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    Alastair stopped dead halfway down the stairs. “What is that?”

    “Um,” Eloise said, squinting at him like he was an imbecile. “It’s a Yule tree?”

    It sounded like a question—another implication at Alastair’s stupidity at asking such a thing.

    “Obviously, but where did it come from? When did it show up?”

    It was the tallest and widest tree he’d ever seen—so large, Quicksilver had clearly magicked the ceiling of the Main Hall just to make it fit. It was hard to believe something so tall grew in nature. It was mostly bare of decorations, though some of the teachers and students were already starting the trimming. As he watched, Mr. Banner shot a flurry of sparks from his wand, which danced around the tree and settled on its branches like a swarm of fireflies.

    “Came in this morning,” Eloise said, “while you were skipping around the Formal Gardens.”

    “I was running.”

    It was true, Alastair had taken up jogging after the riot. Each cracking dawn, he ran loops around the grounds. It was cold in earnest now, and he could see his breath as he ran, but there was something almost pleasant about it. Not only was he was alone with his thoughts for at least an hour a day, he also used the chance to keep an eye out for anything out of the ordinary. Besides, after being out in the frigid air, coming back to the warmth and bustle of the castle was almost pleasant.

    He’d been on edge for the last month waiting for something else to happen, although nothing had. Yet.

    Plus, it kept him in shape—or perhaps it might help him to get into a shape that wasn’t consistently rounder each week. Quicksilver’s staff made fine meals, and Alastair had found himself overindulging on more occasions than not.

    “Look!” Eloise said jubilantly. “There’s Amaryllis Shadow.”

    He followed her excitement to the other side of the massive tree. Sure enough, their resident celebrity stood with a small group of Scrying students. They were doing something to manipulate crystal balls, enchanting them to glow vibrant colors before affixing them to the tree. The fact no one had seen her yet was evidence enough that the tree was just far too large for any reasonable room. Then again, the Main Hall was anything but reasonable. Alastair had seen smaller football theaters.

    “Let’s go down and say hello,” Eloise said. “She’s been holed up doing research since All Hallows’.”

    “You go ahead. I have to meet with Quicksilver.”

    Eloise eyed him curiously. “You don’t want to talk to her,” she said, not a question.

    “What? Why wouldn’t I want to talk to her?”

    “Yeah, so…” Eloise gestured. “There she is!”

    “I’ll talk to her later,” Alastair groaned. “For now, I have some things to do.”

    Eloise looked puzzled as she went to visit with Ms. Shadow without him. The Scrying teacher embraced her warmly and started showing off her crystal balls. For the briefest of moments, he debated joining them, but ultimately decided against it.

    He couldn’t quite put his finger on why, but he’d been uncomfortable around Ms. Shadow since their joint casting the night of the riot. She’d been nothing but cordial to him. Perhaps that was the problem. Since the day he’d arrived, she’d been cold and—dare he say—hostile toward Alastair. But that night, they’d worked almost too well together, casting in unison.


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    His stomach did a little flip at the thought of it.

    What was the big fuss, though? He’d be gone in less than a year anyway, and for now, there was enough to worry about at the school without letting childish emotions for the Scrying teacher muddle his thoughts.

    In other news, Mayor Samuel Lamkin had written to him the day after the board meeting, expressing interest in working more closely together—school and government. Now, Alastair had to figure out how to present the idea to the faculty. It was more than likely they would hate another addition to their workload.

    He was about to return to his office when movement at the base of the stairs caught his eye. George Redding sprinted across the hall in a bright red sweater, and Caliban was hot on his heels. Alastair instinctively drew his wand, ready to cast another magical barrier—then paused. The boys were grinning.

    They raced to the tree—like friends. Alastair was flabbergasted. George was ahead, Caliban gaining fast, and at the last minute, he surged forward and hurled himself into the Yule tree’s lower branches. Branches shook and needles cascaded to the floor, but big as it was, it remained upright. The boy collapsed to the ground in a fit of laughter.

    Ms. Shadow and Eloise were already rushing over to confront the lads, and Alastair cast a quick charm so he could listen in on their conversation.

    “By the gods! What are you doing?” Eloise shouted. “Are you trying to break the Yule tree?”

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