Chapter 58:


    “I was walking to the water fountain,” Isolde said coolly. She took a step closer. “But since we’re chatting — be careful. Paper trails are hard to erase.”


    “You think you’re so smart,” Belle spat, herposure fracturing. “You think because she memorized a few shapes she’s special? Tomorrow is the real test. And the Lancasters always win.”


    “Some things,” Isolde said, her voice dropping to a whisper, “money can’t buy. And talent can’t be stolen.”


    She walked past Belle, her shoulder brushing against the silk suit.


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    Back in the auditorium, the session ended. Effie hopped off the stage, and a cluster of students immediately surrounded her.


    “How did you do that?” a boy asked. “Are you a robot?”


    Effie giggled. “No. I just like numbers.”


    It was the first time Isolde had seen Effie surrounded by peers who weren’t mocking her. She was glowing.


    Kaiden pushed through the circle, shoving the boy aside. “She’s a freak!” he yelled. “My grandma ising tomorrow! She’s going to kick you all out! Especially you!” He jabbed a finger at Effie.


    Isolde stepped in, cing a hand on Effie’s shoulder.


    Grandma.


    Victoria.


    The name carried weight. Victoria Lancaster didn’t care about math. She cared about hierarchy. And in her world, Effie was a stain to be removed.


    Isolde knelt down. “Effie, listen to me. Tomorrow, an olddy mighte. She might look scary. She might say mean things.”


    “Is she a witch?” Effie asked,pletely serious.


    “Kind of,” Isolde said. “But remember the numbers? They protect you. As long as you focus on the numbers, she can’t touch you.”


    Effie nodded slowly. “I’ll build a wall. Out of numbers.”


    “Exactly,” Isolde said.


    The morning of the exam, the atmosphere at St. Jude’s shifted from academic to imperial.


    A ck Rolls-Royce Phantom rolled up to the curb, disregarding the “No Standing” zone entirely. The driver hopped out and opened the rear door.


    Victoria Lancaster emerged.


    She was seventy, but looked fifty. She wore a Chanel tweed suit in steel gray and oversized sunsses. Her presence seemed to drain the oxygen from the sidewalk itself. The Headmaster rushed down the steps, practically bowing.


    “Mrs. Lancaster! What an honor!”


    Grayson and Belle followed her out of the car like obedient corgis. Grayson looked miserable. Belle looked smug.


    Isolde sat in the back row of the auditorium again. Effie was at desk number 14, pencil sharpened, legs swinging.


    Victoria swept into the VIP box — a ss-walled room overlooking the hall. She sat down, epted a tea, and gazed down at the room below with the detached air of a monarch surveying her subjects.


    “Let’s get this over with,” Victoria said, her voice amplified slightly by the poor acoustics of the box. “I have a lunch at the club.”


    The proctor announced the start. “You have sixty minutes. Begin.”


    The sound of turning pages filled the room.


    Isolde watched Kaiden. He immediately tugged his left sleeve down, then kept ncing at his wrist before writing, then ncing again. It was clumsy. Obvious.


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