Page 116 of Fractured Fates

“Dane has an old console I can pinch. He won’t mind.”

I grin. The flowers were a nice ‘I’m sorry gift’. This is freaking amazing. I loved that game.

“Thanks,” I say with a smile. “I’d like that.”

Winnie groans when Andrew and Dane come round that evening and set up the new console in our room, Andrew loading up the puzzle game.

“You know this game is seriously lame, Rhi,” she mutters.

“I like it,” I tell her, hovering around the two boys as they plug in wires. “And it gives us something to do this weekend when we’re stuck on campus again.”

“Maybe I’ll ask my mom to send me some of my games from home.”

When the boys leave, I switch on the game and sink down onto the floor ready to play.

“You know this makes us official nerds with no life,” Winnie says, shooing Pip away from the wires. “Home playing video games while everyone else is out partying.”

“We’d be out partying if we were allowed.”

“I guess,” she says, “and it’s not like I had this amazing reputation in the first place.”

She sinks down beside me and takes the other controller.

A weight lifts from my shoulders. I feel lighter even though that question of who I am hangs over my head like a rain cloud.

* * *

The final twoweeks of our punishment pass in a blur of pot scrubbing, dueling-kit laundry and helping the gardener on the weekends. In between my classes and video games, I spend most of my time holed up in the library or practicing magic with Winnie in our dorm room.

Winnie doesn’t seem to question my need to study in the library. She can see how far behind I am and thinks I’m trying my best to catch up.

She doesn’t know I’m scanning every book in there for answers about my identity.

I start in the modern history section, reading about events that occurred in my lifetime for any hints of me and my aunt. When I find none at all, I go further back, searching for clues about my parents. Nothing.

I find some ancient tomes about old magical families, searching for anything about Blackwaters, then resorting to reading every page when that name isn’t listed.

I read up more about this power that I possess that interested Stone so much. I learn the power to track fingerprints and other magicals was once common but over hundreds and hundreds of years was gradually lost so that now only a handful of scholars are true experts. I also begin to understand why a girl with my power would be so attractive to gangs like the Wolves of Night.

When I ask the librarian for instructional books about this power, I learn all the books the school owns on this have been taken out on long-term loan by Stone.

I decide I’m not going to go begging for his help again and resort to pulling out books on mind reading instead. I learn Stone’s skill is about as unique as my own and more difficult to defend against than others have let on. Still, I read up about how to shield my thoughts and practice with Winnie in the mornings as we’re getting dressed.

“Being able to read someone’s thoughts is a pretty powerful skill according to what I’ve read,” I say to my friend as she picks out of my mind what I want for breakfast.

She shakes her head. “Everyone can do it just a little bit if they try,” I imagine my friend’s being modest, “but it takes real power and skill to do it properly. Stone’s the only magical I know who can.”

“Am I meant to be impressed?” I ask, rolling my eyes.

“And here I was thinking he did impress you.”

I whack her on the arm. “Some things about him impress me–”

“Like his biceps and his pecs and his–”

“Winnie! No, most things about him piss me off.” I frown. “Actually nearly everything.”

Especially the fact he may be the solution to solving the riddle about my identity. If I let him into my head … If I let him open that box of memories …