Thames plunged into the water and let himself sink to the bottom as the air left his lungs.
Thames took a deep breath in. He was in Cornelius’s arms. He had done it! He had survived what the others had not!
But then Cornelius was whispering in his ear, telling him—no,commandinghim—to take the blame, to hide the full truth of what they had done. Confusion wormed its way into Thames’s mind. Why was Cornelius using Glamour magic on him? Why was he pretending he hadn’t killed those students?
Thames wanted to rage, to claw his way out from under Cornelius’s influence, even as his betrayal shattered his heart into a million pieces.
After everything Thames had done for him…
He had to at least prove to Cornelius—to himself—that this had notbeen for nothing. Thames pulled on whatever magic he could think of, and suddenly he was wielding Lightkeeper magic, and surely the look of wonder and affection in Cornelius’s eyes was real, and—
Thames was Collapsing all over again. Power burned through him, rotting his flesh from within, turning his blood to ash, draining every drop of magic and life from him as it razed through him.
Someone help, he thought.
His last, before the end.
Baz gasped as he was again in his own mind, in his own body, in the infirmary he had never actually left. He tore the locket off his neck, tossing it at the foot of the bed. Polina watched him with sad eyes, handing him the second locket before he had a chance to say anything.
“I’m afraid it gets worse,” she said quietly.
Baz hesitated. He felt like throwing up. But he had to know the whole truth, and so he picked the locket up and braced himself for the onslaught of memories to come.
“I’m pregnant.”
Cordelia’s words made the floor pitch under Louka’s feet. A joy so poignant he thought he’d burst soared through him, the feeling so clearly mirrored on her face. He laughed. Kissed her mouth. In hushed whispers, they began to make plans. Marriage. Trevel. A life full of beauty and art, far from Aldryn College, from the constraints of magic.
Leave her,an intrusive voice said in his mind.Do it gently, so that she doesn’t suspect.
“I… I must go,” Louka found himself saying against his will.
Confusion banked in Cordelia’s eyes. “Go?”
“There’s much to be done.”
“But you’re happy about this, right? This is a good thing.”
“This is a good thing,” he repeated, monotone voice so unlike his own. Of course I’m happy, he wanted to shout. But that other voice in his mind was telling him to leave. So he turned on his heel and left Cordelia standing dumbstruck before the door of her art studio.
Outside, Louka ran into Cornelius. He was still too confused by what just happened to realize how odd it was that Cordelia’s brother should be here. He never went anywhere near her studio, as if art was too far beneath him to bother with.
“Let’s you and I go have ourselves a little chat,” Cornelius said, his demeanor oozing deceitful ease.
Louka’s back went rigid. His feet began walking of their own volition. Was that magic that had been used on him? And that voice, so like the one that had been in Louka’s mind…
Before he could ponder it further, he found himself sitting in a private taproom with Cornelius.
“I would like for you to tell me the whole truth, tailor. All of it.”
The words came tumbling out of Louka’s mouth without his meaning, as monotone as before: “Cordelia is with child. We wish to marry. I have a business opportunity lined up in Trevel, where your sister wishes to study art. We will leave when the spring comes, after the school year is done. She knows how you value her education.”
“Does she now,” Cornelius said tightly, a storm brewing behind his polished exterior. “And what is the plan if I decide not to give my blessing?”
“Respectfully… I think your sister knows you won’t approve of this union, or the child we are to raise, or the kind of life we wish to live. She intends to leave with me for Trevel regardless of your blessing.”
Why was he saying all of this? It was meant to be their secret…
Cornelius pondered his words in an agonizing stretch of silence. Then he said: “Here’s what I want you to do, tailor.” He pushed a piece of writing paper and a pen toward him. “You will write aletter to my sister breaking things off with her. You will say that you have reconsidered the relationship, that you are not ready to become a father, and so you have left for Trevel without her. You will end this letter by saying you never wish to speak to her or see her ever again.”
