Page 26 of Live To Tell

“Violet,” I say through clenched teeth. “Let’s go. If you’re expelled, that won’t help.”

The pointedness of Mrs. Lorcan’s look could cut glass as she opens the door. “Some gratitude that I allowed you to see what happened to the tiara would be welcome.”

With an unmistakable derisive look and noise, Violet marches past. I give a hesitant smile and follow. Violet may not have snatched the tiara from Whitegrove’s hands, or the bag from his shoulder, but she’s moving quicker than normal along the hallway towards the building’s exit.

Towards the witch who stole her tiara.

Through all this, one thing echoes in my mind. Nobody’s mentioned the missing stone. However irritated I am that this witch took the tiara, I’m flooded with relief that my stone’s going nowhere. Nobody knows we visited the secret room, apart from Mrs. Eldridge. And if she visited in order to take the tiara, she either changed her mind or failed.

I’m aware of the influence the stone has on my magic, but the possessiveness, and the magic triggered the other night isn’t anything I’ve experienced before. At first, I felt the stone wanted my magic and for Violet to keep her hands off, but then the Blackwood magic within me triggered something stranger. Why would a magical item make bonded witches fight?

I’ve used the stone before, many times, bolstering my magic when I required the strongest spells against bullying assholes or simply to show people not to screw around with me. Somehow, Mrs. Lorcan heard a rumor I’d assaulted Wes, which I denied, and he had no memory about, but the academy took the stone. I’d never hidden that I had the item, proudly displaying the stone on my desk. Theft didn’t worry me; the symbol of Willowbrook potency wouldn’t help anybody else.

I reached an agreement with Violet that Leif should take the item. Violet wanted to give the stone to Dorian, and I had to fight against a complete freak out about the stone leaving the academy. Instead, I calmly told her that Leif understands what the stone is as he’s witnessed the magic that it can prompt in me, and that if asked he would keep the stone out of my hands.

At least if Leif has the item, I’m assured that no other witch would touch it. Violet’s still wary—she hates anything that might cause her to lose control. The influence on her mind causing such a response worried her more than me, although Violet’s other response isn’t something that left my mind in a hurry. In true Violet style, she hasn’t mentioned the thoughts and emotions she shared with me, and I expect she’ll think telling me once is enough.

I never thought I’d hear Violet Blackwood admit she loves me—even if her version is confused and confusing. But doesn’t everybody have their own definition?

As I follow, I shake away thoughts of our hands on each other before my mind disappears on a new tangent.

Chapter 9

VIOLET

How dare she. How dare she. I fumble to take my phone from a pocket and call Dorian as I rush along the hallway, following the witch’s distinctive magic. No answer from Dorian. One eye on the direction I’m walking, and another on my phone, I send a message.

Why won’t Dorian take this situation with the tiara seriously?

I slow my pace as Whitegrove’s figure comes into view. He’s paused in the entrance hall beneath the academy crest rather than walked straight out of the door with his ill-gotten gain. He’s standing with a tall, much younger looking man with neat brown hair. Mr. Woodside. As they speak, Whitegrove pats the satchel. I’m looking at the back of his head rather than his face, but I can see Mr. Woodside’s.

What’s odd isn’t the teacher’s expression but that he doesn’t have one, standing stiffly, arms by his sides as he listens to the elder witch.

They know each other.

Mr. Woodside’s the one person at the dance who commented on the tiara—beside the unfortunate human girls.

“Don't follow him.” Rowan appears beside me where I rest a shoulder against the wall, watching the one-sided exchange between the witches from a corner.

“I’m not. I’m observing. Look.” I point at the pair. “A connection to the tiara within the academy. Mr. Woodside is acquainted with Whitegrove—following an exchange of greetings and questions about each other’s wellbeing, he asked the reason for Whitegrove’s visit, and the man told him.”

Rowan rests beside me and shakes hair from his face. “A connection to Whitegrove and the Circle maybe, but that’s a tenuous link to the tiara.”

I throw him a look. “Any link, however tenuous, requires investigation.”

Their conversation ends, and Whitegrove walks towards the academy exit. “Don't follow him,” says Rowan again.

I slant my head and regard Mr. Woodside as he watches the other witch leave, remaining still, fixated on the door long after it closes behind Whitegrove. The teacher always struck me as one who pays little attention to others, lost in his books even in class, yet he chose to speak to Whitegrove. Their conversation suggested they hadn’t spoken for a number of years, but the exchange was brief.

Mr. Woodside straightens, and with one last glance at the exit to the academy, he strides away.

Has Dorian investigated Mr. Woodside or Whitegrove thoroughly? Because he must.

I won’t follow Whitegrove, but I will follow this man. “This way,” I say to Rowan.

“Where are we going?” he asks. “I know you’re keen to look into Whitegrove, but we’re headed to lessons this morning, right?”

“What class do we have?” I ask as I wander away.

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