Down in the ballroom, Merridy and most of the other professors were sitting around their table in silence. Gracewright, Quinsley, and Alldusk looked as though they had recently returned from tramping through the snow themselves—they were red-cheeked and bundled in coats and scarves. Merridy and Grindlethorn, meanwhile, had bags of supplies at the ready in case they needed to hurry to someone’s rescue.
“Tristan!” Merridy called. “And Amber! Well done. We didn’t expect anyone to return after dark.” Her voice was higher than usual. “Come get some hot chocolate and warm up.”
“What about everyone else? Is anyone back yet? Are they okay?”
Alldusk gave Tristan a tight-lipped smile. “The headmaster has not reported back to us for several hours. I wish I could give you more information. You’re the first to return.”
As Tristan and Amber nursed their hot chocolate, Tristan couldn’t stop glancing at the stairs. It was like a nervous tic.
He had to admit he was less worried than before, though—while he would not be able to relax until his friends returned, Drakewell would not have spared Tristan if he planned to kill off anyone he suspected of attacking the school.
When Quinsley brought out steaming bread bowls filled with French onion soup, strong cheese melted over the top, Tristan ate ravenously, exhaustion finally catching up with him.
He was nearly drifting off at the table, still hoping one of his friends might appear before he went off to bed, when Drakewell strode into the ballroom.
“Fairholm. Ashton. Come this way, please—I need a word with you.”
Tristan’s sleepiness vanished as quickly as it had come. Sharing a wary look with Amber, he collected his rucksack and followed Drakewell to his office.
What did the headmaster suspect them of doing now?
Drakewell locked the door to his office behind him, an ominous sign; the room was only partially lit, the rest cloaked in shadows.
“Sit, sit,” he said impatiently.
Tristan and Amber dropped hurriedly into the two chairs across from the headmaster.
“You two are very quiet,” Drakewell said sourly. “During the day, it’s hard to get you kids to shut up.” Sighing, he put a hand to his black hourglass. “I have heard from several teachers that you both show a remarkable aptitude for magic.”
Tristan blinked, sure he had misheard. Praise was the last thing he expected from Drakewell.
“As you may have guessed, my duties as headmaster involve more than simply running this school. My position is vital to what we do, and must be performed by someone with an excellent understanding of magic.”
Something clicked. “You’re responsible for the disasters,” Tristan blurted out. “That’s why none of the other teachers are willing to take your job.”
Drakewell’s eyes narrowed for a moment before he nodded. “Precisely. And when I step down, I will need to leave a fully capable headmaster—or headmistress,” he amended, with a nod at Amber, “—in my place. I will therefore train you both for this task, provided you prove yourselves worthy.”
Tristan felt as though he had been hit over the head. He sat motionless, dazed, until he finally forced out the words. “What if we don’t want to do it?”
Drakewell’s hollow eyes narrowed “I’m afraid that is not your decision. You and Miss Ashton have been chosen for this role, and if you refuse to comply, we have no further use for you here. Your training will not begin until next year, but in the meantime, I will be watching you closely. Any transgressions will be punished severely.”
He held Tristan’s eyes with his unblinking black gaze. “I sincerely hope you are not responsible for attacking our school. I hate to think what might happen if you were.” His lips curved as though he was making a joke at Tristan’s expense.
Then, abruptly, he shifted his piercing stare to Amber. “You’ve been very quiet. Do you understand what I said?”
“Oh!” Amber sounded hurt. “Of course I understand.”
Drakewell gave her a dismissive gesture. “Very well. I need to speak with Mr. Fairholm in private, so you may go. Please report to me tomorrow evening at eight o’clock.”
When Tristan was alone with Drakewell, his palms began itching with sweat. He still wore his scarf, now damp where the ice crystals had melted, and the winter layers were suddenly suffocating.
Drakewell watched Tristan fidget for several minutes, his expression unreadable. At last he said, “I promised I would interrogate each student regarding the threat we received in January. I thought this would be a good opportunity to speak with you, while the school is quiet and empty.”
