Chapter 14 The Third Tree
I traced my fingers across the old tree, letting the coarse bark scrape against my palm. It was nearly five in the morning, yet I couldn’t sleep, not after Sequoia’s reading. I had been pouring over Julian’s old journals and somehow found myself down here.
Aspen. The Trees.
There were really three of them in the House, if you included the monstrous oak in the reading room.
It’s peculiar to have a tree within a House like this, I thought, letting my fingers dig into the bark.
How did its roots grow without disturbing the foundation?
I circled its trunk, as if tracing the tree would reveal something about its origins or the House itself.
Julian had died on this tree, I was certain.
But before he died, he had left a clue—the strange symbol on the back of the picture frame, a lion’s head with a serpent’s tail.
The same icon I found in his journal and in The Book of Skorn.
Was there anything else he had left behind that I’d overlooked?
The bark snagged on my sweater, tearing a small piece away to reveal the wood beneath—milky and smooth, reminding me of pale moonlight.
But at the very edge of the exposed patch, I noticed a marking.
It was faint but deliberate, clearly carved.
It wasn’t natural. Using my nails, I peeled away more bark, uncovering a symbol.
Once enough bark had been cleared, I studied it closely: two triangles, stacked in a way that resembled a “B.” Where had I seen this marking before?
The runes. The memory hit me suddenly, like a weed bursting through rubble. I was researching the origins of rune magick for the Meister’s project. But why would this tree bear runes? And how had it regrown bark over the carvings?
“What are you doing up so early, Tarot reader?” I’d recognize that deep, thunderous voice anywhere. Acid rose in my throat as I turned slowly to face him.
“Couldn’t sleep,” I said, stating the truth as I turned to Aspen. No point in lying when it wasn’t necessary.
He smirked, his teeth gleaming in the dim light. “Something on your mind?” He trailed two fingers along the edge of the red chaise, circling around to sit.
“I could ask you the same thing,” I replied, crossing my arms. He might be a suspect, but I doubted he’d harm me here, with others due for breakfast in an hour. Still, I didn’t like that smirk on his face.
“Relax. I think better in the morning than at night. Everyone here’s a night owl, but not me. I’m an early bird, and today, I’ve found a worm.” His smile widened.
He was infuriating, but I couldn’t let him see that he was getting to me.
“I’ve never seen what you’re working on. Why don’t you show me some of your sculptures?” I changed the subject, hoping it might draw him in. Perhaps showing interest in his work was the way to get through to him. But he didn’t take the bait; instead, his eyes narrowed.
“I don’t show incomplete work like an amateur. You’ll have to wait until the Symposium, like everyone else. Besides, don’t you have your hands full with two research projects and investigating Julian’s death?”
My heart dropped. Did he just say what I thought he did?
He laughed, the sound hollow. “Oh, don’t look so surprised, little worm.
Did you really think I hadn’t noticed? I know the Meister hired you to look into Julian’s death.
I saw you carrying a box of Julian’s things from his office the other day.
” He stood, moving toward me. My hand instinctively twitched toward the dagger sheathed at my ankle.
Leaning against the tree, I adjusted my stance, my hand closer to the blade.
He inched toward me, a predator stalking toward his prey. Perhaps I should have left Foresyth last night when I’d had the chance.
“And what’s most interesting is that you think you’re getting closer to the truth.
” He was a foot away now, his eyes gleaming.
It would take me only seconds to draw my dagger and another two to nick his throat.
Not enough to kill, but to scare. I willed my heart to quiet.
He leaned in so close I could trace the lines of his jaw, the curve of his mouth, and his almond eyes—like Sequoia’s, but without her softness. He was her jagged reflection.
“And while I do love making a worm squirm, I’ve come to set the record straight.” His breath was hot on my cheek. I inhaled sharply, taking in the scent of pine and wax. But in the next moment, he pushed himself off and turned away.
His back was to me. I could strike with a single swift motion if I wanted to.
“You can take this as an official statement: I didn’t kill Julian. But I know who might have.” My stomach lurched, though my pulse steadied now that he was at a safe distance.
Should I play ignorant, or admit my investigation? Aspen had seen the box of evidence. He already knew my true purpose.
“I must say, I underestimated you, Aspen. You might really be as clever as you believe yourself to be.”
