"And so," Mister Best began, his voice resonating with a solemn finality as he addressed the class. "We arrive at the conclusion of the academic year. It has been a long and arduous road. As I do every year," he said, his gaze sweeping over the survivors, "I am grieved to remind you all, in this moment of victory, of those we have lost."

  He let the words settle, his expression firm. "It would not do, in your moment of relief, to forget the cost at which this success was purchased. Therefore, a moment of silence is in order for Prudence Matters, Steadfastly Pants, and Sensibly Knot."

  Such was the gravity in his expression that not a student stirred. The small schoolhouse was utterly still, each remaining child lost in their own thoughts of the fallen.

  He let the silence hold a moment longer before speaking again. "Very well. As there are times for mourning, so too are there times for recognition. To all of you who have passed this course, my congratulations." His eyes found the top students, the air growing thick with anticipation. "And to those three among you who have earned a place at the King's Collegiate . . . ."

  "Ahem," said Parsimony Pleasant. He was standing by the door, arms folded over his chest. Dalliance had assumed he was there to send them off, but then, he was learning it almost never paid to leave [Prediction] off these days.

  "I will challenge," Wizard Pleasant said, "the findings."

  "The findings?" asked Mister Best.

  "The graduation. The rankings are attainted through foul play."

  Mister Best raised his eyebrows. Dalliance recognized his attempt at levity as the sort he used in classes shortly after a death, and knew it to be feigned.

  "I have heard from multiple sources," Parsimony Pleasant said, "that the final plan and its execution were Dalliance's. And further, that he is living out of your schoolhouse."

  "That is correct on both counts," said Mister Best carefully.

  "I knew that we differed," said Pleasant, "on one or two matters, such as whether they had to fight the ghoul. But I had not imagined you would stoop to something so transparent as to coach your intended champion."

  "The thought had not occurred to me either," said Mister Best dryly.

  Dalliance doubted that. He suspected that statement, at least, would not have held up in court.

  "There shall be an inquest into the matter," Parsimony Pleasant said, as if discussing the weather. "I very much hope everything is as you say." His voice held no particular emotion, but Dalliance wouldn't have associated hope with it in any case.

  "I am afraid," Mister Best said faintly as the Auditor left in a dramatic fluff of coat and sweep of hat, "that rather puts a damper on my grand announcement. I shall have to hold it for another time, after our friend has had his day."

  Morality looked afraid. Dalliance had never seen her like that. Her brows were contorted so much they drew her forehead into a fine network of wrinkles.

  She looked much older now, and sad—very much like a pint-sized version of a terrified Missus Best, the original of whom, Dalliance realized, did not in fact look particularly worried.

  "We’ve had an inquest before," Mrs. Best said calmly. "Once yearly, for several years. With enough luck, we will again. If the Empire can’t have its pound of flesh, they ask why. And when they ask why, they ask our Auditor, who must have something to tell them."

  "Many things in life," he said wryly, "roll directly from the top."

  A miserable-looking Sterling, and a matching Immaculate, were in their own private hells—the rest of the class stared disconsolately amongst one another.

  "Alright, let's keep our heads on," said Mister Best. "We'll come through this just fine, you wait and see." He clapped his hands together. "Dalliance, remain behind a moment, please. For the rest of you, class is dismissed for the day." The last few words were said much more rapidly than the preceding sentences, which had sounded rather low in energy despite Mister Best's optimistic forecast.

  Dalliance lingered as the last of his classmates filed out, the weight of the Auditor's threat settling in the quiet room. He scarcely had a moment to gather his thoughts before Mister Best was speaking.

  "We'll be fine," Mister Best said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Just curb your paranoia and resist the urge to take matters into your own hands."

  Dalliance stared at him.

  Mister Best met his gaze, a wry, tired smile touching his lips. "Do I think," he asked, his voice dripping with irony, "that you've made it through this semester alive for any other reason than your taking of things into your own hands? You cannot imagine why I would want you to stop."

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  He leaned forward, the levity gone, replaced by a stark and urgent warning. "But they have devices, Dalliance. Devices to detect the use of skills, and skills themselves which are patently illegal in a proceeding. There are a myriad of priorities at play here which you do not understand, rendering your comprehension of their actions questionable at best. I have endeavored, as your teacher, to give you only reasonable directives, and what help I may.This is one of those moments where you must trust me."