It sounded like a threat.
“Describe for me, as honestly as possible, what you think about the Underground Academy and your future here. I will know if you are lying.”
Could he read minds? Nervous, Tristan raked the hair over the left side of his face. He was sure Drakewell was trying to trick him into saying something that would implicate him.
“I don’t know about doing your job,” he said at last, speaking too fast, “but I’m glad I’m here. I hated Juvie. I would never attack this place—I don’t have anywhere else to go.”
“And yet you burned down our entryway. Why? Boredom? Rebellion? Making a statement?”
“No, I—” Tristan grimaced. He could not defend himself without giving away Evvie’s secret. “I was just trying out a spell. It got out of hand.”
“I think you’re lying,” Drakewell said. His lips pressed into a thin line. “I’m going to make a deal with you, Mr. Fairholm. What is it you desire most?”
“I want my brother back,” Tristan said without thinking. When he realized what he’d said, his face grew hot.
Drakewell’s nostrils flared in anger. “I cannot raise the dead, idiot boy. You wasted your chance. This is your deal—if you tell me the truth before our vandal attacks, and it turns out you were not involved, you will be forgiven.” His eyes narrowed. “Fail to do so, and your friend Leila Swanson will be punished in your stead.”
“What?” Tristan nearly shouted. “Professor, no, don’t do anything to Leila, I—”
“Would you like to tell me the truth now?”
Tristan’s hands were shaking, but he swallowed back the curses he wanted to shout. Drakewell was horrible, twisted, manipulative…. It was easy to keep Evvie’s secret when he was the only one in danger, but could he hurt Leila? She would never forgive him if he chose Evvie over her, even with the lives of two innocents on the line.
Besides, what would Drakewell do to Leila? Kill her? Torture her?
No, he couldn’t do it.
“Don’t do this, please, Professor, I can’t—”
“Quiet.” Drakewell’s voice was silky and dangerous. “I’ll give you more time to think about your options. If I haven’t heard the truth from you before your final exams are finished, you won’t see your friend again.”
“But you can’t—”
“Enough. Get out of my office.”
Tristan scrambled to his feet and fled. He sprinted back down to the Subroom, as though he could outrun Drakewell’s threats, and only stopped when he nearly collided with Amber just inside the doorway.
Breathing hard, he tried to rein in his temper. He wanted to hit something, to break something, but Amber was just looking at him with bewilderment and hurt in her eyes, and he couldn’t explain to her what was wrong.
“Did something happen?” she asked hesitantly.
Tristan shook his head. “No. I just hate Drakewell. He’s evil.” Tristan took a sharp breath through his nose. “Sorry. We should light the fire, shouldn’t we?”
“Quinsley gave me more hot chocolate.” Amber handed Tristan a mug. “He made too much. He thought some of the others would get back tonight.”
Tristan had to resist the urge to hurl the mug at the fireplace.
Instead he sank onto the couch and stared into the foam, warmth spreading through his fingers.
Amber lit the fire and sank into the chair beside him. Her expression was distant, the firelight reflecting in her eyes. “If Drakewell thinks I’m slow, why does he want to train me to replace him?”
“He doesn’t think you’re slow,” Tristan said, sorrow dampening his anger. “He just…well, he doesn’t understand you. You’re a hard person to understand.”
“I see,” Amber said in a very small voice.
“No, I didn’t mean it like that! It’s like you’re some rare magical creature, and no one else is quite as—as special—as you.”
Amber’s face was growing stonier still.
“Just ignore me,” Tristan said, frustrated with himself. “I’m no good at talking. But I think you’re amazing. Come on, let’s drink this hot chocolate before it gets cold.”
They lapsed into silence, each lost in their own miserable thoughts. Before them, the enchanted fire threw flickering shadows across the walls of the empty Subroom.
Tristan rose early the next morning after a restless night.
Worries had plagued him for hours—where were his friends now? Were they safe, or were they slowly freezing to death in the snowy woods? Why had no one else returned?
And above all, how could he keep Evvie’s secret if it meant betraying Leila?
