I choose my words carefully. “If I’m asking something I shouldn’t, don’t tell me. You were right about Aarya. I made a mistake. And I don’t want to misstep again.”

Her expression loses a little of its ice.

I take a breath and pace myself. “I’ve never met anyone from a…Jackal Family before, and, well…I’m not sure how to say this…Is there anything you can tell me?”

She purses her lips and levels her gaze at me like she’s trying to decide something. “Only that the stories are mostly true. We’re ninety percent sure that the Jackal Family was responsible for Franz Ferdinand’s driver taking a wrong turn in 1914, the turn that got him and his wife assassinated and instigated World War One. And we’re certain they had a hand in ‘accidentally’ leaving the gate open at Constantinople in 1453, leading to the city’s demise and the death of Emperor Constantine. Not to mention the ‘accidental’ bakery fire in London in 1666, which led to the destruction of more than thirteen thousand houses, and dozens of other incidents. I’m not saying Jackals only cause chaos, because as you know, none of our Families are perfect. We all have a long list of mistakes. But what I am saying is that Jackals are more likely to serve their own agenda than the Council of Families’. And because they are spread throughout numerous countries, it’s much more difficult to identify them. They speak every language, and they blend in everywhere. They are more true to their characteristics than any other Family here. Deceptive. Innovative. Clever. They will cause you trouble if they can.”

I freeze, and not because Layla just alleged that Aarya is likely related to people who helped start WWI, but because the description she just gave is ringing like a bell in my mind. Deceptive. Innovative. Clever. And now I remember exactly where I heard about the Jackal Family. My mother.

The latch moves under my hand and I jump backward. The door swings open and on the other side is the guard with the X scar above his eyebrow. His eyes narrow ever so slightly when he sees me. For a second we stare at each other, and just as I’m about to open my mouth to ask him what his deal is, he walks away without a word.

I look at Layla questioningly, but she’s already off the couch and moving. “Get dressed. Fast!”

I run into my room and grab my clothes off the floor. It takes me all of a minute to put them on, but even so Layla is standing by our open door when I finish like she’s been lounging there for hours.

She tosses me my cloak and I follow her full-speed into the hallway, which is lit by the open doors that students are pouring out of. I want to ask Layla what’s going on, but I don’t need to advertise my ignorance in front of everyone.

We follow the other girls from our hall down three flights of stairs and to the foyer that leads to the vine courtyard. It’s a mirror image of the one with the shields and the knight statue on the south side of the building, only it has nothing more than two torches and some faded tapestries hanging from its walls.