Page 106 of Divine Oaths

Our revels now are ended

NEWS OF THE TRAGEDY BROKE across Westfield’s campus. But the university’s recounting of events was a false narrative. Just as the school had informed Aunt Louisa, they claimed the losses were the terrible aftermath of an off-campus party gone awry. Five students had died, four of them in a violent alligator attack. The other was a former student who drowned in a nearby swamp. Their bodies were missing. President Saint James announced that there would be an emergency assembly in the newly rebuilt performance hall—the same performance hall where I’d lost my parents in the fire. There, he would formally disclose the security protocols that had already been emailed to everyone on campus.

No students out past 10 PM. All sororities and frats on campus were under probation. Merit points would be deducted for all of Sigma’s and Theta’s members.

Instead of joining the campus-wide gathering, I woke early the next morning to meet Angelica at the swamp before sunrise.

I brushed my teeth and did a quick wash and go before yanking on my jeans and an oversize hoodie. Then I slipped on the lace gloves Kasem had gifted me and crept out of my room.

Poppy House was quiet so early in the day. The security at the front lobby was half asleep as I scanned myself out. But when the card reader recognized my ID, the student affairs officer and the security guard both jolted awake behind their desks.

“Curfew is being enforced,” the student affairs officer said.

“But it’s morning.”

“Curfew is from six AM to ten PM. You have two hours until they let you guys out. Sorry. Just doing my job. Don’t know if you heard, but there have been accidents on campus.”

I would have climbed out of the window again, but sometime between the deaths in the swamp and President Saint James’s assembly, contractors had come and installed metal bars across all windows. Westfield really felt like a prison on its own island.

I turned to leave, but the student affairs officer called after me.

“There’s a notice on your profile,” he said. “Academic probation.”

Oh. Of course. Professor Enlex had warned me not to attend her class. And I hadn’t since then. But I also hadn’t bothered auditioning for Piano II.

“Hold on, there’s a message here.” He leaned over the screen before nodding at the security guard. “Can you escort her to Provost Henning’s office? Says they’re supposed to meet. The provost just flagged that she’s available now.”

I balked at him. “Now? This early.”

“That’s what it says.”

Reluctantly, I let the security guard lead me from Poppy House, not wanting to cause a scene. When we arrived on the main campus, he led me to Provost Henning’s office, which was in the same vicinity as President Saint James’s.

Hers was filled with old literature and bound books. It was smaller, though, and her desk and the seat across from it took up most of the space. Blue light from her monitor flashed bright against her pale skin. She didn’t stop typing until the guard left and it was just the two of us.

“I’m sure you know why you’re here.”

And I was sure she’d tell me. So, no answer from me.

“You’re failing most of your classes.”

“Not my humanities ones, or music history,” I said. In the moments between the hauntings, rush, and figuring out Westfield, I’d managed to finish most of the readings and assignments for those classes. As much as I hated to admit it, I enjoyed academia. Time here was limitless, even as constrained as it sometimes felt, and when I was burrowing away in a textbook or literature, it was an escape.

Provost Henning typed something on her computer, and from the reflection in her glasses, my student profile beamed back at me.

“That, quite shocking to say, is accurate. You’re excelling in those courses. But those studies aren’t what you have a scholarship in. And then there are your merit point scores. Do you know, Sianna, that you’re one of the lowest-ranked students in your year? Points docked for skipping classes. Late assignments. Attempting to enter restricted areas. Talking back to authority.” She placed her hands on the desk and leaned forward. “Yet, despite this, we at Westfield have been incredibly lenient with you. And do you know why?”

I moved to speak, but she stopped me. “It’s because you’re here to play music. Not read about it or study its history. Play. And compete in university recital circuits. Professor Enlex informed me that she recommended you skip to the more advanced course. You were supposed to test out. And yet, you didn’t.”

“I’m not interested in advanced courses. Relearning the basics is good enough for me.”

“Well, it’s certainly too late to test out. You better hope you score well on your finals and keep your GPA at an acceptable level to maintain student status.”

“I will.”

When she didn’t say anything further, I made to stand. “Permission to leave? Or is there something else?”

“Yes, there is, in fact.”