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Her teachers voice snapped her back to the art room, flooding her senses. The irritating drone from the radio, the chatter of her fellow students, and the bright glare from the overhead lights. Miss Jones was poised over Vickis piece, staring across in horror at Samaras painting. All the way to the main courtyard of the Citadel, Mina murmured various instructions and encouragements. Ambassadors from across the Holtlands and every dignitary River Holt could offer crowded into the wide square, all bedecked in their finery. Tell me, Jeren. If shes strong enough to survive the first five days, hell start the pain, emotional deadening, and humiliation. I believe shes still alive. Otherwise, we would have found her body. But as he did so, Ariah coughed, blood spilling from the corner of her mouth.Too late, little Shistra-Phail. Too late. Be at peace. He is yours. He is free and your mate. I saw this. Saw the blade…saw my end…so many years ago in this very place. Shes not even one of us. One should lead. Shan caught Jeren when her legs gave out beneath her. He will wish, in his final hours, that he had not fought so hard for life. That he had not spent so much of his life seeking the spirit world. Soon, it is true and endless death that he will crave above all else. Jeren shook her head, gesturing for Elayne to lower her voice.He loves his sister more. I dont blame him. And that was when she realised she didnt. He was weak, a fool. That was all. Like my student? Oh, I almost forgot. Mrs. Dickson reached into her apron pocket. This came in the mail for you today. Eve nods, satisfied with the answer. Behind her, she can see two tall figures, blue as the hydrangeas in the conservatory up at the dorm. She can make out the distant figures of Mr Tunstall and Mr Rideal, busy noising around the two police officers like sheep at feeding time. Violet can imagine the differing ways in which the schools two most senior figures are dealing with the disruption to the usual school day. Can picture Mr Tunstall, calm and orderly, insisting that there is nothing to be alarmed about: voice smooth as molasses. Rideal will be squirming. Rubbing those big pale hands together, steepling his pale, pointed fingers, slicking back his brilliantine black hair to better pronounce the sharp widows peak. He looks like the oil paintings in the Library. Looks just like the men in his family who came before – who owned this chunk of the valley and who called themselves squire. There are issues between the two of them – arguments about the direction the school is heading in; about whether to expand, to formalise the Silver Birch philosophy; to turn the neighbouring accommodation building into another wing of the school and to apply for permission to build new dormitories for an increased catchment. With Gilliad, with the Holtlands for pulling her back, with her ancestors for stealing magic to begin with and letting her end up in this nightmarish position. Mum knows one of the ladies in that story, says Snowdrop, peering over the back of the sofa at the article. When we were making the portfolio, I mean. She read your article and said somebody from her writing group was one of the girls whod gone missing..