“You were knocked down in Stryker’s class?” Taro pulled out a chair and sat facing Elettra just as she was about to eat lunch.
They had been invited to Cecily Veremond’s rooms for lunch. And by the looks of it, Elettra thought she had invited the whole school. But upon arrival, Cecily gave her arm a squeeze and reassured her that only the most important families were invited. Elettra remembered with a thrill how Cecily angled for Locke’s attention on the train. And looking at her in that moment, Elettra wouldn’t blame Locke if he gave all his attention to her: Cecily was tall and slender. Her dark glossy hair washed around Elettra as she pecked her on the cheeks in greeting. Apparently, she hadn’t heard that Elettra completely embarrassed herself earlier that morning. But Elettra wasn’t going to stop and tell someone she barely knew what had happened. Least of all Cecily.
But as Elettra had made her way through the rooms, which were long and a lovely shade of periwinkle, she had hoped to find Cecily’s younger brother, Ivo. Already, the eying at begun, and Elettra craved for Ivo’s indifference to who she was. But no, unfortunately she found Portia saving a seat for Onyx. She had made it clear that Elettra wasn’t allowed to veto him from the table.
And now Elettra was being interrogated about that morning. She buried the palms of her hands into her eyes; her finger tangled in her dark fringe.
“You fell?” Portia’s soup spoon was poised over her dish.
“I was shakey,” Elettra let her hands drop as she straightened her shoulders, “that’s all.”
“It was embarrassing!”
Taro’s words stung Elettra. He couldn’t care less about reputation—why should he care now?! Elettra wanted to slap him.
Instead, Elettra pushed herself up from her seat: “I don’t need you to tell me that,” but Taro put his hand on her arm.
“Onyx always plays dirty,” this was Taro’s way of apologizing. A hot burning knot formed in her throat: Locke saw everything. If everyone wasn’t laughing at her now, they would be later, and Elettra just wanted to go back to her room already.But while her thoughts roared through her head, Elettra somehow missed the fact that Sparrow had stopped abruptly at their table, her arm entwined around Magnus—
“Invite her!” She lightly slapped Taro’s arm.
Taro bent his head, trying to catch Elettra’s eye: “Not if she’s going to keep acting so gloomy!”
“Oh, I heard what happened!” Sparrow sounded a little too delighted, which only made Elettra shoot her eyes up at her.
“Aster is just bad news—no one really likes him anyway. And if I were you…”
But Sparrow let her words trail off as her eyes fell over their shoulders. When Elettra glanced behind her, she saw Onyx slowly sink down in his seat, his angry gaze fixed on Sparrow. But once Elettra turned back, her head blocked his view.
“So,” Sparrow’s brightened with renewed energy, “you’ll come to dinner tonight?”
Elettra felt the blood slowly drain from her face at the thought of sitting near Locke after what happened today. The glint of disdain. Laughter.
“Think of it as a fulfillment of wifely duties,” Taro poked Elettra in the rib with his finger, making her twist away. She tried not to smile, but Sparrow just grinned: “I think that’s a yes!”
"Wifely duties?” Elettra wasn’t sure if she was amused or irritated by his choice of words.
“Did I say anything wrong, my dear?”
“Oh stop!”
Elettra and Taro heard Onyx’s sharp voice behind them.
“Don’t worry, Aster,” Taro pressed both his hands onto the table, licking his lips at Onyx, “I’ll take care of you tonight.”
An angry flush overwhelmed Onyx’s cheeks while Portia leapt to her feet on the verge of a fit.
“Where is your friend?” Onyx leaned over the table; something wicked glittered in his eye “-- Am-ory, is it?”
“Really, Onyx,” Taro rolled his eyes, “He’s not your type. Play to your strengths and find some other hole to burrow under.”
Taro grabbed Elettra’s hand and pulled her through the crowd before either Onyx or Portia could say anything else.
