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I’m not surprised it’s the fourth year from earlier; I’m more impressed that he has the balls to call him out to his face.

Burton’s jaw tightens as he glares at the guy. “Trying to find any kind of information that may aid us,” he snaps, sitting taller as if to stoke fear into his audience, but it falls a little flat.

It seems we’re not the only ones bored of his bullshit.

“Aid us in what?” The question comes from the fourth-year’s friend, who folds his arms over his chest and quirks a brow in question. “We’ve been left vulnerable at their hands,” he adds, refusing to falter under Burton’s growing death stare.

“Do you want to run this academy? Do you want to run this guild? Do you want to consider all of the pieces of this situation that must be balanced to ensure the safety of not just us, not just the remaining students here at Silvercrest, but the entire Elevin Realm?” Burton vibrates with rage and I spot a few students taking a step back, lowering their heads and falling under his control just as he hoped we would.

“We’re doing nothing,” the guy continues to push, not backing down, and my admiration for this stranger is only growing.

“We’re doing all we can. There are many layers at play here. We have to bide our time, wait out the storm,” Burton snaps, although it’s clear he’s trying to hold back the burning anger from moments ago.

“What storm?”

“What is it Erikel wants?”

Both of the fourth years buzz him for more answers at the same time, and it takes everything in me to keep a smile from my face. Burton, however, isn’t pleased. His eyes turn toward me, ignoring both of them as he sneers.

“Why don’t we just give it to him? He’ll leave as soon as you do, surely.” My heart stutters as I feel every set of eyes in the room turn my way. “I think our necromancer knows what he wants, and she’s unwilling to hand it over.”

Is this for real right now? Surely not.

Clearing my throat, I feel Brax, Zane, and Eldon take a protective step closer to me while Creed’s hold on my hand tightens. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Erikel believes you know where the Potens Ruby is. Does he not?”

“I don’t know where it is,” I retort, keeping my voice even, and I’m technically not lying either.

I know who last had possession of it, but I specifically made a point of none of us knowing where it would be stored or destroyed so that we wouldn’t find ourselves backed into a corner. I’m aware magic like Lyra’s is possible. We couldn’t reveal a truth against our will if we didn’t know where it was.

“Are you sure?” he presses, coiling my muscles tight with frustration.

Is this why he called a meeting? So he can try and gain the information from me as himself instead of the second skin of Erikel he has taken on? Joke’s on him, but it’s good to know he isn’t aware we know his secret.

He’s going to be sorely disappointed if he thinks he’s going to break me today. That’s not how this is going to go. But the few glares I feel aimed in my direction confirm that he may have other students pitting against me if they believe his words.

Fuck.

“If you have the ruby, just hand it over,” someone hollers, but I don’t manage to see who.

Still, I sigh, refraining from showing my irritation with any other movement.

“I don’t have it,” I repeat. “I don’t know where it is. But you’re right; if I did, I wouldn’t give it to him. Too much power in the wrong hands is a dangerous thing. I think that’s clear to everyone.”

Magic tingles across my skin and the need to protect myself is growing, but I’m not going to deny the facts. Burton frowns at me, tongue sweeping over his teeth. My magic is eager to narrow down a target on his head. Recalling what happened to Genie, it’s eager to sink its claws into him in the exact same way.

If I was one thousand percent certain that it would bring a definitive end to this mess, I would do it in a heartbeat. But we have to be sure first. I don’t care if my moves may make me look like the bad guy here. I’ll do whatever is necessary.

“What is Erikel’s plan, anyway? Handing things over to a madman doesn’t sound like the logical answer,” Leila blurts out, and Burton’s stare turns her way.

“Yeah. That’s true. We don’t even know what the meaning of all this is,” the fourth year adds, nodding in agreement.

Burton glances around the room, folding his arms over his chest as he speaks. “Vengeance.”

One word. Two syllables. Yet the weight of a thousand.

“Vengeance? Why?” Someone from the crowd calls out, and Burton sighs in frustration.