems to be asking is why a student died here at all. Because based on what you told me the day I arrived, this isn’t the first death. I know you’ll find me innocent. I have no doubt about that. And whenever you clear my name, I want you to get in touch with my dad. I’m not staying in some remote castle where people attack and kill each other.” I hadn’t realized how badly I’d wanted to say that until it just came tumbling out.
Conner looks at Blackwood. Her hard gaze doesn’t waver. “That’s not for you to decide,” she says.
My voice rises. “Like hell it’s not—”
“No.” Her tone is commanding. “Your family, just like every other, signed a waiver when you were admitted giving the Academy final say in what happens to you while you’re here. I will decide who is guilty. Just as I will decide how much freedom you will have during this investigation. And I most certainly will decide when you can leave. So if I were you, I would stop before I also decide you’re being disrespectful and give you a night in the dungeon to sober up.”
I swallow. The reality that I’m trapped here at Blackwood’s discretion with deadly secret society kids and no way out makes it hard to breathe.
Blackwood holds me in her stern glare. “You may return to your schedule, November. But this conversation is far from over. Also, you’ll have to get by without Layla taking you to your classes for the time being.”
I freeze, instantly worried about Layla and whatever Blackwood is planning. I want to ask, but I’m positive I won’t get an answer.
“And congratulations,” Blackwood continues. “You’re the first student in modern history to accumulate three marks in their first week. Stay tuned for your punishment.”
My stomach drops and I stand up quickly. I can’t get out of this room fast enough.
She pauses. “Unless you’re guilty of Stefano’s murder, in which case your punishment is already decided.”