When he stumbled up to the ballroom, leaving Amber still asleep, he heard raised voices—it sounded as though the teachers were arguing. He paused, listening.
“…telling you this was a bad idea!” Alldusk was saying loudly. “The kids don’t know enough; we’re practically guaranteeing they’ll come back in pieces.”
“What are you yelling at me for?” Grindlethorn asked in his deep, gravelly voice. “Darla’s the one who gave the test.”
“Only because Drakewell forced me to,” Merridy said. “I tried to argue, but he said he wouldn’t let me anywhere near the maps if I refused.”
Tristan didn’t know what this meant, but it seemed to catch Grindlethorn off guard, because he didn’t reply.
“What’s he playing at?” Quinsley asked. “He’s cutting us out. That’s not how this school was supposed to work, but—”
“I can understand why he’s worried, if someone inside the academy wants us dead,” Alldusk said grimly. “I just hope we can stop whoever it is before it’s too late.”
Tristan heard footsteps behind him and hurriedly pushed open the ballroom doors.
The professors stopped talking immediately.
“Morning, Tristan,” Merridy said with a strained smile.
“How long have you been outside?” Grindlethorn asked.
“I just got here,” Tristan said.
Alldusk gave him a sharp look. He did not have a chance to question Tristan further, as Brikkens strolled around the corner just then, whistling merrily, still in pajamas.
“Out of curiosity,” Alldusk said, “what disaster did you have to face?”
“Nothing,” Tristan said. “I just walked straight back.”
Alldusk raised his eyebrows at Merridy.
“Maybe the headmaster wished you to return quickly so he could speak with you in private,” Grindlethorn said. “Has Miss Ashton discussed her test with you?”
Tristan shook his head. “Has Professor Drakewell told you where any of the others are? Is everyone okay?”
“They’re alive.” Alldusk set his mug down heavily, sloshing coffee onto the back of his hand. “Zeke will make it back by this evening, and Evangeline is heading in the right direction. Rusty appears to be completely lost, and Leila—well, she’s badly injured.”
“Then why didn’t you bring her back?” Tristan demanded.
“Professor Drakewell said she refused.”
“Well, you damn well should’ve brought her back anyway!”
“Sit down,” Alldusk said gently.
Fuming, Tristan stalked across the ballroom and threw himself into his usual chair.
“I’m very sorry about this. But you need to trust us. We are doing everything we can to ensure the safety of your classmates.”
Draining the last of his coffee, Alldusk got to his feet. “I should rejoin Gracewright. See you later, Tristan.” Buttoning his trench coat as he went, he swept up the stairs toward the meadow.
Tristan knew why Leila had refused help, of course. She would never let Zeke beat her if she had the choice, though the teachers should have known better than to indulge her stubbornness, especially if she was injured.
He was torn between his plans to stake out Delair’s mine shaft and his desire to see his friends as soon as they returned.
Eventually he decided there was little point watching the mine if everyone in the Lair was accounted for. Amber disappeared outside as soon as she finished breakfast; many of the teachers followed her, keeping tabs on the students still struggling back toward the Lair; Drakewell was presumably holed away down in the tunnels, creating disasters; Brikkens was in his classroom, tending to his lemon tree; and when Tristan ventured down to Delair’s mine, he heard the unmistakable sound of hammering rising from the depths.
The two children were still hidden in the tunnels as well, but they hadn’t been around when the greenhouse was destroyed. If an attack happened now, the only ones who could be responsible were Drakewell, Brikkens, or Delair. That would be funny, if Drakewell was responsible and just wanted to scare everyone else by accusing them, Tristan thought grimly.
Just as Alldusk had promised, Zeke arrived in the clearing shortly before dinner, his dark hair bedraggled. Tristan had been pacing the meadow, trying to keep warm as he watched the shadows for any sign of movement.
“Where’s your girlfriend, Tristan?” Zeke called out as he crossed the trampled snow. “She’s not back yet, is she? What an idiot.”
