Nightshade E-Book

Gry Kappel Jensen

• Herausgeber: Arctis US
• Kategorie: Für Kinder und Jugendliche
• Serie: The Rosenholm Trilogy
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 669

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2025

Beschreibung

Four girls. Four fates. A hunt for the truth. The first will go into darkness. The second must choose between those she loves. The third must give an offering. And the fourth will pass judgement. In this final book of the Rosenholm trilogy, the four friends have finally found out who murdered the young woman Trine in the 80s. However, it quickly turns out that the murder was only a small part of a dark and macabre past at Rosenholm, and several puzzles must be solved before Trine can get her revenge. They do their best to work around the new guidelines Jens has put in place in order to make room for the darm branches of magic. Nightshade draws on myth, folklore, and history, making for a compelling story from start to finish.

Leseprobe

Gry Kappel Jensen

Night Shade

The Rosenholm Trilogy Volume 3

translated from the Danish by Jennifer Alexander

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are from the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

This translation has been published with the financial support of The Danish Arts Foundation.

W1-Media, Inc.

Arctis Books USA

Stamford, CT, USA

Copyright © 2025 by W1-Media Inc. for this edition

NATSKYGGE © Gry Kappel Jensen og Turbine, 2021

Published by agreement with Babel-Bridge Literary Agency

The Library of Congress Control Number: 2024953137

English translation copyright © Jennifer Alexander, 2025

This work is protected by copyright, any use requires the authorisation of the publisher.

All rights reserved. The publisher prohibits the use of this work for text and data mining without express written consent. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publisher and copyright owner.

ISBN978-1-64690-614-7

www.arctis-books.com

Prologue

You took everything from me. You took my future. You took my life. But I still have revenge. Revenge is mine.

I want people to know my story. I want you to say my name. The world must hear it. They must see me and my nameless, forgotten sisters. They must see us and they must feel our anger when we rise. When we come.

Part 1 Summer

A kiss, one more, and then they must part

A thrush serenades with loving heart

The hawthorn in full glory, drips with bitter fruit;

Dewdrops fall like tears into the brook.

From the poem “Little Kirsten and Prince Buris” by Hans Christian Andersen, 1869

JUNE 19th 4:23 A.M.

Victoria

Victoria woke feeling chilled to the bone. Her light summer duvet had slipped to the floor, and as she reached down for it, she was struck by how cold her room felt. A crunching sound like footsteps in the frost made her shiver.

“Is somebody there?”

Victoria’s voice was nothing but a whisper. No answer came. She lay back down and pulled the duvet over her. This could not be happening. She must be imagining things. Victoria was so used to having the spirit present in her life. Maybe that was why she kept sensing it, although it was no longer there. That weak, flowery scent of violets, the flicker of a white shadow in the mirror, a hoarse whisper in the darkness . . . It was all in her imagination. They had kept their promise to Trine, after all. They had found her killer, the man who murdered her, last year at Rosenholm boarding school.

Trine is at peace; you’re hearing things. It’s over now.

Still, she was shivering with cold, and sleep was impossible. Suddenly, the duvet was whipped off her.

“Trine!”

The white shadowy form stood at the end of her bed. A young woman. She held both hands at her throat, and her chest rose and fell as if she couldn’t breathe.

Victoria’s heart was pounding, and her chest hurt. “It was Jens,” she whispered. “Jens killed you. We know that now.”

Trine did not answer. Her eyes were wide with fear, as if she was locked in a time loop, again and again forced to relive the horror she had been put through by the man who was now the school principal.

“Calm down,” Victoria said. “Try to calm down, Trine.”

“Afraid . . .”

Trine’s voice was weak, the words barely passing her lips.

“Are you scared? He can’t get to you now. You’re safe here.”

“He is afraid . . . Don’t forget that . . .”

“I don’t understand . . .”

The white figure shuddered as her head dropped back, and Victoria could only sit, powerless, on her bed and watch. She could not help her. She could not save her life because she had already been dead for many years.

“What can I do?” Victoria whispered.

“My name . . .”

“Your name? Your name is Trine,” Victoria said.

The shadowy form hissed and shook her head from side to side as she continued to sputter out words. “My name, my sisters . . . He is . . . afraid.”

“Trine, stop, that’s enough.” Victoria could hear in her own voice that she was crying, though she hadn’t noticed her tears until now.

“Don’t forget . . .”

At that, she finally disappeared, leaving Victoria sobbing in her ice-cold bed. It wasn’t over after all. Not yet.

We’re coming tonight. Meet us in the castle gardens at 4

JUNE 25TH 3:25 A.M.

Chamomile

Some nights, it can seem like it never gets completely dark. That the warmth of the sun never leaves the stones and house walls but rather radiates from them during the night so that, placing your hand there, you’d find them still warm. And the night air smells of beach roses and jasmine while the stars pierce through like tiny, glowing knife pricks, uncompromising and endless, leaving you dizzy if you look at them too long. On a night like this, you ought to be leaving some party, high on laughter and dancing, hand in hand with your loved one.

But that was not what Chamomile was doing on this summer night. There was no dancing nor laughter. And no loved one . . . Although, she wasn’t alone either.

Chamomile peeked out from the hood of the robe she had pulled on over her white dress. Victoria walked alongside her, and her pretty, dark eyes glanced back at her as if to say, Yeah, I’m here.

Chamomile turned toward Kirstine. The tall, serious girl with long, sandy-colored hair was walking behind them, deep in concentration, uttering rune incantations in a whisper as the grass swished underfoot in the still of the night.

The three young women continued along the path. A horse stood in its field watching them as they passed, and shortly after, they turned into the avenue of old chestnut trees. Soon, they could make out Rosenholm as a dark silhouette against the sparkling carpet of stars. They all knew that Jens got up early, and they wanted to be there before him. Chamomile felt her stomach churn. There was no knowing how he might react.

Even though the night was quiet and there was no wind, the huge chestnut trees still shook their branches ominously as they neared the castle.

“Eoh,” Kirstine commanded in a low voice, and the sound of the rustling leaves around them subsided. Kirstine’s hair crackled with static, and Chamomile saw how the deep scar that twisted around her wrist glowed in the dark.

They continued through the open expanse of the park, crossing the footbridge over the moat and entering the castle courtyard with its lumpy cobblestones. Fallen petals from the great climbing rose lay like a carpet over the steps up to the school’s entrance. There was nobody around.

