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I frowned. No, I’m not. I was with Blake, but … I walked over to the bathroom … he’s disappeared.

Very inconvenient timing, I must say, my mother snapped.

I smiled. I’ll be sure to tell him you said so.

Medra, you’re not taking me seriously enough. She didn’t sound angry. Just desperate. Whatever was happening, it was enough to scare my mother. My mother who hadn’t even been afraid of Molindra. I need you to listen. Find your friends. Warn them. Arm yourself. Do you understand me?

I understand. I’m listening. I’ll find Blake, and we’ll take a look around, gather the others. Try not to worry.

I’m your mother. It’s my right to worry, she said, sounding more like her imperious self for a moment. Find Florence. She shouldn’t be alone.

Agreed. I’ll find her as soon as I’ve figured out where Blake’s gone.

Good. Please, darling, try to be safe. May everything good watch over you.

Then she was gone. I stood there for a moment, a little surprised to hear that my mother believed in any kind of force of goodness. I looked down at myself. If something bad was about to happen, did I really want to be wearing a ball gown? I crossed over to Blake’s dresser, miraculously still standing, and began yanking drawers open. Finally, I found what I was looking for: a pair of leggings I’d once left behind. They were neatly folded and freshly laundered. I yanked off the gown and pulled them on, then found one of Blake’s sweaters—one that wasn’t quite as huge on me as the others. Rolling up the sleeves, I looked in the broken mirror, frowning at my reflection. Not exactly armor, but at least I’d be able to move my legs. I had no choice but to put on the slippers I’d worn to the ball, as all of Blake’s footwear was far too big.

I rifled through his armoire next and found two sheathed daggers at the bottom, beneath a mess of crumpled parchment and graded papers. Grabbing belts, I strapped them to my thighs, then moved towards the door.

The door clicked. Instantly I was halfcrouched, a dagger in each hand. Blake stepped inside and shut the door quietly behind him, clearly thinking I was still asleep.

He turned towards where I crouched, and his eyes widened. “Holy shit, Pendragon. Ambushing me, are we?” He smirked. “I mean, sure, if you want to play, I’m up for a little roleplay.” But the smirk didn’t reach his eyes. He looked tired. Wornout. Different.

“Where were you?”

He shrugged. “Just down in the common room. Look, I’m wiped. Mind if we talk about this later? I need to sleep.”

“Later? I thought you were full of energy and ready to play,” I said in disbelief. “I mean, you clearly played with this room. Or someone did. What the hell happened to it?”

He didn’t answer.

I stood up and stepped towards him. Moonlight from the open window behind me spilled over his face. “Blake, what happened to your eyes?” His pupils were gray, but the irises? Where the moonlight hit them, I could see they were tinted a dark crimson.

He frowned at my expression, then crossed over to the broken mirror, peering at his reflection. “Nothing,” he said finally, rubbing a hand over his face. “I’m just tired. They’re bloodshot.”

“Bloodshot?” I shook my head. “Tell me the truth. What’s going on? Where were you really?”

He turned towards me. I saw his throat tighten.“Pendragon, I—”

The door banged inward. Visha stormed in, still in the short scarlet dress she’d worn earlier that evening. Her violet eyes were wild. There was a knife clutched in her hand. Theo stumbled in behind her. I gasped: Blake’s cousin’s shirt was soaked with blood.

“It’s not mine,” he said hastily, raising his hands.“I’m fine, really.”

“Something fuckedup is going on,” Visha declared. “And I mean very fucked-up.”

“What happened?” Blake crossed over to stand between me and the door protectively.

Visha slammed the door shut. “Theo, Vaughn, and I stayed late at the engagement party. Or whatever we’re calling it now. The breakup ball?” She shrugged. She was playing it cool, but I could see her shoulders trembling. She kept clenching and unclenching her hand around the dagger. “We dropped Vaughn off at House Orphos. Got back to the tower. Were coming through the common room, and the little bastard came at Theo like an animal.”

“Little bastard?” Blake interrupted.

“Everett Cavendish,” Theo said quietly. “He was a First Year. A highblood.”

Blake glanced back at me. Was. Theo had said was.

Blake looked at Visha. “You killed him?”

“Yes, I killed him,” she snapped. “He was about to sink his teeth into Theo’s neck, and not in a sweet, romantic way.”