“Leave Leila alone,” Tristan said sharply. “She hasn’t done anything to you.”
Zeke snorted. “That’s what you think.”
When Tristan flew at him, Zeke slammed the door in his face.
Amber reappeared halfway through dinner, cheeks pink from the cold, and joined Tristan at one of the smaller tables.
“Someday,” Tristan said, “you should tell me where you keep going when you vanish like that.”
Amber stirred her pumpkin soup idly, watching Tristan. “I like wandering. Why did you spend the day walking in circles? I could see you in the meadow.”
“I was waiting for my friends to get back,” he said quietly, glancing at the half-empty professors’ table. “I’m worried about them.”
Even the teachers were surprised when Evvie appeared at the top of the stairs, disheveled and mud-streaked, before the end of dinner.
“Where is everyone?” she asked as she glanced from Tristan and Amber to Zeke, who sat alone. “I was delayed—isn’t everyone back by now?”
“No, it’s just us,” Tristan said. “You should join us.” He pulled out the chair to his right.
With a suspicious frown, Evvie slid into the chair, the smell of pine smoke rising from her muddy clothes. Despite her bedraggled hair and flushed cheeks, she looked as pretty as always.
For a moment Evvie was quiet, piling lasagna onto her plate and glancing sullenly at Tristan every so often. Then her curiosity must have overcome her annoyance.
“What’s taking people so long? Ten miles isn’t very far, is it?” She took a huge bite of lasagna.
Tristan shook his head. “Some people are lost, and others are injured. Some are probably still trying to escape whatever disasters hit them. Nothing happened to me, which is why I got back so fast.”
“I bet you just cried for help,” Zeke taunted. “You couldn’t even last a single night out there.”
Tristan ignored him. “What happened to you, anyway?” he asked Evvie. “I didn’t know there was any mud out there, with all that snow around.”
She glared at him. “I was trying to cross a frozen river, and suddenly all the ice melted and swept me downstream. It was like spring had suddenly come to that one tiny bit of the forest. When I climbed out, the banks were covered in mud, but the whole river was frozen again by the time I managed to dry out my clothes.”
“What about you?” Tristan asked Zeke, unable to help himself.
“I got stuck in a blizzard. It lasted most of yesterday, which is why I didn’t make it back—it was so cold I couldn’t stay warm even with the spell, so I had to hide out until it died down.”
“I wonder what the others had to face,” Tristan said. “Drakewell definitely wasn’t going easy on you guys.”
Zeke and Evvie shook their heads.
As he passed the old bunkroom on his way down to the Subroom, Tristan heard a thunk…thunk…thunk rising through the open doorway. Pausing, he peered around the corner to see Zeke slouched back in his bed, throwing a gold marble against the wall over and over.
“Quit doing that,” Tristan snapped. “Those things are dangerous.”
“No they’re not,” Zeke said. He threw the marble harder than before.
BANG!
Just as Tristan had expected, the marble exploded, blasting a hole the size of a basketball in the wall. Bits of stone fell away, crumbling into a dusty heap on Zeke’s blankets.
“Nice work,” Tristan said. What was up with Zeke?
Scowling, Zeke brushed the marble dust onto the floor. “You’d better not tell the teachers.”
“I wasn’t going to.” Shaking his head, Tristan left Zeke alone once more.
Down in the Subroom, he dragged his pillow over his head and tried to push away the worries that were crowding in once again. He hoped Leila had found somewhere safe to spend the night.
Tristan couldn’t settle to anything the next day. Amber had vanished once again, and no one else had returned from the test; when Alldusk and Merridy appeared for breakfast, they announced grimly that the remaining students had barely made any progress.
As the morning dragged on, several more students returned: first Cailyn, then Damian, then Hayley and Rusty together.
Leila, Eli, and Trey were still nowhere to be seen.
Tristan’s misgivings grew with every passing hour.
Surely it could not be coincidence that Leila, Eli, and Trey had yet to return—they were no worse at magic than the others. It seemed more and more as though Drakewell hoped to eliminate them.
