My shadow crosses over Storm’s End, and I’m about to fly for the matron’s balcony in the back when I see the crowd gathered outside the front doors. Oh no.

I land and take my human form. A group of people, men and women alike, crowds the doors of the school. I recognize the woman closest to us, a fisherman’s wife whom I know from the market. Her eyes widen when she sees me.

“Lady Shirene!” Her words are half-exclamation, half-sob. “Is it true? Are there children dying?”

I had rehearsed this moment in my head so many times. “We are being careful,” I say smoothly. The crowd parts, and I see Mother’s deep magenta dress. Her expression shifts when she sees me. “The king and sentinels have heard the rumors as have you. And we are being careful. Now please, let me through.”

Still, the questions tumble into one another.

“Are we safe?”

“I saw healers flying from the palace!”

“What’s causing it?”

My heart clamors in my rib cage—there are too many people, and so many questions. I have to stall as best as I can.

I am the King’s Voice. This is my job, now more than ever.

“I just came from the palace. We must work together to keep calm until the king and scholars tell us what to do next.” There’s more grumbling and whispers, but my title and calm have done the trick. “Matron Talla, if you will.”

She unlocks the doors to Storm’s End and ushers me inside. Just before the door closes, I see a pair of women reach out and hug each other. No words, just an embrace. The murmurs behind us quiet as the doors click shut. I don’t think I’ve ever been so grateful for its protection.

Mother opens her arms and draws me in for a hug. “I’m so glad you came.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t get away sooner,” I reply. “I’m so sorry about the two girls.”

“We can only look forward,” she says, but she avoids my gaze.

“Skies. Rowan told you.”

“And the fish vendor outside.” Her shoulders drop. “Congratulations, my sweet girl. The King’s Voice. I’m so proud of you. Your father would be, too.”

I struggle to hold back my tears. “Thank you, Mother. I’m sorry you didn’t hear it from me. I’m just … so busy.”

“Come on,” she says. “Let’s rest.”

“I don’t have much time,” I reply, but I follow her, anyway. It’s strange to see the circular classroom empty and clean. A pang of sorrow strikes me as I imagine my mother spending her High Summer here, putting everything away. Alone.

“Is Rowan here?” I ask.

“She came by yesterday.”

“Was she okay?”