If someone had told me that my reward for preventing a revolution would be a week of enforced schoolwide harmony, I might have let the bread riots go just a little bit longer.
Instead, here I was: seated in the Headmistress's office beneath a portrait of a scowling ancestor and a surprisingly judgmental cactus, listening as Headmistress Weller outlined my doom with all the warmth of a frosted dagger.
"Peace Week," she said, enunciating each word as though she'd bitten into a lemon. "You're in charge, Elyzara. If the school ends up in ruins or we discover a single clandestine magical duel in the girls' lavatory, you're out off the student council, out of the magical archives, and your House loses seventy-five points."
My mouth went dry. The archives were my lifeline: without them, I'd never know what storm was truly gathering beyond these walls.
Headmistress Weller narrowed her eyes. "We expect not just peace, but unity. Understood?"
