We are her true-bond.
Yes, true-bonds have not existed for millennia, but if innate magic and shifting into our DNA monsters is now a thing, why not this?
Max’s face is gray and drawn. He looks out the window, taking surreptitious sips from a flask.
We are all in pain.
“For the foreseeable future,” the dean’s voice echoes off the high ceiling, “the Conclave is taking over as the governing body in Havengard.”
Just like that, the Conclave controls every aspect of Havengard.
“And they are currently conducting a thorough investigation into last night’s riot.”
Riot—ha.
I’m rapidly coming to the conclusion that the mayhem at the ball was a carefully constructed event. Paint the humans and low-powered witches as dangerous and use it as an excuse to implement martial law.
“Anyone who has information on the melee is to report to the Restricted Studies wing immediately after assembly,” Crankshawe continues. “Additionally, the Conclave has given notice that for the next week, there will be a curfew of nine pm in Havengard City, and here at Validus Vale.”
A low murmur of protest travels through the students.
“Quiet! Conclave peacekeepers will be patrolling the academy, starting tonight. Do not, I repeat, do not think the curfew is something to take lightly. Anyone breaking it, or any of our regulations, will be met with harsh and swift consequences.”
The assembly is dismissed twenty minutes later.
The hall erupts into the low hum of gossip and fear. As we move toward the exit, a small hand catches my elbow.
“Professor Feniks. A word.”
I follow the Dean towards her office. She has a nervous energy about her, glancing over her shoulder before she pulls me inside.
“Theodora Wilson,” she hisses once the door closes. “She was not on the headcount and is not listed as one of the injured.”
“That’s worrying,” I say, keeping my face impassive.
Her eyes dart around the room before settling back on me. “You have no knowledge of her whereabouts?”
I don’t like how she’s asking me that. “No.”
She sucks in air between her teeth and mumbles, ‘shit,’ under her breath.
An unexpected response.
“Have you contacted the authorities?” I ask.
“They haven’t responded to my request for information. I…I’m worried about her.” She looks at my face and flushes slightly. “Worried about all my students, of course, but to have one unaccounted for—especially her.”
“Why especially her?” My question has her looking even more upset.
“Forget it. Go back to whatever you are doing…but, Alexis…”
“Yes?”
“Nothing. Nevermind. You’re dismissed.”
I wait a beat to see if she’s anything to add, but she doesn’t look up, just slumps down at her desk and starts fiddling with a pile of papers.
Exiting her office, I’m confused. Extremely.
