Alaric shrugged. “They’re always late this time of year.”
My eyebrows rose.
“Why?” I blurted.
Alaric met my gaze, his own eyebrow cocked. Something in those hazel eyes made me think he’d heard the sharper note in my voice.
“I don’t know exactly,” he said, after a pause. “It was the same last year. I assumed it was because they’ve made a point of targeting students over the past few years. Particularly here, I would imagine, given how many royals attend Malcroix Bones.It’s easier during the school year for students to listen later at night.”
I didn’t say anything, but he must have seen something in my face.
“What?” he asked.
I hesitated, opened my mouth, closed it, then rolled my eyes. “Come on, Alaric,” I said finally. “It must have occurred to you, too.”
Alaric gave me an innocent look I found completely unconvincing.
“What must have occurred to me, sweetness?” he asked, arching an eyebrow.
I rolled my eyes a second time. “That the change in schedule would also make perfect sense if the Priest was a student himself.” I bit my lip, feeling faintly sick that I’d finally said it out loud. “You must have thought about it,” I insisted, suddenly feeling stupid for never having asked him. “You probably even have a pretty good idea of who it is.”
Alaric shook his head at that, his eyes serious once more.
“I don’t,” he said. When I opened my mouth, he cut me off. “I’m not saying I haven’t thought about it, Leda. I have. But no, I don’t know who it is.”
“There’s an obvious suspect,” I pointed out.
“No.” Alaric shook his head, once, his eyes losing all of their coyness. “It’s not him.”
“It’s not?” I scoffed. “Then why is it you knowexactlywho I mean?”
“It’s not Bones,” Alaric warned. “If you knew anything about how he was raised, what his family life is like, you wouldn’t believe it of him, either.”
I opened my mouth to argue that those very things could be the exact reason he would do it, but Alaric nudged me with a shoulder, right as magical smoke began to pour out of the frontof the receiver. I set down my mug of chocolate next to my thigh, and tried to push Bones out of my mind. Even so, I struggled to focus as the aether-like substance reconfigured into the hooded, masked figure we’d watched and listened to all summer.
“Greetings, friends of Magique, allies of the Magical race,” the Priest intoned solemnly. “Welcome to the Dark Cathedral.” It was how he began every missive, as was the next thing he said. “In joining this gathering, you mark yourself one of the chosen, part of a select group of spiritual warriors tasked with rescuing our people from corruption, dissolution, and darkness…”
I decided I didn’t want to wait.
I didn’t need to hear whatever he intended to say.
This might be the only chance Alaric and I got for months.
I closed my eyes, and deliberately slowed my breathing, and my heart.
I brought everything inside me down to stillness, erasing anything that would identify me to anyone who might be looking. I mouthed the silent spell that erected a thin but strong shield over just me, and watched it harden into a shell over my aura. I reached out carefully, slowly, but maybe a little faster than usual, using the subtlest, quietest magic I possessed. I threaded it into the magic that swirled around the masked Priest.
“Gods. That was fast, Leda,” Alaric said, his voice nervous. “Be careful.”
“I will.” I meant it. “Tell me if you feel anything wrong.”
When he didn’t speak, I brought my vibration down to the lowest, stillest, most invisible frequency I could manage. When everything about me felt preternaturally still, I slid more of myself into that particular flavor of magic I associated with the Priest alone.
I tried not to think about how it felt to me.
I tried not to think about who it felt like.
I tried not to think––
