"If these ferals were students—if they were deliberately damaged—" I stopped. Tried to find words for the weight pressing down on my chest. "This isn't just about healing them anymore. This is about finding out what was done to them."
We stood there in the stairwell, holding hands, the weight of what we'd learned pressing down on us both.
Young shifters who had been flagged as unstable and then erased.
Stone. The others.
Not just ferals.
Victims.
Chapter twenty-one
The summons came during breakfast.
I was in Stone's room, working through the oatmeal Neal had brought me, when a staff member appeared at the door. Young. Nervous. The kind of nervous that meant she'd been sent by someone important.
"Miss Orlav?" She clutched a tablet to her chest like a shield. "Headmaster Twilson has requested a meeting. At your earliest convenience."
The words were polite. The tone was not.
Stone's head lifted from his paws.
I set down my spoon. "When?"
"Now, if possible. His office."
Not a request, then. A summons dressed up in courtesy.
"Tell him I'll be there in ten minutes."
The staff member nodded and fled. I watched her go, then turned back to Stone.
"I'll be back," I said.
Twilson's office was on the administrative side of campus—far from the Healing Center. The walls were lined with diplomas and certificates. The furniture was expensive and uncomfortable. Everything about the space saidauthority.
Twilson himself stood behind his desk when I entered. He didn't sit. Didn't invite me to sit either.
"Miss Orlav." His smile didn't reach his eyes. "Thank you for coming so quickly."
"Your messenger made it sound urgent."
He gestured vaguely. "I apologize if there was any... pressure implied. I simply wanted to speak with you. Privately. Before the council session this afternoon."
I stayed standing. Kept my expression neutral. "About what?"
"About your wellbeing, of course." Twilson sat behind his desk. "You've been spending a great deal of time at the Healing Center. Missing classes. Missing meals." His eyes swept over me—cataloging, I realized. Noting the shadows under my eyes, the weight I'd lost, the pallor of my skin. "Several faculty members have expressed concern."
"I appreciate their concern. But I'm fine."
"Are you?" He tilted his head. "Because from where I'm standing, you look exhausted. You look like a young woman who has taken on far more than she should. Far more than anyone should ask of a student."
I didn't respond. Waited.
Twilson's smile flickered. He wasn't used to silence. Wasn't used to people who didn't rush to fill the gaps he left in conversation.
"The situation with the ferals," he continued, "is complicated. I understand that. And I understand that you feel... connected to them. To one of them in particular."
