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A laugh escaped me before I could stop it.

Then another.

I sat back on the wet stone, wrapped my arms around my knees, and laughed until the sound stopped being laughter at all. Tamsin stayed beside me and held on until it passed.

I had been rejected from something I hadn’t known existed by someone I had never even spoken to.

That was impressive, even for me.

By midday, every newcomer had been assigned a House except me.

I stood in the entrance hall with my rucksack at my feet while everyone else was led away in cheerful little groups, dressed in gray and green and sea-green and gold, heading toward new rooms, new friends, and whatever version of a life Ironmoor had waiting for them.

Tamsin hugged me three separate times before a Saltmere prefect finally had to steer her away. She twisted around in the prefect’s grip and called back that she would find me at dinner, that she swore she would find me, until they disappeared through one of the archways.

Then I was alone in the hall with my bag, the flagstones, and far too many doors.

Oda Brannock appeared without making a sound. One moment I was alone, and the next she was standing beside me, tiny and gray-haired, staring up at me with those enormous unblinking eyes.

“The glass has given you no House,” she said. “Therefore, you have none.”

“Right,” I said. “Yes. I gathered that.” My voice had gone bright and overly polite, which was what happened when I was trying very hard not to panic. “Should I get the ferry back, then, or is there somewhere I’m supposed to go?”

“Not today. You are registered, Miss Hale, so you will remain here tonight. Mr. Aske will explain the options available to a registered Hollow tomorrow.”

“And the Proving?”

She tilted her head slightly.

“That occurs at the end of term, when the Council’s envoys arrive to review your status. Mr. Aske will explain that as well.”

I opened my mouth to ask what exactly I was supposed to do until then, but she continued before I could speak.

“You will lodge in the Lantern Tower. It was once our infirmary, although it has been empty for many years.” She paused, and something in her expression softened. “I think it will be glad to have you.”

Before I could decide what that was supposed to mean, she walked away, leaving me to wonder whether I had imagined the last sentence.

A bored porter eventually pointed me toward the Lantern Tower, which turned out to occupy the far corner of the north wall. It was about as distant from the rest of Ironmoor as a building could be while still technically belonging to it.

There was a narrow, iron-studded door at the base of the tower, and behind it was a spiral staircase disappearing upward into the dark.

I looked at the stairs, then at my rucksack.

Yesterday I had climbed three hundred and eleven steps up the cliff, and my legs had not forgiven me yet.

“That’s a lot of stairs,” I said to the empty stairwell. “I wonder how many there are.”

“Two hundred and twelve.”

The voice came from behind me, low and rough enough to make me jump.

I turned around.

It was the man I had noticed sitting at the back of the hall, the one nobody sat near. He had been counting his fingers against the tabletop when the Solace boys got loud.

Up close, he was enormous. He had to be at least six foot six, with broad shoulders and a worn gray sweater pushed up over thick forearms marked with pale old scars. His face was broad and weathered, and he looked older than most of the students I had seen around the school. His eyes were dark brown and very steady.

He didn’t explain why he was there.