She sighs, her eyes full of regret. “Why he thinks your bones would be especially powerful.” She touches my shoulder gently. “But please don’t worry. We’re close to finding him, and he can’t hurt you. Not here.”

I think of Rasmus ready to accompany me if I leave the grounds. Of Norah’s promise to keep me safe. Of the earnest expression on Master Kyra’s face. And for the first time since Latham killed my mother, a tiny seed of hope sprouts in my heart.

Maybe I don’t have to do this alone.

Maybe I really will be safe here.

Both Bram and Tessa are waiting for me when I leave the training wing.

“Our new room is ready,” Tessa says brightly, threading her arm through mine. “And Bram wants to see if it’s better than his. Right, Bram?”

Bram gives a half smile that suggests he said no such thing.

The path to the girls’ dormitory—just as everything else in Ivory Hall—looks vaguely familiar. Like something out of a dream. Candelabras made from deer antlers are spaced at regular intervals and bathe the white walls in a gentle light. The flames flicker as we pass, but bone magic keeps them from snuffing out. Beneath our feet is a plush rug with swirling patterns of green and gold, and I know the exact spot where it’s grown threadbare—a detail plucked from my memory, even though I can’t locate the source.

Tessa stops halfway down the corridor, at a door in the center of the block of rooms.

“Let me,” Bram says, reaching for the knob. But it won’t open. He wiggles it and tries again. “It’s locked.”

“That’s strange.” Tessa reaches for the knob, and at her touch, it turns easily and the door swings open wide.

“Whoa, where’d you get a Mason-crafted lock?” All three of us startle at the voice. We turn to find an apprentice in an orange cloak studying the knob with an expression of naked admiration. He takes in our confused faces and dips his head toward the door. “It will only open for the room’s occupants.”

Tessa’s eyes go wide. “That’s amazing”—she leans toward me and lowers her voice—“and a little terrifying that it’s necessary.”

I couldn’t agree more.

The room is much larger than where I slept last night. Two beds are situated on either side of a big window, with a bureau and desk for each of us pressed against the opposite wall. A neatly folded stack of linens sits at the foot of each bed. And on one of the pillows is a gift, wrapped in brown paper with delicate designs stamped across the surface in red ink. Tessa fingers the tag. “Saskia, it’s for you.”

I take a step forward and see my name written in delicate script.