“Because I don’t know who to blame,” Emily said. Someone was bringing the rumors into Whitehall. Perhaps she could find him and ... convince ... him to lead her to the true mastermind. But she had no idea how she could catch the rumormonger. “And even if I did, it would be wrong to silence him.”
“These rumors are hacking away at your reputation,” Frieda said. “What will people do if they think you can’t respond?”
Emily sighed. She could face a necromancer, or a dark wizard, or an aristocrat with more good breeding than common sense. The threat was clear and present, easy to understand if hard to counter. But rumors? Rumors with no discernible source? She had no way to fight back, no way even to know who was behind it ... all she could do was carry on and hope that nothing else happened before the exams.
And do you really think, her thoughts mocked her, that you’ll be that lucky?
“That isn’t the problem right now,” she said. She walked forward and sat behind her desk, resting her elbows on the wood. Frieda turned to face her, slowly. “What should I do with you?”
Frieda’s face twisted. “I was defending your honor!”
“I didn’t ask you to defend it,” Emily said.
She thrust herself forward before Frieda could respond. “You’ve changed. Your behavior has been going downhill for the last three months. And now you’ve stepped over the line.”
“And now you’re washing your hands of me?” Frieda asked. There was something in her tone that made Emily’s heart want to break. “You’re telling me that you don’t want to be with me any longer?”
“I’m telling you that I can’t ignore it any longer,” Emily said. She thought back to Frieda’s permanent record and shivered. “And nor can anyone else.”
Frieda’s face went expressionless. “What now?”
Emily looked her in the eye. “You are being an idiot. I know this year is hard—it was hard for me too! I had a tutor who was trying to kill me! And yet you’re so wrapped up in yourself that you’re on the verge of getting expelled.”
“Celadon is being a prick ...”
“Yes, he is,” Emily agreed. “But you’re not being much better.”
She held up a hand before Frieda could say a word. “He’s made a considerable improvement to the project proposal. Yes, he should have talked it over with you first. The damned project is about learning to work together, as well as trying to push the limits of the possible. But he has made it. You have to understand what he’s done and then work to build on it ...”
“So you’re siding with him,” Frieda said, flatly.
“I’m trying to help both of you,” Emily said. What would Aloha do? Leave both parties to sink or swim? Or try to find a way to get them to find common ground? Or ... would she even be involved? Emily wouldn’t be involved if Frieda hadn’t been involved. “You won’t lose marks because he came up with the concept, Frieda. You’ll lose them because you don’t understand what he’s done.”
“I can’t understand it,” Frieda snapped.
Emily nodded, understanding Frieda’s frustration. Celadon was so far ahead of her that it wouldn’t be easy to bridge the gulf, even if he hadn’t been smugly convinced of his own intellectual superiority and Frieda resenting the hell out of it. Hell, Emily wasn’t sure she could explain the basics of magical theory to a firstie, not now. Years ago, Void had declined to school her in magic personally, pointing out that she needed to learn the basics first. She thought she understood his point now.
“You will,” she said. “But that isn’t the main problem. You’ve turned into a ...”
“A bitch?” Frieda asked. Her voice was suddenly hard. “Was that what you were going to say?”
“A nightmare,” Emily said. “You’re snapping at everyone, you’re aggressive ... and now you’ve assaulted a firstie!”
“Who deserved it,” Frieda insisted.
Emily met her eyes. “What do you deserve now?”
Frieda ignored her. “You’re betraying me for her, for him, for everyone.” Her voice rose, alarmingly. “Why are you still with him? He betrayed you for her and ...”
“Caleb is not the issue here,” Emily said. “We’re friends ...”
“And so you betray me for him,” Frieda shouted. “That little bitch was right!”
Emily rose. “Listen to me,” she snapped. “What will happen if Gordian decides you should be expelled? Where will you go?”
“I can survive,” Frieda said. “I don’t need anyone! I can go and ...”
“... We’ll all be sorry when you’re dead?” Emily said. She felt her own voice rise and forced it down. “Stop feeling sorry for yourself and look at yourself!”
She sat back, wondering why everything had gone so badly wrong. Perhaps she should have kept a closer eye on Frieda. Perhaps ... she shook her head. It didn’t matter, not now. The situation had to be handled firmly enough to keep Gordian from doing anything else.
“You will report to the Warden.” She hated herself for saying it, but there was no choice. “You will tell him that I am thoroughly displeased with your conduct and he is to take appropriate measures.”
Frieda’s eyes flashed fire. “Too weedy to beat me yourself?”
Emily was too tired to care about the challenge. “After you have been disciplined, you will write me a long essay on precisely why what you did was wrong. And then you will sit down and work your way through Celadon’s proposal. I want you to understand the theory by the end of half-term.”
“Or what?” Frieda challenged. “You’ll have me beaten again?”
“I will tell the Grandmaster that you are probably going to have to repeat Third Year,” Emily said, flatly. It was unlikely Frieda would be allowed to retake just Fourth Year. “You need to master the theory before you can move ahead.”
She met Frieda’s eyes. “I don’t know what’s wrong with you,” she said. “But you are crossing the line. If you don’t shape up, you might just be expelled. Go.”
Frieda turned and marched out of the room. Emily watched her go, then covered her eyes as the door banged closed. There had been no choice. She told herself that, again and again, as the guilt threatened to overwhelm her. There had been no choice. And yet, she knew she would always regret it.
And I still don’t know what’s wrong with her, she thought. She hesitated, then rose. If Sergeant Miles was in the school, he’d be in the armory. Perhaps he can offer some advice.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
EMILY FEARED THAT FRIEDA MIGHT HAVE done real harm to Marian, the kind of harm that couldn’t be repaired by magic, but Madame Kyla had no trouble repairing the damage. And yet, it was clear—the one time Emily looked in on her—that the incident had been traumatizing. Marian might be physically healed, but the mental damage was still extensive. Caleb told her, privately, that Marian had suffered a relapse. It wasn’t clear if she’d be able to return to classes at the end of half-term.
“I hope you punished her,” Caleb said, afterwards. “Because I can’t keep this from Mother indefinitely.”