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Don’t what?

Don’t let your guilt obscure the truth. This was a planned attack on your familiar. You and he both defended yourselves against it, and in the process, some of your attackers died. More of them will die if they’re foolish enough to take you on again,he says fervently.

The knot forming in my stomach now loosens. They’re words I didn’t know I needed to hear.

Now go be studious. I’ll see you at six sharp.

Abruptly, Memnon pulls away from our link, leaving me to mull over his words.

My pale orange magic hovers around me like a storm cloud as I enter the residence hall after class. I’m braced for a confrontation with Yasmin or that other housemate.

But today, the house is mostly quiet. Only a few witches linger in the common areas, and they aren’t either of the witches I’m keeping an eye out for.

I head to my room, my heart sinking when I see Nero’s empty bed. Quickly, I pack up what I need and set it by the door. I hate that I’m being forced out of this room.

This isn’t forever, I promise myself.

I have some time in between now and my next class, and there are a million things I could be doing with the precious time I have left on campus.

I don’t end up doing any of them.

Instead, I head down to my house’s dining room and through an inconspicuous door that leads to the house’s kitchen. Inside are two witches currently on cooking duty. One look at the roster hanging up on the adjacent wall, and I can see that I’ll be called to help prep a meal next week.

My power thickens as I take in the witches’ faces, but it resettles a little when I realize neither of them are the witches from last night.

I breeze past them and head for the metal freezer. Cold air hisses out when I open it. Inside, I see exactly what I was looking for.

“What are you doing?” one of them demands.

I drag out a massive tub of ice cream. “I’m tossing this out. The ice cream has been recalled,” I say. “There was a listeria outbreak at the factory where it was made.”

“Oh,” one of the witches says, looking baffled. The other one eyes me skeptically.

I walk out of there, carrying the industrial-size carton. Once I’m in the dining room, I use my magic to call a spoon to me. And then I head to my house’s den.

I sit down cross-legged on the couch, set the carton in my lap, and begin stress eating the shit out of Neapolitan ice cream.

Need to go to class, need to finish the assigned reading, need to finish my spellcasting homework…

My hands itch to write this down in one of my notebooks, but since I left my notebooks in my room, I just manically go over and over my list, trying to sear it into my brain so I don’t forget.

Need to double-check that I packed everything I need for … for …

I shove another panicked bite of ice cream into my mouth.

Tonight.

The evening looms ominously in my mind. It was one thing to stay with Memnon when Nero and I were hurt. It’s another to deliberately choose to stay there. And now that my mind isn’t busy taking notes or worrying about missing witches, I have all the time in the world to stress aboutliving with Memnon.

I take another massive scoop of ice cream.

One of the witches passing by stops in the doorway of the den. I recognize her as the same witch who, weeks ago, fell asleep on our staircase landing with her fox familiar. I think her name is Rosemary.

“What are you doing with that?” she asks, her tone both curious and accusing as she takes in the industrial-size container of ice cream.

“Obviously, I stole it,” I say. A little petty theft seems like nothing compared to some of the crimes I’ve witnessed lately.

The witch glances up and down the hall, then heads toward the dining room.