Chamomile checked her phone. It was two minutes to four. “We’ll wait a bit,” she whispered.

When she looked up at the castle, she saw it. A faint light, visible in one window, and a shadow that looked like a silhouette. It was just a glimpse and then was gone, but Chamomile was certain.

“Malou! She was standing at the window looking at us. She’s coming.”

“Don’t you think it was just a shadow?” Victoria asked, looking up at the school’s whitewashed walls.

“It was her,” Chamomile said.

They stood waiting awhile in silence. Kirstine shifted her weight impatiently from one foot to the other. Victoria checked the time. The stars were fading in the sky above them; it would soon be sunrise.

“She’s not coming,” Victoria eventually whispered. “We can’t stand around here any longer.”

“But she did see us . . .” She sighed. Malou hadn’t answered any of the messages Chamomile had sent since she left Rosenholm a month earlier, so why would she suddenly come now? But the thought that Malou was there, somewhere in the castle, was almost too much to bear. And Chamomile was certain that it had been her at the window. She felt the tears welling in her eyes and reminded herself that she was lucky. She didn’t have to do this alone; there were three of them. But there should have been four.

It was dark and quiet as they climbed the great steps. Rosenholm was normally empty of students during summer vacation, but members of the Crows’ Club, Zlavko’s student association, had remained in school while the others were home. Luckily, they didn’t run into any of them now. Chamomile was the only one who had been to Jens’s office before, so she led the way along the empty halls and up to the principal’s large corner suite. They came to the door and snuck quickly inside. Victoria turned on the desk lamp, and Kirstine pulled the curtains back so they could see the sky, which was lit pink by the sunrise. Now, they just had to wait.

At half past six, the door opened. It was him, of course, the man they were waiting for, yet she was still startled when she laid eyes on him. Jens, as always, was dressed completely in black. A solid, athletic man in his fifties. Not especially tall and with short, steel-gray hair. His eyes narrowed for an instant when he spotted them, but in the next second, his face slipped back to relaxed and impassive as if he had expected to find them standing there. His intense, intelligent look pierced her like an electric shock.

“Good morning,” he said. “What can I do for you all, so early in the morning and during vacation time, no less?”

Suddenly, Chamomile couldn’t remember a single one of the things she had prepared to say. Instead, she stuck her hand in her pocket and pulled out a slip of paper. Her hands were shaking as she unfolded it. It was a copy of a photograph, which had been pieced together from two separate parts. One half was in black and white and showed a smiling young woman. The other half was in color and showed a younger version of the man standing before them. Jens Andersen. Their Spirit Magic teacher, principal of Rosenholm boarding school—and Chamomile’s father. The latter part was something only three people in the world knew. Chamomile’s mother, Jens, and Chamomile herself. And that was how it needed to stay.

“What’s going on?” Jens asked. She held out the photograph to him.

“She was called Trine,” Victoria said, her voice calm and controlled. “You were a couple.”

Jens raised his eyebrows. “Fascinating,” he said with a little smile on his lips. “But I’m pretty sure I would remember if I’d been together with such a beautiful girl. You said her name was Trine?”

“You were her teacher. Back in the late eighties,” Victoria said.

“I’ve taught so many young girls over the years,” Jens said, holding the photo up in front of him to look at it closely. “No, I can’t remember her at all.” He crossed his arms, looking at them. “This Trine must have fed you a right bunch of lies,” he said. “It’s possible I did teach her at one time, although I don’t remember it, but we were most certainly not a couple.”

“Besides this photo, we also have the letters Trine wrote to her sister back when she was a student at this school. In them, she writes about your relationship,” Victoria said. “How do you explain that?”

Jens shrugged. “Perhaps it’s just a case of a student who fell in love with her teacher and wrote some romantic stories to send home to her little sister. What would I know?” He smiled at them, tired. “I’m sorry to disappoint you. You’ve not scooped some great scandal, girls. Was that the only reason for your visit?”

Chamomile felt dry-mouthed and tongue-tied, and her mind had gone blank. What had she imagined was going to happen? That he’d be shocked or get nervous? Angry, maybe? But instead, he seemed not in the least affected by what they had said.

“How do you know that?” Kirstine asked quietly. “That it was her little sister? You say you don’t remember Trine, and we only said it was her sister.”

Jens looked at her and slowly shook his head. “No, now this is getting ridiculous. Listen, I have work that I need to do. I don’t have time for this.”

“That was why Leah tried to kill you,” Chamomile whispered. “Leah was Trine’s little sister. It wasn’t an attack on mages or on Rosenholm. It was an attack on you.”

Chamomile could picture her: crazy, unhappy Leah, who had tried to avenge her sister’s death and who took her own life when it all went wrong.

“I really don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jens said. Clearly, his patience had run out.

“You have to confess,” Victoria said.

“What did you say?” He frowned, and for the first time, Chamomile sensed anger in his voice. “I should confess to going out with a girl who I cannot even remember?”

“You need to confess that you killed her,” Victoria said.

“What?”

“You killed Trine. I’ve seen it myself; she showed me.” Victoria’s voice trembled ever so slightly, but she didn’t lower her gaze. “You were together. You made her believe that you were going to run away with her, but instead, you knocked her unconscious and hid her down in the castle’s cellars. And after that, you carried her down to the brook, and you strangled her. I’ve seen it all.”

Jens narrowed his eyes and looked at her. A tremor ran through Victoria’s body, as if she were fighting against something they couldn’t see.

“It’s madness, what you are saying, Victoria,” he whispered.

“Trine is dead, but she hasn’t yet found peace,” Victoria said. “She’ll only have peace when you confess to killing her.”

“And why should I confess to something I haven’t done?” His eyes were on Victoria alone, his voice was calm, but his threatening tone made Chamomile a lot more afraid than if he had been shouting at them.

“If you don’t confess publicly and resign from your post immediately, then we will leak all the evidence that we have,” Victoria whispered. “It’s your choice.”

“And what evidence are you talking about? This here? An old photograph?” He snorted and threw the photo on the floor so that it landed at his feet. “You don’t seriously think that the police would accuse me on the basis of that? Or perhaps you’re going to tell them that you can talk with the dead?”