At last, just after lunch, Tristan could wait no longer. Damn Drakewell and his threats. He didn’t care how much trouble he got in—he couldn’t leave Leila out there to freeze to death.
Rusty had been in the shower for nearly an hour, so Tristan stuck his head into the boys’ bathroom and yelled, “I’m going after Leila. Do you want to help?”
“Huh?” Rusty called back. Then, “Wait for me!”
While Rusty got dressed, Tristan raced down to the Subroom to collect as many marbles as he could find. Many of his classmates’ schoolbags were overflowing with marbles from their many practical lessons; with a twinge of guilt, he dug through several and loaded up the pockets of his coat.
“Wait, so why are we searching for Leila?” Rusty asked when Tristan rejoined him. “I thought the teachers are gonna collect everyone else at five.”
“They’re supposed to,” Tristan said, “but Leila’s afraid Drakewell is trying to do away with the students that are causing him trouble—which means me, Leila, Eli, and Trey.”
“But you made it back safe.”
Tristan started up toward the top of the school, walking fast. “Yeah, because Drakewell needs me for something. The others…”
Rusty broke into a jog to keep up with Tristan. “I don’t think he’s that evil.”
“Maybe not. But Leila’s injured and refused to let anyone take her back to the school. I don’t want her freezing to death out there.”
Rusty raised no further objections.
Outside, a new layer of snow had smoothed out the mess of footprints in the meadow. A weak sun struggled to penetrate the stubborn layer of clouds, though it did nothing to warm the frigid air.
“How’re we gonna find her?” Rusty asked with a frown. His shaggy brown hair, still wet from the shower, was already stiffening with ice.
Tristan had been puzzling over this all morning. “I thought we could try the Intralocation spell on her. I don’t see why it wouldn’t work.”
Rusty grimaced. “Ugh, I never got it to work properly when we were trying to find the way back. It’s a lot harder when you’re trying to go a long way.”
“How did you get back, then?”
“Hayley managed it once, so we knew what general direction we were supposed to go.”
“Fine, I’ll do it.” Tristan closed his eyes and tried to imagine Leila. He pictured her ragged black hair—only now touching her shoulders once more—and the scattering of freckles across her nose.
As the marble in his hand grew warm, he released it to hang before him. It was tugging him in the direction of the woods, northeast of the academy, which seemed promising.
“Well, at least we won’t get lost on our way back,” Tristan said as he trudged into the trees.
Rusty snapped a piece of ice from his frozen hair before falling into pace behind Tristan.
“What happened to you on the test, anyway?” Tristan asked. He wanted to know why Leila was injured—the others who had returned were unhurt.
Rusty grinned. “Me and Hayley got stuck in this massive ice storm. That’s why we got lost—there were huge icicles trying to spear us alive, and we had to run into this creepy old forest.”
“That’s insane,” Tristan said, though he wondered if Rusty was exaggerating. “Zeke got off easy—he just had to wait out a blizzard.”
Over an hour—and three marbles—later, Tristan was getting worried. Rusty made no complaint, but his nose was bright red from the cold and Tristan could hear his teeth chattering whenever they stopped.
Where was Leila?
There was a strong possibility the Intralocation spell did not work on people, but they had gone so far he didn’t want to give up now.
“H-have we walked ten miles yet?” Rusty asked, shivering, when Tristan next stopped to enchant a new marble.
“Two at most,” Tristan said grimly. “The problem is, we don’t know where she got hurt. She might still be nine miles from the school.” He stamped his feet, torn between worry for Leila and fear that Rusty would lose an ear if he stayed out in the cold much longer. “I can try the warming spell, but I only know how to make it work on myself.”
Putting a hand on Rusty’s ice-encrusted hair, Tristan thought of a roaring bonfire. The warmth spread through him even before the marble dissolved—this was the easiest spell he had ever tried. He tried to concentrate most of it into his hands and push the warmth down toward Rusty’s head, but he wasn’t sure it was working.
Rusty started shuddering more than before, and the ice on his hair melted and began to steam. Before long, his hair was dry.
