On the bottom shelf, another label jumps out at me. INCOMPLETE. Above the word is only a single, slender volume. I pick it up and leaf through the pages. It’s identical to the apprentice records, except these entries are shorter.

And they include a date of expulsion.

These must be from students who didn’t finish their training. My breath quickens as I think of my mother explaining that Avalina left Ivory Hall abruptly. I search through the book, hardly daring to hope. And then, like a sudden burst of sunlight through clouds, her name appears. Avalina Berg. A rush of energy vibrates through me.

Footsteps thunder up the staircase and I go rigid. Panic closes a fist around my vertebrae. I glance around for somewhere to stash the book, but I left my satchel and my cloak on the first level. I don’t have any choice, except to slide the book back on the shelf where I found it and allow it keep its secrets. But I won’t get another chance like this again.

The footsteps grow louder. Closer.

I can’t let Latham win. Carefully, I rip the page from the book, fold it, and shove it into my pocket. Then I race down the aisle, onto the wide landing, start down the staircase.

And run headlong into the librarian.

“What are you doing up here?” Her face is red, and a vein bulges near her temple.

“Looking for a book,” I say, trying to infuse my voice with a weightless quality.

Her eyes narrow. “What book?”

I twist a lock of hair around my finger and widen my eyes slightly—an expression cultivated during my childhood whenever I needed to convince my father of my innocence. What are you doing, bluebird? he would ask after catching me tiptoeing from the kitchen in the middle of the night with chocolate-smeared lips. Didn’t I tell you only one dessert?

I forgot, Papa.

“I wanted to find a better explanation of Kastelia’s laws regarding unbound magic.” I purse my lips. Lift one shoulder. “But I’m not having any luck.”

Her expression relaxes just a fraction. “That’s because you’re looking in the wrong place. You should have asked me for help. Apprentices aren’t allowed on this level.”

“I’m sorry,” I say. “I would have, but you stepped out.”

She sighs—a sound that is equal parts frustration and disbelief. She studies me for a moment, and I resist the urge to touch my pocket to reassure myself the paper is still there. After a beat, she presses her lips together and motions for me to follow her down the stairs.

We arrive back on the main level to find my team arguing about how to approach the trial. “We need some kind of strategy,” Bram says. “Otherwise, we’re going to look like bumbling fools in front of the Grand Council.”