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“A childish prank and nothing more, I’m sure,” Josefa said.

Fern was not so sure this was the case, but she remained silent. Whoever had done this must have done so for a reason—a reason linked to the stolen work. These events could not possibly be mere coincidence.

The truth was that Josefa had a natural advantage on the first assignment. But then, so did the Ferrow siblings. Had any oftheirwork gone missing? Had somebody lockedtheirdoors? If they had, Fern doubted the twins would advertise it. And if not, then that might be becausetheywere behind the troubles plaguing Josefa.

And then, of course, there was Lautric.

Always him: the quiet, pale young man with the tired eyes and open, curious mien. With his corrupt, power-hungry house, his stolen books and his midnight wanderings. Whatever was happening, he was not completely innocent, Fern was sure of it. But just like Josefa, she had only suspicions and no proof.

“Why don’t you go find Miss Sarlet tomorrow?” Fern said. “It’s late, and I’m sure you must be quite exhausted. You’re more than welcome to share my apartment for the night.”

“I would not wish to impose…” Josefa said, glancing away.

“It would be no imposition, I assure you,” Fern said. “Though, of course, there is no pressure to accept my invitation. I’m more than happy to help you find Housemistress Sarlet instead.”

“No, no, I wouldn’t dream of asking you to do such a thing. If you’re sure it is no inconvenience, I’ll gladly accept your hospitality for tonight.”

Fern smiled and offered her arm to Josefa. “Please.”

Josefa smiled, a broad smile of genuine contentment. It made her appear younger somehow. She linked her arm through Fern’s, and the two women withdrew to Fern’s apartment. Inkwell, sitting by the windowsill, jumped down and curiously circled Josefa, who crouched down with her hand held out.

“I didn’t know you had a cat,” she said.

“I’ve had him for more than five years; it didn’t feel right leaving him behind.” As Fern spoke, Inkwell sniffed Josefa’s hand cautiously, then curled away with a slow blink. “His name is Inkwell.”

Josefa attempted and failed to pet Inkwell a few more times while Fern replenished his bowls of water and food, then the two women prepared for sleep, taking turns to go into the bathroom and change out of their clothes. Fern handed Josefa something to sleep in—a pair of pyjamas in sensible dark green cotton—and then climbed into bed, shifting to one side.

“You’re welcome to share the bed,” she said, indicating the free space next to her.

Josefa hesitated. “I wouldn’t wish to intrude upon your privacy…”

A wry smile stretchedFern’s lips.

How could Josefa possibly know how little sharing a bed meant to Fern? Josefa could not know about the narrow cots of the orphanage, the thin sheets and scratchy blankets, the harsh winters when the small children had crept into the older children’s beds to stay warm. The memory of cold feet and bony arms and the sound of quiet sobs flooded Fern, making her eyes burn.

She had not thought of those things in a long time. They belonged to the past, a book which Fern had long ago closed and vowed not to reopen.

“You need not worry,” she said, turning her back to reach for the lamp on the bedside table. “There’s plenty of space.”

Josefa lifted the blanket, and Fern felt the mattress shift as the young woman slid into the bed. She extinguished the light and settled against her pillows, her back to Josefa.

A long silence followed, so long that Fern assumed Josefa must have fallen asleep straight away. Finally, Josefa’s low, thoughtful voice drifted across the darkness.

“Do you regret coming here? Leaving your library behind?”

“No,” Fern replied, which was not a lie, and yet did not quite feel like the truth either. “Do you?”

“How could I?” Josefa murmured. “I studied at the Arcane College of London. Like most arcane universities in the world, my university lived in the shadow of Carthane. All I ever dreamed of back then was to come here, to become part of the giant whose shoulders future scholars would stand upon. To access the Gateways and petition the entities of Sumbra for knowledge,new spells, the answers to the world’s oldest alchemical formulae. And yet, now that I’m here…”

“Is it not as you imagined?”

“No—it is far grander than I ever imagined. Only… I miss my university.”

Fern sensed the emotions crowding the young woman, weighing her chest down, waiting to be let out by way of her mouth. She did not want Josefa to think she was prodding, but in the end, she could not help but ask, “What do you miss about it?”

“Oh, everything.” Josefa’s voice took on softer, more feminine hues, becoming almost melodic as she spoke. “My students, my faculty. The old professor of incantations in the classroom next to mine and the sound of his students chanting. The endless corridors, the old library, the statue of the Fallen Star in the quad. And in the winters, the lake freezes over, and the cafeterias sellsbitenwith cinnamon sticks. During blizzards, you can look out of the windows and see the snow spinning like cotton candy in the courtyards.”

Her words painted dream-like images behind Fern’s eyelids.