Well, that fit with what she knew already. Most of the shifters that had come to Bestia, had been those rejected by their witches or covens. She didn’t know why they didn’t go back to pack lands. Given how wonderful the bond was on her end, despite the initial skin irritation, she wondered if that was why? They were chasing the dream of a better match. Or were too desperate for any match.
One of the admin ladies came into the gymnasium then, conferring with the provost who hadn’t left all day. She had swanned around, getting in everyone’s way but the councillor’s, and ordered them all to do essentially futile tasks. If she had hoped to look authoritative, she had certainly failed by a wide margin. She looked weak and pathetic.
The provost’s gaze snapped up to meet her own, almost as if she could hear Melody’s thoughts. The woman stormed over to them.
“I hear you have demanded a larger cottage to accommodate your increased number of shifters,” she snapped.
“I didn’t demand anything, Provost,” Melody said as respectfully as she could manage. “I haven’t put in a formal request yet, Professor Simmonds offered to help me apply, and then Mrs Hardinger said that she would organise something since our cottage was so damaged in the attack last night.”
“Well,” said the councillor, startling them both. “They both seem very good reasons for Melody to move cottages. You have four shifters now? In that three bedroom cottage, right?”
“Five,” corrected Melody, looking at Oz. He beamed at her.
“That’s highly irresponsible of you, Melody. Bonding shifters when you have no means of providing for them. Were you going to make them sleep on the floor? Having familiars is more than a vanity exercise for you to show off your powers. If you want to get a dog, you make sure your house is set up for it. The same goes for bonding a shifter, you need to prepare a safe environment for them to live in.”
The triumph in her look was making Melody furious. Only because she was right.
“Nonsense,” the councillor argued. “Melody knew that the academy would bend over backwards to accommodate a witch able to bond so many shifters. There are several options here on campus that would be suitable, and even if there weren’t, I know of several beast magic academies where Melody and her familiars would be most welcome to attend.”
The provost stood straighter at that threat, her hand snaking up and tugging on a pendant that she had been fiddling with every time Melody had turned around. Was it an artefact? Or had it been enchanted? She wished she could test it to see what it did.
Seeing her watching, the provost let the pendant go, smiling viciously.
“I know of the perfect option, the old caretaker's cottage behind the glasshouses. Of course, I could only offer it to the most trusted of students, as it is a little more private than most residences. I would hate to give it to a student likely to hold secret parties there, for example.” She fixed Melody with a glare, but Melody wasn’t listening.
Melody was too transfixed by the pendant hanging at the woman’s neck. She’d seen it somewhere before, for some reason, it felt like it belonged on someone else’s neck, but Melody couldn’t put her finger on it.
“The cottage has five bedrooms, so you’d still need at least two people to share, but that isn’t too horrific, I’m sure your familiars could work something out.”
This sweet acquiescence had alarm bells ringing in Melody’s head, but she couldn’t focus enough to think on it. She’d seen that necklace before, where was it? Who was it on? The only place she’d been, other than here, was back at her home compound. But surely the necklace didn’t belong to her aunt Georgia.
“I see you like my necklace, Melody. It was a gift from a dear friend. A very dear friend. You know, it’s important for a young witch to foster good relationships. Friends and allies are very important.”
It all came crashing down on her. She remembered where she’d seen that before.
The necklace was identical to the one her mother had usually worn. Aunt Georgia must have taken it from her mother when she was prepared for burial. Marjorie had delighted in telling Melody that they had thrown her mother into the garbage pits and left her there to rot with the rest of the stinking mess, but she wasn’t sure it was true.
That was how twisted her convene was, though. There was a chance that it could be.
“Well, that sounds like a very good solution. I’m glad to hear that you’re going to have such a pleasant place to live, Melody,” the councillor said, bringing her back to the present.
It was only then, with the malice in the provost’s eyes that she realised the full import of the message being relayed to her.
Aunt Georgia had taken the necklace. She’d given it to the provost. The provost had said a friend, an ally had given it to her. The provost was aligned with her aunt.
The attack on the academy hadn’t been an accident, it had been an inside job. Somehow, the provost had contrived for the wards to fail in a way that hurt her and made her look like she’d put up more of a fight than she had. If it hadn’t been for Nick’s warning, it was likely that Melody and her familiars would have been back in her aunt’s clutches, and from the shifters dead and dying around them, a source for a new generation of experiments.
She didn’t need to worry about her aunt getting in, the
