Some of the Scholomance’s instructors had gone to Idris with the Centurions, and now Jia Penhallow, the former Consul, was in charge here. She’d decided to step down as Consul so that she could have time to rest, but once her health improved, she wanted something useful to do. Her husband, Patrick, was with her, and Ragnor Fell had stepped in too, to teach and offer guidance. Catarina Loss was a frequent presence as well. She spent more time at the new Academy on Luke Garroway’s farm in upstate New York, but she would stop by the Scholomance now and then to restock the infirmary or heal unusual magical maladies.

There were other changes. Kit had gone off to live with Jem and Tessa, while Helen and Aline were now ensconced at the Los Angeles Institute. Livvy wished with all of her ghostly heart that she and Ty could have stayed in Los Angeles, but Ty had been adamant. Going off to the Scholomance was the penance he must endure for his great crime—the great crime of attempting to bring Livvy back. Not very flattering, Livvy thought, to now be the ghostly albatross that Ty wore around his neck, but better a ghostly albatross than simply a dead sister.

Ty said, “No one chooses this life.” He had put down his pen.

He sounded as if he were somewhere far away. Livvy didn’t think he was talking about the Scholomance.

She said hastily, “I saw animal tracks around Dimmet Tarn. It isn’t fully iced over—I heard some of the other students say that this year is warmer than any on record. Can you imagine more snow than we’ve had? It looks as if animals come down to drink from Dimmet Tarn. I wonder what they are.”

“A Carpathian lynx, perhaps,” Ty said. “They are supposed to haunt the area.”

“Same,” Livvy said. But Ty didn’t laugh at her joke.

He said, “You were away for nearly three hours. I noted it in the book. I felt as if some part of me was falling asleep. Pins and needles.”

Livvy said, “I felt it too. Like a rubber band being stretched.”