She pushed the thought out of her mind, walking in companionable silence up to the library. It felt odd to spend time with a boy—a young man—who wasn’t Caleb or Jade ... she told herself, tartly, that she was being silly. Cirroc wasn’t someone she knew very well, she had to admit, but he was hardly an enemy. And besides, he had something she wanted. The fact he wanted something she couldn’t wait to give away was merely icing on the cake.
The library was thrumming with activity when she pushed open the door, a long line of students waiting by the desk to have their books stamped before they could be removed from the library. Several more were arguing with the librarians, insisting that they needed a particular book instantly; others were searching the stacks with the single-minded dedication of students who knew they needed to catch up on their studies before exam season rolled around again. Emily wondered, sourly, just how many books had been hidden behind the stacks or deliberately filed out of place. Too many students seemed to think that concealing books they needed was a completely new and original plan.
Frieda sat at a desk, looking tense. Frieda had a distracted look, as though she was talking to someone even though she was alone. Emily frowned as she led Cirroc over to the desk. Frieda looked up, her eyes going wide when she saw Cirroc. Emily hoped she’d look up to him, even if he was only two years older than she was. She’d definitely taken orders from him in the dueling club.
“Good luck,” she said, as Cirroc led Frieda into a study room. “And thank you.”
“I’ll see you tonight, at the club,” Cirroc said. “Take care.”
Emily sighed, then looked around the library. A pair of students were making rude gestures at each other, mindful of the library’s zero tolerance policy towards noise. She kept a wary eye on them for a moment, just in case they started shooting hexes at each other, then walked into the next study room. Cabiria and the Gorgon were seated at a table, working their way through a set of complex notes.
“Your friend nearly picked a fight with a senior librarian,” the Gorgon said, by way of greeting. “Did she really hex someone into next week?”
Cabiria snickered. “I thought you didn’t pay attention to rumors.”
The Gorgon’s snakes hissed, something Emily had come to recognize as embarrassment. “I try to ignore them,” the Gorgon said. “But sometimes you just hear things.”
“And sometimes you just listen.” Cabiria grinned, sweetly. “It isn’t as if any of us are going to blame you for listening. Anyone who wants privacy should cast a privacy ward.”
Emily sat down. “She didn’t hex someone into next week,” she said, flatly. “She just ... hurt someone.”
The Gorgon blinked. “And you think that’s acceptable behavior?”
“No,” Emily said.
“Then do something about it,” the Gorgon said.
Cabiria nodded. “Right now, there’s a rumor going around that you let her get away with murder. You have to do something about it.”
“I don’t know what,” Emily said. “Do you even know who’s spreading the rumors?”
“You know how it is,” Cabiria said. “Rumors grow and change in the telling.”
Emily nodded, sourly. A rumor could be warped out of all recognition after passing through a dozen mouths. People would mishear, or add details, or even simply mingle details from two separate rumors into one. By the time she heard it, the original rumor might have been buried under a mountain of utter nonsense.
And the only good thing about it is that most people won’t believe a word of them, she thought, ruefully. But something might stick if it’s repeated often enough.
“I don’t know who started the latest set of rumors,” the Gorgon said. “But you have to find a way to stop it.”
“You have to find a way to stop her,” Cabiria said. “I’ve got sisters. I know when someone is acting up to get attention.”
“And you never did that,” the Gorgon said, dryly.
“I got too much attention.” Cabiria’s face twisted into a bitter grimace. “I never had to act up.”
The Gorgon shrugged. “Maybe Frieda is just being bitchy. You can tell she didn’t have a good upbringing.”
“She grew up in the mountains,” Emily said. “She didn’t have an easy life.”
“That doesn’t excuse bad behavior,” the Gorgon said. “And while you might feel sorry for her, others will not.”
“People always felt sorry for me,” Cabiria put in. “I hated it.”
“I bet,” the Gorgon said.
“You’re missing the point,” Cabiria said. “I could get away with anything because ... because I was a freak. People felt too sorry for me to do anything about my behavior. I was a little brat.”
The Gorgon smirked. “And now you’re a big brat?”
Cabiria shot her a two-fingered gesture. “You’re missing the point. Everyone did it, even my sisters. You know, the ones who might be expected to resent any special treatment offered to the family cripple. And I hated it, because they weren’t being nice to me because it was me. They were being nice because they felt sorry for me.”
She looked at Emily. “Frieda doesn’t need care and compassion. She needs someone who can give her a kick up the ass, someone who doesn’t give a shit about her temper tantrums. Above all”—she pointed a finger at Emily—“she needs someone who can keep an emotional distance from her. You’re too close to her, Emily, and she’s too close to you.”
Emily nodded, slowly. Cirroc could do that, she thought. But he was being paid to tutor Frieda ... not, she supposed, that it mattered. He’d do what he’d agreed to do, unless it proved impossible. If Frieda acted badly, he’d just walk away.
And then we’d have to argue over who gets the club, she thought. Joy.
“It could be worse,” she said.
“I suppose it could,” the Gorgon said. “Now, are you going to study?”
Emily took the hint and rose. “I’ll see you both at dinner,” she said. She would have liked to stay, but she had her duties to attend to. “And thank you.”
She walked back into the main library, taking the opportunity to glance into the next study room. Frieda and Cirroc were sitting at a table, their heads bent over a book. Emily hoped—prayed—that some extra tutoring would help. Frieda was far from stupid. A tutoring session might clear up the problem. If not ... she couldn’t think of anything else.
And I need to check on Celadon, she thought. I don’t know if his concept actually worked!
Chapter Thirty
“SO,” SAMRA SAID, AS EMILY AND Melissa stepped into the classroom. “I trust you have been practicing looking at yourself?”
“Yes,” Emily said. She wasn’t in the best of states for soul magic, but she had a nasty suspicion Samra didn’t care. “I’ve been doing it whenever I have time.”