Aspen smiled, his expression unexpectedly genuine. If he had information, it might be worth letting him believe I was willing to listen. Then again, it would be safer to keep my distance.
“But you’re wrong. Everyone knows that Julian’s death was a suicide. The Meister gave me his things so I could continue his work on Norse runes. I’m his research assistant, nothing more.”
Aspen’s face fell as he considered. “Very well, reader. If that’s the story you’re sticking to.” He paused, eyeing me. “You’re hoping I’ll still tell you what I know, aren’t you?”
Damn. He was sharp.
“Well, you’re in luck. I’m feeling generous today. Besides, I can’t stand being falsely accused. Tell me, does Leone strike you as an honest man?”
I blinked, thrown by the question, but I gave it thought. “Yes, he does. He’s meticulous with the truth—always the first to correct inaccuracies, even on small points. He has a purist’s commitment to both thought and word.”
“Clever observations, as expected of a detective.”
I scowled, and he laughed—a surprisingly musical sound. “You know, in the right light, you’re quite striking, even with that scowl plastered on your face.”
“Is that your method? Insult, then compliment? Keep people yearning for your approval?”
“Oh, so you admit to yearning for my approval?” His smirk returned, smug and infuriating. My cheeks heated against my will.
“You think you’re good at hiding your emotions, reader.
But you’re not the only one who reads people,” he said, narrowing his eyes.
“Now, back to Leone. Yes, he’s rigorous with the truth, which makes him a good scholar.
But don’t you think the truth can be a bit dull?
Sometimes a little embellishment adds color, makes things more interesting. ”
“Is there a point to this, or are you just waxing poetic?”
“Oh, there is a point,” he replied smoothly.
“Julian had a way of embellishing his work, weaving in stories and puzzles that made them fascinating. The Advisors loved it, even if it wasn’t strictly necessary or even factual.
But Leone . . . well, he didn’t appreciate Julian’s creativity.
They were both third year rivals, in every sense. ”
“You’re suggesting that Leone killed Julian?”
“I’m not suggesting anything like that.” His eyes darkened.
“I’m merely stating the facts: Leone and Julian were working on papers on the same topic—ancient Christian symbology.
The Advisors, knowing about their rivalry, thought it would be fun to turn it into a competition.
They’re always thirsty for a bit of academic blood.
Whoever wrote the best paper would be awarded a week-long residency at Trinity College in Dublin, with full access to their magickal collection. ”
God, that did sound like a dream for a scholar like Leone. But would he actually kill for it? He seemed the least likely suspect—as though he existed on a plane above the rest of them.
“Don’t let the fact that he’s crippled deter you from considering him—hypothetically, if you were investigating the case.”
“And hypothetically, why would you help me?”
“Oh, come on, reader. That’s obvious. I want to clear my name. I’m the best-suited candidate for the Advisor role, and I fully intend to secure it. The others will say whatever they need to make me look less than perfect.”
So, this was about some petty promotion Aspen was angling for? I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.
“And speaking of Advisors, let’s talk about Ms. Choi—your new friend. She’s not what she seems, either.”
“Let me guess, she’s trying to steal your precious Advisor role too?” I crossed my arms.
“Actually, no, not that I know of. She has her own schemes. I don’t know why she’d want Julian dead, but if he was poisoned, she’s the only one with access to the lab where all dangerous substances are stored.”
“That’s not true. You’re stored up here, and you’re ridiculous if you think I’d suspect my friend.
” Nina was the first person who had shown me kindness here.
She might have eccentric hobbies, but I owed her my gratitude.
Still, her access to the lab might have been convenient for storing poisons . . .
Aspen grinned, pushing a strand of hair back from his face. “I’ll take that as a compliment—that you think I’m dangerous,” he said, moving closer.
“And exactly how do you know all these hidden motives and means?” I asked, barely masking my annoyance now.
A corner of his mouth inched upward. “The currency at Foresyth is secrets—it pays to know.” He rounded the chaise, heading toward the door. “Now that I’ve set the record straight, I’ll let you get back to whatever you were doing.”
A part of me didn’t want him to leave. As frustrating as he was, I still suspected him, and he was the only student who wouldn’t stop talking about the case.
I wanted to ask him about The Book of Skorn and what Julian was doing with it when he died, but I couldn’t reveal my position as an investigator.