After all, Oliver’s been spending a lot of time on his advanced studies coursework recently. He’sneverbeen the type to devote more time than necessary to homework. And he’s been so distracted. Secretive and on edge, like he’s worried a threat’s going to jump out at him at any moment.
I should have pushed harder to find out what was wrong. I should have made him tell me. Why didn’t I make him tell me?
I’m yanked out of my thoughts when the dining hall doors open, every conversation dying as Headmistress Constance strides through the entrance.
“Sit,” she says, and every standing student drops into their seat like gravity tripled.
She moves to the center of the room, positioning herself between the student tables and the faculty section. Her hair, always perfectly pinned, has a few strands out of place. Her left hand is clenched at her side.
“I have an announcement.” She pauses, and her clenched hand trembles once before she stills it. “Professor Thaddeus Morgrave and third-year student Oliver Thorne are missing.”
The world tilts.
Oliver.
Missing.
The words don’t make sense.
“An investigation is underway,” she continues, cutting through the growing murmur of shocked voices. “The Council has been notified, and they’re sending three of their witches toassist. They’ll arrive this evening and be formally introduced tomorrow.”
Three Council witches.
The Council doesn’t send anyone for anything less than a catastrophe.
“All classes will proceed as scheduled.” Her gaze sweeps the room without landing on the first-year table. “Until further notice, combat training will be relocated from the Scorched Circles to indoor classrooms.”
I can’t look at her. I can’t look at anyone. My heat sensing ability is screaming outward, scouring the room, searching for a thermal signature that isn’t here.
Oliver’s missing, the Unity Flame is dead, Avery won’t come out of her room, and everything is wrong, wrong,wrong.My magic reaches and comes back with nothing, like a hand closing on air?—
The chandelier above me bursts into flame.
Suddenly, Nana appears at my elbow, her weathered hand closing around my arm. The contact grounds me just enough to keep the ceiling from igniting.
“Come along, Evangeline.” She helps me to my feet, and I realize I’m shaking. “Let’s get some tea in you before you bring the ceiling down.”
The hallway’s a blur of stone and torchlight as she guides me to the door, and I’m barely aware of anything except the gaping hole in my thermal map where Oliver’s signature should be.
“He’s missing.” The words tumble out, not sounding real. “I need to check the island. There have to be places they missed…”
The Observatory?
The Worship Center?
The library?
No… those are all too obvious.
Maybe the Drowned Tower or the Obsidian Caves?
“We’ll find him,” Nana says, but there’s a tremor of uncertainty in her voice that makes the lump in my throat double in size.
Because she doesn’t know if we’ll find him.
Nobody knows.
Eventually, the cottage appears before us, and Nana guides me through the door, sitting me down on a bed with white sheets that smell like lavender and dried herbs. The space is warm from Nana’s healing magic, which radiates a soft, constant heat that seeps into the sheets, the walls, and the floorboards.
