Page 90 of An Arcane Education
“We can still write each other letters,” I offer, trying to soften the blow.
She looks up at me with a combination of sorrow, desperation, and pity. “No,” she whispers. “If they expel you, they’ll take your memory too. That’s what they mean by ‘additional measures to protect the privacy of the institution’ or whatever. If you came from a magical family, it might be different, but since nobody in your home practices magic…”
She trails off, and the crushing weight on my chest grows heavier. “No. That can’t be right. I can’t lose this. What about my magic? Will they take that too?”
“I’m not sure. Maybe. All I know is that they’ll do anything to protect themselves, and they’ll be able tojustify taking your memory by posing it as an option between that or prison if they have any sort of fabricated evidence related to Mitchell’s death.”
“I can’t believe this…” Losing my place at Arcadia would be devastating enough, but losing the future I’ve finally allowed myself to hope for, losing my memory of this beautiful place, of magic itself, is too devastating to even consider. “How would they take my memory when my family knows I’m off at college?”
“They probably wouldn’t erase it so much as heavily modify it. Most likely, you’d think you went to a normal college and failed out.”
My voice cracks when I say, “I’m so scared, Max.” The idea of them reaching into my mind and tearing out every memory of magic, erasing the moments that have shaped me over these last few months, makes my stomach lurch. It’s invasive on such a horrific level, forcibly taking something from a person that will leave them hollow and incomplete, forever missing a piece of themselves.
Max joins me on my bed, draping an arm over my shoulders. “I know. I feel it too.” It hits me again how patient she’s with me this semester as I’ve gone through a chaotic rollercoaster of emotions. She can’t simply ignore them with her empathetic abilities, but she’s never complained about the negative energy I undoubtedly bring into the room.
“It sounds so dumb, but… if I lose my magic and my memory, it’s going to feel like losing my dad all over again. I never knew him and always grieved for the relationship we could have had, and when I came here, I finally found the thing that connects us. It’s one definitive piece of him that lives on in me, and now I might lose it.”
Max says nothing, and I don’t blame her. There’s nothing she could say that would make this better and nothing we can do to stop what’s coming tomorrow morning. I’ll fight it, but it’ll likely be my word against the Chancellor’s, and I don’t reasonably expect anyone to take my side.
We sit in the quiet for a long while, both of us quietly crying at the inevitable loss. If I lose my memory of this place, will I go back to being the same woman I was before, the woman who was afraid to choose herself, the woman who was quietly resigned to living a life of survival and monotony? If I forget all the experiences that have shaped me, will I revert to the person I used to be?
Nausea and dread roll over me at the thought of being right back where I started. I love my family, but I can’t go back to putting my own needs and desires on the back burner for them indefinitely.
Max and I spend the rest of the night brainstorming ways for me to argue my case, but the energy between us is weighted with the crushing knowledge that it probably won’t be enough. I stare at the photograph of my father that I’ve had with me my entire life, apologizing in my mind for letting him down. He tried to warn me, and I still managed to fail.
It’s still dark outside when Max slips out of the bedroom. I haven’t slept at all, knowing these might be my final hours at Arcadia Academy. A part of me wants to go see Alaric, but what would I say? I couldn’t possibly face him right now after everything that’s happened.
I do, however, write letters. I write one to Max, Callista, Delilah, and Avery, explaining just how much their friendship has meant to me in the short time we’ve known each other. They’ve shown me what sisterhood is, what it feels like to have true friends who are endlessly kind, supportive, and strong.
I write one to AJ, explaining what’s happening to me and how much I’ve appreciated his positive energy and constantly uplifting personality. I express my condolences about his brother and encourage him to grieve but to not give up on his dreams.
I write one to Professor Showen, thanking her for her kindness in a time that’s been so difficult for me and for sharing stories about my father. They made me feel closer to him, even if I won’t remember them after today, and I’ll still have his bracelet even if I don’t remember its significance.
Finally, I write a letter to Alaric. I tell him I love him. I tell him that I wish we had met under different circumstances, but that I cherish every moment I’ve had the pleasure of spending with him. I tell him that despite the current circumstances, I hope his research is successful and he finds the answers to the questions that have been plaguing him. I tell him that, more than anything, I’ll miss those soft, slow moments where we were alone in the greenhouse with the cascade of rain over glass secluding us from the rest of the world.
In the watery gray light of dawn, I get dressed and leave the folded letters on top of Max’s desk. I trust her to distribute them accordingly.
And as I walk out of my room and exit the building, my walk on the curving, paved pathways to the castle feels a lot like marching to my own execution.
CHAPTER 39
My footsteps echo down the wide, dark stone hallways as I walk to the meeting room where my life is about to change irrevocably. Max never showed this morning after her suspiciously early disappearance from our room, leaving me to deal with my final moments on campus alone. Even though she stayed up all night with me, consoling me and providing whatever comfort she could, I can’t help but feel disappointed that she wasn’t around to bid me goodbye.
I can barely breathe as I approach the large wood door with a metal plaque beside it designating the conference room number. Runes are carved into the dark wood, though I’m unsure of what they mean.
With trembling hands, I raise my fist and knock. The door swings open a couple seconds later, and Chancellor Aldrich stands on the other side.
“Please come in.” Her expression is neutral and her voice sharp. I resist the urge to scream at her as I walk into the conference room—which is triple the size of anaverage classroom—and take in the panel of people facing me.
The board members are all here, ready to cast their judgment on me for a crime I didn’t commit.
I zero in on an older couple seated just to the left of center. My grandparents. Max and I had searched the library after Delilah’s revelation for pictures of them and managed to find just one. Charles, my grandfather, has wide shoulders, a square jaw, and steel-gray hair. Melinda, my grandmother, has black hair streaked with silver and sharp features. I’d guess them to be in their late sixties, every bit the proper couple that fit right in on this panel of admittedly supercilious-looking board members.
I don’t know why I didn’t think about the fact that I’d be seeing them here, but it makes sense. What doesn’t quite make sense is the pang in my chest when I look at them. I trust my dad’s letter, but it still hurts to know they’re my family and I can’t have a relationship with them.Do they know who I am? Probably not, considering their bored expressions.
Chancellor Aldrich closes the door with a heavy thud and saunters to a table off to the side in the front of the room where two others sit. I recognize them as faculty members, but I can’t quite remember what their titles are. The Chancellor gestures for me to take a seat in the one chair that’s isolated in the center of room and facing the panel of board members. Guess she wants to put me on display for this public humiliation.
“Before we begin,” the Chancellor says, “I’d like to introduce our board members.” She rattles off their names, though I’m not sure why she’s bothering. The onlyother people in the room who aren’t on the board are me and the two other administrators. However, I do note her smug expression and intentional eye contact with me when she introduces Charles and Melinda Langley. The only other name I catch is Mr. Escher, the president of the board and former vice president of the Fae academy. He’s unsettlingly handsome, almosttooperfect in his appearance, with dark hair and an intimidating, sharp gaze. I understand now the descriptions I’ve heard of the Fae being unsettlingly striking.