“We’ll go to the Council of Mages,” Victoria said.

Jens took one step closer and pointed a finger up in her face. “I strongly advise you not to go making these kinds of false accusations about me!”

“Come on,” Kirstine said. “Let’s go. He’s made his choice.”

They went toward the door. Chamomile’s legs were trembling underneath her.

“Chamomile?” His voice was suddenly gentle. She didn’t want to, but her body obeyed of its own accord. She turned in the doorway. He took a deep breath in. The anger had gone from his eyes.

“You need to know that I don’t blame any of you for this. Somebody has used you all to try and pull one over on me. But I need to warn you. If you go any further with this, I won’t be responsible for the consequences. I won’t be able to protect you.”

Chamomile felt a rush in her ears. Victoria grabbed her hand and pulled her away, and the door slammed after them, echoing down the empty hallway.

I saw you. I know you saw us.

What’s going on, Malou?

JULY 2ND 3:10 P.M.

Kirstine

“I’m still not sure this is the best thing to do,” Kirstine said, looking at Victoria, who stood in the middle of her bedroom.

“Try to imagine the impact it will have,” Victoria said urgently. “No one will be able to act like they don’t know because they were all sat there, hearing it at the same time. They can’t just go ignoring it or denying it.”

“But . . .”

“And I will be the one to answer for it. Just don’t worry.”

Victoria was interrupted by the sound of the doorbell ringing below. “Boys, get that, will you?” Victoria stuck her head out the door and yelled to her little brothers, but there was no answer. As the doorbell went on again, she sighed and turned to Kristine.

“Hang on. It must be Chamomile.”

Kirstine waited in the bedroom, letting her fingers trace across the bright blue bed throw as she looked out at the summer sky, almost the same in color. It was a lovely, large room. Everything in Victoria’s house was beautiful, but Kirstine didn’t like being there.

“It’s for you.” Victoria sounded a bit out of breath, having run up the stairs. “It’s Jakob . . .” She raised her eyebrows and gave Kirstine a knowing look.

Kirstine frowned. “Jakob? Why?”

“I’m guessing that he wants to see you, seeing as he’s standing outside the front door asking for you,” Victoria said, looking like she was quite enjoying herself.

“Chamomile will be here soon . . .”

“We’ll just wait for you to get back.”

“But . . .” Kirstine couldn’t think what to say.

Victoria smiled. “Go on down and see what he wants. Do you want to brush your hair first?”

“What?” Kirstine reached up to her ponytail.

“Forget it. You look great. Hurry up before he starts to gather dust down there.”

Kirstine sighed and got up. She went down the curved staircase and through the hall.

“Hey.” Jakob was standing at the foot of the steps to the big main door. He smiled shyly and ran his fingers through his strawberry-blond hair, the way he always did when he was nervous. “It’s good to see you.”

“Hey.” Kirstine looked down at his shoes. There was a foot, at least, between them, but she immediately felt how a faint buzz filled the air between their bodies.

“So, this is where you live,” he said, smiling.

“It’s Victoria’s house,” Kirstine said, even though he knew perfectly well, of course. “It’s just for a while.”

“Okay,” he said.

It was hot, and he was wearing a white T-shirt. She tried to stop staring at it. She tried to stop startng at him.

“Uh, can we go inside, or . . .” He smiled again.

Of course, she should have invited him in and offered him something to drink. That’s what normal people did. But then this was not her house, and she also didn’t know why he was there.

“We could always go for a walk? Or maybe you could show me the garden? I bet a house like this has a beautiful garden.”

Kirstine nodded, relieved. The garden would be fine. Better than going indoors and risking a run-in with Victoria’s parents, who might be home soon.

“We can go this way.” She considered going inside to find her sandals but dropped the idea and went out the front door in her bare feet. Jakob followed behind her, and she noticed he was walking too close. It hurt to walk on the gravel barefoot, but when she stepped onto the lawn, things only got worse. There was a sizzling beneath her feat. She frowned.

“You don’t seem too excited to see me?” he said, trying to meet her eyes.

“It’s just that . . . Chamomile is on her way, and—”

“I won’t be long . . . I just wanted to . . . Kirstine?”

“What?” She stared down at the well-trimmed lawn.

“Happy birthday.”

Now, at last, she looked up. He smiled reassuringly and held out a small box toward her.

His smile made her heart race. She was sure she had never told him when her birthday was. She hadn’t told anyone, but, of course, in his role as teacher, he could find it in the school records if he wanted to.

“Let’s go down to the orchard,” she whispered. They carried on past the English roses and bedding plants and went in among the old apple trees, where they were less easily seen from the house. It crossed her mind that most of their meetings had, in fact, been this way. Secretive.

He held out the box to her again, and she hesitantly reached out and took it. Her fingertips brushed briefly against the palm of his hand, and immediately she felt a shooting pain run up her whole arm, as if she had touched an electric fence. It hurt Jakob, too.

Kirstine’s cheeks burned. Things were going much better, but clearly all it took for her to lose control again was having Jakob standing close. Why couldn’t she get on top of this? Jakob didn’t mention it. Instead, he smiled at her expectantly. “Are you not going to look at what’s inside?” It was a jewelry box. Kirstine sensed that she was blushing. It felt awkward and somehow too intimate. She wasn’t the type, in any case, for celebrating birthdays, and she wasn’t someone people bought jewelry for.

“It doesn’t bite,” he said, laughing softly.

She opened the lid. A silver figure lay on a cushion of cotton wool. It was little more than a half-inch high and depicted a small woman with a sword and shield.

“It’s a Valkyrie,” Jakob said. “Replica Viking jewelery. Look, you can wear it as a necklace . . .” He reached his hand out to take the figure but stopped short and made do with pointing. Kirstine could see it right away. Between the little Valkyrie’s neck and her long plait, there was a loop so it could be used as a pendant. At least it hadn’t been a ring; that would have been so much worse.

“Thanks,” she whispered, closing the box. “Would you mind not telling the others? That it’s my birthday?”

She looked up toward the big white house, where the windows lay open in the summer heat.

“I don’t know anyone else quite like you.” He was smiling, but his eyes looked sad.

Kirstine tucked the box into her pocket. “I think Chamomile must be on her way, so . . .”

