“I see,” Sergeant Miles said. His face was unreadable, betraying nothing of his inner thoughts. It was impossible to tell if he believed her or not. “How?”
“Mind magics,” Emily said. It wasn’t a discussion she wanted to have in the open air, not when God alone knew who might be listening. “She needs medical attention.”
There was a long, chilling pause. “I will escort her to the infirmary,” Sergeant Miles said, finally. “And you will go straight to the Grandmaster’s office. No detours along the way.”
Emily hesitated, unsure. She didn’t want to let Frieda out of her sight, even escorted by a man she trusted. Sergeant Miles wouldn’t hurt Frieda, she was sure, but Gordian—or someone—could simply order him to hand her over at once. And then ... she wished she knew just what Gordian had told the hunters. They’d be more inclined to attack first and ask questions later if they believed Frieda was an irredeemably insane rogue.
“I won’t let anyone hurt her,” Sergeant Miles added, quietly. “But you do have to speak to the Grandmaster before something else happens.”
“I’ll be fine.” Frieda let go of Emily’s arm. “You go see the Grandmaster.”
“I’ll take the body, too,” Sergeant Miles said. “You won’t want anything distracting you while you’re talking to the Grandmaster.”
Emily nodded, wordlessly.
She felt the castle’s wards grow stronger as she stepped into the building. Gordian had been busy, she thought grimly. The wards weren’t entirely friendly any longer. He knew she’d left the building, then. She wondered, sourly, if Gordian was working hand in glove with Fulvia. But then, he wouldn’t want to put himself too far out for her. A Grandmaster was supposed to be above the political fray.
Emily watched them head down to the infirmary, then climbed the steps slowly to Gordian’s office. The corridors were deserted, the wards humming a warning note to anyone stupid enough to be out of their dorms. Normally, someone sneaking through the school in the middle of the night would be tolerated, as long as they weren’t caught, but not today. Now, everyone was in their dorms ...
And it isn’t even sunset yet, she thought, wryly. The last time everyone had been confined to their dorms, a Mimic had been prowling the school. They’ll be wondering just what the hell is going on.
Her footsteps echoed in the empty air as she walked down the corridor and into the antechamber. There was no sign of Madame Griselda, not at her desk nor poking through her filing cabinets. Instead, the door to the inner office gaped open, invitingly. Emily gathered herself, trying to think of everything Gordian might say, then stepped into the office. The wards brushed against her magic, testing her identity, as she closed the door behind her and looked around. Gordian stood behind his desk, wearing battle robes. One hand was hidden inside his pocket.
“Emily,” Gordian said, shortly. A wave of emotions crossed his face, ending in weary resignation. “I believe I gave you some very specific orders.”
“Frieda was manipulated,” Emily said, flatly. She thought, fast. Gordian was resigned ... but resigned about what? Surely, he didn’t think she was going to dictate to him. “She isn’t responsible for her actions.”
Gordian’s eyebrows rose. “I see,” he said, in precisely the same tone Sergeant Miles had used. “Perhaps you should start at the beginning.”
Emily clasped her hands behind her back, then started to explain how she’d deduced where Frieda was going and gone after her. Gordian listened, yet he only showed real interest when Emily told him about Daze and the bracelet. He sucked in his breath when she mentioned Fulvia, but he didn’t ask any questions. Thankfully, he didn’t ask any questions about how she’d escaped her bonds either. She didn’t want to tell him she had a lethal snake for a familiar.
“And you used soul magic on Frieda,” Gordian said, when he finished. “You do realize that using soul magic without permission is technically illegal?”
“I could have left her to die, instead,” Emily said, sharply. She would have thought that legality would have been the least of his concerns. “And she would die with everyone thinking she’d gone rogue.”
“True,” Gordian said. “Do you still have the bracelet?”
Emily fished it out of her pocket. She’d cast a pair of protective charms over it, just in case it was still dangerous, but otherwise she’d left it untouched. Gordian took the bracelet and examined it carefully, turning it over and over in his hands. Emily watched, nervously, as he pressed his fingers against the runes, then placed the bracelet on the desk. It didn’t seem inclined to try to bite him.
“Powerless,” Gordian said, finally. “And she made it herself.”
Emily’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”
“I mean it proves nothing,” Gordian said. There was another hint of bitter resignation on his face, briefly visible before it vanished. “Frieda would hardly be the first student to try to devise something to encourage her to study. Or to make a fatal mistake when she put it on.”
“Daze taught her how to make it,” Emily said. In hindsight, the trick should have been obvious. But she’d never thought about it. “And he was working for Fulvia.”
Gordian met her eyes. “Can you prove it?”
“I can swear an oath,” Emily said, sharply. Was Gordian working for Fulvia? Or was he merely concerned at the prospect of another political catfight? There would have been some frank exchanges of views after the near-disaster last year. “And Frieda’s mind ...”
“You can only swear to what you believe to be true,” Gordian said. His voice grew darker as he looked down at the bracelet. “And while I understand precisely why you choose to enter Frieda’s mind, you will have almost certainly made it impossible for a trained healer to evaluate the damage. It will be tricky to prove that Frieda was under someone’s control and”—he held up a hand before she could speak—“impossible to prove that Fulvia was behind it.”
Emily started. “Daze told me ...”
“Yes,” Gordian said. “But how do you know he wasn’t lying?”
He picked up the bracelet and played with it for a long moment. “Celadon’s family has demanded a formal inquest. They have dispatched a prosecutor to file charges against Frieda. The ... incident involving Adana may be discussed too. It is possible that Marian’s family will also insist on having a say. If Frieda is found guilty, or judged to be too unstable to handle magic, she will be executed.”
“It wasn’t her fault!”
“Prove it,” Gordian said, calmly.
Emily stared at him. “Surely you can attest to her change in behavior ...”
“She would hardly be the first student to go through behavioral changes as she grapples with preparing for her exams,” Gordian said. His voice was hollow. It dawned on Emily that Gordian might have been hoping that she and Frieda vanished without a trace. “Any competent prosecutor would have no trouble knocking holes in that argument. Celadon’s family wants someone to pay. Frieda is the unlucky one who will pay.”