Page 50 of Veil of Night & Flames

She picks up her glasses, then slides them back on. A single moment passes, then she smiles. “Miss Lyte,” she says, “my door is always open.”

I nod. Then leave. And I get all the way to the bottom of the stairs before I collapse onto the stone bench.

Uncle Finn wanted me in her class for a reason.

And unless I’m really reading things wrong, she knew about Mom and figured me out on her own. But Finn only ever thought Mom and I had a sleep disorder. So what does Valdez know? And how?

I grimace as I think about that—and about Finn, who still doesn’t have a clue that it’s not a sleep disorder, even as he’s living in the middle of the Nightmare Realm.

I shift my bag on my shoulder and pull out my phone. Tia answers on the second ring.

“Where are you?”

“On the bench outside the Science Center. Why?”

“Hold on. I’m walking.”

“No, listen—I need food. And coffee. And to bitch about a quiz that I just face-planted.”

“Coffee bar by Whitehall in five.”

“Make it ten.”

“Done,” she says as I jump up and head that direction, hoping the line won’t be crazy, as I need caffeine. And then—when I arrive at the mid-morning lull—I say a silent thank you to the coffee gods.

I get my order—lattes for both me and Tia, plus a croissant to share—and settle in at one of the little tables by the flower garden. Tia arrives a few minutes later, looking annoyingly put-together.

“Someone didn’t get enough sleep last night,” she says. “I’m hoping it was for a fun reason and not studying.”

“Very, very fun,” I say. “And don’t you dare ask for more deets or else I’ll totally bail on telling you about the new stuff that popped onto my Bingo card this morning."

She leans forward. "Tell."

So I do. I'm halfway through the Valdez do-over and the not-so-subtle hints that she knows more than she's saying when a shadow falls across the table.

"Cora? How lovely to run into you.”

I look up at the tall man with the dark eyes and chestnut hair. He shifts, and a bit of dappled sunlight reveals hints of copper that remind me of my own hair.

“Mr. Vance.” I catch Tia’s glance as her eyes go wide. I’m sure she’s thinking the same thing I am—can we get out of here before Sebastian Vance starts asking me all sorts of weirdly personal dream questions, just like he did at the Whitehall party at the beginning of the semester?

“It’s nice to see you,” I add, because what else could I say?

“Sebastian, please.” He nods at Tia. “And Tia. So nice to see you again, too.”

He gestures at the empty chair next to mine. “May I? Just for a moment. I won’t keep you.”

I glance at Tia. She gives me a fractional shrug. Your call.

“Sure,” I say.

He sits, then puts down his own coffee before settling into the chair in a way that doesn’t quite jibe with his I won’t keep you promise.

“I admit I’ve been hoping to run into you,” he says.

“Yeah? What’s up?”

He smiles, fidgeting a bit with the stir stick in his coffee. “When we spoke at Whitehall, I told you I’d been close with your mother. I don’t think I did her justice.”