29

Exhaustion

“HAVE YOU SEEN Colin? I haven’t seen him since lunch.” Robbie stood splay-footed, facing Kat with glowering eyes, as if the fact that Colin was missing was her fault. It was Friday, and Storm had let them out early, thank goodness, for it was the end of another very long and tiring week, a week in which Kat had gotten little sleep.

The only saving grace with her nightly hauntings was that the memory of them faded with the dawn, so she remembered only snapshots—a blade, a grinding noise, the stench of something rotten . . . and a gnawing fear.

She couldn’t help her temper. “I haven’t seen him, and you don’t need to suggest it’s my fault,” she snapped. “Honestly, Rob, I don’t know what’s gotten into you lately.”

“We were going to have a go at swords today, me and Colin,” he said. “You don’t like me playing at swords, do you?”

“Not when you could kill someone,” she shot back. “It’s not play, Robbie.”

“When did you get so mean?” he said. “You’re lucky Father isn’t around. You’re a mean monster.” Robbie turned on his heel and stormed away.

Kat leaned back against the wall and wrapped her hand around the watch. Maybe she was lucky Father wasn’t here to see her act like this. After all, Rob was learning a skill and loving it. Amelie and Isabelle had become fast friends, sharing Isabelle’s room now. None of the others seemed to be having nightmares, thank goodness. Her brother and sister were safe, and wasn’t that all Father had asked of her?

Yet everyone in the castle was on edge with exhaustion. For the past week the students, minus the still-missing Jorry, had been in the classroom all day, with breaks only for meals. Kat had turned a corner after breakfast yesterday to find Gumble and MacLarren huddled together in conference, and they scuttled away from her acting fearful that she’d overheard them. Storm grew increasingly strange, as if he was drinking some of their hot chocolate or too much claret, and had begun lecturing on random historical half-truths.

She couldn’t remember when she’d been so tired before. She pushed away from the wall and climbed the stairs, her feet feeling like they were encased in lead.

Each morning, after a sleepless night, her clock was stopped, and she couldn’t seem to figure out why, which added to her frustration. And Amelie was behaving more and more like a spoiled child, while the Lady Eleanor prowled around like a thief.

Just the day before, as Kat made her way alone back to her room after lunch, she turned a corner to spy the Lady alone with Amelie at the foot of the great stairs. The Lady spun around, as if Kat’s sudden appearance was an unpleasant surprise, and clutched her fist to her chest.

“What are you doing wandering about?” she snapped at Kat.

“I’m going back to my room,” Kat answered.

The Lady opened her mouth, then hesitated, and smiled. “Yes. Of course you are. Amelie and I were having a chat. Weren’t we, my dear?”

Amelie said nothing, confusion in her wide eyes.

Kat and Ame walked upstairs together, the Lady watching them. “She was about to give me something,” Ame said, grouchy now. “A treasure, she said, for when Issy and I play dress-up. You spoiled it. You’re always spoiling things.”

Kat wanted to tell Ame to stay away from the Lady, that she was a bad influence, but she held her tongue.

Now, Kat thought about Peter. They hadn’t had a chance to speak, but she assumed from his deepening dark circles that he, too, shunned the chocolate and lay awake hearing . . . what?

Her throat constricted at the thought.

She reached their hallway and found Peter’s door and knocked.

“What?” came a shout, and a few seconds later the door flew open.

Kat stepped back. Peter looked like he would bite her head off. Tears started to her eyes. “You don’t need to be rude,” she said.

His eyes softened and he ran his hand over his unruly hair. “Sorry. Since you told me about the chocolate, I haven’t been drinking it, and I haven’t really been sleeping. I’m about out of my mind I’m so tired, and I lay down and thought I might take a nap—”

“I’m sorry,” Kat blurted, interrupting him. “I’m sorry about the time we met Lady Eleanor on the stairs. I didn’t mean to get her riled up against us.”

The corners of his mouth lifted in a smile. He shook his head. The lock of hair fell across his forehead and he leaned against the door frame. “You remind me of Dodger.”

“Who?”

“My dog. The most scrappy, stubborn mutt you’ve ever seen. But smart as a whip. I swear he could do sums in his head. When I counted he’d nod along.”

“Oh.” Kat tilted her head. The sadness of his loss was palpable. “Is he the one you had to leave behind in America?”

Peter looked away. “Yeah.” He scuffed his feet. “So.”

“So,” she echoed. Kat twisted her watch. “I’ve heard noises in my room. Though I can’t remember much about them, it feels like I’m having a whole string of nightmares. They started when we left London.”

“Yeah,” he said, and his shoulders slumped. “Last few nights, I’ve been having weird dreams, too. I think this place is haunted. I think I’ve been seeing that Lady Leonore.”

“Everything here is wrong. The hallways that seem to change. The children who wander about. Storm and his artifacts. The noises and nightmares. It’s all making me feel . . .” Then Kat straightened, as a new thought came to her. “Crazy. That’s it. That’s what she’s up to. She’s making us all crazy.”

“Who is?”

“The Lady,” Kat answered stubbornly.

“Why would she bother?” And Peter laughed. It was good to hear him laugh. And it felt even better to have a good, clear reason for all this peculiar stuff happening.

“Be logical for a minute,” said Kat. “It’s perfect, don’t you see? If we try to report to the authorities or our parents that we think there’s a spy here, we’ll all sound completely mad and they won’t believe a word we say. Ghosts and sleeping potions and crazy nightmares and magical artifacts and a hidden wireless and mysterious illnesses . . . It would make us sound loony.” Kat took a breath. “It does sound loony, don’t you think?”

“Yeah. But how would someone go about making us crazy?”

“By putting something in the food? We might not drink the chocolate, but we have to eat. Why, that would even explain why Storm is so odd and getting odder.”

Peter chewed his lip. “You’ve got a point,” he murmured. “Maybe there is something planned to all this.”

“It makes much more sense than evil magic or ghosts,” Kat said, feeling better and better. Logic. Things that made sense.

Not magic. Not like Great-Aunt Margaret had said.

Which made her think, I should check on the chatelaine. Make sure it’s safe. It was a precious gift, after all, even if her aunt was a bit confused about it.

But she didn’t have the chance, not then. She and Peter heard Robbie coming from a mile away. He ran thumping up the stairs, so he was breathless and panting hard when he reached them. His face was beet-red, and his eyes were wide with fright.

“Take your time,” Peter said, patting his back. “That’s better. Now, what’s wrong?”

“Colin’s gone. Gone. Completely missing. And Isabelle and Amelie, too. I lost them in the old part of the castle. In the keep.”

“You lost them?” Kat asked. Her heart hammered, and she didn’t think she could breathe.

Rob nodded. “And, and—” Robbie stopped and swallowed. “I’ve seen a ghost, a real one, a real honest-to-goodness ghost for sure.”