“Longitudes and latitudes of different locations,” Ravod replies. “They’re directional coordinates.”
“That’s it?” Worry tumbles through me. Am I wrong to suspect more? “But why would Niall want directions to my house?”
Ravod shrugs. “Unlike the spoken word, anything set in ink is permanent. It could be a Telling. Or someone consulting Niall’s maps was scouting the location for a possible stronghold or safe house for Bards in the field.”
“It’s not a coincidence,” I say firmly, anger boiling in my gut. I stop him outside Niall’s room with a hand on his forearm. He tenses at the contact and I withdraw my hand; his warmth lingers. I compose myself and look into Ravod’s eyes. “My mother was murdered in that house, with a Bard’s dagger, right after your group left. The killer is a Bard, either Niall or Kennan. If you don’t believe me, go and look for yourself.”
Ravod holds my gaze, and I could swear fear flickers behind his eyes, before he sighs and disappears through the curtain into Niall’s room.
I watch the curtain for several minutes, hardly daring to blink. My nails dig into my palms at my sides and my teeth grind together. There has to be something in there that confirms my suspicions.
My heart jumps when the curtain rustles and Ravod emerges, his face grim. I watch him expectantly. He must have found something …
As though he anticipates my question, he shakes his head.
“No…” A bad feeling wells inside me as I push past him, past the curtain, and into Niall’s room.
It’s clean. Pristine. All the maps and books and ink are gone. Nothing remains to even suggest that I found anything there to begin with. He must have gotten rid of it all after he found the broken bottle. I stand in shock, feeling as if all the blood in my body is draining out the soles of my feet onto the floor.
A gentle hand on my shoulder makes me whirl around. Ravod’s face is unreadable, like always. “Come on, Shae. It’s time to go.” He says it as if I’m a fragile child.
Like he pities me.
He doesn’t believe me.
“No, this isn’t right!” I exclaim. “There were books here!” I try to keep my voice from trembling. “Ink! Papers and…” I trail off under Ravod’s cool gaze and finally cover my face with my hands.
I can’t even summon the will to protest as Ravod escorts me back outside the barracks and up to the training grounds. He leads me to one of the marble benches near the perimeter and motions for me to sit.
My body sways as my knees weaken, and I’m grateful for the seat. Between the horrors of the day and the confusion of Niall’s rooms being empty, one thought keeps floating up to me, like a sinister taunt …
What if I’m going mad?
The untilled earth in my mother’s pastures flashes before my mind. The constable sneering at me. The dizzying way Mads and Fiona turned away from me, certain I was only bringing danger on them and myself.
Has everything I’ve done been an unraveling of madness within, the corrupting power of the gift, untrained and wild within me?
I don’t even realize tears are streaking down my face until Ravod haltingly pats my shoulder. My eyes are anchored stubbornly on my feet. I watch from the corner of my eye as he leans forward on his knees.
“You shouldn’t let yourself come undone like this,” he says. It’s a knife to the gut. He sounds just like Mads. It makes me furious.
“If I shut down and refuse to care like you do, my mother will have died for nothing,” I say, lifting my eyes boldly to his. “She deserves better than that.”
“If I didn’t care, I wouldn’t say anything,” Ravod replies evenly. My anger flips over, tumbling past my heart. “You’re my charge. Your well-being is my responsibility.”
I blink. My sense returns somewhat. Of course that’s the only reason he has to care about me. I take a deep breath. “It’s just…” I stare at him. I want to make him understand how I feel, how intriguing I find him. I want to put words to the amorphous feelings that overwhelmed me back in the meadow.
“I care about you. A lot,” is all I manage to say.
“That’s very considerate,” Ravod says with a tiny nod as my confession flies over his head.
I look away quickly. My feelings have only just crystallized and still feel raw and new. I force myself to look at him, trying to make him see what I mean with my eyes. He stares back at me innocently, and I raise an eyebrow.
The blank expression frozen on Ravod’s face melts into bewilderment, like I’ve just handed him an axe and asked him to chop his own hand off.
He stands abruptly and takes two deliberate steps away from the bench before stopping. He turns back to me, head cocked. Thousands of thoughts flicker behind his eyes in rapid succession.
I say nothing, frozen in place, as much in shock as he is. He takes a ragged breath.
“I will inform Cathal that a conflict of interest prevents me from continuing your training and request a position elsewhere in the castle so you can resolve these feelings,” he says, his voice cold with authority. “I’m sorry, Shae. I appreciate your honesty.”
Without another word, he disappears across the training grounds. Every step he takes causes the hollow cavity in my chest to grow larger, threatening to swallow me up inside it. I wait until he is out of sight to finally let my tears overtake me again.
* * *
The castle is consumed with festivities by the time night falls. The foreign dignitaries Cathal mentioned arrive by carriage beneath twinkling stars, dressed in stunning suits and gowns, as if they stepped out of one of Ma’s bedtime stories.
The flurry of activity provides the small mercy of being overlooked as I stalk back to my dormitory. No one cares to stare at the lone trainee with tears in her eyes when there are other, more beautiful people to ogle.
Distantly, I hear an elegant tune playing. The music is light and uplifting, completely at odds with the hard shell of hurt in my chest. I’m thankful I have no rank and am not needed to participate in the security detail. I don’t think I could stand being around people after the day I had.
I only have to keep from falling apart long enough to reach the privacy of my room.
I want to be angry. Part of me wants to find Ravod and Kennan and Niall and scream at them until I’m blue in the face.
Not that it would be any use. It feels like I’ve been banging my head against a wall since coming here, accomplishing absolutely nothing.
A quick flash of movement catches my eye. I turn my head just in time to see Imogen disappear around a corner.
It’s strange that she’s not with everyone else attending to the ball. The conversation I overheard between Cathal and the chamberlain made it sound like every last pair of hands was needed at the event.
I peer down the hall after her. She is glancing around furtively as she walks.
I definitely know sneaking around when I see it.
My problems momentarily forgotten, I slip after her, keeping myself at a safe distance in the shadows. High House is certainly a hotbed of secrets. Even little Imogen has some, apparently.
From the other end of the hall, I watch Imogen halt in front of a statue of an unknown Bard. I squint through the darkness, trying to see her better. She’s shifting her weight rapidly between her feet and knotting her fingers in front of her.