Page 303 of Blood & Betrayals

“Hello, sir.”

He finally looks up at me. “Yes?”

“I spoke to Luke aboutEverydayEmrys.”

He lifts his chin. “And?”

I pull the printouts from my bag. “These are the bot logs with the deleted messages.” I round his desk and spread them out. “I’ve only skimmed it, but I believe there are more messages.”

The headmaster picks up the first piece of paper, his eyes flicking rapidly across the page.

“Some of these make less sense than others, and sometimes the account has only posted these weird symbols.” I point out one of them. It looks like an incomplete circle with a line slashing through it, another line meeting it perpendicularly.

The headmaster stands and shifts everything but the printouts to the edge of his desk. He spreads the pages out and then changes the order of them. He rearranges them a few more times before the symbols appear to connect.

I frown as I watch him work, racking my brain for any sliver of information. This aloof, powerful, dangerous man may be one of the most intelligent beings I have ever met. I may not have realized what he is capable of until now, but the killer knew. Why else send a message like this? Most beings would never have put it together.

The headmaster brushes the pad of his thumb along the bottom of his ring, slicing it. He draws a rune on one of the papers, and the symbols illuminate before lifting from the page, glowing and hovering before us. I stare at the rune. It’s beautiful, so perfectly designed and crafted that it takes a few moments for me to notice the symbols that have now come together to form what looks like words.

My stomach twists as I look at the words. “Sir?” I whisper shakily.

“Some of this is inverted Ancient Daoine Sith,” the headmaster says, his steely gaze sliding to me.

His brows draw, and he looks back at the word before holding his hand out. I glance at his hand and then place mine in his palm. His long fingers gently wrap around my wrist, andI watch intently as he draws another rune on the back of my hand. The touch of his warm blood and rough fingers against my skin makes me shiver. The rune glows faintly, and the moment it turns translucent, I realize what it does. He has given me the ability to manipulate the symbols in front of me. I tilt my head and start moving them around, trying to crack the code. The letters are so familiar, but there is something not right about them.

“This is in an old dead sorcerer language. It says,Who needs light when darkness thrives?” the headmaster says, making one of the sentences pulse.

“This one is in Ancient Greek.Swallowed whole by the abyss,” I say, reading it out loud.

The headmaster follows, noting the next one. “Stars will bleed.”

I look back up at the puzzle of the message written in Ancient Daoine Sith, and it finally clicks. Not only is it inverted, but it’s also incomplete. I sift through the papers until I finally find the missing piece. “And the light, ousted.” I point to a section, feeling the blood drain from my face. “And this says,From the mountains to the sky,” I release a shaky breath, “I’ll make their blood run down her face.”

“Who?” the headmaster asks, mostly to himself.

A tear slides down my cheek, surprising me. I have no idea why I am so upset, but I am suddenly overwhelmed with sadness, grief, and guilt. Quickly, I swipe at the tear and ask, “Could the fae have lost during the rebellion?” I take a shaky breath, trying to think past the emotions swamping me. “But even if they did, I don’t understand what any of this has to do with me. I’m nothing and no one. I wasn’t even born.”

The headmaster looks at me, his gaze hard. “There must be something we’re not seeing.”

I shake my head. “This was a mistake. I should never have come here.” I close my eyes. “You were right at the start of the year. I’m trouble. I don’t know what this means or why it is happening, but I’ve only brought pain and suffering to this school.”

The headmaster turns to face me, gripping my arms. “The killer caused this. Not you.” I stare at him, trying to find an ounce of comfort in his ice-cold gaze. “You are not at fault.”

A soft sob breaks from me, and before I know what I’m doing, I am burying my face against his hard chest. He stands stiffly, and I can feel his angry gaze burning a hole in the top of my head, but I can’t bring myself to pull back. His grip tightens, and then he releases me to wrap his strong arms around me. My body shakes and my tears wet his shirt, and though I don’t feel comforted in the slightest, I do feel safe.

“It’s not your fault, Miss Tuatha De Daanan,” the headmaster repeats, his voice a fraction softer than before. His large body surrounds me, and I feel his power singing beneath his skin. In the safety of his arms, I allow myself to stop fighting and shielding. It takes a while, but eventually, I cry myself out. I take a deep breath and step back, blushing when I notice I’ve left makeup stains on his crisp white shirt.

“Oh, I-I’m so?—”

The headmaster stops me by waving his hand, removing all traces of the soggy mess I had made of his shirt. My lower lip quivers again, and I look away, refusing to let any more tears fall.

“I will do everything I can to protect you,” he says, and it sounds a bit like a vow.

I look up at him to find his fierce gaze locked on me. “Thank you, sir.”

I know he means it, but he wasn’t able to protect the others. He has an entire school to care for, and I am just one person.

“I will continue reviewing these logs,” he says, turning back to his desk and silently dismissing me. I leave his office, my mind whirling.

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