Page 17 of The Witch & the Dragon

“It means nothing. I can’t use this as evidence. And they still have a will that cuts me out of everything.” He clenched his teeth, suddenly remembering the last evening of meeting his uncle before returning to the school before all this happened. “He asked me if I was going to be with my parents on the trip.” The memory bloomed and took on a twisted, sinister light. “Why would he ask me something like that out of the blue, and then… a few days later…”

“He sounds like a piece of work,” Arlo said. His piercing eyes bore into Tiran. “If you do want us to help further, we will. Chloe seems to like you, and we like Chloe, so the help is there if you wish for it.”

Tiran nodded but didn’t say anything else. He didn’t know what to say, really. All he could think about was the memory. His uncle sneering at him. Likely taunting him about the upcoming trip. The trip he knew that Tiran’s parents would die on.

But who ended up killing them? Who made it into the back seat without either of them even noticing? They had draconic senses. They could hear intruders and sense that something wasn’t right. So how was this possible?

“There is one thing more I can add,” Holly said softly, almost as if reading Tiran’s mind. “The thing that seemed to be responsible for the deaths – while I didn’t really see it properly in the vision because neither of your parents saw it properly – there was a strong, wild fae aura. Something I remember from when they made our class go and visit Jenny Greenteeth.”

Fae aura. A chill went through Tiran. Chloe caught his eye and reached out to squeeze his hand. “We’ll find the answers. Don’t worry.”

Taking a deep breath, he attempted a smile at her. It was hard to smile when contemplating the possibility that his uncle Randall had organized a dangerous fae contract. The wild fae did not enter into them lightly, as the fae would attempt to extricate deals often to the detriment of the person asking for the contract in the first place. If he had hired an assassin, what had he traded for this to happen? Or had he managed to persuade one of the shills following him to do the deed instead?

It gave him a headache, considering it. Plus – if the assassin killed his parents – then why not kill him? Surely, as long as he lived, he proved a liability.

Though his uncle had asked if he was going on the trip…

“Tiran.” Chloe’s voice held a trace of concern. “Are you okay? You’re looking a little… pale.”

“Understandable,” Arlo said then, folding his arms. “Fae assassins demand a high price if they are to work, and generally, they’re whimsical when it comes to contracts as well. Something very valuable must have been offered for such a deal to take place.”

“Ah.” Chloe frowned. “I don’t really know much about these things. Could Tiran be in danger as well?”

“I’m not sure,” Arlo growled. “Generally, with these hits, it’s very hard to escape them. I presume you haven’t been jumped by anyone suspicious lately.”

“No.” He probably would remember something like that.

“They can work with magic, too,” Arlo said, stroking his chin. “Some of them can create intense feelings of sadness in someone to the point where they stop thinking rationally and just end it. Others, well, they’re more hands-on.”

Chloe and Tiran exchanged looks. Then, thanking Arlo and Holly, Tiran backed out and dragged Chloe with him to a secluded part of the academy.

“D’you think,” he started; at the same time, she exclaimed, “Is it possible –?”

They paused.

“For real, is it possible?” Chloe asked. “You – when you – you haven’t been depressed so much before, right?”

“No, never. I’ve never felt like that before.”

“It can’t be true…” But they both had come to the same conclusion. “I really don’t know,” he said. “I can’t say I’ve ever felt so… bad. I mean, we have bad days; of course, there are bad days. And what happened, it was so extreme, I was so sad.”

“But it’s really not a normal thought that you’d have, is it?” Chloe whispered. Her hand twitched for a moment as if she wanted to lift it toward him. At this moment, he became aware of an almost palpable tension between them, but he didn’t know exactly what kind of tension it was. Shared horror from the possibility of magical influence? Their proximity to each other? “I don’t think you ever mentioned that you felt suicidal beforehand. That would be a pretty big thing to mention.”

“I…” he hesitated. He tried to recall all the various emotions that had influenced him, although he didn’t like reflecting too long on the spike of despair he’d felt. It took part of him back there when he’d rather stay away and not remember. It was like a stamp of shame in his memory, an unpleasant echo of a side of him he never realized he had. Except… “It really was weird. I wasn’t thinking normally at all. I was so… upset. So caught up. It just… it came out of nowhere. And then I never felt it again. I just assumed – I thought maybe you’d helped me. And you did, you really did. But…”

She did help him. Perhaps to interrupt him in the middle of a spell. But then, how would such a spell influence him? The thought that some random powerful fae could just cast a spell from afar and entice him to suicide terrified him. Though surely, if that was possible, a lot more people might be dying…

“As far as I understand with spells,” Chloe said when he voiced the concern out loud, “for something like this, you have to know the person, and you have to be in the same room as them when casting it. Professor Z’Hana covered this after the visit with Jenny Greenteeth, and a few of us were nervous if the fae could do something to them. Z’Hana said emotional spells cannot be cast at will. You will have had to have met the caster or know of them.”

He considered that for a moment, finding some reassurance in what was being said, which left him drifting back to the party. Any number of people in that room might have cursed him. Any number…

Then he thought about his other uncle, Professor Max Umber. Uncle Max had been the last person he’d talked to. And then, after the meeting, he’d felt the overwhelming desire to…

The thought of his uncle betraying him settled like a knife in his gut. It sent a cold wave of shock through Tiran.

Surely, his uncle wouldn’t. He’d been helping the whole time.

Unless he hadn’t.

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