“What did you find in my room.” Veyn asked.

“Me?” Trin glanced down at the sheet, and something in his expression settled into satisfaction. He held it up. “Your murder intention. Right here.” He turned it so Veyn could see. “Transaction records. Tiuhar’s account. Why was it in your room.”

Veyn looked at the sheet.

The breath that left him was slow, almost quiet. His hands, which had been pressed flat against the door, dropped to his sides. Something in his face that had been clenched for the last hour loosened, not relief exactly, but the release of a specific fear that turned out to be the wrong one.

“Sorry,” Veyn said. “What did you say.”

Trin’s expression flickered. “Are you deaf? Or just completely defeated?” He stepped into the room, holding the sheet out. “Transaction records. Tiuhar’s account. Found. In your room.”

“How did you get into my room.”

“Student council gets warrant if they have reasonable proof.” Trin let the sheet drop to the table. “You know how this works. Like last time. When we came in and you were—” a pause, deliberate, “—dealt with.”

“I remember that day,” Veyn said. He touched the bruising along his ribs without looking down. “I don’t remember you specifically.”

“I was there.”

“Behind Aare.” Veyn looked at him. “That’s where you usually stand, isn’t it.”

Something shifted in Trin. Not anger, something tighter, closer to the bone. He was quiet for a moment, and when he spoke again his voice had changed, the official tone gone.

“So smug,” he said. “Even now. Even with all of this.” He moved closer, and there was something almost raw in it, unguarded in the way people get when they stop performing. “But look at me. Finally. Aare trusted me with something real, catching the killer of this case. You.” He stopped in front of Veyn. “And I won’t disappoint him.”

In the corner, Snirt hadn’t moved. He was watching them by the table.

Trin picked the sheet back up. “So, Tiuhar used to cheat in exams.”

Veyn said nothing.

“And you helped him. Fed him answers. His scores went up, yours stayed perfect, nobody looked twice because why would they, that’s almost beneath you, isn’t it.” He held the sheet between them. “He paid you. That’s what this is.”

“That record doesn’t say what it’s for.”

“It’s a large withdrawal. Found in your room. From a dead boy’s account.”

“Found in my room,” Veyn said. “Not transferred to me. Not in my account. In my room.”

Trin opened his mouth.

“Those are different things,” Veyn said.

The silence that followed was the kind that meant Trin had heard him and didn’t have an answer and wasn’t going to admit it.

He set the sheet down. Straightened. Looked at Veyn with something that had moved past argument into something older and more personal.

“You know what I think,” Trin said. “I think you talk your way out of everything. I think you’ve done it your whole life.” He came closer, close enough that Veyn could see the tiredness under the anger, the months of something underneath all of it. “Not this time.”

His hand came up.

Snirt moved off the wall. Stopped. Trin’s eyes cut to him without turning his head.

“Stand there,” Trin said.

Snirt stood there.

Trin turned back. His hand was still raised. His breathing was the only sound in the room.

The door opened.

Sielsia leaned against the frame, arms folded, taking in the room with the mild interest of someone who had arrived slightly after the best part.

“Oh good,” she said. “I didn’t miss it.”

Trin turned. “How are you—”

“My friend. Council.” She waved it away and walked in, unhurried, glancing at the sheet on the table, at Snirt in the corner, at Trin’s raised hand. She looked at Veyn last. “Very dramatic in here.”

“Leave,” Trin said. “Mist Tree has nothing to do with this.”

“Mm. I said I wouldn’t help him, right? I meant that.” She picked up the sheet, looked at it, set it back down. “But I’ve solved a lot of cases here. A lot. And I’d hate for this one to close wrong.” She gave Trin a smile that was entirely pleasant and entirely unreadable. “Let Mist tree prove it’s him. Properly. Give Mist tree the chance and if I can’t, he’s yours.”

Trin sighed, thinking for a long moment then, “ten minutes, that’s all you get.”

Sielsia clapped her hands once. “Okie dokie.”

She grabbed Veyn by the wrist and pulled him around to the other side of the table, positioning him like a prop in a show she’d already rehearsed. Trin and Snirt became the audience by default. Snirt seemed to accept this. Trin did not.

“So.” Sielsia spread her hands. “Everyone present. Today, Mist Tree does its magic again.”

Snirt clapped once, instinctively, the way people do at magic shows before they remember where they are. Trin’s eyes moved to him. Snirt’s hands separated and found his pockets.

“Today’s mystery,” Sielsia continued, unbothered, “is the death of Tiuhar Reese.” She gestured broadly at the room, at the sheet on the table, at Trin. “As you’d have guessed.”

Veyn visibly cringed.

“Now. I am, as many know, a strong advocate of giving new members a chance.” She turned to Veyn with the expression of someone about to do him a tremendous favor. “So. The newest member of Mist Tree—”

“I’m not a member—”

“—Veyn Kmerst, will be uncovering the mystery today.”

“Huh? Me?”