And when the two finally made it outside and into the commons courtyard, Elettra was able to gather her breath and ask as casually as she could--
“Why was he talking about your friend, Amory, like that?”
“Like what?”
Elettra shrugged and glanced over her shoulder as though she anticipated Onyx following them right out into the courtyard.
“Onyx seems like he’s up to something.” Elettra tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
“It’s Onyx; always has a problem with someone, especially a new someone.” Taro just shook his head and stared out into the little grey orchard in the middle of the courtyard. At very start of autumn term, the trees would be heavy with golden pears. And to Elettra they looked like thick, golden raindrops, ready to fall.
“But he won’t be at dinner tonight.” Taro added quickly.
“What?”
“Locke,” Taro smiled.
Elettra blinked and realized she took a second too long to respond: “I didn’t ask.”
“You didn’t have to.” Taro buttoned his coat and winked at his cousin, “but he will be at Clockpole Hall about now.”
Taro turned to leave, and walking backward said, “he’s giving a lecture on those peaks you two seem to know sooo much about.”Elettra was about to open her mouth in protest, that she didn’t know anything about those peaks, but she knew it would only make it worse.

Clockpole wasn’t too far from where Elettra had to be next. It wasn’t on her way, but Clockpole sat in full view of where she had to be. There were a few students that were racing to get inside, clutching their books by their sides while Elettra slowly walked up the steps toward the door: she was trying to think of all the reasons why she shouldn’t go in.
There were a million things she had to get done besides attend a lecture that she couldn’t care less about.
Her feet ached; it would be better if she were sitting the library reviewing her notes.
What if other people from Stryker’s class were there and saw her?
She could be practicing summoning and holding the green current rather than making an absolute fool of herself.
Besides... what if he saw her?
Elettra didn’t have time to think through how mortifying it would be for him to see her there when the door flew open.
“Are you coming in?” It was Ivo. He tugged at his sleeve and glanced at his wristwatch. “Lecture’s starting.”
“Yes-- sorry!” Elettra knew it would seem more suspicious if she had said no, that she wasn’t going in. She wanted to avoid embarrassing herself further. Her eyes darted around the hall and the faces of the other students: some had certainly noticed her, but they were glances of recognition-- the Tariel is here. Nothing out of the ordinary.
Once again, Ivo didn’t seemed phased by her presence, and Elettra felt that she could finally relax and breathe more freely.He was rattling on about Locke having written up “quite a bit of research” before turning to her and finally saying: “I’d be interested to hear your thoughts about the Grey Peaks, since that is an old prefecture of the Tariel coven.”
His lean, delicate face beamed hopefully at her. Elettra was so caught off guard by Ivo’s genuine interest that she stammered a “yes” as they walked down the hall together. But just as they were walking in, a wall of bodies completely blocked their view.
“I don’t think we can get past,” Elettra whispered.
Ivo got up on his tiptoes to see if he could manage to watch that way, but both Elettra and Ivo knew it was impossible.
Elettra suddenly tapped Ivo’s arm—“I know a way!”
She didn’t even have time to think it through, but it was a distant memory when she first arrived at Haightford. They turned down the corridors of Clockpole before reaching a small door that could easily be missed amongst the other larger and grander doors. Elettra only had to take a hairpin from her hair and slide it into the lock. Ivo watched with fascination:
“It’s enchanted,” Elettra struggled, “so, rudimentary methods are needed unfortunately.”
“Fascinating,” Ivo breathed.
The door opened, creaking violently. Elettra and Ivo tried not to sputter with laughter as voices from the main hall where the lecture was echoed from within. Elettra and Ivo followed a stream of light that emitted from a window that was covered in an elaborate wooden lattice design.
“Clockpole used to be a temple,” Elettra whispered as they approached the window, “and this is where the infirm would be during ceremonies.”
Elettra and Ivo were close enough to the front that Elettra was surprised how near Locke was in that moment. She could even count the freckles and moles that dotted his neck and jaw.
