Chapter 52

“He’s where!” Eloise shouted, dropping a half-buttered slice of toast on her plate in shock.

“Shh,” Alastair said, furtively making sure no one had heard her. “C’mon. We’re surrounded by students.”

“We’ll just have to break him out,” Amaryllis said. She seemed completely unruffled. “Let me put together another Scrying spell now that we have a little more information. I might be able to find it.”

“If not,” Sebastian said, “we’ll just have to search the city ourselves. We can break it up into segments, divide and conquer, until one of us finds a house that matches the description.”

“I said let’s wait until we are somewhere more private,” Alastair said, pulling Eloise. The others followed, but none stopped talking.

“Is that guy all right?” Eloise said. “Peter?”

“Completely fine,” Alastair said quickly. Once they were out of earshot, he continued, “The Healers touched him up, healed his black eye and gave him a sleeping draught to help him rest. I saw him this morning. Looked like a new man. We’re keeping him here until—”

“They thought they were getting you, Ally,” Eloise said, now finally deciding to keep her voice low.

“I’m not so sure.”

“What do you mean?”

“He thinks it might be a trap,” Amaryllis said, skillfully deducing Alastair’s thoughts.

Or reading my mind.

Alastair nodded.

“Wow,” Eloise said. “I guess you could be right.”

“I know Gold’s people,” Sebastian said. “It’s possible, but I’ve also met this Peter guy.”

“You did?” Alastair said.

“Yeah. He’s worked for the mayor for years. Hard to believe he’d fall in with mages, much less Dark Mages.”

That was a bit of a relief. However, stranger things have happened.

“Either way, Ally, you need to be careful.” Eloise eyed him with a stern look.

“I am careful.”

“We should make him use the buddy system every time he goes out,” she said to the others. “One of us or the other faculty, maybe.”

“Absolutely not,” he said.

“Not even me?” Amaryllis asked, and Alastair could perceive the slightest smirk.

“Out of the question. That’s—”

Ms. Snapdragon approached them, smiling at Alastair expectantly.

“Uh,” he said. “What’s going on?”

“Just wondering if you read my note yesterday.”

“No,” he admitted. “Sorry. The day got away from me.”

“No trouble at all,” Ms. Snapdragon said, but her face belied the truth. She was disappointed. “I was just reminding you that it’s time to begin the school’s annual fundraising drive, and we should start planning our big raffle event.”

Alastair’s face went slack. “Seriously?”

“Of course,” she said. “We do it every year, and the parents love it. The students make crafts to sell. We usually have some skits and musical performances, and some of the faculty donate items to the raffle. I always put up a few jars of my famous blackberry jam!”

“It’s just…” Alastair said. “I had just assumed this year would be different. With everything going on, and two teachers missing, and—”

“Emberstone needs money, Headmaster,” Ms. Snapdragon said. “Now more than ever. And this event is great for parent engagement.”

Alastair bit his lip, then sighed. “Okay.”

“If you like, I can show you my plans for the event,” she said, rummaging around in her bag. She pulled out a thick manila folder full of papers. “I’ve used last year’s as a base, but I thought, with the Dueling League being new this year, and so popular—”

She plucked a sheet from the folder and held it out—a plan for a Battle Magic demonstration. A select group of students would participate in a staged duel that showcased their skills in various forms of magic. George Redding was on the list.

“Have you… already spoken to the students about this?” He could see George causing absolute chaos if forced to demonstrate anything he didn’t feel like doing.

“No, sir. I wanted to run it by you first.”

“Good,” Alastair said with relief. “Take George off the list. Trust me on this. Everyone will be happier.”

Ms. Snapdragon frowned as she pulled a quill from her bag and crossed the boy’s name out. “Any other issues?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, wishing he could drop his head on a table and go back to sleep. “It all looks good. Thanks for everything, Ms. Snapdragon.”

She beamed at him and practically skipped out of the hall. And so the preparations for the school’s April fundraiser kicked into gear.

“So, buddy system every time Alastair leaves the castle,” Eloise said.

Alastair shook his head. “No.”

“Stop being difficult,” Sebastian said. “This is for your own good.”

The author’s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

Of everyone who could have inspired Alastair to compliance, Sebastian was at the bottom of the list. Yet, in that moment, he had to admit, they weren’t wrong. If the Night Coven truly had been after him, having someone nearby at all times would not only ensure his safety, but also allow the rest of the faculty to be informed of the problem.

“At a distance,” Alastair said in a tone that brooked no argument. “I won’t have one of you getting hurt on my account.”

“Deal,” Eloise said.

* * *

Ms. Snapdragon and Quicksilver issued marching orders to all faculty, staff, and students. Afterschool clubs started holding daily rehearsals so they could be ready for the performance, the students selected for the dueling demonstration spent their evenings practicing Battle Magic in the castle gardens—and to Alastair’s dismay, magic classes turned into crafting classes to produce items to raffle off.

“What is this?” he asked on a visit to Eloise’s classroom, holding up a sad-looking pile of string and twigs.

“It’s supposed to be a Gods’ Eye,” she said without looking up from her grading. “I don’t know what happened.”

Alastair held it up with disgust. Most commonly crafted in the shape of a flat, tightly woven diamond around a pair of crossed sticks, this more resembled a colorful bird’s nest that had been caught in a wind storm.

“Why are you making these things instead of teaching them magic?”

She shrugged. “It’s fundraising season. Snapdragon’s in charge now. I take orders only from her.”

“No one’s going to want to buy this thing.” He held it up with disgust.

“Someone will,” she said. “Parents will buy pretty much anything if their kid made it. Doesn’t really matter if it’s good.”

“One week,” he said, pointing at her. “One week, and then crafting is over. They need to go back to learning Summoning.”

“It’s over when Snapdragon says it’s over, Ally. And not a moment before. Look at my Gods’ Eye.”