25 — All Of Those Silence Were Loud

The council room had been rearranged.

The long table was gone. The chairs were gone. The carved wooden floor was still there, and the tall windows were still there, and the light was still coming through them the way it always did, but everything else had been stripped out and replaced.

There was one chair.

In the center of the room.

Facing a long desk that had been pushed against the far wall. Behind the desk sat three Kingdom officials in dark coats. To the left of the desk stood Isabelle, arms crossed, notebook closed in her hand. To the right stood Celine, in her old lady mask, grey hair pulled back, spectacles catching the light.

And beside the chair, empty and waiting, stood two guards.

Not academy guards. Kingdom guards. In full uniform. With swords.

I was brought in at seven in the morning.

I was not told why.

I was not told where Lily was. I was not told where Myra was. I was not told where Arthur was.

I was sat down in the chair.

And the questions began.

"State your name."

"Clara Iris Inania."

"Age."

"Sixteen."

"Occupation."

"Student. Sophia Academy. Student Council President."

"Were you present at the Lutetia Cathedral last night?"

"No."

"Were you present at the Lutetia Cathedral at any point last night?"

"No."

"Were you present at the Lutetia Cathedral at any point in the last twenty-four hours?"

"No."

"Do you know what happened at the Lutetia Cathedral last night?"

"I was told this morning."

"By whom?"

"Arthur Gillian McArthur."

"What did he tell you?"

"That Professor Felice was found dead. That the cathedral was burned. That the Association was investigating."

"Did he tell you anything else?"

"No."

"Did you believe him?"

I didn't answer.

"Did you believe him, Miss Inania?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because Arthur doesn't lie."

The official wrote something down. He didn't look up. None of them looked up. They just wrote.

The second official spoke.

"Where were you last night between the hours of ten and four?"

"In my dormitory."

"Can anyone confirm that?"

"Lily Seraphine. My roommate. And Mireille. Our treasurer."

"Were they with you the entire time?"

"Yes."

"Were you awake the entire time?"

"No."

"Were you asleep?"

"Yes."

"Did you dream?"

I didn't answer.

"Did you dream, Miss Inania?"

"Yes."

"What did you dream about?"

I didn't answer.

"What did you dream about?"

"I don't remember."

"You don't remember."

"No."

"Convenient."

It was the third official who said it. The youngest of the three. He hadn't spoken until now. He was looking at me the way you look at something you've already decided is guilty.

"Convenient," he repeated. "You were asleep. You dreamed. You don't remember what you dreamed. And a woman died in a cathedral with your face."

"I don't have her face."

"You have a face. Chestnut hair. Green eyes. Sixteen years old. Student. Do you know how many students match that description in this academy?"

"No."

"Neither do we. Because it's a common description. But it's not a common description for someone who was at that cathedral ten years ago."

The room went still.

The first official looked up.

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves."

"I'm not ahead of anything. I'm stating a fact. The witness description matches the accused."

"She's not accused of anything."

"She will be."

I looked at Isabelle.

She was watching me. Not writing. Not speaking. Just watching.

I looked at Celine.

She was watching me too. Not moving. Not speaking. Just watching.

Neither of them helped.

Neither of them could.

The witnesses came in one at a time.

The first was the woman in the grey dress. Hands twisting. Eyes down.

"Describe what you saw."

"I saw the priestess. She was leading the morning service. She was — she was good. She was saying the prayers the way they're supposed to be said. And then the girl appeared."

"Where did the girl appear?"

"At the altar."

"Was the girl alone?"

"Yes."

"Was she armed?"

"I don't — I don't know. She didn't need to be. She just raised her hand and the priestess started to burn."

"Can you describe the girl?"

"Chestnut hair. Green eyes. Young. Maybe sixteen. Wearing a school uniform."

"Was there anything distinctive about her?"

"No."

"Did the girl say anything?"

"No."

"Did the priestess say anything?"

"She said—" the woman paused. "She said forgive her. She said forgive her, she doesn't know what she's doing."

The first official wrote it down.

The second official wrote it down.

The third official didn't write anything. He just looked at me.

The woman left.

The second witness came in.

A man. Older. Grey beard. Hands that didn't move at all. He sat down and looked at me the entire time.

"Describe what you saw."

"I saw the priestess."

"What was she doing?"

"She was leading the service. She was — she was holy. I've been attending that cathedral for forty years. I've never seen anyone lead a service like that. She was holy."

"And then?"

"And then the girl appeared. At the altar. She raised her hand. And the priestess started to burn."

"Describe the girl."

"Chestnut hair. Green eyes. School uniform."

"Did the girl say anything?"

"No."

"Did the priestess say anything?"

"Yes. She said forgive her. She said she doesn't know what she's doing."

The first official wrote it down.

The second official wrote it down.

The third official didn't.

The man left.

The third witness came in.

A young woman. Maybe twenty. She started crying before anyone asked her a question.

"Take your time."

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I can't—"

"Take your time."

"I saw the girl. Chestnut hair. Green eyes. She killed the priestess. She killed her in front of everyone. And the priestess — the priestess just knelt. She knelt and she prayed and she let it happen."

"Did the girl say anything?"

"No."

"Did the priestess say anything?"

"She said forgive her. She said she doesn't know what she's doing."

The first official wrote it down.

The second official wrote it down.

The third official looked at me.

The fourth witness came in.

The fifth.

The sixth.

By the seventh, I had stopped hearing the words.

