Page 49 of Devious Knight
That makes me smile wider and warms my heart. My mother was one of his favorite students. When Mom sold me the vision of Raventhorn, she included him. Chancellor Potalov is one of the kindest people I’ve ever met.
“Mom always spoke highly of you.” I’ve told him that before, but it feels fitting to say it again.
His pale gray eyes light up. “That’s good to hear, dear. Your mother was and still is to this day one of my favorite students.” Pride and adoration give more life to his voice. “It’s interesting that I wrote her recommendation letter for Central St. Martins in England and now I’m about to hand you over to Cambridge.”
“Yes, my lord.”
“I must admit it was easier to let her go because she was about to graduate. I’ve barely had the chance to know you, but I guess that’s not a problem as I’ll be leaving, too. But I do hope Raventhorn didn’t let you down.”
I take in the wisdom in his eyes along with the wealth of concern for me there. I imagine that this must be strange for him because the transfer rate here is so low it’s practically non-existent.
“No, Raventhorn hasn’t let me down.”
“That’s reassuring to hear. It will be sad to lose you to Cambridge, Isabelle Kolyav, but I know Christian Degas will be gaining one of the finest artists in this world.”
“Thank you so much for your kind words. Does that mean I have your approval?”
“Absolutely. I don’t think we need to do a full interview.”
Wow, finally something easy.
“Do you have any questions?”
“No. I think I’ve sorted out everything on my end.” I’d emailed him this morning to confirm that the sculpture is all done, so there really is nothing left to do.
“Perfect. I’ll arrange for the liaison to schedule the review for Monday morning. Until then just make sure everything is in order. If you have any questions between now and then you know where to find me.”
“I really appreciate everything you’ve done for me.”
“It’s my pleasure. Good luck, Isabelle. I wish you all the success in the world.”
“Thanks, my lord.” I bow my head again and leave, grateful for the brevity of the interview.
I’m exhausted. And now I’m relieved.
Since I don’t have anything more to do today, I decide to head to the art studio and do all my final checks. I checked everything already yesterday but it couldn’t hurt to do one last review. Then maybe I’ll see what the girls are up to after.
I reach the studio within fifteen minutes. There are a few students inside talking with the TA, so I wave to them before I head to my workshop.
Just before I reach the door I notice that it’s ajar and my stomach squeezes.
I locked that door yesterday. I know I did. I wouldn’t have left it open with my sculpture inside. The janitor wouldn’t have gone inside either. They know not to enter a workshop if the door is locked. It becomes a do-not-disturb zone and as out of bounds as a crime scene.
I push the door open and walk inside.
Two steps in I stop short, everything inside me shattering when I see that the head and torso of my sculpture are on the floor, smashed to pieces.
My hands fly up to my cheeks and the air leaves my lungs. Tears instantly pull at the back of my eyes and I feel weak.
The room starts spinning and my legs shake so badly I have to grab on to the edge of the table to keep myself from falling over.
“Oh my God.” The words whoosh out of me like air and I feel sick.
Someone did this.
Who the hell could have done this?
Wait…