Page 172 of Bone Year

The music continues and we move through the dance floor together, his hand firm at my back, mine at his shoulder, our other hands clasped between us. Around us, the room has filled with couples, all of them dancing, none of them as quiet as we are. I should care about who’s watching but don’t.

He turns me again, and on the way around he lowers his head a fraction, his mouth close enough to my ear that no one else could hear him over the strings.

“Listen carefully.”

I tense.

“I’m not going to say it twice, Rose, and I need you to remember every word.”

“I’m listening.”

“The headmaster’s cottage is at the eastern edge of campus, past the stone wall by the cloister. Third building from the gate, the one with the dark-green door. Your key will open it. I don’t have any doubts.”

“How do you know?” I feel the press of it around my neck.

“Don’t ask how. Trust that it will.”

I move my head a little closer. To anyone watching, we are a couple too caught up in each other to mind the music.

“Once you’re inside,” he continues, “the front room is a study. Don’t waste time there. The mirror won’t be in plain sight. There’s a second door at the back of the study behind the bookcase on the right side, and it isn’t locked, but it is warded. The wards will recognize the key. They won’t recognize you. Hold the key in your palm when you cross the threshold, and don’t let go of it until you’re through.”

“What happens if I let go?”

“You don’t want to know what.”

I swallow.

He turns me, slow, and the chandeliers swing through their amber arc above us as the room rotates.

“How long do I have?”

“I’ll keep him at the dais and on the floor for as long as I can. Thirty minutes. Maybe an hour if I’m lucky and he’s in a mood. If he leaves earlier than that, I’ll find a way to send word, but don’t count on it. Treat thirty minutes as your ceiling and get out.”

“Thirty minutes is not a lot of time, Draven.”

“I know.”

“What if the mirror takes longer?”

“Then make it not take longer. The mirror responds to the person in front of it. You’ve been in it before. You know what it does. Ask your questions cleanly and don’t let it slow you down.”

I nod against his shoulder. He feels it. His hand at my back presses.

“What if he comes back early?”

“He won’t.”

“What if⁠—”

“Rose.”

He turns me through another count, his hand firm at my back.

“Don’t get caught,” he whispers.

“That’s the plan.”

“I’m being serious.”