I take slow, even breaths. Thane keeps scrolling.

Her real name is Lyra. There’s a link to a news article about Chase’s death that uses my name liberally, even has a picture.

Then:

Anora Silby was the last person to see Lily Martin and Jake Harjo alive. It isn’t a coincidence. She’s a murderer. She is a fake.

The app closes without warning. For a moment, I think someone’s managed to take it down, but Thane says, “There are too many people on it right now.”

Great.

The whispers continue, and people turn to stare. I feel like I’m in a room with the walls closing in. My chest tightens, and I can’t take in air. I want to run, and I think Thane knows it, because he keeps his hand wrapped tight around mine.

Who made these posts? I don’t have a very long list of suspects. There are four people who know my background, excluding the Order, and while I won’t put something as petty as this past them, I’m assuming adults weren’t involved. That leaves Natalie, Jacobi, Thane, and Shy. Jacobi is ruled out for obvious reasons, and Thane was sitting right beside me when the information went live. Shy has done his best to protect me from the Order—or rather, Roth—and he hates Roundtable. Those reasons aren’t as strong, but they have more weight than what I have on Natalie, which is nothing.

She hates me.

After the assembly, Mrs. Cole’s voice crackles over the intercom: “Anora Silby, come to administration. Anora Silby.”

I want to sink lower in my seat, but Thane pulls me up.

“It’s going to be okay,” he says.

“How do you know?”

“I don’t know that, but most of the Order is on your side, right? They’ll protect you.”

I can’t tell if he’s being snide or not. Nearly half of the Order would rather see me pay for Chase Lockwood’s death. I wonder how many Valryn out there feel the same. On top of that, the student body at Nacoma Knight seems ever eager to believe anything posted on Roundtable.

What had Lennon said about Roundtable? You’ll either retain your rank or fall from grace.

At least I don’t have far to fall.

* * *

My stomach is queasy as I head to the administration office. Mrs. Cole is in her usual place behind the glass. When I tell her I’m here to see Mr. Rivera, she says he’ll be out in a moment.

“Did you find your coin, Miss Silby?” she asks while I wait.

“My coin?” I ask, hysteria rising inside me until I remember I’d asked her to check the lost and found at the beginning of the week. “Oh, my coin.” I laugh weakly. “No, not yet.”

“I’ll keep a lookout,” she promises.

“Thanks.”

A door opens, and Mr. Rivera appears.