CIARA’S POV

The lecture hall buzzed with the Professor’s droning voice about meridian convergence points, but I wasn't listening. Neither was anyone else. Every head had swiveled when the door creaked open ten minutes late, and Saraphina Maychild had slipped inside.

She moved like a ghost trying not to rattle chains. Her shoulders were hunched, her eyes fixed on the floor, sliding along the back wall toward the only empty seat by the grimy window. The whispering started before she'd even ...