  He fixed Dalliance with a piercing look. "Do not take on the System. You will be involved: merely stand where directed, speak the truth, and refrain from meddling." A flicker of something—frustration, perhaps—crossed his face. "Yet you look unconvinced. It may help you if you will recall: I have not earned this accusation. As I did not, in point of fact, coach you to your victory, I cannot be found to have done so unless you foul things up."

  Dalliance nodded slowly, the pieces clicking into place.

  "The Zone of Truth," he said.

  Mister Best smiled faintly. "You shall see for yourself," he said. After a second's pause, he added, "You shall be my witness. I shall call you first, before Parsimony can do so."

  Dalliance stared at him.

  "There’s a rhythm to these things," he said simply. "It is not my first rodeo. Go. Speak with your friends. Get some sleep when you can. Tomorrow promises to be a long day."

  Charity was waiting for him on the road at the edge of the Best estate, just where she said she would be, to discuss their scores—an ominous promise.

  "Is Mister Best going to be all right?" she asked.

  Dalliance nodded stiffly. "He says so."

  "Oh," she said, and like him, the answer appeared to relieve her a great deal. Dalliance realized she was simply taking her teacher at his word. "Then there is something else we must discuss," she said, her eyebrows drawing together. She was serious, suddenly.

  With almost no warning, she went from the friendly, worried, caring girl he’d grown to know, to a furious and dangerous one—though bite-sized.

  "You cheated," she said.

  "Don't give me that innocent look," she snapped, her voice trembling with a fury he hadn't known she possessed. "Everyone but you, me, and Effluvia were . . . what? Heading home after a hunt with a hangover?" She gestured vaguely back toward the school. "After a sip of drink? Oh, not Circe or Zenith either. Just . . . did you just poison the boys?!"

  "You cheated for me," Charity continued, her focus narrowing back to him. "Is it because I helped you study?" Her voice cracked on the question, the accusation raw and personal.

  "I was supposed to earn my wins, Dalliance," she said, her voice dropping to a fierce whisper. "I was supposed to earn my place. On my own." She took a sharp, steadying breath. "We were supposed to be rivals, weren't we?”

  “Yes,"

  “But you said you knew a different way!” she said, answering her own question. "And I trusted you, sort of, only that's different from you doing this. You very well know it. I was meant to place on my own merits, or it doesn't count."

  "I didn't help you," he said, the words feeling hollow even to his own ears.

  "Then you didn't do it for me," she shot back, interpreting his words in a way he hadn't intended. "You just did it for yourself."

  He should have been using [Prediction], he thought, a familiar ache of frustration rising in him. It would make this easier. But it didn't feel right to have a real conversation that way. It was like with Whimsy, somehow.

  "He hasn't even given us the scores yet!" Dalliance called after her, but it was useless. She stomped off up the path in a huff with a parting "Shut up!" yelled back over her shoulder, and then she was gone, storming off in a rage. He'd never seen her so angry.

  During the exam, he hadn’t actually cheated, or even used [Whisper], though he’d had to take the exam in the closet since he knew the spell. Not that it mattered. That wasn't really what she was complaining about anyway.

  "Well, that didn't work out the way you wanted," a familiar voice drawled. Earnest sauntered up from the wood line, a twig between his teeth. "So . . . is Mister Best really not worried?"

  Dalliance shook his head. "He's not worried.”

  “But you are," Earnest observed, his tone losing its lazy affect. "Which means you're going to do something stupid.”

  “Is Mister Idles going to be at the inquest?"

  “You want I should bump him?”

  "Don't," Dalliance warned, his patience frayed.

  Earnest held up his hands. "Just a thought. But there is something." He squinted at Dalliance, his expression uncharacteristically serious. "I'm owed an apology," he said, "My head didn't half hurt this morning. Nasty thing to do to someone with our history, but . . . who's to say if you did the right thing?"

  He shrugged.

  "Earnest, no . . . I'm not . . . I'm sorry," Dalliance managed.

  "You did what you had to do. When I woke up feeling like I did, I knew. Of course, Sterling won't be as understanding, when he thinks of it. If. Maybe he'll be distracted by all this unpleasantness."

  Then, pivoting to cheerfulness, Earnest said, "With any luck, you won't be anywhere near the trial at all."

  “About that. I did mean it, about Mister Idles," Dalliance said, his voice low and urgent. "If he’s going to be there, I’m going to need your help. . . ."