Tristan’s lungs seemed to compress. He could not draw breath.
He was one of the prime suspects—what would Drakewell do if he thought Tristan intended to destroy the academy?
And what if their attacker succeeded?
“Have you told Professor Drakewell?” he asked at last, voice strangled.
“Yes. Professor Gracewright alerted him immediately, and he is currently overseeing additional security measures.” Alldusk sighed. “Never, in all its years of operation, has the Underground Academy come under serious threat. This leads us to believe a student is responsible—a student who knows more than they should.”
He gave Tristan a piercing stare before dropping back into his chair.
Tristan passed the slip of paper wordlessly to Leila, who bent her head to read it alongside Rusty.
“Can’t we just leave?” Leila asked. “Relocate until the semester is over?”
Alldusk shook his head. “We can’t stop our work. And besides, the Lair would be vulnerable without our protection. Our attacker could send others to continue their work while we were away.”
“Then what are we supposed to do?” Tristan asked.
Again Alldusk fixed his piercing stare on Tristan, as though trying to read his innocence or guilt in the lines of his face. “Professor Drakewell will interrogate each student and teacher over the coming weeks, and we will tighten our security as much as possible.”
“What if it was just a joke?” Eli asked dully. His eyes were red; Tristan had not seen him return the night before. “We were all drunk last night—what if someone just thought it would be a good prank?”
“Are you responsible for this?” Alldusk asked.
“No, no, of course not,” Eli said hurriedly. “It’s just—Professor Drakewell won’t be sending anyone away until he has proof, right? I mean, he already doesn’t trust some of us, so…”
“We will do our best to ensure he treats everyone fairly. And in the meantime, you would be wise to take every possible measure to convince him of your innocence. Stay out of trouble. Don’t stray into the tunnels—or the forest.” Alldusk’s gaze flicked to Amber. “And most importantly, report anything suspicious you come across. No matter who is involved.”
The final three days of break passed in a blur. No one could stop talking about the threat to the school, while they skirted around the decision that awaited them at the end of the month.
“What if that note was just a ploy to make us forget about what the school’s really doing?” Leila asked more than once. “I wouldn’t put it past Drakewell. And why hasn’t he started interrogating anyone yet?”
This was true—Drakewell had yet to speak privately with any of the students in the Subroom. Either he was interrogating the teachers first, or he had more important things to worry about. Tristan wondered if something had happened that the teachers weren’t letting on.
On the morning classes resumed, Drakewell appeared at breakfast for the first time since he had explained why the academy existed.
“Now that you have completed one semester of training, the time has come to learn practical magic. You must dedicate yourselves to your classes, because any student who fails to use magic by the end of the year will be sent home. Not everyone with the potential for magic develops the skill to use it—if you cannot grasp the practical side at this point, there is no reason to continue your studies here.”
When Drakewell swept off, he left a storm of whispers in his wake.
“Why does he want us to learn more magic if he thinks we’re attacking the school?” Leila asked softly.
“Maybe you don’t need magic to destroy the Lair.” Tristan was thinking of the hoard of marbles, which he still had not mentioned to Leila or Rusty.
Brikkens started the day off with a class on creating warmth with magic—each student was tasked with drying out a sodden washcloth by the end of the period. Though Tristan caught Zeke wringing out his cloth beneath the table and pressing it against his stomach to warm it with his body heat, only Amber’s washcloth was dry by the end of the hour.
“Ah, well,” Brikkens said cheerfully. “I hardly expected you to succeed on your first try. Come up, come up.” He beckoned the students to his chair and handed out five marbles to each.
After the recent explosion he had set off in Delair’s mine, Tristan felt guilty taking marbles, though the weight in his pocket was reassuring.
“By the end of the week, I expect each of you to succeed in drying our your washcloth. If you are unable to succeed over the coming days, I suggest re-reading your notes from November.”
“What happens if we fail?” Damian asked.
Brikkens smiled indulgently. “You will take extra lessons with me every night until you succeed.”
A collective groan went around the room.
Grindlethorn began his class by saying, “In order to stay on track this semester, you will need to work harder than ever. I would advise trying your best to avoid punishment.” His beady eyes lit on Tristan, who had by now worked off more hours than all of the other students combined. “Since the headmaster has requested that I teach healing spells in addition to what I planned, we’ll have to cover twice as much material.”
When Grindlethorn passed back their final exams from the previous semester, Tristan was not alone in shifting his paper to hide a failing grade.
“Hey, Professor,” Zeke said lazily. “Ever heard of something called extra credit?”
