Page 115 of Malcroix Bones Academy

I looked up, and Bones was staring at me, bewilderment in his gold eyes.

“How?” he asked pointedly.

“We both lived at Dragon’s Keep all summer,” I said, a touch defensively. “He was the first person I met here. He wasniceto me. And then he was in my bridging course, and he taught me a lot about Magique. He even went with me to Wulfric’s Bank the first time, to officially take possession of my inheritance.” Pausing, I added warningly, “Please don’t flip out on him over this. He’s been avoiding me since the school year started because of you, worried about how you’d react. And heismy friend. I’d like to keep it that way.”

Hesitating, I added, maybe as a peace offering, “And he’s who I was with last night, by the way. You asked who I hung out with, after I drank the gold amulet? It was Alaric. I finally caught him alone long enough to ask him why he wouldn’t so much as look at me whenever any of you lot were around.”

Caelum stared at me, his expression blank.

He opened his mouth, closed it, then frowned, his eyes leaving mine.

I definitely got the impression I’d knocked him off balance, but I still wasn’t really surewhy,or which part of it actually bothered him. I could practically feel some reaction in him, intense enough that I worried he really would lay into Alaric when he next saw him. Eventually, when Bones didn’t speak, I forced my mind to circle back to our previous conversation.

“Tell me more about Dark Cathedral,” I said, cautious.

He hesitated a few seconds before answering, and I could practically feel him not wanting to let the Alaric thing go. It might have been funny under different circumstances, but as it was, I simply waited, and hedidlet it go, temporarily at least. Shaking his head, he exhaled a little forcefully, and returned his attention to the piles of documents.

“How much do you know about them?” he asked.

“Very little,” I admitted. “I only really heard anyone talk about them for the first time last night. They’re some sort of secret society, right? One that likes darker branches of magic, hates Overworlders, and plots about various things?”

He snorted, and shook his head.

“That’s wrong?” I asked, when he didn’t elaborate.

“It might befactuallycorrect… sort of… but you clearly don’t take them seriously enough, if you can describe them like that,” he muttered.

“Like what?” I asked.

“Like they’re a rich social club wearing masks and matching robes, holding seances in their mansions in the middle of the night.” He gave me a half-incredulous look. “I wouldn’t recommend that as your approach, if you ever run into them for real.”

“Fine. How wouldyoudescribe them?”

The serious look returned to his eyes.

“A cult of dark Magicals that’s been around for over a thousand years,” he said without hesitation. “They have fundamental philosophical differences with the current order. They think the Magical world has lost its way. They don’t believe in equality between Magicals, much less between Magicals and other races. They want to return to the old ways, where the greatest magical powers ruled over everyone else. They want Federation Europa gone. They want the Ethnarch gone. They want the Council of Ancients gone. They want to go back to kingdoms run by the sorcerers with the strongest, most deadly magic.”

I thought about that, and about the human parallels.

When I didn’t speak, he picked up another file, and set it in my lap.

“They’re growing,” he said, his voice warning. “They’re popular, and more mainstream than the Council would like most Magicals to believe. They’ve tripled in lower-level membership in just the past four years, ever since they began actively recruiting. Their inner circle is small, but they’ve got a lot of foot soldiers. And they’re getting more brazen.”

I thought about that, and frowned. “How do they communicate with their foot soldiers without everyone knowing who they are?” I asked. “I’m assuming it’s illegal to openly plot against the Magical government?”

“There’s a mage who speaks for them,” he said.

“Who?”

Bones shrugged. “No one knows. He wears a mask.” His gaze turned inward as he added, “He gives instructions roughly twice a month, sometimes more often, and always from different locations. He delivers so-called ‘missives’ from the inner circle, too. They call him The Priest.”

“The Priest,” I muttered. “What’s with all the church references?”

“Do you really want to know?” he asked, a touch coldly.

“Masked, huh?” I gave him a pointed look. “A golden mask, maybe?”

Bones looked away. His eyes went back to the floor as he picked up a nearby file, but I distinctly got the feeling my question brought his walls back up. I regretted that, but I was honestly a little afraid to ask him how he knew so much about all this. Was it from his family? Or did everyone who counted among the royals know these things?