one morning he was dead. I can’t wake up and find out Gabriel’s dead. I can’t do that again.”
“If he’s about to die, then let’s save him,” I said. “We’re artists. We’re smart. We can do something, so let’s do it.”
She nodded. “Should we tell Coline?”
“No.” I helped Isabelle out of bed and gathered up our bathing supplies. “She’s too grumpy after waking up. We’ll tell her later.”
By the time we made it to breakfast, Isabelle was smiling. Estrel handed me the yellow-tinted spectacles when I walked past her, gesturing for me to put them on. I did, marveling at the room as some of the other girls must have seen it, and my stomach growled. Germaine and Gisèle took the seats on either side of Isabelle and me.
“What happened?” Germaine asked, voice soft.
Even Coline looked to me to answer.
I glanced at Vivienne and Estrel at the head of the table, laughing. “Nothing,” I said. “I scryed after you left, and Estrel caught me.”
“Caught you scrying?” Gisèle asked.
Germaine laughed. “That’s not against the rules.”
I shrugged and tapped the spectacles, but before I could answer, Estrel tapped her spoon against her water glass. She stood and dropped it with a clatter.
“Morning, all,” she said, and magic flickered at her throat, pale and sunny through the tint of these lenses. An illusion. I hadn’t noticed she hid her voice. To hold that all the time must have been exhausting. “I have so greatly enjoyed meeting most of you and must apologize that I haven’t had time to meet all of you, but I hope to rectify that.” She leaned against the table like we were never supposed to and stared at me. “I have decided to stay and help teach the midnight arts this term. Power and rebellion often go hand in hand, and it would be far too dangerous to leave you all on your own.”
I leaned forward too, able to see the world plainly for the first time in days, and my mind blessedly clear.
I knew what I had to do.
Eleven
Emilie
We woke at dawn every day. Laurence required that we attend morning rounds with him at one of the Delest clinics, teaching us the basics through example. Our school sessions were over, the education of hacks largely lacking in academia and built solely upon practical experience, and we would remain with Laurence’s group until they returned to work in Monts Lance after the term was over. After an hour, Sébastien would lead Rainier away to work as his hack and deal with the patients Sébastien didn’t want—inevitably, it was the children and pregnant patients, which suited Rainier fine. I was always stuck competing with Charles for Laurence’s attention, gleaning as much as I could from over Charles’s shoulder. We fell into an easy pattern.
“Mademoiselle Marie here has had trouble balancing and has experienced ringing in her ears over the past few weeks. Why do you think that is?” Laurence asked Charles and me. “But don’t worry,” he said softly to Marie. “I promise I do know what’s happening, and you’ll be fine.”
“Growths on the nerves,” Charles said, as I asked, “Both ears or only one?”
“Charles is correct; though, it wouldn’t hurt to ask more questions.” Laurence sat with Marie for a while, channeling magic from his hands to the nerves near her ears, and dealt with the first step of her recovery.
Charles glanced at me. I sniffed.
“Do you think your first guess will always be correct?” I asked.
He laughed. “I suppose high intelligence would appear to be guessing to some.”
By the end of the first week, Charles was winning, and he was insufferable about it. Not that he said anything; no, he never stooped so low as to mention our little competition. But he looked at me with his face all calm and unconcerned. I knew he was thinking it.
Unbearable.
“Now, Henry is an alchemist and several days ago cut himself with a small knife,” Laurence said one morning as Charles and I stood behind him.
“Overgrowth,” Charles and I said at the same time. I cleared my throat and added, “Overproduction by the vascular tissues inside of vessels.”
Laurence nodded. “Very good, Emilie.”
Henry, an affable white fellow with alchemistry scars stippling his brown skin and a head of thick, white hair, laughed.
Charles didn’t.
“Stop baiting him,” Madeline said one evening as we recovered from our day. “And don’t say you aren’t. You like being smarter than other people, and you’ve finally met someone who won’t let you boast.”