Page 107 of The Witch in the Dead of Night

“What are your impressions of the university so far?” the Chancellor asked, his unblinking eyes remaining on me as if I were a puzzle he was trying to solve.

“I’ve never been anywhere like it,” I admitted.

“There are few places like it in Valen,” he said. “The founders intended for its design to mimic the mountains around us. Firmin the Crafty, a pioneer in Elemental Architecture and Enchantment, was the chief engineer back then, although he left our faculty a few years after the school opened.”

“You …” I faltered. The vampire remained silent as I processed the thought forming in my mind. “You’re one of the figures in the stained-glass mural, aren’t you?”

“I am.”

I raised my eyebrows. That would make him over two thousand years old. “How …” I paused, unsure what to say. “How interesting.”

He nodded as if in agreement. “Firmin designed this study as well, you know, leaving behind a number of enchantments.”

“Enchantments?” I asked.

“To ensure privacy and secrecy for moments much like this where the Crown Prince of Valen is hovering outside my door, attempting to eavesdrop on our conversation.”

I grinned. “So you can hear him, but he can’t hear us? He must hate that.”

He returned my smile, revealing his long, graying fangs. “I’m sure he does. Fortunately for us, it means that we might speak freely.”

I swallowed. “Oh.”

“I’ve been told that you possess extraordinary potential,” he said.

My cheeks warmed. “The King is very kind.”

“I suppose, although he is not the one who made that particular observation.”

My eyes flicked toward the closed door.

“You’ve been training for some months now. Tell me, where have you found your strengths to lie so far?”

I shrugged. “I think I’m decent at elemental magic. And corporeal, which is what we’ve been focusing on lately. Psychal was the hardest at first, but I have a handle on it now.”

“And your gift? The Ealdorfyre?”

I gritted my teeth. “I don’t know what the prince has told you, but it is no gift.”

“But you have summoned it in the past, yes?”

“Yes,” I admitted. “But only once.”

The corners of his mouth twitched. “Intriguing. We’ll get to that later, though, no need to bore you with its history tonight. What would you say to a tour?”

“I, er … yes?” I said, dazed by the abrupt end to the conversation.

As we reunited with Enhart in the hall, the Vice-Chancellor bustled past, thrusting letters into our hands. “These just arrived for you,” she said, before turning on her heel and disappearing up the dark corridor. I turned the envelope over to see a crimson seal with two wyverns intertwined in wax. My heart thudded against my ribs. I hadn’t heard from Mordric since we left Valnar, and I was still riddled with guilt over the unspoken words between us as we said our goodbyes. I wondered if he would say it again. Oh gods.

“I’ll leave you to it,” said Enhart, taking his letter and slinking off into the darkness.

The Chancellor, however, was apparently in no rush to read his. Instead, he escorted me to the furthest corners of the school, droning on about the history of the hallowed halls through which we walked. This alcove was where Eustace Remingham came up with the idea for the Remingham staff, which allowed witches to channel their elemental power. That courtyard was where King Fane befriended Prince Edward of Galrin, forging what would become a prosperous alliance between the two kingdoms.

As we traversed the great hall, which during term would be packed with students eating supper or catching up on their studies at this hour, a flash of burgundy caught my eye. A figure lurked in a nearby alcove, his round face pulled into a frown. He was dressed like one of the sages I had once seen at the temple of Aris on the outskirts of Valnar, in a shapeless maroon robe cinched at the waist. I was so distracted by him that I nearly smacked into the Chancellor. “Bewitched by the stained glass, I see,” he said, pausing his detailed description of the vaulted ceilings.

“I, er,” I faltered, glancing up at the figures I had seen when we first arrived at Hollybrook. Set against the night sky, the colored glass was tinted blue. When I turned back to the alcove, it was empty. “Sure.”

“This piece depicts the school’s founders, as you may have surmised. The human—” Ivor gestured at the stout man in his cap “—is Ransom Baldwin. He was a celebrated philosopher and a dear friend. It was his idea to found this institution on the heels of the Great Conflict. No one thought it could be done; bringing vampires, humans, and witches together after the atrocities that had been committed during the war. However, just like King Daemon the First united the kingdom under his rule, so did Ransom. Albeit on a smaller scale. He had an extraordinary talent for recruitment.”