“I’ll get going, but I was wondering if you’d like to meet up one of these days? I’ve got the summer off, so I’ve got plenty of time. We could just go out for a walk. I know I said it myself that it was a bad idea, but Thorbjørn told me that things are much better now, right?”

Kirstine had no idea what to say. Yes, things were better. She had her powers under control now. But that control all dissipated when he looked at her that way. There was a ringing in her ears. She felt the scars on her arms and legs smarting, and, for a moment, she imagined the glistening tree roots breaking through the grass beneath her feet. Giving him a kiss or even holding his hand was out of the question.

“I don’t think it’ll work,” she whispered.

He nodded and took a deep breath in. Then he turned his face up toward the green of the fruit trees and the blue sky above them before slowly sighing the breath out again.

Kirstine wished she could find the right words to explain to him how it felt to be in this situation. To have powers that she was afraid of, powers that she had never asked for or wished for. Powers that meant that falling in love put her life in danger. Instead, they just stood without talking until Jakob finally turned his gaze away from the treetops and gave her a sad smile.

“It was great to see you again,” he said, and then he turned and walked away. Kirstine stood watching until he had disappeared from sight. Maybe it’s better this way, given we can’t be together anyway. She sighed and headed up to the house.

“Hi!” Chamomile was sitting cross-legged on Victoria’s bed in the process of braiding her hair when Kirstine entered the room.

“What did Jakob want?” Victoria asked.

“Nothing,” Kirstine mumbled.

“Did you invite him for Saturday?” Chamomile asked.

“I forgot,” Kirstine said.

“Never mind, I’ll write to him,” Victoria said, pulling out a list of names. She ran her eyes down the list. “Thorbjørn and Lisa are coming to represent the school. And Benjamin is coming.”

Chamomile raised one eyebrow and threw Kirstine a look from the bed but said nothing. Victoria and Benjamin had broken up before the summer vacation, and Kirstine could see no immediate reason why he should also be invited to the event.

“Benjamin knows a lot of the old families,” Victoria said quickly as if she could read their minds. And maybe she could; it certainly felt that way at times.

“Is there anyone else we can invite?” Chamomile asked. “I don’t know any ‘powerful people,’” she said, dropping the braid to make air quotes with her fingers. “Besides the teachers, and they’re already coming.”

“Hmm.” Victoria consulted the list. “My mom has invited the most important people from the old mage families. And, of course, all the ones that sit on the Council of Mages. A few have RSVP’d no, but they’ll still hear about it. The news will travel super fast.” She looked up from her list. “She’s put me as the first speaker.”

“Isn’t it a bit weird to have speeches at a party?” Chamomile asked.

“That’s how it’s done in these circles,” Victoria said, shrugging. “It’s a kind of excuse to get drunk, I think. First, there is a boring talk on history or politics or world affairs, and then everyone gets drunk and talks about the people who aren’t there. But this time, at the very least, I don’t think it’s going to be boring.”

“What did you say you’ll be giving a talk about?” Kirstine asked.

“The rights and responsibilities of a young mage,” Victoria said.

“My mom didn’t ask anymore about it; she was just happy I’m finally showing an interest in joining one of their dreadful cocktail parties with all their creepy friends. She even let me add people to the guest list without splitting any hairs.”

Kirstine looked at Victoria. She navigated “these circles,” as she called them, with complete ease. The rich and powerful mage families. Victoria had been born into that world. Kirstine, however, had not, and neither had Chamomile. “How do you actually get to sit on the Council of Mages?” Kirstine asked.

“It’s certainly not that easy,” Victoria said. “I just know that there are ten or twelve members and that once you’re in, you’re in for life. They have to be voted in by the current members.”

“What do they actually do in that Council?” Chamomile said.

“They work on guidelines for mages and also give advice to those who break them. In the last instance, they can hand them over to the authorities.”

“And these are the people who come to your parents’ parties?” Chamomile asked.

“Not only ours,” Victoria answered. “My parents are part of a lodge, and the members take turns holding those parties a few times every year.”

“It sounds like a pretty scary gathering,” Chamomile said. “Are you sure you’ve got the nerve?”

“If I can say it to Jens, then I can also say it to a gathering of my parents’ friends,” Victoria said. “It’ll be okay.”

“You’re a tough cookie,” Chamomile said. “Should we practice it one more time?”

It’s great that you can come

Okay, but what’s this about?

You’ll see. Can’t say more just now

See you Saturday!

See you . . .

JULY 4TH 5:46 P.M.

Victoria

“Come in!” Victoria said with a big grin. A little too big, perhaps, judging by the frown that appeared on Benjamin’s face. His blue eyes fixed on hers, and a muscle in his jaw twitched. “It’s great you could come a little earlier,” she said, with a touch more reserve this time, and gave him a hug, which he half returned. His energy confused her; it felt both discouraging and overwhelming at the same time.

“Why, exactly, did you want me here so early?” he asked, and Victoria felt herself blushing. So I can convince you that you’ve made a mistake.

“My mom said she could do with some help getting everything all set up,” she lied.

At that moment, her mother came out into the hall with a huge vase filled with white lilies. “It’s so typical. The florist only delivered them just now,” she said, setting the vase down in front of the huge mirror in the hall as she blew a lock of her dark, shiny hair away from her face. The scent of the flowers was already reaching Victoria so by the time the guests arrived, the whole room would be filled with it. Behind her mother came Niels, one of Victoria’s younger brothers. He scrunched his nose and looked skeptically at the flowers and then at Benjamin.

“What’s he doing here?”

Victoria’s mother turned, neatly ignoring Benjamin altogether. “The forecast is for rain. I was hoping we could have had welcome drinks out in the garden.” Her high heels clicked off the parquet flooring as she headed back toward the kitchen. They could hear her asking someone or another to distribute the rest of the flowers in the lounge.

“I thought you two broke up?” Harald had joined his brother and both twins now stood scowling at Benjamin. If the situation hadn’t been so tense, Victoria might have been quite amused by the two soldiers coming to her defense.

“Benjamin is just visiting,” Victoria said. “Go on now.”

“Victoria cried her head off,” Niels said. “Because of you breaking up.”

“Mom says she falls in love too easily,” Harald added. “And that you’re not worth it.”

“Enough now!” Victoria said. “Go on out to the garden.”

“We’re not allowed out there,” Niels said sulkily. “We’re not allowed anywhere.”

