Chapter 28
Once a connection is formed, it cannot be undone, only monitored by boundaries. But if those boundaries fail, then there is chaos.
THE COSMOLOGIST
The dining hall was nearly empty at this time of day, as most students were in class or still in bed.
The busiest hours were between twelve and two, then five and eight.
I made a note to avoid those. But with the morning sun streaming in through the newly fixed windows and only a handful of students scattered about—none of whom were throwing evil looks my way—it was almost pleasant in here.
“Not long left now!” Benedict held up his planner, flipping to the calendar page where each day was neatly crossed off. “Only three and a half weeks to the Restoration Ceremony.”
“I miss Mr. Twiggins.” Dori propped her elbows on the table and rested her face in her hands.
“I miss Mimi.” Clary pouted. “She loves sleeping with me. The bed’s been empty without her.”
Of course. The block on their power would have cut them off from their familiars. It hit me how strange it must be for them not to have access to the Weave, considering that it had always been part of them. It was different for me, I had no real concept of what I was missing.
Clary confirmed my thoughts a moment later. “I’m sick of feeling empty, you know. I mean, I don’t miss doing spells so much as feeling the buzz of the Weave like… Like a… A friend.” She shook her head. “I can’t explain it.”
“I get it,” Dori said. “It’s like that feeling you get sometimes—you know, when you think you’re forgetting something, or you go into a room and have this conviction that you were supposed to be somewhere else, doing something else. The absence of the Weave is that feeling, all the time.”
I recalled the yearning that had sparked inside me beneath the wards at the Border House.
The way a primal part of me had reacted to the power there.
Ached for it. The Unwoven had always had it flowing through them.
It was part of them, and the Academy was denying them that connection as punishment.
It was a smart way to prevent further infractions.
“I don’t mind,” Benedict said. “Chaos Magic sucks.”
My curiosity sparked. I’d heard Chaos Magic mentioned once during my studies with Mother, knew it was a specific thread in the Weave, but that was all. “What is it, exactly? The Chaos Magic?”
“They call it the outlier thread,” Clary said, speaking for Benedict. “And it can be extremely powerful if the wielder learns to harness it.” She nudged Benedict with her elbow. “I told you to get a better focus.”
“I don’t want a better focus. Can you imagine me having even more access to that damn thread’s power? I’m struggling to control it as it is, and—” He snapped his mouth shut, his gaze flying up to meet mine.
Wait a second… “The fire you set…it wasn’t deliberate?”
Clary and Dori exchanged wary glances.
Okay, it seemed like I’d stumbled on a delicate topic here. “Look, forget it. It’s none of my business.”
Benedict’s shoulders slumped. He set down his ink pen and fixed me with a serious look. “The fire was an accident, but no one can know. If the covens find out I’m having problems controlling the thread, then… Just, please don’t say anything.”
“Of course. I won’t say a word.”
He dropped a nod, relaxing back into his seat as an awkward silence settled over us, leaving me itching to diffuse it. My gaze fell to my backpack where the corner of a book peeked out.
Timothy’s book! The perfect change of topic.
I tugged it out and placed it on the table between us. “Okay, so I met this guy the other day after Sterling did the Hamlin maneuver on me.”
“Oh? Do tell,” Dori said, smiling suggestively.
“Not like that. He actually seems to have a thing for you.”
“For me?”
“Yep.” I filled her in on the encounter.
“Nope,” Dori said once I was done. “I have no idea who this Timothy guy is.”
I passed her Timothy’s book. “He was carrying this. I was hoping to get it back to him.”
“Looks like an annual student record,” Benedict said. “There’s an ASR for every year.” He turned the book over and tapped the date on the spine. “This one’s from last year. Claaary…” he singsonged.
She slapped her hand to her bangs. “Don’t.”
“What?” I looked between them.
“Last year, Clary decided to trim her own bangs,” Dori said with an indulgent smile. “It did not go well, and there is image print evidence.”
Clary groaned and dropped her forehead to the table. “I hate that print.”
Benedict was already flicking through the book. “I love it. You look so freaking cute.”
Clary’s mouth turned down. “No one wants to be cute. I was going for sexy.”
“Here!” Benedict turned the book around and tapped at the black-and-white print of a frowning Clary with bangs that were slightly wonky and a little too short. “You look so mad,” he said. “I just want to squish you.”
I looked between the three of them—a sorcerer and two witches, all from different bloodlines and covens. It was rare to see such a friendship. “How long have you three been friends?”
