Tristan walked to the center of Venicia, circling the fountain and listening to the birds sing their first morning melodies. He lapped the perfect stone once, twice, then a third time, not sure what he was hoping to accomplish. No one came outside. Every window was closed with curtains and blinds drawn. The city was still hiding from a nonexistent Defiled threat.

He abandoned the fountain in favor of weaving between closed shops and abandoned buildings. Thoughts and memories bombarded his head and heart, colliding in a chaotic cluster. Like an abstract painting that lacked any kind of control or balance. Ara taking Celestia’s position and leading the party. Jazz dead and bleeding on the field. Drawing pictures for the kittengirls in Catania. The [Necromancer] of Anyona. Destiny’s late-night visits and addictive laugh. The slumbering girls beaten and bruised, emaciated, and freezing cold.

How do I even begin to fix this?

Without realizing it, his feet had taken him to the shoddily kept house that served as Celestia’s temporary establishment. Was she still here? Had she returned to the school? What the hell do I even say? He straightened his shoulders and knocked.

There was a short pause, then Celestia answered. That surprised him—he’d assumed one of her followers would bring him in as they had the day before. Misery, maybe.

“I’m surprised to see you again so soon, Young Master,” Celestia said with a bow, gesturing him inside.

The feeling is mutual. “Good morning, Celestia.” The sun had just crested the horizon when Tristan crossed the threshold. “Are Felsi and Annabelle here?”

Celestia tilted her head quizically. “They are upstairs asleep.”

“Wake them up.” Any patience he’d had with the headmistress was sapped. He hadn’t slept a wink the night before, choosing to stay at Destiny’s side. How many welts and bruises had he counted? At least two dozen.

“...Yes, sir,” she assented after a brief hesitation. She padded up the stairs, her brown tail swishing back and forth behind her.

Every time he’d felt the first nags of cabin fever at the school, there was something new to catch his interest within the hour. Paints, pictures, another girl to bed. Books. They’d given him so many books to read that he hadn’t realized how rare they were until his travels with Matt. Fiction, fantasy, Nyarlean history, romance. Celestia made a point to replace the ones he said he wouldn’t read again with something new. What she hadn’t realized, however, was the wealth of knowledge she’d handed to him on a silver platter.

There was no denying that he still wasn’t the best [Mage] or offensive fighter. He’d known so little about the current state of Shi Island, only shreds of what it had looked like in its prime.

But if he were the gambling type, he’d bet every Bell stolen from his [Cat Pack] that he was better-versed in Nyarlean law than Celestia. There were a dozen things she could have called Matt rescuing him from the school; ‘Treason’ was the wrong one.

“Here they are, Young Master,” Celestia announced as she descended the stairs.

Felsi and Annabelle followed close behind, averting Tristan’s gaze in favor of the wooden banisters and slick flooring. They moved to the center of the room, Felsi and Annabelle flanking Celestia on either side and clasping their hands against their aprons.

“There are going to be some changes to Venicia effective immediately,” Tristan said, working to keep his voice still. How many of you helped torture Lynn, Destiny, and Lara? “Felsi, Annabelle, I would like to believe that I have your confidence and trust?”

“Of course,” they murmured in unison.

“Good. First, tell me, how did you force information from Destiny, Lara, and Lynn? What happened to them?” He could corroborate their story with the girls once they woke up.

Felsi and Annabelle shifted uncomfortably. Celestia’s icy glare slid to the corners of her glasses, but her face stayed forward.

“We brought them here on Celestia’s orders,” Annabelle began. “Felsi kept them asleep between…between questioning.”

Celestia reset her jaw and blinked. She smoothed her apron and retook her strict posture.

“Misery, Katrin, and Celestia would interrogate them in the room you saw. Annabelle and I stood watch,” Felsi supplied.

“Is that true, Celestia? Felsi and Annabelle cast the spell and stood watch?” Tristan asked.

“They are just as guilty as accomplices—” Celestia began.

“That isn’t what I asked!” Tristan snapped. He wouldn’t let her worm her way out of this. This woman who’d taken him in when he was reborn on Shi Island. Convinced him that his job was to stay safe and populate the island. There were many days he saw her like a mother. Not anymore.

Celestia’s ears flattened against her head, and she narrowed her eyes. “Yes, Young Master, that is correct.”

“Felsi, where’s Solonie?” Tristan asked.

She winced as if surprised to hear her daughter’s name. Or maybe that he’d remembered. But he’d committed all of them to memory. It gave him a sense of purpose. “S-she’s with a nyanny, sir.”

“And Kiora?” he asked Annabelle.