After a few more grumbles and moans, the twins disappeared upstairs to their rooms.

“Did you tell them it was me who broke up with you?” Benjamin asked as they went through to the kitchen.

“Is that not what happened?” Victoria replied without looking at him.

“It was you who decided it.”

“You gave me an ultimatum. I had no other choice,” she said, trying to keep her tone light. “It didn’t have to be like that. It didn’t need to be an either-or.”

“Well, that’s where we’ll have to disagree,” he muttered.

Victoria’s courage faltered. It was not the answer she’d been hoping for, but she straightened up and smiled when her mother stepped into the kitchen from the garden. If nothing else, she wasn’t going to let her mother have the pleasure of being right; of course, she had thought it a big mistake to invite Benjamin.

“The weather’s still nice for now,” her mother said. “Will we take our chances on it staying dry? Though, that would mean getting the garden tables set out.”

“Benjamin will be happy to help, I’m sure . . .” Victoria said, but her mother acted as if she hadn’t heard.

“No, tell you what, we’ll have welcome drinks in the library instead.” She turned toward the two young women who were going to be serving drinks and started giving instructions on setting out the glasses.

“Sorry,” Victoria whispered.

Benjamin shrugged. “Your mom has never been one of my greatest fans,” he muttered under his breath. “And it certainly doesn’t seem like she needs any help from me?” He raised his eyebrows and looked at her.

Victoria lowered her gaze from his. She had missed him so much, and she had hoped that after spending some time together today, he might start feeling like he missed her too. Feeling like splitting up had been a mistake. She had also been holding onto a faint hope he’d discover her parents weren’t quite as bad as he thought.

“I just thought this was a good opportunity for you to get to know them a bit better,” she mumbled.

He sighed. “Your parents aren’t the slightest bit interested in getting to know me better, and I have to admit, the feeling is mutual. So, if my help isn’t needed, I’d like to go up and play FIFA with the little rugrats instead.”

“Of course.” Victoria nodded and tried to force her mouth into a smile. “Just go ahead.”

“Are you okay?” Kirstine asked, pulling down on the dark top Victoria had loaned her, which was still a touch too small, though Victoria had assured her it wasn’t.

Victoria took a large gulp from the glass of chilled white wine Chamomile had brought her. She nodded. “We can’t stand and threaten him with outing him in public and then not dare to go through with it.”

“Dare to go through with what?” asked Benjamin, who had crept back up on them.

“Nothing,” she muttered.

“Thorbjørn, Jakob, and Lisa have arrived,” Chamomile said. “Kirstine and I are going over to say hi. Are you coming?”

Victoria shook her head. “I’ll just stay here,” she said while Chamomile and Kirstine edged toward the hall, where they could make out Thorbjørn’s bulky form among the other guests. With his great beard and his long hair, he was far from the type of guest her parents normally invited.

“Are you nervous?” Benjamin asked.

“A bit,” she answered, that being the understatement of the year. Mortally terrified would be closer to the right term, and she had absolutely no desire to greet all her parents’ friends right now. She preferred to stand where she was in this dark corner.

“But look, is it Victoria?”

Clearly, it was not dark enough. A woman wearing a low-cut, cherry-red dress was smiling at her. “Well, look how grown up you are now.” She clinked her glass against Victoria’s and then Benjamin’s, observing them openly. “And who do we have here?”

“Benjamin Brahe,” he said, offering her his hand.

“Brahe . . .” the woman said, surprised, clasping his hand in hers and leaning toward him. “Then I guess I know your parents.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Benjamin said and slipped his hand gently, yet decisively, out of hers.

The woman’s face betrayed her surprise, but she quickly gave a broad smile, exposing the gums around her unnaturally white teeth.

“Let’s talk later, Benjamin. It’s so lovely that young people have started coming as well.” She gave his arm a complicit squeeze before turning around to greet some other guests.

“She was flirting with you,” Victoria said, and it occurred to her that this must be something that happened to him frequently, judging by the almost professional way he had handled it, which should hardly come as a surprise to her. Benjamin’s handsome looks were no less striking now, dressed as he was in a neatly fitted suit.

“Not interested,” Benjamin said.

They looked up at the sound of a glass falling to the ground and shattering. A tall, dark-haired man with a meticulous mustache looked down for a moment at the waiter, who was doubled over picking up the pieces, before reaching out for a new glass and continuing toward them.

“Now it’s all kicking off,” Benjamin said, and Victoria realized it was this man he was alluding to. She vaguely recognized him as someone who had been here before to her parents’ lodge parties. But he wasn’t someone they otherwise met with privately, and Victoria couldn’t recall having been introduced to him before.

He was wearing a tailored suit and wore thin glasses with a gold frame. “The prodigal son,” he said as he came nearer. He raised his glass to Benjamin.

“Victoria, this is my father,” Benjamin said. “Vilhelm Brahe.”

“Hello,” she said, surprised, offering him her hand.

“Ah, you’re in the company of a young lady.” The man brushed her palm lightly with the very tip of his fingers without looking at her. “A pretty girl,” he said, still turned to Benjamin. “I suppose it was . . .” He gestured toward her but stopped. “I’m sorry, the name escapes me?”

“Victoria.”

“Victoria, yes. I suppose it was Victoria who persuaded you to come this evening?”

“In a way. Victoria will be giving a talk on a mysterious topic she refuses to tell me any more about.”

“Aha, another mysterious speaker,” said the man.

“Sorry, I don’t think I quite understand,” Victoria said.

“I’m sorry,” said Vilhelm, “but I don’t want to spoil our hosts’ surprise.”

“It’s Victoria who is the surprise,” Benjamin said. “Her parents are the hosts.”

“Hans is your father?” Vilhelm looked her over, unsmiling.

“Yes, he has been angling for a place on the Council for a few years. But there are many others in the running, of course.”

At this point, it was clear to Victoria that Benjamin’s father was a member of the Council of Mages, which was why he would have been at her parents’ parties previously.

“I can perhaps tell your mother that you have come to your senses? That you’ve started mixing with the right kind of people again?” Vilhelm asked, looking at his son.

“Absolutely not,” Benjamin said. “I’m only here for Victoria’s sake.”

Victoria felt a wave of gratitude wash over her, but her smile stiffened on seeing the contemptuous grimace on Vilhelm’s face.

