“Oh, they weren’t kidding. You are so sweet,” she tells me. Before I can ask who she means by “they,” she adds, “And unbearably naive. I have no more power than you do here, darling. Don’t think I’m any kind of a shield.”

The warning sends shivers down my spine. “Still. I’m glad to see you.”

“Ditto, sweet cheeks. First door on the right—the study,” she tells me, pointing to a large wooden double sliding door that evokes castles and alcoves and secrets. “I’ll be downstairs once you get there, okay? And keep your chin up. It’ll be over before you know it.”

I turn, but before I can ask her what she means she’s hopping down a flight of stairs at the end of the room.

Fuck. I’m all alone.

Rather than sliding the doors open, I opt to knock.

Both doors glide apart, and at my first glance of what waits for me inside, I am glad I skipped dinner. It would have made a reappearance immediately.

The room, a vast university-style library, can hardly be called a study. It’s mostly plunged in darkness, except for dim, low lights along the many book stacks on the wall. All that would have been worth plenty of observation, had my eyes immediately not converged to the center of the room, where seven masked, cloaked shadows stand in a semicircle.

Seven. One for each of the houses.

“Welcome to the council, little snitch. Come in.”

I resist the instinct to do the opposite, to turn on my heels and run in the opposite direction. They’re…terrifying. Everything about their appearance is meant to intimidate, and it works. The masks. God, the masks.

Each is different; one, all white, with deep black cuts where eyes are supposed to be, reminiscent of a skull. Another in the shape of a wolf, a third, silver. In the middle, the tallest of the figures wears a dark blue neon-accented mask with blue eyes and a mouth carved in a sewed-up parody of a smile.

Fuck. I’m seriously seconds from pissing myself.

“Come on in.” I get the feeling it’s the one in the center talking. I can’t say for sure; I don’t see any mouths moving. The voice isn’t recognizable. I think some device alters it, making it deeper, almost robotic.

I don’t want to come in. Masks and cloaks, gloves, and darkness. Are they going to fucking kill me?

Shit, not even Lily knows I’m here.

They’re going to fucking murder me, aren’t they?

“The board wants us to assess whether you can keep your mouth shut about private business. You also have earned a punishment from us. Should you submit to the council, we will vote to reinstate you at Rothford.”

I can hear my heart beat in my ears. “You’d do that?”