Ignoring the little voice at the back of her mind that insisted it was already too late, she pressed her fingertips against the wooden door and touched the wards. Normally, they would alert anyone inside the house when someone opened the outer door; this time, she took several moments to ensure that the wards wouldn’t react to her presence. She didn’t want to sneak up on Frieda, but she wanted—she needed—to know what Frieda was doing in her house.
The door opened, slowly. Emily slipped inside, raising one hand in a defensive pose. The wards hummed around her, fading rapidly as she made her way into the living room. Frieda was in the library, it seemed. Emily tensed—there were some books there she’d rather never saw the light of day again—as she heard the sound of someone flipping pages at a fearsome rate. Frieda? Or had someone managed to subvert her wards? Grandmaster Hasdrubal had built them—and Void had checked them, when Emily had inherited the house—but they lacked the power and sophistication of Whitehall’s wards. A skilled wardcrafter, already inside the house, might be able to weaken or destroy them with ease.
She felt her heartbeat start to race as she reached the library door and peered inside. Frieda was sitting at a desk, her back to the door, reading a book with terrifying speed. Emily’s eyes narrowed ... was that even Frieda? Shapechanging spells and illusion magic was commonplace, although replacing someone for more than a few minutes was extremely difficult. Emily peered forward, trying to determine if ‘Frieda’ was surrounded by a haze of magic, but there was nothing. The wards certainly hadn’t hesitated to let Frieda into the house.
Emily cleared her throat, gently. Frieda spun around, her hand snapping up to cast a freeze spell. Emily blocked it, careful not to step too far away from the door. If that wasn’t Frieda, or if she’d gone completely off the tracks, she might need a line of retreat. Trying to teleport out of the house would be extremely dangerous, if she’d had the energy. She hated having to consider her friend a potential enemy, but she had no choice. Frieda had badly wounded at least three people, as far as Emily knew.
“Frieda,” she said. She found herself utterly unsure what to say. “What are you doing?”
There was an odd flash of ... something ... in Frieda’s eyes. “Studying.” She rose slowly, moving to hide the book. “I thought you wanted me to study.”
Emily met her eyes. “Back in Mountaintop, I did something to you, to show you what might happen if you went too far. What did I do?”
Frieda’s eyes went wide. “You smacked my bottom, then stuck me to the ceiling,” she said, after a moment. “I remember.”
“Yes,” Emily said. She didn’t think anyone else knew what had happened. Unless someone had dragged the memory out of Frieda’s mind ... she shook her head. The girl in front of her was Frieda. There was no point in trying to hope otherwise any longer. “You have gone too far, now.”
Frieda looked sullen. Her fingers played with her bracelet. “What do you care?”
“I care because you’re my friend,” Emily snapped. She felt her patience start to snap. “I have defied the Grandmaster and ignored his orders to come after you. There is a very good chance they won’t let me back in the school! So tell me ... what were you thinking?”
“I wanted him to shut up.” Frieda looked down. “He just wouldn’t shut up.”
“Look at me,” Emily snapped. “You shut him up, all right. You poured enough boiling liquid on him to do real harm. He could be dying now!”
Frieda shrugged. “Serves him right.”
Emily felt a hot flash of anger. She controlled it ruthlessly.
“And what do you think people will say when you get hung?” she demanded. “They’ll say it served you right!”
She glared at Frieda, daring the younger girl to look away. “I ignored orders to go to the Warden and came straight here,” she added. “That’s something else Gordian can beat me with”—perhaps literally, her thoughts added—“when I get home. I came because of you!”
“You came to see me instead of getting caned.” Frieda laughed, a humorless sound that sent chills down Emily’s spine. “I feel so flattered.”
“I might just have thrown away my schooling,” Emily snapped. “Do you think the Grandmaster is going to let me back in?”
“You’re the most important student in a generation.” Frieda’s voice wobbled for a long moment. “Of course he’ll let you back in. Not like me ...”
“Stop the pity-party,” Emily ordered, icily. Running away from the Warden was bad, but injuring three students—one of them a firstie—was far worse. Frieda was in deep shit. “Perhaps you should feel sorry for the students you hurt.”
Frieda’s hand played with her bracelet. “Perhaps they should have shut up when they had the chance!”
“You turned into a bully,” Emily said. “How are you any different from the students who tormented you at Mountaintop?”
Frieda recoiled, as if Emily had slapped her. “I’m nothing like them!”
“You do not hurt students three years younger than you without being called a bully,” Emily said, flatly. “I don’t care what she called you. I don’t care what she said about me. I just don’t want you to lose everything!”
“It isn’t as if I’m going to finish the year,” Frieda muttered.
Emily silently counted to ten before speaking. “I organized help for you,” she said. It was hard to keep her voice under control. Cirroc had demanded a favor in exchange for extra tutoring, a favor to be called in later. And she’d be honor-bound to agree to whatever he asked. “I helped you cut down your classes to a manageable level. I even spent several days over the last couple of weeks helping you with your studies.”
She felt her voice begin to rise. “You had every chance of getting through your exams until you decided to throw it all away!”
Frieda flinched. Emily took a long breath.
“But now, you’re wanted for attempted murder! Does it really fucking matter if you finish your exams?”
“He didn’t die,” Frieda pointed out.
“He could have died,” Emily said. She could have died, too. It wasn’t something she cared to think about, not now. “A few more droplets on his face and he’d be dead. Or the shock of being scalded so badly could have killed him too. Or ...
“You came very close to killing him. And it will get you killed.”
She walked forward. Frieda inched backwards, pushing against the table.
“You’ve thrown your life away,” she snarled. “Why?”
Frieda held up a hand, as if she was about to cast a spell. “I ... I ... don’t know.”
“You turned into a monster,” Emily said. She hadn’t wanted to say it - she hadn’t wanted to admit it - but it was true. She felt hot tears prickling at the corner of her eyes and blinked them away. “You bullied younger students, you fought with older ones ... and you threw away your life. What do you think is going to happen now?”
She felt a surge of anger as Frieda lowered her hand. What had happened to Frieda? What had she become? And what would it take to put everything back to normal?