Chapter 29: Behind the Door

Chapter 29: Behind the Door

Lydia reached the chair but didn’t sit down. She rested her hand on its back and looked toward the kitchenette.

"Could I have some water?"

Silas took a clean glass from the shelf. "Sit before you fall over."

"I think I might be sick. Where’s your bathroom?"

He pointed. Lydia hurried past the bed, one hand still pressed to her stomach, and shut the door behind her.

Silas filled the glass halfway, then added a little more. He could hear water running through the bathroom pipes. His book lay beside the chair where he’d left it, with the bookmark sticking out crookedly. He left it there and waited at the counter.

The bathroom tap stopped. Something knocked against the basin.

"Do you need a physician?" he called.

"No." Lydia’s reply came quickly. "No, I’ll be out."

He set the glass down.

When the bathroom door opened, her sleeve was torn from the shoulder seam. The fastening at her collar had broken, and she held the fabric together with one hand. Red marks showed on her wrist; a bruise had begun to darken beneath her cheekbone.

Silas looked up at her face. For a moment, her mouth curved.

Then she screamed.

He flinched despite himself. Lydia stumbled across the rug toward him, knocked against the chair, and fell to her knees. He stepped back before she could catch his sleeve.

"Help!" she cried. "Please, somebody help me!"

"Lydia—what are you doing?" Silas made himself stop halfway through her name, letting the words come out unevenly. "I haven’t touched you."

She shrank away from him and screamed again.

The handle turned almost immediately. He had closed the door after admitting her, but hadn’t locked it. Gareth Rooke pushed inside with another young man close behind him. He still wore his reception jacket, with the Star Class badge at its collar.

"Lydia?" Gareth dropped beside his sister. "What happened?"

She caught his arm with both hands. "He wouldn’t let me leave. Gareth, he tried to—"

"That’s a lie," Silas said. His voice rose. "She asked to use the bathroom. I was getting her water."

Gareth stood and hit him.

Silas saw the movement too late. The blow caught his mouth and drove him backward into the kitchenette counter. Pain spread through his jaw. He gripped the edge to stay upright, tasting blood, while Gareth caught the front of his shirt.

"You let her come in here asking for help?" Gareth demanded. "Your own cousin?"

Silas tried to get a hand between Gareth’s fist and his throat. The cloth was pulling tight.

"I didn’t—let go."

Gareth drew his arm back again. His companion caught it.

"Enough. People are coming."

Gareth looked toward the entrance. Two students stood outside, one still wearing a reception sash. Behind them, another door opened.

"Get the council," Gareth told his companion. "Now."

He released Silas with a shove and went back to Lydia. By then she was crying too hard to finish a sentence. Gareth took off his coat and wrapped it around her shoulders.

Silas pressed a hand to his mouth. One tooth hurt when his tongue touched it. He wanted to look for blood on Gareth’s cuff and couldn’t quite make his eyes leave the fist that had struck him.

Fucking bastard. You enjoyed that.

The doorway filled. Someone asked what had happened, and an answer passed back through the corridor before Silas could speak.

"I haven’t done anything," he said, too loudly. "She came to my door."

A girl by the entrance looked from his bare feet to Lydia crouched beneath Gareth’s coat.

"Look at her," she said.

"I can see her." His voice broke on the last word. He swallowed and tried again. "I didn’t do this."

Nobody moved to let him explain. A student farther back said that Rooke should have been thrown out weeks ago. Someone else called him a sick little bastard.

Silas kept his hand over his mouth. It gave him somewhere to hide the anger tightening it.

Three council members arrived before Gareth’s companion returned to the doorway. The woman leading them wore a blue enamel badge on her collar. She looked around the studio once, then pointed to one of the others.

"Take her to the infirmary. Clear the entrance first."

Gareth helped Lydia stand. She clung to him, turning her face away from Silas.

"I want him brought before the court," she said through her tears. "He can’t just do this."

"You’ll be able to make a statement," the council woman told her. "Go with the medic."

Lydia had to be told twice before she let the other council member guide her out. Gareth started after her, then turned back.

"Restrain him. His Talent doesn’t require his hands."

"I know what Remote Grasp is," the council woman said. She faced Silas. "Hands in front of you."

He pulled them against his chest. "You haven’t even asked me—"

"Put them forward."

Silas obeyed. The restraint closed around his wrists with a small click. A chill ran up his forearms, and the familiar readiness of his mana became a pressure he couldn’t release.

He tried to swallow. His lip caught against his teeth.

"I’m not resisting," he said.

"Then keep walking."

The crowd drew back just enough to make a passage. A boy near the stairs spat a curse as Silas passed. The council woman ignored him until someone stepped forward and blocked their way.

"Move," she said. "You can give your name if you witnessed anything. Otherwise, return to your room."

Silas looked back when his door shut. Through the closing gap, he caught sight of the glass of water, still standing on the kitchenette counter.

Outside the residence, the walk became harder. His cheek throbbed, his legs felt unreliable, and the council member beside him kept hold of his upper arm. Silas would have resented the grip more if he hadn’t needed it on the stairs.

Two students followed them into the courtyard.

"They’ll clear his room tomorrow," one said. "About time."

Silas turned his head. The speaker was a boy he didn’t recognize, walking with his hands in his pockets as though they were discussing a timetable change.

"Keep facing forward," the escort told him.

He did. The boy continued talking behind them.

Silas wanted his bed. He wanted to shut his door and finish the book he’d put aside to answer Lydia. Hearing a stranger casually decide that he should lose all of it made him so angry he missed a step.

The escort tightened his grip.

The holding room had a narrow cot, a washbasin, and a door with a covered viewing panel. A clerk took his possessions before he went inside. Silas signed an inventory with fingers that had begun to stiffen around the pen.

An infirmary attendant came to examine his mouth. She asked him to open it, felt along his jaw, and told him that the tooth was loose but seated.

"Soft food until it’s settled. Who struck you?"

"Gareth Rooke."

She wrote the name down.

"He was angry about his sister," the escort said from the doorway.

The attendant looked at him. "I asked who struck him."

Silas sat still while she treated the split in his lip. He was embarrassingly grateful when she gave him water without making him ask.

His statement took longer. He described Lydia arriving, asking for water, and using the bathroom. When he reached the screaming, the officer taking notes asked whether he understood how serious the allegation was.

"Yes," Silas said.

"Then take your time."

He repeated the sequence. The officer wrote it down without telling him whether he believed a word.

Afterward, they left him with a cup, a blanket, and the restraints still fastened around his wrists. He lay down awkwardly, then sat back up because the pillow pressed against his cheek.

There was no clock. Footsteps came and went outside, and once he heard a meal cart being pushed along the passage. His stomach cramped at the smell. He hadn’t realized it was morning.

He ate the porridge they brought him and managed a little sleep afterward.

When the viewing panel opened again, the same officer stood outside with a notice.

"Your hearing is this afternoon. The vice principal will preside."

Silas accepted the sheet through the opening. Beneath the allegation and the hearing time, a separate line stated the sanction being sought.

Permanent expulsion. Termination of residence assignment upon enforcement.

He reread that part while the officer waited.

"Have you understood the notice?"

Silas raised his eyes.

"Yes," he said. "I’ve understood."