Then she wondered if this was a good idea at all: was the lattice design enough covering?
It was more humiliating, she thought, to be discovered spying behind an old room than be a normal audience member and buried between the bodies of other students.
The lights were already dim, and Ivo and Elettra had just missed a professor’s opening remarks, and Locke had already begun speaking. He was drawing a breath when the projector behind him clicked loudly. Elettra recognized the the black and white photograph of the Grey Peaks that appeared behind Locke’s head.
“It’s no surprise that the Ancient Sages were condemned as heretics. Dangerous men.” He paused, “dangerous men with nothing to lose.”
The projector clicked, and the next picture was a stone fortress, one that Elettra recognized; a temple carved into the mountain. She could barely make out the various gods and sages that were carved into the walls, but Tariels were always well-versed in the history of what they ruled.
“Their hermetic life was a life of exile, and it compelled them to the uninhabitable; the desolate; and the impossible.”
Locke was pacing slowly, and the more he walked the more Elettra could feel the audience fall into the mesmerizing rhythm of his voice. And then he paused. Elettra held her breath as she waited.
The projector clicked. The room gasped, and a flurry of voices resounded. Locke only waited, his lips parted—just watching.
“Behind me,” his voice cut through the din, and he caught the audience again, “you’ll see an Amory holding the elusive Grey Nightingale. It has been my family’s sole task in protecting and preserving creatures that the Sages bestowed the Mysteries.”
Elettra as well as the rest of the world understood what Locke meant by Mysteries—forces that drove the universe. And while it had been hotly debated for centuries, warlocks that gained access to any one of the mysteries and tried to consume even a fragment of the power gained an unspeakable and fatal amount of knowledge and power. The keyword, Elettra noted to herself, was “fatal.” It was widely contested if anyone ever swallowed a mystery to become more powerful, but they either would not have lived to tell the tale. Or they were lying.
Locke waited again.
“It is our purpose, our singular task in this world to guard these mysteries.”
“If he says ‘stewards of the world’ I’m breaking this window,” Ivo whispered.
Elettra snorted.
Locke’s eyes twitched, and she could see something flicker across his face.
Elettra bent her knees a little to hide but pressed her lips together to keep from laughing: it was the monarchy’s motto—We are mere stewards to the great power of our world.
A hand had gone up in the audience, and Locke had gone behind a podium and nodded to the person to speak.
“However, shortly after your discovery, several of the Grey Nightingale had disappeared even though your coven claims they released the creatures.”
“That is correct.” Locke merely blinked at the young student that had asked. After a moment, there was small ripple of laughter.
The student shifted and sighed in frustration.
“What I mean is—”
“—the implication is a serious one,” Locke leaned forward on his podium narrowing his eyes: he was challenging the student.
The student stammered, and even Elettra could see him blushing.
“Are you saying,” the head professor twisted from his seat in the front to look at the student asking the question, “that the Amories poached the very creature they were studying?”
“The monarchy hasn’t been popular with many families, and recently—”
The student was cut off by the audience breaking into a buzz of uncomfortable muttering. And somehow the focus fell back onto Locke, who was smiling: “It’s even more serious when the implication is against the monarchy… and a coven whose mission is funded by said monarchy.”
Elettra could have sworn the student was choking back tears: they truly believed in something. And the room was decidedly against him.
“I think it’s best you sit down now.” Locke’s smile had faded, but his voice remained soft—and deadly.
Elettra exchanged glances with Ivo. It was one thing disapprove of the monarchy; it was entirely another thing to openly express dissent. But there was something about Locke and the rest of the audience that Elettra couldn’t quite place it in that moment—was it compassion that she felt for the student? Was it surprise that Locke was so cold?
Elettra was so lost in her thoughts that she didn’t register why Ivo was tugging at her sleeve and telling her to duck. When she looked back through the lattice, Locke was staring right back at her.
