I follow Matteo through the heavy wooden door leading into the foyer. Ancient shields adorn the walls; Layla once told me they are symbols of Strategia’s roots throughout world history, but to me they’re a reminder that I don’t know my own Family history the way I should.

“I can go? You’re letting me go?” I say more to myself than to Blackwood.

Blackwood hesitates. “Technically, you can go. However, I must advise you that you still have a great deal to learn and your skills are severely lacking in several areas. But more importantly, you know very little about the Strategia world at large.”

“Maybe so, but there’s no way I can stay here while my dad’s out there all alone. Especially knowing what I now know,” I say. “What happened here with Dr. Conner seems to be just a microcosm of what’s happening out there.”

“This school doesn’t involve itself in outside politics,” Blackwood says, even though we both know that the situation between her and Conner was completely political. “I’ll just say again that it would be prudent if you made additional alliances here and learned as much as you can before you leave.”

I speed up and fall in step with Matteo’s long strides. “Hey, can I talk to you for a minute?” I say, careful to keep my voice low. With the high arched ceilings, sound is amplified in this room.

His broad shoulders tense. “I’d rather not,” he says. He doesn’t bother turning to face me.

“Look, I know you blame me for Stefano’s—” I start as we enter the hallway to the boys’ dorm.

Now he does look at me, or rather down at me, with frustrated brown eyes that remind me of my aunt Jo’s. He’s a good six inches taller than me. “You’re damn right I do. And maybe it wasn’t directly your fault that he was murdered. But the fact remains that my best friend from the time I could talk is dead because you came to this school.”

His words stop me in my tracks. I rub my forehead near my eyebrow—a gesture Ash once told me signifies shame, which I suppose is pretty accurate in this moment. “I can’t imagine what it would be like if someone killed my best friend,” I say, and my voice is gentler. Just the thought of anyone hurting my feisty Emily makes me want to cry. “I’d be hateful till the end of time.”

“Yeah, well…,” he says in front of his dorm room door.

I stare at him, unsure where to go from here. I can’t very well say “Sad about your friend, but I need something, so can we talk about that now?”