Page 75 of The Deadliest Candidate

The others nodded. All except Edmund, who shrugged.

“They probably both withdrew their candidacy,” he said. “They were the weakest of us all. We all knew it.”

“Edmund,” Lautric said softly, a warning.

“I know, Lautric, I know—courtesy is cheap and all that—but I’m only stating aloud what we all thought anyhow. Neither of them came here for the right reasons. The schoolteacher came here to beg for her father’s love. Orsini came here to escape her family’s control. Those were not good enough reasons. The Grand Archivists know it now and are embarrassed by their error of judgement, I should be too, were I them. So Vittoria and Josefa were ushered away, and now they’re gone, and we should all be working all the harder for it because every last one of us remaining wants this.”

Fern’s blood ran cold. The truth of Edmund’s words, heartless as they were, resonated within her. Carthanewas the sum of every part of her life. It was the destination, the result, the answer.

Nothing would compel her to turn back, to give up.

Edmund stood as he spoke. He had shaken off the mantle of his artificial indolence, his easy, lazy arrogance. His green eyes blazed now, blazed like Santa Velia poison. His sister watched him as though she were beholding a young god casting free his disguise, her eyes wide with naked veneration.

“Your Vittoria,” Edmund said to Baudet, “wanted to escape an arranged marriage. That’s all. But Dr Essouadi?” The doctor watched him without expression, her hand still on the book she’d been discussing with Srivastav. “The tumour inside her grows with every minute we waste discussing this matter. She’s not come here to fail; she’s come here tolive. Lautric?” He waved a hand in the direction of the tired young man, who was watching the scene unfold with utter sadness in his eyes. “His family has spent almost a century trying to pry open the doors to this place. Your nemesis, the self-worshipper? The Bloodspire is not known for having a gentle hand to those who fail its commands. The General? His Emperor ended a fifty-eight-year-old war to send him here. Do you think failure is a choice any of them will be allowed to make? And our quiet little librarian here?”

Fern, still reeling from the shock of learning about Dr Essouadi’s condition, almost did not realise he was referring to her until his eyes fell on her, the green flame of burning copper.

“She is the only Sumbra scholar amongst us: every last one of the Grand Archivists has read her work. Do you think she’s spent years studying cosmic abominations tosettle for anything less than Carthane? As for my sister and I.” Edmund straightened himself. “One of you would have to kill us to dispose of us, because death itself will be preferable to what awaits us in Santa Velia should we fail here. So by all means”—he swept the candidates with a mocking gaze—“send out a search party for the heiress. Search the entirety of Carthane if you would. But my sister and I will do what we came here to do: secure our positions.”

He extended his hand to his sister without even looking, knowing she would take it, which she did. Emmeline rose, graceful as a conjured angel, and the two departed, leaving a silence hanging over the room as heavy and sharp as the poised, gleaming blade of a guillotine.

Chapter thirty-five

The Door

Despite Edmund’s speech, Fernand Baudet were still able to muster a small search party consisting of themselves, Lautric and General Srivastav.

Dr Essouadi had excused herself, understandably so. She’d seemed shaken by Edmund’s words, and Fern saw clearly that he hadn’t lied about her condition. She remembered the rumour that circulated about the doctor when she’d retired a few years back. Fern had assumed the rumour served as a cover while she applied to Carthane—but of course, it wasn’t the first time Fern had been mistaken.

She was tired of making mistakes.

The four members of the search party made their way out of the Mage Tower and back to the Keystone. They split off into four directions, each headed somewhere Vittoria might be found.

Fern headed for the Invocation Wing, Baudet for the north side of the third floor, where Lady Covington, Vittoria’s mentor, had her office. Lautric went to the incantation archives on the first floor, in case Vittoria hadgone searching for incantations, and General Srivastav went to find Sarlet, to ask her to consult the Sentinels and inform her of what was happening.

Fern searched the Invocation Wing thoroughly and went as far as to disturb the archivists in their office. There were only two left, and they stared at Fern warily as she asked them if they’d seen Vittoria Orsini.

“I’m sorry,” one of the archivists said. “The last time we saw any of the candidates was in the afternoon, when most of you were working here.”

“You had better ask Housemistress Sarlet,” said the second archivist. “If Miss Orsini is in the library, Sarlet will find her.”

“Thank you,” said Fern, her heart sinking.

If Vittoria was in the library, Sarlet would find her, Fern did not doubt that. But what if Vittoria was no longer in the library? What if Vittoria was lost, or gone? What if something had happened to her?

Edmund had suggested Vittoria was here for the wrong reasons and that she was too weak to remain in Carthane. Unlike any of the other candidates, Vittoria had also been attacked by a monster from one of the Gateways; despite Emmeline and Dr Essouadi’s interventions, she might still be unwell. Was it possible she had gone to the Grand Archivists to withdraw her application?

If she had, why not tell Baudet, her ally? Especially in the midst of a paired task, when her absence would surely affect Baudet?

Unless, of course, that was her intention.

Fern had never been certain of the relationship between Baudet and Orsini. Certainly both could besuspected of using the other. If Fern was learning one thing, it was that nothing could be trusted, not even her own observations. She was as ignorant of the other candidates as they were of her.

Once, she might have found that to be a strength. Now, she began to suspect it might be a crucial weakness.

She returned to theMage Tower to find the search party gathered in the atrium. Nobody had found Vittoria; nobody seemed surprised. General Srivastav took Baudet’s hand on his shoulder and held it firmly.

“I have informed the housemistress,” he said. “She will do what she can. For now, friend, try to rest. We’ve not much time until the assignment, and you need your strength.”

---