“No, well, that was, of course, too much to expect,” he said, nodding to them both. “Good luck with your speech, Victoria.”

“Did you know he was coming?” she whispered once Benjamin’s father had turned away.

“I figured there was a risk of it,” he said.

“How long has it been since you last saw him?” she asked.

“Two years,” Benjamin answered. His voice was calm and emotionless, but she could sense the anger radiating from him, making her nervous about saying something that would make him snap at her. They stood for a while without talking until a voice suddenly cut loudly across all the others. Victoria checked the time. Now, already?

“Welcome, everybody!” Victoria’s mother sounded a little strained, but perhaps it was only Victoria who noticed the quivering nervousness that hung around her in the form of a purple aura. Outwardly, she seemed like the perfect host in her black cocktail dress, high stilettos, and discrete jewelry. The guests gathered in a circle around her.

“The wait is over because, in a moment, it’ll be time for this evening’s speech. My husband and I . . .” She held out her hand, and a tall, elegant man with silvery-gray hair took it and let himself be led out into the middle of the floor. “Yes, I know you would rather keep yourself in the background, Hans, but you’re not getting to escape,” she said, and people laughed and even broke briefly into applause.

Victoria automatically forced a smile without feeling any kind of happiness. They were an attractive pair. Her father was a little older than her mother, but he was still a handsome man, while her mother’s beauty was commented on wherever she went. Victoria only wished that the sight of them, surrounded by all their friends, could have sparked a sense of pride and happiness in her rather than the simmering unease she was now feeling.

“My husband and I are delighted to welcome you all to yet another lovely evening together at our little lodge,” her mother continued once quiet had resumed. “As you may have noticed, we have more guests than usual here with us tonight. These are some friends of our beautiful, talented daughter Victoria, who is going to talk to us about her views on young mages’ rights and responsibilities.”

People clapped politely, and Victoria took a deep breath and tried to keep a handle on her nerves.

“But, first, I have a little surprise,” her mother added with a wry smile.

Victoria felt her stomach lurch. She twisted her prompt cards in her hands. What kind of surprise?

“Before Victoria steps up, Jens Andersen, principal of Rosenholm Academy, will tell us about his vision for the school and for the future of magic in general terms. Please, give a hand to Jens!”

“What?” Victoria whispered. A surge of panic took hold of her, and she struggled to breathe.

Her parents slipped aside, both still clapping, and Jens stepped up instead in the midst of the crowd. As ever, Victoria was struck by his intense charisma that drew everyone’s attention. Just as it did now. Everyone there was looking intently at Jens. Dressed in his usual black and at least a head shorter than her father, he still seemed to fill the room in an entirely different way. Jens nodded warmly and scanned the guests, but when his gaze reached her, he held it there. Victoria felt his energy. It was like being run over by a bus in slow motion. It pushed her back and pressed her down, but she refused to look away. She wasn’t going to let herself be intimidated.

JULY 4TH 9:07 P.M.

Chamomile

“Thank you all so much for coming this evening,” Jens said. The guests had gathered now in the large side room. Jens was the only one still standing, while the rest had sat down in the chairs that had been set out.

Chamomile would have preferred to sit in the back, as far away from Jens as possible, but she, Kirstine, and Victoria had sat in the front row. It had been her own idea. She had asked herself what Malou would have done, and the answer came to her right away. Let’s sit right under his nose so he can see we’re not messing around! Chamomile could almost hear her saying it.

“I know you will all be interested to hear what young Victoria has to say, but as the saying goes: Age before beauty,” Jens said, and people laughed. “I hope you will bear with me. I’ll keep it as short as I can, but I do have, in my humble view, important things to tell you.”

Chamomile felt annoyed at how quickly Jens was stealing the show. Suddenly, it was he who was showing people to their places, thanking their hosts, and greeting guests. Suddenly, it was he who had important things to say.

He began his speech, and Chamomile’s irritation grew. Jens’s voice was warm, and he spoke with insight and humor about his experiences as the school principal, as well as his own time as a student at Rosenholm. It was easy to see why people found him charming and inspirational. But all that was only a shell, a cloak he pulled on. Underneath, something entirely different was lurking. An ice-cold manipulator. A murderer. Nobody can know. Nobody can ever find out. Shame burned inside her, knowing that this man now holding everyone’s attention was her father.

“They’re swallowing it completely!” Kirstine whispered in frustration.

Chamomile looked at Victoria. Beautiful as always, in a simple, dark blue mini-dress, she brought to mind some French film star. She sat, looking down at her hands, which concealed the keywords she had noted down. Her lips were moving as if she was muttering something to herself.

“And that brings us to what I came here to talk to you about this evening,” Jens said, bringing his hands together in front of him. “I know that many of you agree with me that we have been bowing our heads and hiding away in the shadows for far too long. We have forgotten what we once were. My dream is of a bright future for mages. A future in which we can lift our heads again with pride. But to find the way forward, sometimes you have to look to the past.”

Some of the guests started to clap, and Chamomile cursed. This is not what was meant to happen. There were also some in the audience who were more skeptical.

“And what kind of past is it that you want to go back to?” Chamomile turned around. The question came from an older man in a shabby suit.

“Of course, I don’t want to return to the past,” Jens said, smiling. “But it’s not so many generations ago that we mages were at the heart of power. Always behind the scenes, tucked away, but nevertheless there, where decisions were being made. There, where we were able to make use of our special talents and knowledge. I will strive for us to be empowered once more so that we can influence those who legislate and govern, and to our own advantage. A kind of lobby group, so to speak. But of a very particular sort.”

A tall woman with a bald head cleared her throat.

“Yes, Gertrud?” Jens asked.

“I would quite like to know how, exactly, you intend to get mages a place at the seat of power again?”

“I’m glad you’re asking that,” Jens said. “First and foremost, I see it as my job, as the leader of a new generation of mages, to make sure our students develop their skills in a way that they can reach their full potential. We need to understand that there is variety in our ranks. The talents of some are greater than others. If we dare to put our faith in the strongest, cleverest, and most capable among us, then we will all reap the benefits. We must stop being afraid of supporting those students who show talent that we don’t immediately understand. That childish fear of what some call ‘dark magic’ should be cast aside, and blood mages and spirit mages should no longer be discriminated against.”