“Huh? Him?” Trin said, at the same moment.

“But you said you would prove it,” Trin added.

“I said Mist Tree would. That still holds.” She smiled at him pleasantly.

Veyn looked at her. “I don’t know anything.”

“You do,” She bent down to his height, pulled his head slightly toward her, and spoke quietly, close enough that only he could hear.

“Deduction begins where intuition is established. Say what your heart believes, then let your mind prove it.”

She straightened. Looked at him with something that wasn’t quite a smile and wasn’t quite a challenge.

“I choose my members with the greatest care,” she said. “Prove me right.”

Veyn looked at her. Then at Trin, who was already moving toward Sielsia with the specific energy of someone who has run out of patience entirely.

“Stop with the drama—”

“Our newest member is just nervous.” Sielsia produced a water bottle from somewhere and held it out to Veyn.

He took it. Drank slowly. The bubbles rose at first and then settled as the bottle emptied.

He set it on the table.

“Trin.”

Trin stopped.

“I realized something.”

“That you murdered Tiuhar.”

“That Dvoly had an affair with Tiuhar.”

The room went flat.

Trin didn’t move. The color in his face did something complicated.

“Tiuhar used to talk about girls,” Veyn said. “How easily he pulled them. Normal enough, for someone like him. The kind of thing you hear and forget.” He paused. “But it stops being normal when the girl is yours.”

“You—” Trin’s voice came out low, almost unrecognizable. “You pulled my dead girlfriend into this. How heartless, what proof do you even have—”

“I don’t have proof of the affair.”

“Ha—”

“I don’t need it. I don’t need to prove they were together to prove you killed him.”

Silence.

“You were in a hurry,” Veyn said. “That’s what gave it away first. Shirt untucked. No glasses. Someone who got news and moved before they thought.” He paused. “You weren’t investigating this case. You were managing it.”

Veyn looked at him, like he finally grasped everything.

“Where was Tiuhar found,” Veyn said.

“Bushes. Near the main building.” Trin’s voice was mechanical now, somewhere between fury and something that hadn’t decided what it was yet. “You know this.”

“And where were you.”

“Upper front classrooms. Six floors up. Multiple witnesses.”

“They saw you in the room.”

“Yes.”

“The whole time.”

Trin didn’t answer.

“Someone sees you at the start of the evening. Someone at the end. Everything in between is assumed.” Veyn looked at him. “And the bushes are directly below those classrooms.”

Snirt was looking at the floor.

“Everyone called it sloppy,” Veyn said. “Careless. The work of someone who panicked.” He paused. “But what if it wasn’t sloppy. What if it was the only kill available to someone who couldn’t leave the room. You didn’t need the corridor. You didn’t need the bushes. You needed a window and a reason.”

“Stop—”

“You had both.”

“I said stop—”

“And you needed someone to blame.” Veyn stood. His legs hurt but he stood anyway. “When you came with Aare to beat me, you weren’t just following orders. You went into my room. You took the knife. Because it would have my fingerprints and I would have no one to say otherwise.”

Trin’s face had gone the color of something drained.

“I’m a loner. No alibi. No one who’d argue for me.” Veyn took a step toward him. “The transaction record, that was probably Tiuhar’s money for the girls he was seeing. You grabbed that sheet on your way out of my room. You just needed something that put him and me in the same room.” Another step. “And the eyewitness, lowest form of evidence. Someone you know, I’d guess. Someone who’d say what you needed them to say.”

He was close now. As close as he could get without looking up.

“You took my knife,” Veyn said. “You called him to that room. And then you killed him.” A pause. “You killed him for her.”

Trin trembled. His hands were at his sides and shaking and his face had gone through several things and landed on something cracked open and ugly.

Then he laughed.

It came out wrong, too high, too fast, the laugh of someone whose last door has closed.

“Ha. Hahahaha.” He stepped back. “Good theory. Great theory. Because that’s all it is, a theory. You have nothing. Nothing that proves—” his voice cracked and kept going, “YES. Yes, I killed him. I killed him, and you will NEVER—”

“Play’s over.”

The voice came from behind Trin.

Slow, deliberate clapping. Three claps. Then silence.

Trin turned.

Aare stood in the doorway with his hands dropping back to his sides, looking at Trin the way someone looks at a thing they expected to break and aren’t surprised to find broken.

“Aa — Aare?”

“You call me by name too now,” Aare said, with no particular tone. “Interesting.”

“Sorry, I mean, pres, I—”

“It doesn’t matter.” Aare stepped into the room. Two people came in behind him and moved to either side of Trin without being told. “I made the correct decision, giving you this case.”

Trin’s face went somewhere desperate. “Pres—”

“I knew you killed Tiuhar.” Aare looked at him without cruelty, which was somehow worse. “I wanted to see what you’d do with it. How far you’d go.” He glanced briefly at Veyn. “Farther than I expected, apparently.”

The two people took Trin by the arms.