“That’s enough, Elwood!” Grindlethorn rapped his knuckles on his desk. “Now that you know what our work entails, you might have guessed that a sizable number of our former students go on to work on medical crews responding to disasters. If you are interested in working outside the academy, a solid medical foundation is essential. From now on, keep in mind that your grades in class will affect which positions are available once you graduate.”
With a yawn, Zeke folded his final exam into a paper airplane. “Now I’m really scared.”
The other students did not look so nonchalant. Several shared worried looks with their friends, and Tristan wondered if it was too late to redeem his grades. He had done well enough in medicine until his fifty hours of punishment ate up every spare minute.
Delair was actually in his classroom when the students filed in, which was surprising in itself; stranger still, he was in the process of stacking a pile of rocks on each desk.
“Good to see you again.” He beamed at the students, white moustache fluttering as he exhaled. “I hope you had a relaxing break.”
Tristan raised his eyebrows—how oblivious could Delair be?
“The headmaster wishes me to cover practical magic, instead of just the theory of elementals. That means we’re done with lectures!”
That hardly mattered, since Delair had rarely appeared for class the previous semester.
Delair explained that each of the rocks on their desks had a scrap of Delairium buried somewhere near the center, and their task was to extract the element in its entirety. He handed around a set of marbles with no further instructions; he seemed to enjoy watching the students struggle.
Tristan couldn’t figure out how to go about separating the Delairium from the plain granite. Even Amber appeared to struggle; Tristan remembered her saying she found it hard to do magic underground. He wondered if she somehow used the power of the lemon tree in Brikkens’ classroom to work spells there.
When the period ended, Delair told them to look through their textbooks for a description of the appropriate spell. “Bring back your rocks tomorrow—those of you who haven’t managed to separate the Delairium from the granite will write an essay on the matter.”
Tristan groaned and dumped the pile of rocks into his book bag.
On the way up to lunch, he overheard Eli muttering to Hayley, “We shouldn’t have bothered stealing marbles. We’ll have hundreds by the end of the week at this rate.”
Eli and Trey had hardly spoken to one another since the bonfire; Tristan wondered what Trey’s stance was on the academy.
Alldusk began his class with the same announcement about practical magic, though he said, “I’m afraid we don’t have enough time to concentrate much on spells. Our most important job is collecting orbs; now that your other classes are using them as well, we need to work faster than ever.” He sighed and glanced at the door. “However, I can still teach you how to start fires with magic. That should satisfy Professor Drakewell.”
Although the lesson was interesting enough, groans rose from around the room when Alldusk followed the other teachers’ example and assigned more homework than ever.
“They’re doing this on purpose,” Leila grumbled when they trudged back to the Subroom at the end of Merridy’s class. “They’re trying to distract us from what we’re really doing here, keep us out of trouble.”
Tristan did not mind. If anything, he was grateful—any minute he spent worrying about how to properly mix a healing poultice or start a fire without a match was a minute not spent dwelling on the lives the academy had ruined.
That night, instead of sitting around and talking, the students in the Subroom settled into chairs by the fire or around the clumsily-repaired table from Alldusk’s classroom and began struggling through their homework. Even Trey, who was usually ahead on work, stayed up past midnight along with everyone else. At least Tristan, Leila, Rusty, and Trey had been released from their daily punishments—Alldusk must have had a word about that with Drakewell when he persuaded the headmaster to talk to the students.
As the days turned into weeks, Tristan allowed himself to get caught up in the work. He always enjoyed the practical lessons, especially as magic came to him more and more easily. With each passing week, more students successfully used marbles for spells—Zeke was one of the first to catch on after Tristan and Amber, much to Leila’s dismay, while she and Rusty continued to struggle.
“I’ve never had a hard time with schoolwork,” she confided to Tristan and Rusty one evening. “I didn’t try very hard, so I didn’t get the best grades, but I could always figure things out. Maybe I’m not cut out for magic. Maybe I don’t have the right talent.”
“You can see auras, though,” Tristan reminded her. “Most people won’t ever be able to do that. Maybe you’re just going about it the wrong way.”
“Easy for you to say,” she said peevishly.
Though no one mentioned it again, Tristan was sure his fellow students had not forgotten the decision that approached: by the end of January, they would need to pledge their loyalty to the Underground Academy or trade their comfortable lives for an insane asylum.
Even though he had made up his mind, Tristan still dreaded the implications of his decision to stay.
Would he someday be forced to cause disasters himself? Would Drakewell twist him into a monster, one who could weight human lives and deem them expendable?