They all said the same thing.

Chestnut hair. Green eyes. School uniform. Raised hand. Fire. The priestess kneeling. The priestess praying. The priestess forgiving.

They all said the same thing.

Except.

Except the fourth witness said the girl was crying.

The fifth witness said the girl was laughing.

The sixth witness said the girl was silent.

The seventh witness said the girl was screaming.

The eighth witness said the girl was calm.

The ninth witness said the girl was smiling.

They all described the same girl. Chestnut hair. Green eyes. But none of them agreed on what the girl was doing. None of them agreed on what the girl was feeling. None of them agreed on what the girl was.

The first official didn't seem to notice.

The second official didn't seem to notice.

The third official noticed. I could tell. He was looking at me the way a hunter looks at a wounded animal. He knew something was wrong. He just didn't know which wrong thing it was.

Isabelle noticed. She had opened her notebook. She was writing something down. Not the testimony. Something else.

Celine noticed. She hadn't moved since the first witness. She was still standing at the edge of the room with her hands folded, and her eyes had not left my face once.

"Miss Inania."

The first official.

I looked up.

"You've been staring at the wall for ten minutes."

"I was thinking."

"You were dissociating."

"Same thing."

He didn't smile.

"Miss Inania. I need to ask you directly. Did you kill Professor Felice?"

The room went very still.

Celine's hands were still folded. Isabelle's pen had stopped moving. The three officials were all looking at me now.

The guards beside my chair had both taken a step forward.

"No," I said.

The word came out before I could think about it.

"No?"

"I didn't kill her."

"You were in the cathedral."

"I was in my dorm."

"Your roommate says you were asleep."

"I was."

"Your roommate also says you were screaming."

I didn't answer.

"Your roommate says you woke up screaming the name Felice. Do you remember that?"

I didn't answer.

"Miss Inania. Do you remember anything about last night?"

I opened my mouth.

Closed it.

Opened it again.

"No," I said.

The third official laughed.

It wasn't a real laugh. It was the sound of someone who had run out of patience a long time ago.

"You don't remember. You don't remember. You don't remember. Do you know how many times you've said that?"

"No."

"Six. Six times. In twenty minutes. That's not memory loss, Miss Inania. That's a script."

"I'm not—"

"You're not what? Not guilty? Not involved? Not the girl with chestnut hair and green eyes who was seen killing a priestess in front of a congregation of thirty witnesses?"

"I'm not her."

"You're not her. But you match her description. You were at the cathedral ten years ago. You survived the massacre. You lost your magic a year ago. And last night, the woman who killed your parents died in the same church, in the same way, with your face."

He stood up.

"Tell me, Miss Inania. What would you conclude?"

I didn't answer.

I couldn't.

Because he was right.

If I were sitting on his side of the desk, I would conclude the same thing.

The third official sat down.

The first official closed his folder.

The second official looked at Isabelle.

"Does the Association have anything to add?"

Isabelle looked at me.

For a long moment, she didn't say anything. Then she closed her notebook.

"Not yet."

The first official nodded.

"Then we're done here. For now."

He stood. The other two stood. The guards moved closer to my chair. I didn't move. I couldn't move.

"Miss Inania will remain in custody until further notice. She will be transferred to the Kingdom's holding facility this evening."

"No."

Everyone turned.

Celine.

She had stepped forward. Her voice was the same grandmother voice. Soft. Kind. But there was something underneath it now. Something that hadn't been there before.

"No," she repeated. "She will not be transferred."

"Headmistress—"

"She is a student of this academy. She is under the academy's jurisdiction. If the Kingdom wishes to hold her, the Kingdom will do so on academy grounds. In academy custody. Under academy supervision."

"This is not your decision."

"It is exactly my decision. I am the headmistress. Until she is formally charged, she is my student. And I do not hand my students over to the Kingdom without due process."

The first official stared at her.

The second official looked at the third.

The third official looked at me.

Then he smiled.

"Fine," he said. "Academy custody. Until the formal hearing. We'll be back tomorrow."

He left.

The other two followed.

The guards followed.

The door closed.

The room was empty.

Except for Celine.

Except for Isabelle.

Except for me.

"Get up," Celine said.

I didn't move.

"Clara. Get up."

I looked at her.

She was not the grandmother anymore. She was not the old lady. She had taken off the spectacles and her hair had loosened from the bun and she was looking at me with her real eyes, yellow and young and tired.

"You saved me," I said.

"I delayed them. I didn't save you."

"Why?"

"Because my sister killed your parents and I did nothing. Because I have spent ten years watching you suffer and pretending I couldn't help. Because if you die in a Kingdom holding cell, then everything she did — everything I let her do — was for nothing."

She walked to the door.

"Come. There's someone who wants to see you."

I stood up.

My legs were shaking. I didn't know when that had started.

Isabelle was still standing by the wall. She hadn't moved.

"Miss Inania."

I looked at her.

"Sleep tonight."

I stared at her.

"You're telling me to sleep? After all of that?"

"I'm telling you that the only way out of this is through the dream. The witnesses saw you because you were in the dream. The witnesses disagree because the dream is not a place, it's a mind. And the only person who can make the dream into a place is you."

"How?"

"By accepting it. By stopping the fight. By letting the dream be what it is instead of what you're afraid it is."

"You sound like her."

"Who?"

"Felice. She said the same thing."

Isabelle looked at me.

"My, maybe she was right about that part."

She left.

I followed Celine out.