Chapter 7 #2
Stella holds her own decently well, although I think Madison pulls her punches a little.
When they return and Mia and Cadance head onto the mats, Stella considers me while she smooths her hair into a fresh ponytail.
“Cosgrave really has it in for you, huh? He was acting kind of weird, hovering around, when you collapsed in the cafeteria too.”
I shrug as casually as I can. “He’s just peeved that he didn’t manage to smack me down when we sparred before. I know the police looked into him as a suspect.”
“They should have, considering he’s got two criminal families behind him.” She shakes her head. “You’ve got to wonder what they’re holding over the administration to get him and all his cousins and whoever admitted here.”
I have to stop myself from bristling defensively. Nearly every other student at the academy probably thinks the same way. Other Elodie would have too.
And they do have a point. Both the Cosgraves and the Morellis have their methods of getting what they want, no matter what stands in their way.
How much longer am I going to be able to avoid Salvatore’s advances now that he knows we’re bonded?
A spark of inspiration sends a question tumbling out. “Hey, do you have anything going on after classes today?”
I’m worried I’ll have to wheedle back and forth before I can get what I want, but Stella responds exactly as I’d have hoped. “Nothing major. You want to hang out?”
I offer a self-deprecating smile. “I don’t know if I’m up for going out on the town or anything, but I feel like I could use a change of scenery.”
“No kidding, after all that time you had to spend recovering at home.” Stella smiles, genuinely enough that I feel like a jerk for the pretense. “Why don’t you come over to my place? We can take it easy, just the two of us.”
I smile back. “Perfect.”
I’ve got an excuse to dodge Salvatore if he was planning on whisking me away after school… and a chance to dig a little deeper into what Stella might have been up to lately. Is she a little too eager to have me over one-on-one?
Suspecting everyone of everything is fucking exhausting.
I don’t think I need to worry about her murdering me in the Kingsley home, but as we head out after changing, I mention to her that I’m texting my dad so he knows where I’m having dinner. If I disappear, people will know who I was with last.
While her chauffeur drives us to her family’s mansion, Stella doesn’t show any sign of hostility, but then, she never has. I chat with her about the day’s classes and our upcoming projects, barely processing what she’s saying.
I’m not likely to get anything damning out of her directly. I need an opportunity to search her room for evidence she might have left behind.
Thankfully, living in Other Elodie’s home for the past month has accustomed me enough to luxury that I don’t gape at the Kingsley residence.
The three-story home is as large and majestic as the one that’s become mine, although something about it feels a little more dignified—the flowers in the garden slightly more subdued, the trim elegant but without any lavish flourishes. It reminds me of Stella herself.
The vibe continues on the inside—sophisticated but restrained, from the furniture to the wallpaper. I follow her up two flights of polished stairs to the third-floor rooms that appear to be hers, like how Aunt Daphne’s taken over that part of Dad’s house.
In the sitting area of the bedroom, Stella flops onto her settee across from the armchair I’ve taken, and says, “It is odd about Kenneth Hearst, isn’t it?”
I’m so busy acting unaffected by the sprawling luxury that my mind stutters before I collect myself. “I guess he still hasn’t shown up? I haven’t seen him at school.”
Stella’s gaze stays intent on my face. “As far as I know, his parents haven’t turned up any trace of him. How does anyone—especially a guy like that—just vanish? And it’s not like they’ve gotten a ransom demand or anything.”
“Can you imagine?” I laugh awkwardly. Maybe upper-class lucent families do actually deal with ransoms like mediums go through tarot card decks? I wouldn’t know.
“At least then they’d have some idea.” Stella gives a little shiver. “Whatever’s happened to him, I hope he’s all right, although at this point it’s hard not to think the worst.”
“I know.” And she has no idea how bad the worst could be.
Or does she? Why did she bring him up as soon as we were completely alone?
I don’t dare nudge Stella with magic. She’s skilled enough that she’d probably pick up on even a subtle attempt.
So I keep smiling and chattering and nibble on one of the tarts her housekeeper brings in for us, until my supposed friend slides her fingers over her hair and wrinkles her nose.
She gets up. “You know, after that sparring session, I think I want to freshen up quickly before dinner. You don’t mind hanging out on your own for a few minutes?”
I pull out my phone and brandish it. “I’m sure I can keep myself entertained. Go ahead.”
As she slips into the en-suite bathroom, my pulse kicks up a notch. I wait until the lock has clicked over and shower water is hissing down before I leap out of my armchair.
Stella won’t leave me unentertained for long. It wouldn’t be polite.
I have to make the most of this chance.
I can hardly rampage through the room. I slink from bookcase to wardrobe to bedside tables, peering into nooks and opening drawers as quickly and delicately as possible.
Everywhere I stop, I extend my awareness toward the whispers of ephemera, searching for any suspicious impressions in the energies left behind.
Nothing I come across feels at all out of character for Stella as I know her.
She studies and takes care with her wide assortment of chic clothing, stretches before bed and paints her face carefully every morning.
I don’t catch so much as a glimpse or a wisp that I can connect to any of the strangeness Other Elodie got mixed up in.
The shower turns off. My heart hiccups.
I’ve got maybe a minute or two before she’s finished drying herself and re-dressed.
My gaze lands on the small garbage bin tucked under her desk. It’s my best last-ditch chance of finding something she’d rather no one stumbled on.
I dash over and crouch next to the bin. As I hastily shuffle through the bits of plastic wrapping and discarded papers, skimming over snippets of writing, I delve into the ephemera too.
And freeze.
Down near the bottom… something is giving off a faint hum of energy that reminds me of the enchantment on Kenneth’s clothes. That minor but weird sense of… density, or heaviness, that my matches and I couldn’t explain.
Why the hell does Stella have something imbued with a similar effect?
I dig down, letting my sense of the ephemera guide my hand. My fingers close around a thin, cool surface.
I pull out a fancy pen.
It’s simple if posh in style, gold edging around a sleek burgundy barrel, no clear identifying features. When I pull off the lid, I can confirm it’s still got ink.
Why did Stella throw it out? What magic is on it?
I risk a more focused inspection, but I can’t discern anything specific about the intent woven into the ephemera. And the rustling behind the bathroom door suggests Stella’s almost dressed.
I debate my next move for two hasty beats of my heart and then dive toward the bed. The pen slides easily under the mattress where Stella should never notice it’s hidden.
But if it turns out that strange magic ties her into Kenneth’s plan to murder me, the evidence is still here. I’ll be able to point the police to it.
I dash to the armchair and lean back as if I’ve been lounging there the whole time. I’ve just flicked my phone screen to a random website when Stella steps out.
“Much better,” she says with a laugh, combing her fingers through her lightly damp hair. “I hope you didn’t get bored.”
“Not at all,” I reply, with a sinking sensation in my stomach.
There’s not much room for boredom when the girl who’s been my best friend might be planning to off me.