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"Tracks?"

The student looks helpless. "It was raining."

Of course. "Where?" Rhyven asks.

The vampire points east. "Between Eight and Nine."

Cassian whispers beside me: "We passed them."

I know. Twenty minutes earlier. Maybe less. Lysa had been alive. Standing in the rain. Complaining about weather. The Chiefs move immediately. Search teams. Dragons. Wardkeepers. Again. No panic. No wasted movement. The Academy has become very good at searching for missing people. I hate that. Nyra grips my sleeve. "What time?"

I know what she's thinking. "Approximately twenty-fifty."

"When did Jonas disappear?"

"We don't know exactly."

"Elara?"

"Overnight."

She looks toward the courtyard. Three people. Different Houses. Different ages. Different locations. But— "Two days." She whispers.

I turn toward her. "What?"

"Jonas Saturday-ish morning. Elara Monday night. Lysa Wednesday night."

My stomach tightens. "That's not enough."

"I know."

"Three points don't make a pattern."

"I know."

"Nyra."

"I know."

She looks at me. But her face says something else. Maybe. The search lasts through midnight. We aren't allowed to join. This time Caelen makes sure of it. I argue. He wins. Only because Professor Neris threatens to personally lock me in my dormitory.

Apparently alliances are forming against me.

I spend the hours in Nyra's room. Not sleeping. Cassian sits by the window. Silent. No jokes.

The girl we passed in the rain occupies all three of us in different ways. I keep hearing: Be careful. Her answer: We'll try.

At one in the morning someone knocks. Nyra opens the door. Caelen. Wet. Exhausted. Alone. Nothing. Again. "Lysa?" Cassian asks. Caelen shakes his head. He steps inside. Closes the door. For several seconds none of us says anything. Then Nyra turns toward her desk. Opens the timeline. Writes three names. Jonas Vale — Saturday. Elara Venn — Monday. Lysa Mareth — Wednesday. She stops. Quill hovering. Caelen sees it. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing yet." Nyra answers. "Three isn't enough."

"Enough for what?"

She looks at us. "A pattern."

Caelen's expression hardens. "No."

"I didn't say there was one."