Setting her jaw, Embry squinted hard through the small gap between the floorboards and the scrolled edge of the footboard, following the sound of the person stepping into the room from the window, somehow circumventing the wards, and walking aroundherdorm room.
Embry strained to see the person’s footwear, hoping to know the soles on sight. Shedidhave a fantastic photographic memory for fashion choices at Raven’s Head. One had to appreciate the ways students shouted their individualism despite the requisite uniform items.
But the view she had was too narrow to see anything. Instead, she felt the vibrations as this person clomped about her room as if it were their own. It was clear they were familiar with the layout, and maybe had even been in her room previously, given the wards’ silence at the intrusion. They didn’t use a light—magical or otherwise—yet wound around the bed, the love seat and ottoman, the vanity, desk, dresser. Then the footsteps went toward the closet.
At first, Embry felt a surge of glee. Whomever the intruder was, they were checking the closet for someone lying in wait, but they hadn’t even considered the bed, hadn’t even come near it. She had little experience in eavesdropping, yet she’d made the right choice in a split second.
But then Embry’s glee faded to anger.
This was her room. And they were here trying to find answersandthis person, in the same room with her right this very instant, was the person who’d turned her into a pawn. Who was trying to ruin her life after taking Oakley’s. And maybe Balthazar’s. Perhaps even Alistair’s.
Suddenly, Embry Woodcross was done being a pawn.
Her mind was made up and she was moving before the thought fully processed. She began to wiggle away from Rye, toward the edge of the bed. He immediately tensed his arm that’d been draped over her back, his hand wrapped around her upper arm, trying to hold her in place. Embry wiggled harder and faced Rye. They were close, but the light was dim, and she didn’t want to squander her element of surprise by warning him with a whisper.
So Embry carefully placed one pointer finger to Rye’s soft mouth.
Even in the pewter illumination, Embry could see his eyes widen.
Her temporary immobilization spell hit him before he had time to blink. All the tension fell out of his grasp—his arms as pliable as a mannequin’s. Just as she’d practiced with Daddy when she was twelve. The spell wouldn’t last long, but it would keep him safe enough as she confronted the intruder. Slipping away from Rye, she rolled out from under the bed and shot up.
“Stop right there!” she whisper-shouted, magic snapping at her fingertips as she thrust them out in an obvious threat to the trespasser across the room…
CHAPTER 33
CAUGHT RED-HANDED
EMBRYWOODCROSS HAD BEEN STUNNED MANY TIMES OVER INthe past few days, but nothing beyond the shock of seeing Oakley’s body matched the jolt to her system in that moment.
Balthazar Hale.
The intruder in her room. More than that, he was currently wedged inside her closet, bent over a crimson bundle of structured silk that was most definitely Oakley’s missing dress.
Embry gaped.“You?”
It was unmistakably him, even though he’d dressed in all black, right down to a literal burglar-style knit cap pulled low over his usually immaculately coifed hair. Despite the purposefully dark ensemble, his typical black leather jacket was missing. A sure sign of his under-the-radar intentions. Even more damning—Oakley’s infernal backpack was at his feet. The one Oakley had left in her room before the presentation of the homecoming court. The battered old thing was undeniable, as was its purpose—to hold the gown. Balthazar’s bright eyes shone like beacons in the night. He had the audacity to grin.
“Hello, Princess.”
Embry blinked at him and realized that Balthazar wasn’t simply planting Oakley’s missing clothing in her closet; he was in the middle of going above and beyond to frame her. He’d pilfered a vial of her signature stain-removing potion—the kind almostanyone on campus could verify she made—and dumped it onto the fabric.
If the search warrant came through, this would be the first thing they’d find.
Oakley’s missing dress. It wasn’t stained with blood, but rather grass—bright green streaks marring the fabric like the perfect char on grilled chicken. As if she’d been tackled to the ground in a struggle that only lasted long enough for poison to be administered.
And then there was the corsage—Wait. No.
The ring of orchids was no longer there.
That stupid grin still in place, Balthazar dropped the dress and unfolded to his full height. He stepped out of the closet, magic sparking at the fingertips of his black gloves.
Sorcerers were twenty times more powerful than witches.Allegedly.
Embry didn’t know why Balthazar was doing this to her, but in that moment, she knew that he would not hesitate to use the full measure of his magical gifts against her if she tried to attack him. Balthazar’s grin widened, those sparkling eyes dancing with knowing. He had her. Attack, and she’d be injured or worse. He could probably make it look as if she’d done it to herself, so overcome with guilt over what “she’d” done.Asshole.
So Embry did the only thing she could think of to stop him.
She started screaming.
