“Very moving last words,” Blackwood says. “But I think the material point is that if someone finds him, it won’t be you.” Blackwood glares at Conner like he’s a loathsome parasite and she’s trying to decide what to do with him.

I don’t spare him another glance. Aunt Jo was right about Dad’s family—good riddance.

“After you take Ashai to the infirmary, November,” Blackwood says over her shoulder, not taking her eyes off Conner, “please meet me in my office….And close the door on your way out.”

ASH IS DOZING in the infirmary. He tried to stay awake to talk to me, but whatever the nurse gave him knocked him out cold. He only mumbled an incoherent sentence or two before his eyes fluttered shut.

I watch his chest rise and fall and I exhale audibly. If Aarya hadn’t showed up when she did, I honestly don’t know how much I would have lost tonight. Probably both our lives, and maybe my dad’s as well.

“We should get your cuts cleaned up,” the nurse says, and I turn around. She wears her long black hair in a braid that reaches her waist. A single gray streak near her temple makes her look like a sorceress. And she’s petite, but her voice is raspy and commanding.

“I know. And I promise I’ll be back. But Headmaster Blackwood told me to come see her first,” I say, and she gives me a stern look.

“Get on with it, then,” she says, and I do.

I make my way through the silent hallways, passing three guards as I go. They all watch me, but no one looks at me like I shouldn’t be there, which makes me think they already know what happened with Conner.

I take the three flights slowly, my body more bruised and achy than it was even half an hour ago. And when I reach Blackwood’s office, two guards stand outside her arched door. One of them opens it for me, but neither guard follows me in. Blackwood must want total privacy, and I don’t blame her, considering her role in all of this.

The familiar smell of woodsmoke fills the air. I take a seat in the armchair just like I did my very first day, and I find myself blurting out the first thing that comes to mind. “Did you try to send me messages through some of my instructors?”

Blackwood raises an eyebrow and considers me. “I may have suggested a few lessons to help you acclimate.”

I would laugh at that tempered answer, but I’m too pooped and sore to muster a laugh. “And when Matteo punched—”

Blackwood cuts me off. “Now, I know you have questions, and truthfully, you are entitled to ask them. However, please do me the favor of listening first.” She leans back in her chair.

I thought that tonight would have softened her toward me, but she’s just as formal as ever. I quietly nod my agreement.