But he was already a murderer. This was why delinquents were chosen for the Underground Academy, he had come to realize—because criminals had a more flexible moral code. People who could steal or beat up other kids or vandalize things might easily be persuaded that setting off natural disasters was more of the same.
Yet why were Damian and Eli so horrified with the truth, when Tristan could accept it?
Did that make him worse than the meanest of bullies?
Or was he just a coward?
On the last day of January, Tristan ventured up to breakfast to find the tables gone and the seats arranged in a semicircle. Drakewell sat in the high-backed wood chair from his office, glowering at each student as they arrived, the other teachers ranged on either side of him. Drakewell had yet to interrogate any students, as far as Tristan knew; was he saving it for after they pledged their loyalty?
“Thank you for joining us today,” Drakewell said pointedly, when Cassidy ambled up to the ballroom halfway through the breakfast hour, her makeup and hair done to perfection. The other students had been sitting in silence, waiting for Drakewell to make the first move.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize breakfast was a required subject,” she said sarcastically.
Drakewell ignored her.
“As you may remember, today is the deadline for your decision.” Drakewell curled his claw-like fingers around the arms of his chair. “Each one of you will either declare your loyalty to the Underground Academy—in full knowledge of our work here—or return to society, where you will stay at a mental hospital before serving out your remaining sentence.
“Based on reports from your professors, each one of you has shown sufficient aptitude for magic to continue your studies. So if you hoped to drop out at the end of the year, think again. This is no longer an option.”
Ryan Riggs frowned at Drakewell, his knuckles bulging, while Evvie squirmed in her chair.
“However, there are other considerations you must take in mind before taking the oath of loyalty. Our students and graduates are erased from public records, which means we no longer fall under usual laws. If you are caught damaging our work in any way henceforth, you will answer to our justice.”
Tristan shivered at the crazed glint in Drakewell’s eye.
“As promised, I will be interrogating each one of you regarding the little note we received earlier this year, and if I find one of you is behind it, you might just…disappear.” His thin lips curved in a humorless smile. “So if one of you is guilty, I would strongly consider the safety of a detention center over risking your luck here.”
Merridy and Alldusk paled at Drakewell’s threat, though neither spoke up in defense of the students.
“Once you make your pledge, you will be free to collect breakfast from the kitchen and return to your rooms. The only class meeting today will be Environmental Studies, at eleven o’clock—Professor Merridy has another practical test to introduce, and you will spend the reminder of the day preparing with her guidance.”
Merridy nodded, though she looked alarmed at the prospect. Tristan wondered if the test was Drakewell’s idea rather than hers.
“With that out of the way, who would like to pledge their loyalty first?” Drakewell asked.
The students glanced at one another, panicked; no one wanted to make the first move.
At last, Cailyn stood. She looked at Gracewright, who nodded and gave her a reassuring smile.
Not all the teachers are evil, Tristan reminded himself, trying to slow his racing heart. I won’t necessarily turn into Drakewell just because I stay.
When Cailyn stopped before Drakewell, he placed a marble into her hand.
“Cailyn Tyler. Do you swear your loyalty to the Underground Academy and the upholding of the Natural Order above all else? Will you relinquish all ties to family and friends and home, and accept the magicians’ law as your new governing power?”
“Yes,” she said, her voice clear and strong. “I will.”
Drakewell held his hand above hers, where she still cupped the marble. Within seconds, the marble dissolved in her palm and a deep blue tattoo of a globe appeared on the inside of her right wrist.
Hayley gasped, and Evvie’s eyes widened.
“I don’t want a tattoo!” Evvie whispered.
Leila glared at her.
Moments later, the globe faded from Cailyn’s skin, though Tristan thought he could still see the faintest traces. He wondered if it was a powerful spell to bind them to the academy, or if was merely symbolic.
“You may collect your breakfast and return to your room,” Drakewell said. “Who is next?”
As Cailyn slipped through the door into the kitchen, Leila rose and took her place.
Zeke followed Leila, and Tristan jumped up as soon as he left. It was agonizing to watch the fear, confusion, and indecision playing across his fellow students’ faces; much better to leave now and learn who had stayed once it was all over.
When Tristan gave his pledge, he was surprised to find the dissolving marble in his palm was merely lukewarm, not painful in the slightest. The tattoo burned for a split second when it appeared, intricate blue lines sharp against his winter-pale skin, and he was almost disappointed when it faded away.
