LUMM 1: Die a Horrid Death, Arlo Crowhaven

11 | trust & glass

A groan escaped my lips as I attempted to roll to the other side as Andy clicked his tongue and tried the same bar for the twentieth time. The pain tearing through my skin and muscles reminded me why I couldn't. "For Lochrame's sake, stop fiddling and keep it down!" I screamed, yanking one of my pillows and chucking it at the solitary figure facing the windows. The soft, white rectangle slapped Andy's leg before toppling without a sound on the rug. "I haven't gotten any proper sleep for three days! Go to the conservatory, please."

Andy whipped around, his bow swiveling down. "I'm not the one who chose to fall through the glasshouse ceiling and injure an entire arm," he answered. "Grow up."

I winced, the memory still fresh in my mind. After I let go of the ledge, I had a moment of clarity that I was going to die. Then, the world came crashing in an instant, my shoulder slamming against the murky sheet of glass. Alexi Jansen wasn't kidding when he said the shutters and panes needed replacing. Shards rained down on me as I shot through the bare bones of the ceiling. Sticks of dried straw obscured most of my vision, but I remembered Andy's smug smile glowering down on me, followed by the light footsteps belonging to Alexi Jansen and a dozen kittens' yowls.

The next thing I knew, the white strobe lights of the infirmary bore down on me. Nurses dressed like Mrs. Lemorpha flitted around, and when they were done, my consciousness was back. That was when Mr. Proleau dropped in with a massive frown on his face. I remembered shirking on the infirmary mattress, hands bunching up the blankets over my numb legs as if I wanted to duck underneath.

"If I recall, I specifically asked you to keep it quiet," the Magistrate said on my bedside. Seeing him outside of his office and looking up at him from a hospice bed with a cast down my arm removed the sanctity of the meeting. "You just had to announce it in the loudest way possible."

I looked down at my hands. "I'm...sorry," I muttered, building up the image of guilt. "But I had no idea he would go after me in the spire, so I just—"

"I understand, Arlo," Mr. Proleau interjected, making my head snap up and my gaze land on him. The Magistrate took a deep breath and tucked his hands behind him almost like my father did. "We, at Lyllan University, put our students' safety and interest on the top priority. I apologize on behalf of the entire academic council and board of directors for failing to detect Mr. Delcher's hostility towards you and the rest of the elite."

"Won't the Ocalira hear my statement?" I ventured. Because if so, why weren't they there yet? Those officers as well as a horde of journalists and print writers should have been clamoring outside at this hour. This was a big scoop.

Mr. Proleau kissed his teeth, casting a quick look at the infirmary door. It remained silent, with no sign of blinking red lights. "Your father has expressed, rather explicitly, that he doesn't want you anywhere near anyone from the Ocalira and the press," he said. "Something about staying out of the spotlight?"

He didn't need to elaborate for me to get it. My father preferred moving in the dark, straightening crooked figures and mopping up any messes from the shadows. He would no doubt track Ethan Delcher on the boy's way to prison and bring him what he deserved. I remembered my gut roiling back then, but nothing could be done. Crowhavens do not forget, and they do not forgive either.