Tristan withdrew his hand, warmth still coursing through him. “Did that help?”
“Y-yeah.” Rusty was still shivering violently. “It only went down t-to about my shoulders, but it’s much better. Only now I can feel the cold again—I’m n-not numb.”
Tristan sighed. “We’ll keep going until this next marble runs out. Then we’ll turn back.”
He kept imagining Leila bleeding to death in some remote stretch of forest, ice creeping through her limbs as her blood stained the snow. Fear had solidified in the pit of his stomach; he had never felt so helpless.
More than anything, he feared Drakewell had lied—according to Alldusk, Leila had refused to be rescued, but what if Drakewell had not actually given her a choice? What if he wanted her to die out there?
“Leila?” he shouted.
The snowy woods quickly swallowed up his voice.
Knowing this marble was his last chance to find her, he walked faster than ever, Rusty struggling to keep up. He had not seen any footprints since they left the meadow; if any of his fellow students had come this way, the snow had long since buried all trace of their passage.
“Leila!” he shouted again. Though he doubted she would hear, he kept calling for her every few steps.
Too soon, his marble faded away.
Tristan stopped, breathing hard, worry pounding at his head.
He should have known it would be useless.
What could he do against the power of trained magicians? Even the other teachers feared to oppose Drakewell—why had Tristan thought he could succeed where they had failed?
Furious at Drakewell—at himself, for failing Leila—he turned back toward the trail of footprints he and Rusty had packed into the snow.
Then he heard a thin voice crying, “Who’s there?”
Tristan broke into a run, following the voice through the trees. “Leila? LEILA!”
“Triss?” The voice was weak.
At last, Tristan and Rusty broke through a clump of bushes to find Leila kneeling in the snow between two scraggly pines. A trail of blood stained the snow behind her, which was packed in a way that made it look as though she had been crawling.
“What the hell happened to you?” Tristan dropped to his knees and tried to see where she was injured.
“I hid out in a cave when a blizzard started, and the roof collapsed that night.” Her face was drained of color, whether from pain or cold Tristan could not tell. “A huge rock hit my knee, and it started bleeding everywhere. It took until the next morning before I was strong enough to keep going. I tried bandaging it up myself, but it started bleeding again this morning, and now it hurts like hell.”
“Did anyone come check on you?”
Leila shook her head.
“That lying bastard! I knew it.”
She frowned at Tristan.
“Alldusk told me Drakewell had gone out to see if you were okay, and Drakewell claimed you refused to be rescued.”
Leila’s eyes widened. “He was trying to get rid of me, then! What about Eli and Trey? Are they safe?”
“No idea,” Tristan said. “They’re not back yet. We wanted to look for them too, but it’s taken most of the day to find you.”
Leila cursed. “What happens when we go back, then? Is Drakewell going to find some other way to finish us off?”
“Not with the other teachers around,” Tristan said, but he was not as confident as he sounded. “We’ll worry about that later. First, we need to get you back.”
“I’m not sure I can walk,” Leila said grimly.
“We’ll c-carry you,” Rusty said.
Though Leila looked skeptical, Tristan helped her sit up and lifted her carefully into his arms. She was nearly the same height as him, so he staggered under her weight, but they had no other choice. Now that her leg was no longer buried under the snow, he could see the tear in her pants, the deep gash just above her knee. Her pants were dark with blood.
The walk back was faster than the way out had been, partly because they were able to step in their footprints rather than breaking through the icy crust of snow with each step. Tristan and Rusty traded Leila between them every so often, while she kept trying to persuade them she was fine to walk for a while.
At last they reached the warmth and safety of the Lair. A few students and teachers were hanging out in the ballroom, including Merridy; when she saw Leila, she sprang to her feet.
“Leila. Are you okay? We need to get you down to Professor Grindlethorn immediately.”
“I’m fine,” she said, though her face was still unnaturally pale.
Tristan, who was carrying her but felt his grip slipping, hurried to the door while Merridy fussed over her.
