Page 104 of Fractured Fates

“You don’t suspect it was because–?”

“No,” I snap, “no. Spencer Moreau hates my guts about as much as Summer does. He must have done it for another reason.”

Although, I’m still here aren’t I? There’s been no summons to the principal’s office. I think Spencer Moreau may be true to his word. He won’t be snitching on me.

What the hell do I make of that?

30

Rhi

It seems evenmy plan to retreat to the library is now screwed up, because Andrew is likely to be in there and I really, really don’t want to bump into him right now. I’ve already gotten away with blasting one asshole with my magic today, I’m not sure I’ll be so lucky a second time.

There’s no dueling training this evening so I avoid the indignity of having to head to the locker room. Winnie suggests another movie, but I’m fed up with being cooped up. Irritation spirals through my body and I need to burn it off.

“I’m going for a walk,” I tell Winnie as we step out of the kitchen and onto the campus paths.

“Where?” she says, clearly concerned I’m going to run off again.

“Around campus.”

She looks at me like I’ve lost my mind. “Do you want some company?” she asks, a little unsure.

“No, I need to think and walking helps.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it some more?”

I shake my head. “I’ll see you back at the dorm later.”

She gives me a hug and I watch her walk down the path, before choosing one in an opposite direction. One of the quieter routes because I can’t stomach the idea of another encounter with one of the assholes around here.

I should be in that library studying everything I can get my hands on. I should have done that from the start. There’s so much I don’t know, so much I don’t understand. And here’s my chance to learn it all. I can’t believe I got distracted by dresses and video games and crap like that.

Since the man in black found me and brought me into the authorities, everyone’s been asking me the same thing: Why was your aunt keeping you hidden?

I don’t have an answer for that. From a young age, I just knew we had to keep hidden, had to keep moving. I never thought to question why. I never thought to ask about my parents.

Now, as I meander along one of the paths, gravel crunching under my feet, the moon casting silver light over the ground, I wonder why.

I want to know.

I want to know why I wasn’t sent to school like everyone else. Why we never lived like everyone else. Why my mom and dad aren’t here.

I glance up in the direction of the library. Maybe the answers are in there, lurking in some book. Maybe my parents will be in some history book, or recorded in the columns of a newspaper article. Maybe if I knew what happened to them, I’d know why my aunt kept me hidden.

But the library is out of bounds. And the irritation in my stomach simmers all the harder. I want to know. I want answers.

I twist my head and look up at the mansion. I’m pretty sure there’s one person whocangive me answers.

I spin around and march in the direction of the mansion. It’s late, the Great Hall all shut up and the corridors dark.

I don’t know if he’ll even be there. I have no idea where he lives. On campus? Another question I never thought to ask.

But as I draw closer, along the hallway that leads to his classroom, I feel that all-too-familiar tug in my stomach. And I know he’s there.

The hook pulls. It’s so familiar now I hardly notice it. Another thing on my long list I’ve failed to question.

I knock on his door and wait. No one answers. I crane my ears, listening for sound. I know he’s in there. Perhaps he’s asleep. Tough shit.