Page 146 of The Black Witch

Trystan shrugged. “The cleaning women? They’re in and out—and the caseismarked with your name.”

And Fallon’s got every servant girl in Verpax terrified of her wrath. It’s not a great leap of logic to assume I’m storing things here, with Ariel Haven as my lodging mate.

“She should be thankful,” I told him, voice menacingly low, “that I have no magic whatsoever.”

Trystan eyed me soberly and set down the violin halves on his desk. “Do you want me to go to the Vice Chancellor with you? To file a complaint?”

“No,” I spat out. “I want you to freeze Fallon’s head. Or set it on fire. Can you do that for me?”

Trystan took a deep breath and looked at me with his usual measured calm. “Um...yes. I could, Elloren. Followed by my immediate expulsion from University. Minor detail.”

I glowered at him petulantly and plopped down on his bed, defeated.

Trystan quietly took a seat beside me. “You know, you might be able to enlist Diana Ulrich to your cause.”

I looked to him questioningly.

Trystan’s lip lifted with a trace of amusement. “Apparently Diana’s been going on and on about putting Fallon’s head on a spike and posting it at the city gates. ‘For the crows to devour.’ Her words, not mine.”

I can’t suppress a smirk at this, both heartened and darkly gratified by Diana’s bloodthirsty sentiment.

* * *

Thetap, tap, tapof Jarod’s pen draws me back to the present.

He’s bent over the table transcribing my Chemistrie notes, his script neat and compact. My notes are now a necessity for him, since Diana won’t share hers anymore.

Initially contemptuous of Professor Volya, Diana has reversed course entirely now that she’s realized how knowledgeable our professor is. As a result, Diana has taken a very hard line against sharing notes with her inattentive twin brother, who, in Diana’s words, should “put away the ridiculous poetry books and concentrate on the lecture.” So, in a wildly improbable turn of events, I’ve become the note-taker for both Aislinn and Jarod, who continue their written dialogue about great literature throughout every class now.

Jarod’s head suddenly lifts, nostrils flaring. He turns just as Aislinn rounds a long bookshelf and comes into view. She hurries toward us, her expression strained.

“I’m so glad I found you two.” She’s flustered and out of breath.

“Randall was looking for you earlier,” I inform Aislinn, confused by her troubled demeanor.

“I’m trying to avoid him, actually,” she admits, her eyes darting around the bookcases and shadowy halls.

I let out a small, rueful laugh. “You won’t be able to avoid him forever. Not if you plan on wandfasting to him.”

Her face tenses, and she looks down at the floor, hands clutched at her skirts. “I know.”

Jarod, who’s been quietly watching Aislinn, straightens and looks past us, his nostrils flaring.

“Aislinn, I’ve been looking all over for you!”

She turns around to where Randall has just emerged, and her face falls. “Well, now you’ve found me,” she says, her voice flat, her body language unwelcoming.

Randall turns a critical eye on Jarod and me. “Elloren,” he says guardedly. He shoots Jarod a look of disgust and pointedly turns back toward Aislinn.

I find myself bristling at this, while Jarod calmly regards Randall, his face neutral.

“You told me you’d be in your room,” Randall complains, the well-pressed slate-gray silk of his military apprentice uniform stiff and new, a white ribbon neatly pinned around his arm. “I don’t like having to search for you.”

Aislinn stares back at him, emotionless. “I’m sorry, Randall. I didn’t mean to inconvenience you.”

“Yes, well.” He sniffs. He casts another sidelong glance at Jarod, then takes hold of Aislinn’s arm. “You need to come with me.”

A look of reluctance crosses Aislinn’s face. “Why? Where are you taking me?”

---