Prospero knew many things had to happen to protect their home, but the pressure to clear up the lies she’d told Ellie—and maybe tell her that Cassandra was the cause of her accident—filled Prospero like a swarm under her skin.
Too late.
Why would Ellie believe anything Prospero said now? If she said, “I lied” and “But not about the accident,” she’d sound foolish. Moreover,Ellie would feel foolish if she believed the next words out of Prospero’s mouth.
Prospero sped up as she wound her way to Ellie’s door. She knocked. “Ellie? Miss Brandeau?”
When there was no reply, she pounded her hand against the door.
Still nothing.
In a flare of uncontrolled magic, she burst the door open. It thunked onto the floor, and Prospero flinched, hoping the door hadn’t landed on Ellie. She couldn’t stomach the thought of hurting her.
Or that Cass has done so!
But the room was empty. Completely and totally empty.
“She’s gone,” a voice said from behind her.
She glanced back to find a hob in the hallway.
“The funny witch left us,” he said.
Prospero rounded on the little magical man. “There’s no way that the Congress of Magic siphoned Ellie without telling me!”
“Didn’t say they sent her away.” He gave Prospero a look reserved for the daft or drunk. “Saidsheleft.”
Prospero put a hand on the shattered doorframe for support. “On her own?”
“Nope. She took the one that likes the headmasher,” the hob said in a cheery voice. “A day or so ago. Clever witches went away from the poison water… but at least our Ellie Witch left us a clean pool first!”
Prospero opened her mouth, but as she was not sure what to say, she closed it.
Ellie left.
This was disastrous in ways that Prospero could not fathom. No one simplyleftCrenshaw. There were attempts, but mostly since they’d begun asking people if they wanted to be siphoned, no one really tried to escape anymore.
The hob vanished, as hobs tended to do. Prospero wasn’t sure how much she could trust any of the castle hobs. Her own? She’d trust them with her life. There were others she’d known and trusted, but if Sondrehad allowed Ellie and Maggie to vanish… if they reallyhadgone to the Barbarian Lands… any truce with Sondre was void.
He sent them. They couldn’t escape on their own.
Prospero stormed through the castle, her shoes rat-a-tat-tatting like a warning. Students veered out of her way. Heads of houses that were near exchanged looks, and, in short order, fell in behind her like an unplanned entourage. She winced at the thought of dealing with them all at once, but there was no way around it.
When she reached the headmaster’s quarters, Sondre’s door was open in invitation. She stepped inside, glancing at Cassandra, who was perched on the edge of a sofa.
“What did you do?”
Cass cut her eyes at Sondre, lips pressed tightly, but she said nothing. Behind Prospero, several witches filed into the room.
“Did you know that Brandeau and Lynch were missing?” Prospero watched his face. Sondre had tells; everyone did. His were wider eyes and friendly smiles, as if happily surprised.
“Ms. Lynch, Maggie, asked to stay in Miss Brandeau’s room while she grieved.” Sondre’s expression gave nothing away. “We all know damn well that the woman’s son is alive, so what was I to do?”
“He felt guilt,” Cassandra supplied, as if Prospero was suddenly daft.
“You can take yourself out of here, Cassandra.” Prospero gestured to the door. “You are neither invited nor a head of house.”
A heavy silence fell over the room. Cass was, perhaps, the only person present who had not been on the receiving end of Prospero’s temper, but now Ellie was gone and thought Prospero had lied about everything.