The trio exchanged fond smiles.
“Ever since the first day of Academy,” Dori said. “I met Clary on the tram, and we ended up sharing a table with Benedict for supper that first night.”
“I was getting my ass kicked by a couple of my brethren,” Benedict said, his mouth twisting bitterly. “Being the runt of the Ironhart clan isn’t always easy, despite the fact that my father is clan leader.”
“Dori punched Randolf in the nuts,” Clary said with delight.
“We’ve been friends ever since,” Dori said.
A soft ache filled my chest. To have that…to be part of it…
“Show me this Timothy guy,” Dori said suddenly.
I cleared my throat. “Good idea.” I flipped through the book slowly, studying each page, searching for his face, until I came to a blurred photo.
The name below was smudged. “That’s weird.
” I flipped the next two pages and found another blurred image print, words smudged as well. A few pages later, I found a third.
“Let me see.” Dori took the book. “That is weird.”
“He has to be one of the blurred prints,” Clary said.
“There is no way they would have published those like that,” Benedict said. “They’d have gotten new image prints made. In fact, I’m not sure how Timothy checked this book out. It’s a reference text.”
A shadow fell over the book. “Hi…” Cami stood at our table. “I, uh… I wanted to thank you for the other day, for saving me when the water dragon attacked. I’m sorry I ran off and…yeah…”
I smiled up at her. “You did the right thing getting out of the way. Do you want to sit with us?”
“Oh…” She brightened at the offer. “I have class, but thank you. Next time?”
“Sure.”
She hurried off, looking back over her shoulder a couple of times, all smiles.
“I think you made another friend there,” Dori said.
Another friend…because they thought of me as a friend. To be part of their group for real…
My chest tightened, and I fixed my gaze on the windows, on the view of the sea and the calm way it moved, until the vise gripping my lungs melted away.
“Hey.” Clary covered my hand with hers. “You okay?”
“Are you still spooked about the mirror guy?” Dori asked. “Whatever it was, it can’t hurt you.”
I’d filled them in on what I’d seen in the bathrooms earlier. “How can you be sure?”
“The rumors have been around for decades,” Benedict said. “No one has been hurt by the shadows in the mirrors.”
The man in the mirror had been more than a shadow. “But doesn’t it bother you? Like…what are they?”
“Who knows,” Dori said. “Mirrors are powerful tools used in scrying and as portals by the Arcanus for centuries. Nightsbridge is a magnet for other energy. But you can be certain that the Coterie has put precautions in place to stop any negative forces from getting in.”
“Food’s here!” Benedict rubbed his hands together as several trays floated toward us.
My stomach growled in appreciation.
Mirror men and shadows would have to wait.
* * *
I spent the afternoon catching up on my reading before heading back to the Main Building for my meeting with the resident counselor, Mandy Snap.
There was so much to learn about Nightsbridge—from The Overshadowing to the Land-Sea Pact to the histories of each bloodline that had stepped forward to bind themselves to keep the Horrors contained.
I learned that not everyone was here because of that Covenant, though.
Some families sent students here as punishment or to gain favor with other bloodlines or the Coterie.
But every student had one thing in common—none of them wanted to be here.
They studied and worked hard because the alternative was becoming domestic staff, pandering to the whims of the Hunters and the Carvers. There was no leaving Nightsbridge if you failed, only drudgery, and in some cases, a trip to the catacombs to be consumed by the Weave Watchers.
Deep in thought, I drifted toward the Main Building in a daze. Only when I stepped out of the cliffside lift and onto the grounds did the howling wind and crashing waves register.
The sky hung low, dark clouds churning, warning of an approaching storm.
Hopefully, the meeting would be over before it broke. I hurried up the path, eager to get into the building, then yelped and leapt back as a huge shape darted in front of me.
Ruspin lowered his head and whined softly in apology.
It took a moment, my hand on my heart, for my pulse to steady. “It’s okay. I’m okay. Are you? Okay?” He lifted his head in what I assumed was a nod. “Good. I’m glad you’re free.”
“Thank…you…” His voice was gritty and broken, sending a shudder up my spine.
“You’ve got your beast voice back.”
“All…most…not…quite…”
“But you can’t shift yet?”
He dipped his head, eyes taking on a dull sheen.
My nape prickled. “It’ll happen. Just give it time. Look, I’ve got to go, but we’ll talk again. Soon.”
