I hear a virtual Babel of languages on the dock, though we all have to speak English once we arrive, as it’s the lingua franca of Kingmakers.
I try to find the most distant, unobtrusive corner of the ship so I can stay out of the way of the surly-looking sailors, observing my fellow students from a distance.
Everyone looks so much cooler and more confident than me. Plenty of them already seem to know each other, maybe because they’re from the same country, or because they’ve crossed paths with each other before.
I don’t recognize a single face. Until a merry girl with blonde curls taps me on the shoulder and says, “Cat? Is that you?”
“Yes?” I say hesitantly.
“I thought so! It’s me, Perry!”
“Perry?” I say blankly. And then, “Oh, Perry! Oh my god, you look so . . . so . . . different!”
She laughs. “I got into swimming and lost a lot of weight.”
I would never have known her as the same girl I met three summers ago at a resort in Monaco. I was there with my family and Perry with hers. Our fathers seemed friendly. I’m sure they had the same purpose in “vacationing” that week, though I never heard what it was.
It’s not only the weight that changed Perry—she looked like a kid when we built sandcastles on the private beach in front of our hotel. Now she’s confident and stylish, dressed in a jaunty beret and jacket that perfectly compliment her school uniform.
I feel childish by comparison, with my thick knee socks, flat oxfords, and too-long skirt. I notice that the rest of the girls had their green plaid skirts tailored to hit mid-thigh, which is vastly more flattering. I flush, thinking of all the unspoken rules that other people seem to intuit, which sail right over my head.
“I didn’t know you were coming to Kingmakers!” Perry says.
“It was sort of a last-minute decision.”
“What division are you?”
“Spy,” I say, with a nervous grit of my teeth.
“Ohh,” Perry says, eyebrows raised. “Good for you! I’m an Accountant.”
“I don’t know why they put me there,” I admit. “Maybe it was a mistake . . .”
“I don’t think they make mistakes,” Perry says. “You didn’t request it?”
“No.” I shake my head. “Definitely not. I expected to be an Accountant, too.”
“I wonder what happened?” Perry says curiously.
I hadn’t really pondered on it, since it seemed like just one more nasty surprise to pile on the shit heap.
“Well . . .” I say hesitantly. “I do know a bit about programming . . .”
In secondary school, I had a computer sciences teacher who was simply brilliant. She sparked my interest in all things technological. She told me I should go into programming, but I like art so much that I chose graphic design instead. Not that it mattered in the end, since I won’t be studying either.
“That could be it.” Perry shrugs. “There’s a lot of security system analysis in the Spy division. Some hacking, too. Or at least, that’s what my cousin told me.”
“I wish I was in your division,” I say wistfully.
“Me too,” Perry says. “We could have roomed together.”
My stomach sinks down further than ever. I’m going to be sharing a room with a stranger. Taking classes with strangers. Zoe and I will both be at Kingmakers, but who knows how much we’ll see each other. I feel so alone and so intimidated.
I don’t know how Zoe navigated all this on her own last year. She’s always been braver than me.
At least she told me where to board the ship and what the island is like. She went into all that blind. We don’t have any close friends who attended Kingmakers before us—just a few asshole cousins that we avoid at all costs.
I’m theoretically prepared as I cross the wide, empty expanse of ocean leading to distant Visine Dvorca. Zoe even forewarned me that the water will get choppy and rough as we draw close, so I feel the change in the pitching of the ship long before I see the limestone cliffs jutting up out of the waves.
“Wow,” Perry whispers next to me. She’s staring up at the castle fortress, as is almost everyone else.
I’ve never seen anything like it.
Kingmakers protrudes directly out of the rock, carved from the same pale limestone as the cliffs. It rises in tiers like a cake, rough and ancient-looking. Dark stains run down from the windows, as if the castle is crying. I’m sure it’s only the marks of rainwater, but it gives a strange sense of foreboding that isn’t helped by the grotesque and demonic gargoyles menacing each cornice.
Waves beat ferociously against the cliffs. Zoe warned me that the journey into the harbor would be difficult, and sure enough, the ship pitches and rolls so hard that it sometimes looks as if the masts will dip down into the water.
Once we’re inside the sheltered bay, however, the sea smooths once more and I’m able to look with interest at the little village encircling the docks.
It’s a pretty little town, the weathered wooden buildings stacked right up against the water on stilts, with spaces beneath so that rowboats can take the fisherman all the way to their doors.
The island rises up behind the village—fields and farms, orchards and olive groves, and patches of thick green forest. Then, at the highest and most distant point: the spires of Kingmakers.
The air carries the familiar salt tang of the sea, but also sharper, colder scents—pine and stone. Smoke and iron.
Several open wagons wait to take us to the school. I check to see if my suitcase was safely unloaded from the ship, but there’s too many students milling around to get a good look.
“Come on!” Perry says to me. “Let’s grab a seat!”
I follow her into the closest wagon, where she squeezes us into a group of kids she apparently already knows. They’re pleasant and friendly, but a quick round of introductions reveals that they’re all Accountants or Enforcers. I haven’t met a single other Spy, which isn’t helping my nerves.
Worse still, every time I explain my division I’m greeted with a bemused expression. I really must look as incompetent as I feel.
The Accountants division is the usual catch-all for the studious and introverted children of mafia families. It’s the place we can be useful. A job intended to keep us safe.
As a Spy, I’ll be nothing but a liability.
I’m scared I won’t even survive the classes. Nobody’s pulling any punches in Combat. We’ll use live ammunition in Marksmanship. Worst of all is Torture Techniques.
“They hook you up to a car battery,” a stocky Enforcer says. “You do it in pairs, and you take turns. One of you has to pull the switch, and the other has to take the shock. It’s to desensitize you. If you can electrocute your friend, you’ll have no problem doing it to an enemy . . .”
Perry’s friends are sharing the most outlandish and terrifying stories they’ve heard about Kingmakers.
“I heard at least five students die every year,” a slim Asian girl says.
“Bollocks,” a plump blond boy retorts. “It can’t be that many, or nobody would send their kids.”
“People do die,” a red-haired girl with a French accent says. “The year my oldest brother was here, a Senior hung himself in the cathedral.”