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VIOLET

I prepared myself for this morning’s summons yesterday , when I’d fully expected someone to call our group to the police station or into Mrs. Lorcan’s office.

A missing body along with police records wiped in a town where supes are connected to murder?

Humans would immediately target Dorian for answers, which would bring him and the detectives to me.

Why the delay?

As expected, Dorian waits inside Mrs. Lorcan’s all-too-familiar room. He rests against the fireplace, dressed in jeans and a pale blue shirt, his arms crossed, face hard.

However, the two people sitting in chairs behind the desk are not the detectives.

I pause and stare at the white-haired man, my heart jolting with adrenaline. Cornelius Whitegrove.

I did not prepare myself for this .

My first thought—thank the stars the guys aren’t with me.

The moment Grayson heard that Dorian arrived at Thornwood, he disappeared.

Has he left campus altogether? Rowan and Leif fled to class, grateful they weren’t summoned—yet.

The detectives often interview each of us one by one, so a call to a meeting on my own didn’t surprise me.

But my meticulously planned words don’t emerge. Not even a hello. There’s tension in the room, but again no energy around my father that would suggest he’s aware about Viktor’s death.

Small mercies.

I lock gazes with Cornelius, whose air of superiority remains despite who he’s with. Whitegrove must’ve guarded his mind well because if Dorian had already succeeded in finding his way into the witch’s mind, we wouldn’t be in this room.

What does Dorian know?

And what is Cornelius’s game? Because if he had any sense, the witch wouldn’t deliberately insert himself into the missing body scenario.

I flick a look at Mrs. Lorcan who sits stiffly beside him.

Why is she here? The woman in her brown houndstooth skirt suit maintains her official poise as academy head, but the way she fidgets with the pen on the desk speaks volumes.

She has the weakest authority of the three of them, even in her own territory.

Nobody speaks, but Dorian reaches out for my thoughts. I blink at him and throw up the mental barrier. He doesn’t attempt any stronger magic, which I’d have no qualms in throwing back at him. Dorian won’t risk signs of weakness in front of others.

Without invitation, I lower myself into the single seat across the desk from Mrs. Lorcan and Cornelius.

“What a lovely surprise,” I say lightly.

Dorian’s silence presses into me. What’s happening here? I don’t have the control over the situation that I’d planned, and this doesn’t sit well with me.

“Mr. Whitegrove informs us you met him recently,” says Mrs. Lorcan.

“Oh?”

“You took unauthorized leave from the academy to bother him with your obsession about his family heirloom,” she continues.

Cornelius’s jaw tightens. “Yes, and after ascertaining the tiara wasn’t on my business premises, you broke into my home and stole the item.”

I balk and look at Dorian, willing him to say something. “I most certainly did not.”

“You deny causing a scene at my offices?” asks Cornelius, and I press my lips together not meeting his challenging look.

“I don’t deny visiting your offices. I attended to tell you…” I pause. I’m stuck. With others in the room, especially Dorian, I can’t explain fully.

“Tell Mr. Whitegrove what , Violet?” Dorian speaks in a smooth, even tone, and I bristle at the increasing smugness from Cornelius.

The pair want me to say this in front of Mrs. Lorcan? “Very well. I asked Mr. Whitegrove about the tiara’s whereabouts. My obsession comes from concern that there’s a connection between the item and a murder.”

Cornelius scoffs. “Your daughter’s ridiculous behavior has strayed into the illegal. She stole from me. I want her dealt with, Dorian.”

“That isn’t true!” I stand and glare. “I’ve never visited the Whitegrove estate.”

“Yes, you have.” I snap my head around at Dorian’s words. “Due to the delicate relationship that I have with the Circle, I was forced to waste time by visiting Mr. Whitegrove’s estate to question people.”

No. Surely Dorian can’t be this stupid. “I would’ve thought your time might be taken up with the issue of the missing body, Dorian.”

“Do you know anything, Violet?” he asks.

“Specifically? I have superior intelligence and a stellar memory.”

My father flashes me a look. “About the missing body.”

“Which one?”

“There’re multiple ?” chokes out Mrs. Lorcan.

“I wasted all yesterday on this incident, gathering evidence that Mr. Whitegrove swore he had at his home. I informed you not to interfere in the Whitegroves’ business again and to leave the issue with the tiara alone.”

My head spins. The last thing I expected was for Whitegrove to set foot anywhere near Dorian, especially if he’s aware I know about Viktor. How can Dorian be this fooled?

“I did not steal the tiara!” I repeat. “Dorian, you know that I’m following other lines of investigation regarding the murder and my suspicions.”

“Suspicions about the Circle?” retorts Cornelius and turns to Mrs. Lorcan.

“I am at my limit with these constant accusations against a respected organization and myself as its leader. I faced repeated questioning from Mr. Blackwood about a connection to necromancers, and now his daughter has walked onto my estate and thieved.”

“I did not!” My voice and heart rate rise.

“Cornelius’s receptionist backed up the story about the incident at his office,” says Dorian. “I’ve personally spoken to those who saw you at Mr. Whitegrove’s home. If you took the tiara as part of your ‘investigations,’ I suggest you return it immediately.”

No.

No .

Dorian would see past the memories Cornelius planted in his staff. “Dorian. I didn’t visit Mr. Whitegrove’s office looking for the tiara.”

“Then why did you go there?”

A muscle twitches in Cornelius’s jaw, the self-satisfied air intensifying. He knows I can’t answer Dorian. But how could Cornelius be sure I’ve told Dorian nothing?

Josef.

Grayson’s uncle explained the circumstances around Viktor’s death to Cornelius, and my hidden involvement . They are linked. By approaching Dorian about an issue that already exists, Cornelius misdirected Dorian.

If Cornelius ensures that my father gets ahold of me by accusing me of a crime that Dorian is forced to investigate, he slows my planned trip to the mausoleum.

“Where is my tiara, Violet?” asks Cornelius. “Theft is a serious offense.”

“As is murder.”

Cornelius looks at me with disgust. “Mr. Blackwood. You can’t seem to control your daughter. Your interrogations about necromancy, and this witch you’re searching for were enough, but am I now accused of murder ?”

“Not you,” I say. “But the tiara has evidence. A magical imprint. You’re hiding something.”

“And apparently so are you,” he says smoothly.

His smile tells me everything I need to know—Cornelius doesn’t mean the tiara.

I spin to look pleadingly at my father. “Dorian. I haven’t taken anything.”

“Yes, you have. You’ve taken my precious time in an attempt to avoid a diplomatic incident with important witches,” he snaps back. “I’ve more important things to investigate than petty theft, as you well know. Sit back down.”

I lower myself into the chair again. What do I do? I can’t drop the truth here and now. Not without the world imploding.

“You’re not as clever as you think, Ms. Blackwood,” says Cornelius and that smile grows. “However hard you pursue me, the less you will find.”