“Why did you refuse to come back to the Lair? You won’t pass the test anyway if you had help getting back. How did you get injured? Did you go somewhere you weren’t supposed to? The test wasn’t meant to be dangerous.”
Leila ignored these questions; from her gritted teeth, Tristan guessed she was fighting not to cry out in pain.
“What do you mean, it wasn’t supposed to be dangerous?” he asked angrily. “We were stuck out in the snow for three days trying to survive natural disasters. How could it not be dangerous?”
“It was supposed to be carefully controlled,” Merridy said. “Professor Drakewell—”
“What?”
She cleared her throat. “I need to have a word with the headmaster. Don’t say anything to the other professors, please.”
Tristan met Leila’s eyes and raised his eyebrows, but she seemed too far gone to register Merridy’s slip.
When they reached Grindlethorn’s hospital and Tristan was able to set Leila down on a bed, he turned to Merridy. “Is everyone else back? How are the others?”
“Eli, Trey, Cassidy, and Ryan have yet to return,” Merridy said. “The others have made it back. There were no new disasters to face today, so the remaining students were able to navigate without distraction.”
Eli and Trey—it was exactly as Leila had feared. “Is anyone else injured?” he asked offhandedly.
“That remains to be seen.”
Grindlethorn bustled into the hospital room with a cart full of medical supplies. “Just finished seeing to Cailyn Tyler. She had the beginnings of frostbite on one finger. What happened to you, Miss Swanson?”
“Got crushed—under a rock,” Leila said in a strangled voice. She was gripping her upper leg with both hands.
“Everyone else, out of my way.” Grindlethorn pushed Rusty away from Leila’s bedside. “She’ll be fine in no time if you let me do my job properly.”
Tristan and Rusty trudged back up to the ballroom, where Quinsley had a huge pot of soup and hot cider ready to warm the returning students. Rusty wrapped his hands around his bowl and hunched over the steam, his eyes sliding closed.
“How long until you pick up everyone else?” Tristan asked Quinsley as he helped himself to soup.
Quinsley checked his watch. “We said five o’clock, didn’t we? Just under an hour now.”
“Have you heard how Eli and Trey are doing?” Tristan asked in a low voice.
“No, Professor Drakewell hasn’t shared any news.” At Tristan’s expression, he hastened to add, “Which means everything should be fine. He has no reason to report back to us unless students need rescuing.”
Though he was dubious, Tristan thanked Quinsley for the soup and joined Rusty.
He planned to wait in the ballroom until Eli and Trey returned, but sitting and doing nothing was agonizing. As soon as he finished his soup, he told Rusty he was heading down to shower.
Instead of turning down the hallway toward the bathrooms and the Subroom, he continued down the final flight of stairs to the lowest level of the school, where Delair’s mine was situated. Alone among the teachers, Delair did not appear to be involved in their test—Tristan could hear the usual sounds of banging echoing from the depths of his mine.
Trying not to imagine what would happen if he were caught, Tristan crept down the mine until he reached the first tunnel branching off to the left. The professors had appeared from a different passageway farther down the mine; if anyone emerged from that passageway now, Tristan would see them.
He retreated just around the first corner, where he would be able to hear footsteps without being seen, and sank to the ground to wait. It was cold down here, but he was still bundled in his winter clothes; more than anything, he struggled to remain still. He wanted to pace the halls of the school, fuming at his own impotence, until Eli and Trey returned safely.
It was nearly five—he was about to abandon his vigil to return to the warmth of the ballroom—when footsteps tapped up the tunnel. Tristan edged around the corner just in time to see Merridy hurrying back to the main school.
He sagged against the tunnel wall. All that waiting for nothing—of course Merridy would be down in the bowels of the school. She was likely helping Drakewell monitor the progress of the remaining students, however that was accomplished.
Tristan was just leaving the side tunnel to follow Merridy when he heard another set of footsteps approaching, this time quieter.
He ducked back into the tunnel and pressed his back against the wall.
Not a second later, Evvie appeared from the mine tunnel.