He took a step toward me, and I took an instinctive one back before I could check myself.
“Not…hurt…you.”
“I know that.” Of course I did. “Stay safe.” I skirted around him and broke into a jog. Not because I wanted to get away from him. I needed to get to my session. But there was no denying the inexplicable unease that his presence had spawned in my belly.
* * *
Miss Snap’s office was nothing more than a large broom closet on the first floor, with enough room for a desk, two chairs, and two shelves lined with crystals of all shapes and sizes.
A single window behind her desk silhouetted her in sunlight, so that her frizzy blonde hair lit up like a halo.
She had the kind of face that looked as if she were always listening, which, considering her profession, was fortunate.
Or had she taken up the profession because of her face?
“Miss Onyx, you were saying?”
Shit, what had I been saying? “That I’m adjusting? I’ve made…friends.” Thank Trinity the word didn’t stick in my throat.
“Good. Good.” She jotted down notes. On what, I wasn’t quite sure, but whatever. “And how are you coping with your loss?”
I tensed. “Excuse me?”
“Your mother passed away a few weeks ago, didn’t she?” She flipped through her notes. “I mean…it says here…am I right?”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“Oh…” She sat back in her seat. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to pry, but it’s my job to make sure you’re okay. To provide any support you need through your time of grief.”
“I’m done grieving.”
She blinked sharply. “Right,” she said, dragging the word out slowly as she scribbled more notes.
“What are you writing?”
“Just a few notes on our session.”
The urge to get up and snatch the notepad from her surged through me. I curled my hands into fists in my lap. “What did you write just then?”
She pressed her lips together. “I wrote that the student is in the denial phase of their grief.”
Heat sparked in my chest. “Denial? That’s bullshit. I know my mother is dead. I’m not denying that.”
She set her pen down and laced her fingers together on the desk. “Denial is a complex emotion, Anamaya. We can choose not to grieve. To put the emotions aside. Maybe you think that it’s better that way. That the grief will go away if you ignore it.”
What the Fel was she talking about? “I didn’t ignore it. I cried. I cried for fucking days.”
“And then you stopped, and you did what? Applied to come here and put all your focus into admission?”
What was she getting at? “I decided to do something with my life.”
“Uh-huh, and how often have you thought about your mother since coming here?”
My pulse raced, heat gathering behind my eyes. “I’m done.” I pushed back my chair. “If you want to talk about classes or how I’m adjusting here, then fine, otherwise we’re done.”
She half stood, her expression earnest. “Please, Anamaya, sit down. We can talk about other things.”
I didn’t want to be here anymore. I didn’t want to talk to her. A rainbow of colors washed over the crystals to my left as a beam of sunlight pierced through the window from a rare break in the cloud cover, bathing the room in vibrant shades of red, blue, and orange.
For a moment, I was back in the kitchen at home, the room filled with sunlight and my mother’s warm laughter. A knot formed in my heart, twisting and tightening with a longing that echoed physical pain.
The color display faded, and I flopped back into my seat, deflated. “I’m fine.” But I wasn’t. I might never be.
“Okay,” she said. “But I want you to know that if you ever need anything, you can come speak to me. Now…I heard you freed Ruspin? Tell me about that…”
We spoke for another thirty minutes before the session ended and I could escape the room.
Despite the rocky start, I had to admit—Mandy Snap grew on me.
There was something calm and patient about her.
Sincere and soothing, but it was only when I got back to my room in Bramble that realization dawned… Mandy Snap reminded me of my mother.
I retrieved Mother’s box from the bag I’d shoved into my wardrobe and took a seat at the dresser with it. How many times had she taken out these focuses and held them? Each focus must be saturated with her essence. Her imprint. I wished I could feel it. Feel her arms around me.
I gripped the box with trembling hands and squeezed my eyes shut tight against the tide of tears that wanted to break free. Ragged breaths tore at my lungs, leaving me hollow and full at the same time until I could take it no more. I broke, sobbing so hard I ate up all the oxygen in the room.
I missed her. I missed her so much it was like the world was gray and all the joy had been sucked from it. She’d been more than my mother. She’d been my best friend. My smile. My laughter. She’d made the shitty hand we’d been dealt worth playing.
I wiped at my face, wrangling my emotions into submission. I couldn’t fall apart. Not now. Not yet. I had a job to do.
“I’m going to find the truth, Mum. And when I do, I’ll be back to mark your grave with an Onyx headstone.”