Annabelle shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “The s-same nyanny, sir.”

“Am I correct in my assumption that you both were coerced into this?” Neither Felsi nor Annabelle had the same sadistic disposition as Misery or Celestia. Never had Tristan believed them capable of torture or standing by while it happened.

Felsi flushed a sickly shade of white while Annabelle’s neck and face flared bright red. There it is.

“I-I would never!” Celestia’s cool façade faltered, and she looked between Felsi and Annabelle. “Tell him. Both of you.”

Felsi rolled her shoulders back and glanced at the ceiling. Annabelle blinked tears away from her eyes.

“I haven’t seen my kitten since you left,” Annabelle whimpered. “I don’t want her hurt.”

Felsi nodded her agreement, her pink hair bobbing around her chin, but her lips remained in a tight thin line.

A new wave of rage rolled through Tristan’s blood. His fists balled at his sides, and he took a deep breath before continuing. “Celestia of Shi Island, you are hereby removed from your position as Headmistress of the Venicia School of Etiquette. You, Misery, and Katrin will be held in isolation until escorted to Nyarlothep by the next trade vessel that comes to this island.”

“Young Master, wait—” Celestia held up a hand. That same hand had consoled him through a slew of nightmares and passed small gifts here and there whenever he missed home.

Tristan swallowed and continued. “Felsi and Annabelle will accompany you, carrying a writ of your transgressions penned by myself. There, you will be tried by the Royal Guard and handed the Queen’s Justice. Do you understand?”

“Tristan—” She hadn’t called him by name in ages. Her voice through his door, holding a plate of milk and cookies. Or waiting to introduce him to his next catgirl companion.

“Do you understand?” Tristan barked. All three women flinched with surprise. His knuckles were white. For three years she’d held him in a cell, hiding him from the world. And now she dared harm the very girls he’d sworn to protect.

Celestia slid her hands down her twin braids, squinting through her glasses as if taking her first real look at Tristan. “I understand.”

He looked to Felsi and Annabelle. Their eyes were wide, and neither looked as if they were breathing. “From this day forward, Ara will take Celestia’s position as Headmistress of the Venicia School of Etiquette. While I’m away, her word is my word. Any rules or decisions put forward by her are to be treated as my own. You both stand witness to my demands, do you accept?”

The most essential piece of Nyarlean verbal contracts was the presence and agreeance of two witnesses that hailed from the island. Even if a man made the claims, they wouldn’t be carried through without the sign-off of at least two island natives. A ruling that had been placed into effect nearly a hundred years before when a man began carelessly overhauling an island’s culture with dangerous and self-serving laws.

“I, Felsi of Shi Island, accept your terms,” Felsi said with a small bow of her head.

Annabelle looked at the seething Celestia, then at Tristan. “I-I, Annabelle of Shi Island, accept your terms.”

“Traitors to your island, the lot of you,” Celestia growled. “You do not understand the effort and experience needed to lead Venicia. Ara is doomed to fail—”

“[Slumber],” Felsi whispered, touching Celestia’s shoulder.

Celestia froze in place. Her eyes and lips slowly closed, and her arms fell to her sides. Felsi and Annabelle caught her before she could fall.

“I’ve wanted to do that for years,” Felsi admitted sourly.

Annabelle giggled beneath her breath. “Me, too.”

Tristan ran a hand through his hair. “I’m so sorry that I wasn’t here. To both of you. Are Solonie and Kiora safe?”

Felsi nodded. “A quick word from you should do it. I don’t think the nyanny wants to be on that boat to Nyarlothep.”

“Then I’ll do it. Are there empty rooms in the school where we can keep Celestia, Misery, and Katrin until the next ship arrives?” Tristan asked.

“Plenty,” Annabelle replied. “We’ll be able to move them in easily, and I can lock them from the outside.”

“Great. I know I’m putting a lot on you both. Will you be comfortable traveling with her?”

Felsi shrugged. “Wouldn’t have agreed if I weren’t. I think Annabelle feels the same way.”

Annabelle nodded.

“Thank you. Sincerely.” He glanced up the stairs to the second floor. “And now we have to tell the other two. I hope they don’t run.”

Felsi swirled her free hand in the air and grinned. Tiny crystalized particles circled her palm and wrist like a miniature snowstorm. “It’ll be impossible to run with their feet frozen to the ground.”

Tristan wanted to smile with her but found that he couldn’t. It was impossible not to stare at Celestia. Three years beneath her ‘care’ and tutelage. Three years she’d spent manipulating Venicia to her every whim.

He sighed. That was officially the past. Today, everything changed.