Leila, Zeke, and Cailyn were still in the kitchen when Tristan pushed open the door with a sigh of relief. Leila and Cailyn sat at the counter, tucking into avocado-and-tomato sandwiches, while Zeke leaned against the sink and stirred sugar into his coffee.
“Who got up when you left?” Leila asked at once.
“I didn’t see,” Tristan said.
The four fell silent for a moment, listening, but only Drakewell’s deep monotone sounded from the ballroom.
“Rusty’d better stay,” Leila said darkly. “I only just got used to him hanging around—I don’t want him to leave now.”
“And Eli and Trey,” Cailyn said. “I think Hayley talked to Trey, and he wasn’t planning to leave, but Eli’s a complete wild card. It wouldn’t be the same without him.”
“What about the guys in the bunkroom?” Tristan asked Zeke. “Are they planning to stay?”
“Not that I would mind if most of you left,” Leila said under her breath.
Zeke grinned at Leila. “No luck. I doubt any of us would choose an asylum over this place. Not even Damian, even if he’s randomly decided to develop a conscience years later than he should’ve done.”
The other students continued to arrive in the kitchen one by one—Amber was next, followed by Ryan, Cassidy, Damian, and Stacy. By this point, the kitchen was packed with Damian’s gang, so Tristan, Leila, and Amber retreated to the Subroom rather than spend time with them. Cailyn decided to stay; she was looking more anxious by the minute as her friends failed to appear.
Down in the Subroom, Tristan tried to work on a chart of magical theories for Brikkens’ class, but he kept flinching at every sound, wondering when the others would appear. If all of the other students from the Subroom decided to leave and face whatever waited for them back in the real world, it would be very lonely with only him, Leila, Amber, and Cailyn remaining. The longer the wait stretched, the more he questioned his decision.
Soon Leila half-heartedly suggested a game of cards; Tristan was surprised when Amber agreed to play, though it felt wrong without Eli shuffling expertly and calling for bids.
“Has your tattoo faded?” Amber asked unexpectedly when Leila dove under the table to rescue a stack of cards that had slipped from her grasp.
“Yeah, of course,” Tristan said. “Why?”
She pulled up her sleeve, and Tristan was surprised to see the dark blue globe still stood out stark against her white skin.
“Maybe Drakewell messed up the spell,” Leila said, returning to her seat.
“Or maybe you interfered with whatever he was trying to do,” Tristan said. “I wonder if ours will ever show up again.”
Tristan was about to give up on their game of hearts when the door to the Subroom fell open to admit Rusty, Hayley, Cailyn, and Trey. All were grim and quiet, though Tristan’s heart surged at the sight of them. He felt very fond of them in that moment, even Hayley and Trey, who rarely spoke to him.
“Where’s Eli?” Leila asked at once.
Trey shook his head. “I still don’t know what he’s going to do. Everyone else has sworn the oath except him and Evangeline.”
“I’m surprised everyone else has agreed to stay,” Leila said.
Cailyn shrugged. “I honestly think the professors might be right about things. And even if they’re not, how are we ever going to make a difference if we have a criminal record for the rest of our lives? Living here, we might actually be able to change things. Out there, we’re powerless.”
“That’s not what most of us were thinking about,” Leila said wryly. “I don’t want to go anywhere near juvie again, no matter what it takes.”
No one wanted to play cards any longer, so Tristan tried to focus on his homework, though his mind was still racing. If Evvie decided to leave, what would it mean for the kids she had saved? Would he be responsible for their safety? Or was she trying to work out a way to help them escape before she left?
As Merridy’s lesson approached, Tristan overheard Trey whispering to Hayley and Cailyn, “If he leaves, it’s my fault. I messed up. I promised not to tell anyone, but—”
He looked stricken, and Cailyn was quick to reassure him, though she looked equally worried.
At last eleven o’clock arrived, still with no sign of Eli or Evvie. The students in the Subroom plodded up to Merridy’s classroom with less enthusiasm than usual; Tristan wondered if they would be allowed to say goodbye to Eli and Evvie before they left. Tristan realized he would miss Evvie if she left. She could be cold, but it was just her loneliness and fear of the other students holding her back. Sometimes she smiled at him in a way that made his stomach flip-flop, though she seemed to catch herself each time, and she looked away before he could return the gesture.
But she was not a criminal. She deserved to return to her old life, to make something of her future where the other students could not.
Then Cailyn pushed open the door to Merridy’s classroom and let out a yelp of surprise.
Eli and Evvie were sitting in their usual seats, as though nothing had happened.