Chapter 38
Talisa
Chatelaine Lirelle emerged from the side entrance and strode out into the center of the arena. Her pale oval face was composed into an expression of authority that didn’t quite mask the strain around her eyes.
“In light of today’s malfunction of the spell-thread banners, the remaining semi-final match is postponed pending a full investigation into today’s events,” she announced, her magically amplified voice cutting through the crowd’s noise.
The richly dressed imperial court members in the dignitaries’ box turned their heads, murmuring. As one, they rose from their seats and moved toward the nearest exit with the unhurried steps of people who’d never had to fight for space on a crowded ferry.
The chatelaine’s stern gaze fixed on Elio and me. “All competitors and witnesses will be questioned by agents of the Imperial Office of Arcane Standards and the Directorate of Imperial Protection.”
My stomach dropped.
I felt Elio’s grip on my hand tighten. “The DIP, too?” he asked in a low voice. “Not just Arcane Standards?”
Before I could answer, Mage-Instructor Varro appeared at my elbow. His face was grim.
“Miss Bernswick. Mr. Ferraro. With me, please.”
He hustled us through a different exit than the one Lukhan and Damien had used. I turned my head and glimpsed a worried-looking Mira leaning over the wall separating the arena from the stands, before the heavy wooden door swung shut behind us.
The vaulted stone corridor beyond was cold and dim, lit by pale blue mage-lights.
Varro led us to a group of stern-looking men and women clustered at the end of the corridor. All of them wore dark-blue imperial livery, and several wore the embroidered badges of the Office of Arcane Standards over their left breasts.
“No talking to each other on the way,” ordered a woman with close-cropped silver hair and an Arcane Standards badge.
Elio and I had time to exchange a single look. His amber eyes were wide, and mine probably looked just as scared. Then the woman took my arm and dragged me out the exit.
Elio and his escort followed us as we marched briskly from the amphitheater to the Administration Quad. There, they separated Elio and me.
The woman led me into an overheated conference room. A long table made of glossy wood, the same color as dried blood, took up most of the room.
“Sit there,” the Arcane Standards agent ordered brusquely, pointing to a chair at the far end of the conference table.
Feeling nervous, though I knew I’d done nothing wrong, I obeyed.
She seated herself directly to my right. Then we waited in uncomfortable silence for what seemed like an endless stretch of time. The Arcane Standards agent did not introduce herself.
At last, Chatelaine Lirelle entered, followed by Assistant Chatelaine Julissa, carrying a notebook and pen.
It was a relief to see their familiar faces, though I worried the two of them intended to throw me to the imperial wolves.
After all, Julissa had blamed me and poor Nadia for the lab explosion. It was clear she wanted me gone from the academy. And now, she had the perfect excuse for immediate expulsion—and maybe worse—for the crime of having offended Lukhan FitzMurad and his aristocratic friends.
I felt sick at the thought and had to swallow hard to keep my stomach from revolting.
They seated themselves to my left.
A moment later, two men in dark blue military-style uniforms entered and seated themselves at the opposite end of the conference table.
They wore no badges, but their bearing, their stillness, and the way their eyes moved, assessing everything and everyone in the room, marked them as Imperial Protection agents.
“Miss Bernswick,” Chatelaine Lirelle began, her tone neutral. “Tell us what happened with your banner. Include everything you remember, from the beginning of the match. Even if the detail seems insignificant.”
I folded my hands in my lap to keep them from shaking and met Lirelle’s gaze.
Then I described how our blue banner had resisted absorbing our magic at first, how it had recoiled from our magic the way an injured patient might flinch from a healer’s touch.
I told them about my idea to try a healing approach, about treating it like something alive that was wounded and frightened rather than a tool to be commanded.
Lirelle listened gravely. Julissa’s quill scratched steadily across the ledger, recording every word. The Arcane Standards agent’s pale brows rose and remained arched in surprise—or possibly disbelief.
“And what about the crimson banner?” Lirelle asked when I had finished speaking. “Lord FitzMurad and Mr. Corvellan’s banner. You say you noticed it behaving abnormally as well?”
“Yes, Chatelaine.” I hesitated. “Where our banner didn’t want to absorb any magic at first, the crimson banner was the opposite. I could feel it was drinking too much. The spell-threads… their light looked wrong. And when I tried to fix it… it felt burning-hot.”
“An interesting observation,” the Arcane Standards agent remarked. “So, you’ve worked with spell-thread before, Miss Bernswick?”