“WAIT—” Trin pulled against them, not hard enough, the fight already leaving him. “You don’t understand, Tiuhar deserved it, he deserved it after what he did to Dvoly, after what he made her—” his voice broke, “the girl I love—”

Tears ran down his face. He didn’t seem to notice.

“She killed herself for him. I did this for her.”

“No you didn’t. You didn’t do it for her.”

Everyone in the room looked at Veyn.

Trin’s face was wet. His arms were still held. He was looking at Veyn like he was waiting for something to stop, and nothing was stopping.

“You were climbing,” Veyn said. “That’s what you were doing. Every order followed, every rank earned, everything pointed up toward Aare. That’s where you were looking.” He paused. “Dvoly was beside you, and you were looking up.”

Trin didn’t speak.

“So, she was alone. With someone who was supposed to be there and wasn’t.” Veyn’s voice stayed flat, not cruel, just precise. “And then someone else was there instead. Someone who noticed her. Someone like Tiuhar, who made a habit of noticing girls.”

Trin’s jaw tightened.

“She didn’t leave you for him. She was already gone before that. She was just, filling the space you left.” Veyn looked at him. “But she was scared of you. Of what student council meant. So she said nothing, and stayed, and it ate her.”

The room was very still.

“And when Tiuhar moved on, because he always moved on, she had nowhere left. Couldn’t go back to you. Couldn’t go forward. And she was already so tired.”

He stopped.

The silence held.

“So, tell me,” Veyn said quietly. “Revenge? Jealousy? A power trip, because he had something that was yours?” He looked at Trin. “Think carefully. Who really killed her. Tiuhar—”

He let the word sit there, unfinished, in place of the other name.

“YOU—”

Trin pulled free. The two holding him weren’t ready for it, they’d stopped expecting it. His fist connected with Veyn’s face before anyone moved, and Veyn’s head snapped to the side. Then the second punch came, and blood came with it, running from his nose down over his mouth.

“HOW DARE YOU.” Trin’s voice had broken open entirely. “HOW WILL A LONER LIKE YOU EVER KNOW WHAT IT FEELS LIKE TO LOSE SOMEONE—”

His arms were grabbed again. He pulled against them and couldn’t move and kept pulling anyway.

Veyn straightened slowly. His nose was bleeding freely. His legs were doing what they always did. He looked at Trin, and his mouth pulled into something that wasn’t quite a smile, red at the edges with blood.

“Even a loner like me,” he said, “realized this.”

Trin’s face collapsed. The fight went out of him all at once, and what replaced it was just grief, plain and ugly and too large for the room. He was crying when they walked him out. He didn’t seem to know it.

The door closed.

Aare looked at the room for a moment. His eyes moved to Sielsia.

“Your habit of prying into our affairs,” he said, “will be your downfall.”

“Let’s see.” Sielsia smiled at him. “Which lasts longer; my curiosity, or this student council.”

“Yeah.” Aare’s mouth curved slightly. “Let’s see.”

He left.

Snirt came to where Veyn was still standing and steadied him by the arm, careful about where he put his hands.

“Thanks,” Veyn said. “For the information.”

“I never thought it would go like this.” Snirt looked at him. “Go to your room. Rest.” He guided him to the chair. “You look terrible.”

“I would.” Veyn looked at Sielsia. “But someone made a promise.”

Sielsia was already at the door. “Follow me.”

⁂

The corridor was longer than he remembered. His footsteps were uneven, the good leg and the bad leg negotiating each step separately. Sielsia walked ahead of him, unhurried, hands in her pockets, her silver hair catching the corridor light.

Some other students moved around them.

“Where are we going,” Veyn said.

“How about joining Mist Tree?” She didn’t turn.

“I said I won’t join.”

“It’s not a request.” Now she glanced back, just briefly. “It’s a trade. You need me to know your past. The you that existed before the collapse.”

Veyn stopped walking.

The words landed differently than he expected, not like new information but like something he’d already known in the wrong shape, now suddenly right. He stood there in the corridor with people moving past him and felt the ground shift in the way it shifts when something you’ve been standing on turns out to have been moving the whole time.

His vision blurred at the edges.

He blinked. Looked at his hands. They were further away than they should have been.

“Catch Cold Wind,” Sielsia said, ahead of him, her voice arriving slightly delayed, “and I’ll tell you about—”

She said a name.

“Lili.”

It came out of him before he understood it. A whisper. His own voice, saying something his memory had no record of.

The floor came up.

He didn’t feel himself fall, just the sudden cold of the ground and then arms that weren’t Sielsia’s and a voice very far away screaming for someone to look at him. He reached out. His arm moved wrong, too slow, like it belonged to someone else.

Her silver hair was the last thing he could make out, somewhere in the crowd, getting smaller.

No. Please.

His fingers found nothing.

Lili. I don’t know her.

A tear ran from the corner of his eye into his hair. He felt that clearly. Everything else was going.

Then why—

“Lili,” he whispered.

⁂