“Since when have they been?” Kirstine whispered loudly so that a man in the row behind them shushed her.

“Secondly, I will make the students aware of the great responsibility that mages have always had but which older generations—including my own—have, unfortunately, neglected,” Jens continued. “We must put an end to that, and I believe this new generation will be the springboard for us mages making our comeback.”

“And what about the rest of the magic community?” an elderly man asked. “Everyone over twenty. You have no use for them, or what?”

“Experienced mages will remain an important part of this next step toward the society I want to work toward,” Jens said. “There’s the establishment of the lobby group I mentioned before. Or, to be more precise, the resurrection of the Magicus Comité. The Committee for Magic.”

A murmur of chat broke out among the guests. Some seemed agitated, outraged even, but many others were clapping or giving some other signal that they endorsed Jens’s viewpoint.

Chamomile turned to Kirstine, who simply shrugged as if to say she didn’t understand what they were talking about either. Victoria was still sitting with her card twisted in her hands without appearing to have heard a word of what Jens had said. Chamomile reached across Kirstine to take Victoria’s hand and give it a squeeze. She looked up.

“Let’s do this,” she said softly.

Chamomile nodded. “Let’s do it.”

JULY 4TH 9:39 P.M.

Kirstine

The majority of guests applauded when Jens finally finished his speech. Some even rose into a standing ovation, and Jens placed his hands modestly at his heart and bowed slightly before slipping aside to leave the floor to Victoria’s mother, who thanked him warmly and then introduced her daughter. But Kirstine didn’t look at Victoria’s mother. She was looking at Jens. He sat down, composing himself calmly with his arms crossed, and studied Victoria as she nodded to the audience with a slight smile. Kirstine was in awe of her. She stood there calmly in front of all these powerful people. That took a huge amount of courage.

Victoria took a deep breath. “I also have something important that I’d like to share with you this evening.” Her voice had a slight quiver, and she took another deep breath before continuing. “And it may be even more important that you know it now, after what we have just heard.” She paused as if to prepare herself to say the next part. “It is difficult to talk about, so I hope you will be patient with me. If . . .” Victoria paused again, and Kirstine looked around the audience, who nodded in a friendly and tolerant way.

“I . . .” Victoria’s voice cracked, and she turned her face down as if she was overcome with emotion.

“My daughter is obviously a bit nervous,” said Victoria’s mom with a soothing little laugh from her place in the front row. “It’s to be expected with so many people here tonight. Just take your time, Victoria. We’re not monsters.”

People laughed politely, and some of the guests started to clap to give Victoria some support. But she still said nothing.

“Should I go up to her, do you think?” Chamomile whispered.

Kirstine looked at Victoria’s face. She was facing down so much that she couldn’t make out her expression, but she could see a muscle in her cheek was twitching. Something was wrong.

“Victoria!” Chamomile shouted.

“She’s having a seizure,” Victoria’s mother screamed. “Do something!”

Suddenly, Victoria physically collapsed and fell to the ground.

“Out of the way!” shouted a small woman with long, dark hair.

Lisa roughly pushed aside the guests who had gotten up to see what was happening.

Kirstine tore her eyes away from Victoria’s pale, agonized face and the froth around her clenched teeth and looked up. At Jens. His eyes were locked on Victoria, and his lips were moving lightly. Kirstine slowly got up. “Naudiz!”

The Naud rune flew across the room toward its target, but rather than breaking Jens’s covert attack on Victoria, it only made him teeter.

“What’s happening?” screamed Victoria’s father, who stood bewildered, looking from his daughter twitching on the floor to Kirstine, still standing with her arms outstretched toward Jens.

“It’s her! Grab her!” the bald-headed woman screamed, and Kirstine was just able to lower her head as the rune spell came flying at her head.

“Duck!” Thorbjørn’s voice made them all jump. Despite the fact he’d been sitting up the back, he was down beside Kirstine in no time and put his great arm around her. “You’re coming with me!”

“No!” Kirstine pulled herself free, her hair sparking with electricity around her face, and Thorbjørn looked at her alarm as he realized he was unable to keep hold of her. “It’s Jens! We need to get Victoria away from Jens!”

His blue eyes narrowed for a second, and he studied her. Then he nodded and let her go. “You stay here! Jakob?” Thorbjørn indicated to Jakob that he should take over by Kirstine’s side, but she didn’t know whether it was for him to guard her or protect her. With two steps, Thorbjørn plowed through the guests huddled around Victoria. Kirstine couldn’t see what was happening, but she could hear Victoria’s mother’s hysterical sobs and Lisa speaking gently to her until, shortly after, she fell quiet.

“Make way; we need to get her out of here!” It was Lisa’s voice.

The guests stepped aside and let Thorbjørn pass, Victoria in his arms. Her eyes were closed, her arms and legs hung limply, and her head was dropped back.

Behind him, Lisa followed with Victoria’s parents. “She needs to receive treatment immediately,” Lisa said to them.

“Will it be the same place as the last time?” Victoria’s mother asked, but Kirstine couldn’t hear Lisa’s answer.

“Come on,” Jakob said.

Kirstine had completely forgotten he was standing there. She shook her head and stayed where she was.

Jens was still standing up against the wall at the opposite end of the room. Nobody was looking at him anymore, but he was looking at her. His hand rested on his shirt collar. And a little smile played on his lips.

I have the power to harm you, Victoria. Can you feel that? And not only you but everyone you care about and everyone you tell your lies to. Do you hear me?

JULY 5TH 12:25 a.m.

Victoria

Victoria opened her eyes and blinked up at the roof beams above her. She was no longer in her own house, but where was she?

“Here, drink this. It’ll help you regain your strength,” said a woman who seemed like an older version of Chamomile, except for the eyes, which were brown. She passed Victoria a small glass containing a deep purple liquid. “Iris and carnation,” she said. “The taste isn’t so great, but the effects really are.”

Victoria’s hand was shaking as she lifted the glass to her lips. It did taste awful, so she was quick to knock the bitter liquid back.

“Well done,” said the woman, smiling at her. “I’m Beate. This is my house, and you’re safe here. Does it hurt anywhere?”

“My head,” Victoria whispered.

“Chamomile, take over here, and I’ll go make some peppermint tea.”

