5

The picnic spot is at the top of the next rise; a small copse of trees provides shade, and the horses gently crop the grass while you open the picnic bags. The sandwiches are corned beef—rather dry—along with a couple of wilted lettuce leaves. Hartmann eats theirs neatly before opening a book. Freddie wolfs hers down with gusto, while Max wrinkles his nose and abandons his after only a few bites. He lies down on his back, squinting up at the sunlight through the trees.

"We only have one more year at Gallatin, now that we're eighteen," Max says to Delacroix lazily. "Are you going to see the St. Claudine statue before you leave?"

Delacroix bites their lip. In the dappled sunlight, their skin looks tawny against their pale hair. "I want to," they say quietly. "I can't leave without seeing it once, at least."

Karson looks over his shoulder. "The crying statue, you mean?"

Freddie snorts. "That's ridiculous. Statues don't cry. It'll be some superstition."

Delacroix sits up very straight. "You don't know what you're talking about," they snap. "It's in the teachers' lounge, and it cries. It's been talked about for centuries."

"So was the earth being flat," Freddie says.

You turn your attention to Delacroix. "Have you never seen the statue?"

Delacroix lowers their gaze. "Well, no," they say, shifting uncomfortably. "But it is real. At night the statue cries. I heard about it from the final-years when I first arrived here."

"But did they actually see it?" Freddie puts in.

"It could just be a story handed down," you say. Gonzalez gives a murmur of assent; Delacroix folds their arms, looking stormy, and does not reply.

"It's probably a metaphor," Freddie says.

Karson squints up at the sky. "We should get back," he says. "Rain's coming."

The debate quiets during the journey back—Freddie is too busy trying to keep control of her horse to talk—but once the horses have been led into the stables and Hartmann has returned to the dorm, Freddie turns to you and Delacroix.

"I'll show you the statue's fake," she says. "And Pedro will help."

Freddie looks triumphant. "I knew you'd be sensible," she says, and Delacroix rolls their eyes.

From Tarragon's stall, Karson gives a quiet cough, then emerges.

"I couldn't help overhearing the discussion," he says, with spectacular understatement. "I've seen the statue. And the teachers are at lunch. You could look at it now and no one would see you."

Freddie shifts from foot to foot with nervous excitement. "Maybe Karson has a key," she mutters to you.

Neither Freddie nor Delacroix look inclined to ask Karson, so you take charge. "If we were to need an easy way of getting into the lounge," you say, "do you think you'd have one? I'd rather get it done quickly and quietly."

Karson looks you up and down, then nods and withdraws a heavy brass key from a jacket pocket. "Good luck," he says.

While the teachers and the rest of the college are busy having lunch in the banquet hall, you lead Delacroix and Freddie to the teachers' lounge. It's up the main spiral staircase in the entrance building, along the corridor from the nurse's office; the door is heavy, emerald green, and locked. Freddie looks nervously up and down the corridor while you quickly use Karson's key; Delacroix leans against the wall, cracking their knuckles.

Inside, the lounge is opulently decorated in much the same style as Lady Renaldt's office. Sunlight streams through the tall windows, and a pair of handsome marble swans sit atop pillars on either side of a sumptuous fireplace. A delicate vase of flowers sits beneath a severe portrait of Alexandre Gallatin, the founder of the college.

Freddie tugs your elbow. "There it is!"

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