Noelle’s eyes darted over to me for a second before she pressed the phone to her ear and said, “Hi, Mom.”

Those two words were enough to cut through the pleasant fog in my head. I suddenly felt like I was intruding and I was about to get up and get my earphones so she could have more privacy when Noelle made a strange choking noise.

“What?” With the hand that wasn’t holding the phone, she gripped tightly onto the edge of her desk. “Two days ago? I thought you were in Boston right now?”

A pause. Then, “And you’re . . . you’re sure it was him?” Noelle asked. Her voice sounded strangled, like there was an invisible pair of hands wrapped around her throat. “Did he try to get to you?”

She was silent for a few endless seconds. Her eyes looked over at me, but I didn’t feel like she saw me. It was like she was staring right through me, gaze empty, at something I couldn’t view. All I could perceive was a prickling sense of danger that made the hairs at the back of my neck stand up.

“So no one knows where he went after that?” She closed her eyes, her face ashen. “No, I—I’m fine, Mom. Thank you for tel -

ing me. I . . . I need to go now.”

She listened for a few more seconds, the faraway look still in her eyes when she lowered the phone. I sat frozen, unsure what to do. Finally, I got to my feet and said, “Hey. Is everything okay?”

Noelle’s mouth opened and closed again, like she was choking on the words, unable to get them out. When she spoke, her voice was as thin and fragile as old paper. “I’m sorry, I . . . I think I need a moment.”

“Okay. Is there anything I can—”

“No,” she cut me off. “I just . . . sorry, I can’t do this right now.”

Before I could react, she was already pushing past me and stumbling out of the door. I winced when it fell shut, the sound harsh and final. My feet were urging me to follow her, but my head was smart enough to know that wasn’t what she wanted.

Instead, I stayed in the too-quiet, too-empty room and tried to ignore the cold that washed over me as soon as she was gone.

° ° °

I had expected Noelle to return to our room after an hour, maybe two. Now four hours had passed and there was still no sign of her. She had missed dinner and so had I, seeing as the dread in my stomach left no room for any appetite. Now the castle was cloaked in ink-blue night and since bedtime was less than an hour away, the noise in the girls’ wing had quieted down to soft murmurs and scattered footsteps.

My first instinct after she had left was to grab a book and slip under the covers. It was what I always did when I felt like things were spiraling out of my control—I had read on the train to Seven Hills and after the confrontation with Noelle on my second day here; I had read the day after the party when I had been terrified of Noelle’s reaction; and even now I read every time I felt homesick.