Victoria hadn’t even noticed that Chamomile was sitting on a stool by the side of the sofa. As Chamomile placed her hands at her temples, Victoria lay back and closed her eyes. The pain was instantly relieved a little, but she still ached all over. Despite the fire blazing in the stove in the low-ceilinged living room, her entire body was still shivering.

“Is she awake?”

At the sound of Lisa’s voice, Victoria opened her eyes again, but Chamomile softly whispered, “Relax. Rest a bit longer.”

“She’s coming around,” Chamomile’s mother said.

Victoria lay for another few minutes, then opened her eyes. “I’m okay to sit up now,” she whispered, and Chamomile lifted her hands away.

Beate held out a steaming cup of tea. “I’ll tell the others that you’re better. I threw them out so they weren’t getting in the way.”

“My parents—”

“Lisa is calling them to tell them you’ll stay the night here.”

“Thanks.” Victoria sipped her hot tea.

Beate smiled and went back to the kitchen.

Victoria and Chamomile looked up as the old stable door gave a creak and Kirstine stepped inside. Her hair was drenched with rain. She sat down beside them.

“What happened, Victoria?” Kirstine whispered. “Was it Jens?”

Victoria nodded. “I don’t understand it. It was like I couldn’t do anything. He was so strong . . . Before, I’ve always been able to shut him out or at least control what he could see, but suddenly, he was just right inside my head. He . . . he was talking to me . . . he threatened me . . .”

“And then you weren’t able to talk, or what?” Chamomile asked.

“I couldn’t speak or move, but that wasn’t even the worst part . . .” Victoria could feel tears running down her cheeks. “He saw everything . . . Not just the stuff about Trine, but absolutely everything. My parents, Benjamin . . . Even that thing with Louis.” Victoria hid her face in her hands and sobbed. She felt she had been invaded. Violated. Jens had seen all her most pitiful thoughts, everything she was most ashamed of, all the pain and hurt, all her hopeless romantic daydreams, her desires, her fantasies. Nothing had stayed hidden from him.

“Oh, Victoria.” Chamomile put her arm around her but did nothing other than let her cry. They sat that way for a while, to the sounds of Beate puttering in the kitchen and talking quietly with Lisa. The crackling of the fire in the stove, footsteps on the floor, the murmur of low conversation, and the soothing sound of summer rain on the windowpanes slowly lulled Victoria back to sleep. When she eventually lifted her head again, she found them all sitting around her in the little living room—Lisa, Beate, Thorbjørn, Jakob, Benjamin, Chamomile, and Kirstine.

“We’ve told them,” Kirstine said. “We’ve told them about Trine.”

Victoria nodded. She rubbed her eyes and propped herself up.

“Who else knows about this?” Lisa asked. Her dark eyes looked at them with concern.

“No one else,” Chamomile said. “The idea was that we would tell everyone gathered tonight about who Jens really is.”

“So, besides Jens and us, no one else knows about it?” Jakob asked.

“No . . . well, yes. Malou, of course,” Chamomile said.

“And where is Malou?” Lisa asked.

“She’s still at Rosenholm,” Chamomile said. “Together with the rest of the Crows . . .”

“But, Miley, have you not told her it was Jens who killed Trine?” Beate asked.

“Yes, we have!” Chamomile exclaimed in frustration. “She was the first person I told. But she . . . She won’t reply to my messages . . .”

“We haven’t gotten a hold of her since the start of the summer vacation,” Kirstine said.

“I can see she’s reading my messages, but she never answers them,” Chamomile whispered. “I don’t know why.”

Victoria saw how Thorbjørn and Lisa looked at each other but said nothing. Benjamin did speak, though.

“It’s possible that Malou has just chosen her side, have you thought about that? Maybe she thinks Jens is innocent. Or maybe she doesn’t care because she’d rather be a part of Jens’s project.”

“What are you talking about?” Chamomile said. “Of course, she cares. Victoria, say something!”

Benjamin shrugged and looked at her questioningly. Victoria’s headache pounded at her temples. She had been thinking along the very same lines herself. How far would Malou be prepared to go to fulfill her ambitions?

“I don’t believe that she doesn’t care,” she said, looking away from Benjamin and over to Chamomile. “But Jens can be very convincing . . .”

“Quite. And he is obviously planning to start a minor revolution,” Benjamin said. “You heard it yourselves what he was saying about the Committee of Mages?”

“Yes,” Chamomile said, “but what is that?”

“Magicus Comité was a forerunner to the Council of Mages we have today,” Jakob explained. “But the Committee was far more powerful than the Council is. It was more a kind of secret, powerful elite, hidden from ordinary people but tightly linked to the royal court. And it was rotten to the core with corruption. They say that some kings were merely puppets who were manipulated by those powerful mages, who busied themselves practicing dubious magic and getting their hands on land and privilege. Many Committee members also had honors bestowed upon them by the king. But after democracy was introduced and the monarchy lost some of its power, the Committee was also weakened, and at the beginning of the 1900s, it was dissolved and replaced with the Council of Mages.”

“And Jens is just thinking of resurrecting the Committee, or what?” Beate said. “That sounds like madness. How did people react to that?”

“I’m not completely sure,” Chamomile replied. “Most of them clapped. But then all that stuff happened with Victoria, and we marched out of there. Have you ever heard Jens talk about that before?”

Thorbjørn and Lisa looked at each other. “We’ve barely heard anything from him. The year-planning for the next school session should have been started a long time ago,” Lisa said. “We have wondered if he is trying to freeze us out. And after what we’ve heard here tonight, I’m almost certain that he won’t want us interfering.”

“There’s something I don’t understand,” Thorbjørn said, who until now had been sitting deep in his own thoughts. “Kirstine’s rune incantation. There’s no doubt that it was very powerful,” he continued, “and Kirstine is a rune mage with unusually strong powers. I’d hazard a guess that any other person hit by that would have been knocked instantly off their feet. But Jens wasn’t even affected by it, and it didn’t stop his attack on Victoria in any way.”

“What do you mean?” It was Chamomile’s mother who spoke.

Thorbjørn frowned. “Jens is a talented mage, but that should simply not have happened. There’s something going on here that we are not seeing.”

“I agree,” Lisa said. “You’ll need to keep quiet about all this until we have a better idea what Jens is up to and what his plans are. And I’m afraid that he was right with what he said to you all. If he