outside Councilor Merrydale’s office, saying nothing more. In the expanding silence, I grow more nervous as each second ticks by. When the door opens all of a sudden and Councilor Merrydale calls me in, a spike of fear makes me queasy. His message said this was a ‘chat,’ but I’m certain it’s more than that.
“Please sit, Miss Larkenwood,” he says as he returns to the other side of his oversized desk. This office is familiar to me. I came here several times during the process leading up to my admittance to the Guild. Councilor Merrydale settles into his chair and looks at me. His face lacks its usual cheerfulness, but there’s still a small smile there as he asks, “May I call you Calla?”
“Um, okay.” He’s only ever called me Miss Larkenwood, which makes me wonder why he’s being extra friendly now.
“Don’t look so nervous,” he adds. “This isn’t an interrogation. I just wanted to explain a few things and give you a chance to tell your side of the story. When something like this happens and there’s a hearing to determine whether a person is guilty or not, a Council member is appointed to assist in the defense of that person and represent him or her where necessary. I volunteered to be that representative, and Head Councilor Bouchard approved. If you also approve, then we can proceed.”
“Oh. Thank you.” I consider his offer for a moment. “I suppose my first choice would be to have my brother defend me, but I assume that won’t be allowed.”
“Unfortunately not. Family members may not represent one another.”
“Then yes, I approve.”
“Good. I’ll just need you to sign this form then.” He slides a scroll across the desk, and I try to keep my fingers from shaking as I find the blank line at the bottom of the page and sign it. I see another line for a parent to sign for those who are under the age of eighteen, but a note beside it says that those who are members of a Guild are able to give their own consent. Good. I’m feeling like enough of a child as it is. At least I don’t have to call daddy and ask him to sign a piece of paper for me. I sit up straighter, remind myself that I’ve done nothing wrong, and push the paper back across the desk. “Thank you,” Councilor Merrydale says. “So, do you want to tell me what happened last night? I assume it was simply a case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time, but it does, unfortunately, appear rather suspicious that you were on your own in that corridor instead of in the ballroom like everyone else.”
I nod, give myself a moment to consider my words—because I’ll probably be asked to repeat this story while being compelled to tell the truth—then start with the anonymous note in my locker. I proceed through the story in concise a manner as possible. When I get to the part about following Chase out of the ballroom, I carefully navigate my way through the truth. “Then I saw a friend I wasn’t expecting to see. I wanted to speak to him, but he appeared to be leaving early. I lost sight of him in the ballroom and assumed he’d left, so I went downstairs, hoping to catch up to him. I didn’t find him, though. When I went back upstairs, I saw the sign for the other lounge further down that passage, and I wondered if he’d gone that way. When I turned the corner and saw the stained glass clock, I almost turned back. But then I saw Saskia. I didn’t know it was her or that she was dead until I reached her. That’s when I screamed, and it was barely a minute after that when everyone else showed up.”
Councilor Merrydale nods as he quickly scribbles down everything I say. He looks up and asks, “Was there anyone with you who can confirm that you saw this friend and followed him out of the ballroom?”
I shake my head. “Unfortunately not. My other friends were dancing at that point.”
“And the letter you received,” he adds. “Do you still have that?”
“Yes. It’s in my training bag.” How
“Please sit, Miss Larkenwood,” he says as he returns to the other side of his oversized desk. This office is familiar to me. I came here several times during the process leading up to my admittance to the Guild. Councilor Merrydale settles into his chair and looks at me. His face lacks its usual cheerfulness, but there’s still a small smile there as he asks, “May I call you Calla?”
“Um, okay.” He’s only ever called me Miss Larkenwood, which makes me wonder why he’s being extra friendly now.
“Don’t look so nervous,” he adds. “This isn’t an interrogation. I just wanted to explain a few things and give you a chance to tell your side of the story. When something like this happens and there’s a hearing to determine whether a person is guilty or not, a Council member is appointed to assist in the defense of that person and represent him or her where necessary. I volunteered to be that representative, and Head Councilor Bouchard approved. If you also approve, then we can proceed.”
“Oh. Thank you.” I consider his offer for a moment. “I suppose my first choice would be to have my brother defend me, but I assume that won’t be allowed.”
“Unfortunately not. Family members may not represent one another.”
“Then yes, I approve.”
“Good. I’ll just need you to sign this form then.” He slides a scroll across the desk, and I try to keep my fingers from shaking as I find the blank line at the bottom of the page and sign it. I see another line for a parent to sign for those who are under the age of eighteen, but a note beside it says that those who are members of a Guild are able to give their own consent. Good. I’m feeling like enough of a child as it is. At least I don’t have to call daddy and ask him to sign a piece of paper for me. I sit up straighter, remind myself that I’ve done nothing wrong, and push the paper back across the desk. “Thank you,” Councilor Merrydale says. “So, do you want to tell me what happened last night? I assume it was simply a case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time, but it does, unfortunately, appear rather suspicious that you were on your own in that corridor instead of in the ballroom like everyone else.”
I nod, give myself a moment to consider my words—because I’ll probably be asked to repeat this story while being compelled to tell the truth—then start with the anonymous note in my locker. I proceed through the story in concise a manner as possible. When I get to the part about following Chase out of the ballroom, I carefully navigate my way through the truth. “Then I saw a friend I wasn’t expecting to see. I wanted to speak to him, but he appeared to be leaving early. I lost sight of him in the ballroom and assumed he’d left, so I went downstairs, hoping to catch up to him. I didn’t find him, though. When I went back upstairs, I saw the sign for the other lounge further down that passage, and I wondered if he’d gone that way. When I turned the corner and saw the stained glass clock, I almost turned back. But then I saw Saskia. I didn’t know it was her or that she was dead until I reached her. That’s when I screamed, and it was barely a minute after that when everyone else showed up.”
Councilor Merrydale nods as he quickly scribbles down everything I say. He looks up and asks, “Was there anyone with you who can confirm that you saw this friend and followed him out of the ballroom?”
I shake my head. “Unfortunately not. My other friends were dancing at that point.”
“And the letter you received,” he adds. “Do you still have that?”
“Yes. It’s in my training bag.” How
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