Heart pounding for too many reasons to count, I think back on the Wall of Ages and its Lines and the mixture of disconnection and frustration I’d felt staring at it. Then, from the monument’s place of honor at the top of Carolina’s campus, I look back on the school’s buildings and manicured lawns and brick walkways. I let my gaze draw lines here, too, from building to building, from tree to tree, from buried lives to beaten ones, from blood stolen to blood hidden. I map this terrain’s sins, the invisible and the many, and hold them close. Because even if the pain of those sins takes my breath away, that pain feels like belonging, and ignoring it after all I’ve just witnessed would be loss.

I stand at that statue and claim the bodies whose names the world wants to forget. I claim those bodies whose names I was taught to forget. And I claim the unsung bloodlines that soak the ground beneath my feet, because I know, I just know, that if they could, they would claim me.

I don’t know why I do it, really, but before I go, I turn around to face that statue, press both palms against it, and push. I imagine all of the hands that built Carolina and suffered on its grounds pushing through my palms too, and while the statue doesn’t budge, it feels like I’ve sent it a message.

Maybe it’s my imagination, but I feel stronger. Taller. Like I might have the roots to grow just what I need.

And then, with fire in my veins, I turn on my heel and run.

27

SARAH AND TOR are talking in the foyer when I come hurtling through the front door.

“Bree? Are you all right?” Sarah asks, taking in my disheveled appearance.

“Where’s Nick?”

Tor frowns. “Driving his dad to the airport.”

Damnit. I’d completely forgotten. Lord Davis is flying to the Northern Chapter to meet with the Regents. “When will he be back?”

“He’s meeting us at the Tap Rail tonight in an hour, newbie,” Tor says, crossing her arms. “Why?”

The bar. God, I’d forgotten that, too. Which means I can’t talk about the Gate and the mysterious figure until later. One crisis at a time, Matthews. If Nick and Lord Davis are both gone…

“I need William.”

Sarah’s brows shoot up. “Are you injured?”

“No.” I start for the hallway that leads to the elevator, but Tor steps into my path.

“Then why do you need him?”

I glare at her, too tired to play nice. Sarah steps in. “He’s downstairs in the infirmary.”

“Pages don’t go down there unless they’re told,” Tor protests. “Listen, Matthews, you can’t run around doing whatever you want—”