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He took her hand in his. “How do you do. My name is Léo.”

Though his hold on her fingers was firm, he was gentle still, just as he had been when they danced. His middle fingers slid over Fern’s wrist. The touch startled her, and she pulled away as if she’d been burnt, throwing up a polite smile like the flashing blade of a parrying dagger.

“I’m glad we could resolve our misunderstanding,” she said with rigid formality. “I hope we can proceed henceforth on a basis of mutual respect and professional courtesy. I wish you luck with your candidacy. If you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll turn in now.”

Lautric gazed down at her, his expression earnest, a little disappointed. “Won’t you stay awhile? I was hoping we might speak some more.”

“I’m sorry,” Fern said. “I’m tired.”

“Of course, you must be exhausted. My apologies.” Lautric stepped aside and said, his voice lower, softer, “Would you like me to escort you back to your rooms?”

Fern was utterly silent for a moment, her voice stuck in her throat. She was surprised by his offer, the implications he did not seek to conceal.

More than that, she was surprised by herself, the tiny pull of temptation that stopped her from answering immediately. But Lautric, despite being her rival and the son of her enemy, was also a handsome young man, and Fern was still a living, breathing human being, and it had been a long time since she’d taken a lover. And she knew the effect of stress and forced proximity on the human psyche.

She could already see these effects amongst the candidates. The companionship forming between Srivastav and Essouadi, bonded by age and experience and a deep love of their family. The flirtations of the twins, who gave the impression that they might sleep with any of the candidates who might follow them to their rooms. The blossoming closeness between Vittoria and Baudet, the way his eyes always sought her out and the way she let him attend to her like a knight in a courtly romance.

But Fern knew a trap when she saw one, even when she was tired and tipsy and lonely. She shook her head.

“Thank you for your courteous offer,” she said in her most bureaucratic tone. “There is no need for you to indispose yourself, Mr Lautric. I’ll make my own way back. Goodnight.”

He stood aside with a nod, and she slipped past him and out of the room, her heart racing as if she had narrowly avoided being swept away by a dark and dangerous tide.

Chapter twenty-two

The Exception

Fern was slightly disorientedby the time she made her way up the winding steps to the apartments. When she reached the landing of her corridor, she came face to face with Josefa.

She looked as if she had been crying.

“Are you alright?” Fern asked with some alarm.

Josefa wiped her eyes quickly. “Yes. I’m not upset, just a little frustrated.”

“Why? Has something happened? Where are you going?”

“I need to find Housemistress Sarlet.”

Fern checked her watch with a frown. “At this hour?”

“I need her to help me get into my apartment.”

“You’ve lost your key?”

Josefa held up her hand, revealing a key dangling from a silver ring to which a blue ribbon was tied.

“No, it… it just doesn’t work. It is as if the lock has changed, though I know it hasn’t.”

Fern narrowed her eyes, suddenly much more awake and sober. “That sounds like a hermetic spell.”

“Yes, or a ward against me.” Josefa sighed. “It’s happened before.”

“This has happenedbefore? Do you know who might be doing this?”

“I have suspicions, but as ever in this place, no proof.”

Fern shook her head. “How cruel.”