“No, ah, my lady.” I had no idea how to address an Arcane Standards agent, but hoped courtesy might help me. “I’m only a first-year student.”
“You may address me as Agent Alessandra. Any mages in your family?” she probed.
“My parents are both mage-healers. But neither of them ever worked with spell-thread. Or, at least not around me or my sisters,” I added.
Agent Alessandra’s ice-blue eyes narrowed. “Yet you somehow knew that a healing spell would work on an enchanted textile that, by your own admission, you had never encountered before.”
It wasn’t a question. It was an accusation dressed in polite language.
“I—” I stopped. Took a breath, and started again, warily considering every word before I spoke it.
“Agent, I’ve spent my life watching my parents treat patients at our clinic.
Some of them arrive terrified, in pain, their bodies fighting against the very spells meant to help them.
The banner felt the same way to me. So, I treated them the only way I knew how. ”
The Arcane Standard agent’s expression didn’t change, but something in her eyes shifted. A fractional softening, quickly controlled. “Hm. I see.”
“And what about your, ah, partnership with Mr. Ferraro?” the older Imperial Protection agent asked. “I hear you two combined your spells during previous matches in a very unusual way.”
This is bad, I thought. My heart began pounding. They’re going to blame me for whatever was making the banners misbehave!
The younger Imperial Protection agent added, “Did you and Mr. Ferraro use this, shall we say, unique ability to damage the crimson banner in hopes of winning your match?”
“No, my lords—er, Agents!” I protested, though I feared it wouldn’t do any good. “We didn’t attack Lord Lukhan and Mr. Corvellan’s banner. I only tried to fix it.”
“Perhaps you might like to explain exactly how you mastered it,” Julissa said. “A banner that had absorbed enough magical energy to breach the arena’s protective wards. A banner that two second-year students with considerable extracurricular training and resources could not control.”
Her tone made it sound as if I’d committed a crime by saving everyone’s lives.
“Assistant Chatelaine, I didn’t master or control it,” I corrected her, feeling a stab of panic. “I convinced it to stop absorbing magic and release what it had stored. There’s a difference.”
The younger Imperial Protection agent spoke again. “Miss Bernswick, you know that Lord Lukhan FitzMurad is the son of a former imperial councilor, yes?”
The sick feeling churning in my stomach grew stronger. I nodded.
“We have it on good authority that you and Lord Lukhan are not on good terms. In fact, members of this academy’s staff say that you two have been openly feuding since you arrived here,” the older agent said.
A fresh wave of panic choked me. Oh, Divine Mother protect me!
I’d feared immediate expulsion. But this threatened to be so much worse!
“He doesn’t like me,” I admitted. “And I think he’s a bully. But that doesn’t mean I want to hurt him!”
The older agent added, in a deceptively kind tone, “Any attempt to assassinate or otherwise substantially injure a current or former member of the imperial court, or a member of their family, falls under the Directorate of Imperial Protection’s jurisdiction.”
I dug my nails into my palms in an attempt not to faint.
“It’s true we were fighting a match against Lord Lukhan and his friend,” I protested. “But we didn’t break any rules. And I saved his life. And Mr. Corvellan’s life, too. Ask Mage-Healer Arsinoe. Ask anyone who was watching.”
“We were watching everything that transpired,” Lirelle said. Her tone remained measured.
The three imperial agents made me retell my account of the match five more times.
With every repetition, they continued to hammer at the notion that I had somehow damaged the crimson banner out of revenge for Lukhan’s bullying.
I did my best to refute the accusations and pointed out repeatedly that our blue banner had also behaved abnormally. And that neither Elio nor I had broken any of the Aurelian Trials’ rules in how we conducted ourselves during the match.
The conviction that I was being set up to take the blame for today’s events only grew.
Finally, the older Imperial Protection agent traded nods with the others. Turning back to me, he said, “Miss Bernswick, we appreciate your cooperation and honesty. This interview is concluded for now. You will remain on campus and make yourself available for follow-up questions.”
“You may go,” Lirelle added.
“Yes, Chatelaine. Agents.” I rose shakily from the chair. My legs felt stiff after sitting for hours. I staggered rather than walked to the conference room door.
Elio was waiting for me in the colonnade outside. Through the pillars, I saw the sky over the quad had turned deep blue, stained with orange from the setting sun.
He leaned against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest.