“Teach me your ways,” I say, breathless and awed.
Sabrina shakes her head, coming back to reality.
“Come on,” she says. “We better go grab our bags, if that dickhead driver even left them for us.”
We jog back down the stairs, finding my duffle bag and Sabrina’s suitcase unceremoniously chucked on the lawn. That’s better than the alternative, so we scoop them up happily, high on the relief of not being expelled.
As we’re doing so, Chay Wagner and a tall girl with a long sheet of ash-blonde hair and dark gothic makeup come running up to us.
“What happened?” Chay cries.
“Do we need to go talk to the Chancellor?” the goth girl asks.
“No, it’s fine,” Sabrina says, already recovering her grin. “He let us off with a warning.”
“He did?” Chay says, mouth hanging open.
“I think he liked Sabrina,” I tell her.
“Liked you?” the goth girl says, mystified. “Since when does the Chancellor like anybody?”
Sabrina shrugs, already bored of talking about it. “This is Nix Moroz, by the way,” she says.
“Anna Wilk,” the goth girl replies, giving me that wary and slightly repulsed look that I’m already coming to despise.
In this instance, I can’t exactly fault her. I nearly got her cousin expelled within ten minutes of meeting her.
“I’m really sorry about all this,” I say, trying to clear the air. “I’m not here to cause problems. I just want to go to class like everybody else.”
Anna sighs. “It’s Kingmakers,” she says. “Causing problems is like everybody else. Classes are a secondary pursuit.”
“Let’s go drop your bags off before we miss dinner,” Chay says.
The older girls give us a quick tour of campus as they lead us to our dorm.
“You already saw the Keep,” Chay says. “That’s where most of your classes will be held, except for the ones in the Smithy, or the Armory, or the shooting range outside the castle walls.”
“A shooting range?” I say, perking up.
“You like to shoot?” Anna asks.
“Yeah.” I nod. “I go hunting with my dad—bow hunting, mostly. I like archery in general—target shooting, trick shots . . .”
“You’ll be good at Marksmanship, then,” Chay says.
“That’s the Armory over there,” Anna points to a low, round building west of the Keep. “That’s where all your Combat classes will be held. There’s an underground pool under the gym.”
Kingmakers is sounding better and better.
“I love swimming,” I say.
We’re walking to the north end of campus, passing a large, terraced garden fragrant with mint, basil, rosemary, and lavender. Beyond the garden, I see a tall, angular structure that can only be the Octagon Tower.
“That’s where the male Heirs have their dorms,” Chay says, confirming my guess. “And then over here—” We pass a long, stone platform surrounded by orange trees. “Here’s where we stay—the Solar.”
The Solar is smaller than the Octagon Tower, likewise bordering the north wall, with its windows looking out over the dizzying drop down the limestone cliffs to the ocean below.
The rooms are bright and airy, the furnishings in delicate shades of blue, silver, and cream. Large mirrors hang on the common room walls, reflecting the clouds and sky from the glass-paned windows.
“These were the private quarters of the Lord and Lady of the castle,” Chay explains. “So it’s the prettiest part of Kingmakers.”
“The Chancellor’s office wasn’t bad,” Sabrina says.
Anna gives her a sharp look. “Be careful, Sabrina. Just because he was lenient once, don’t make the mistake of thinking he’s all bark. Remember what he did to Ozzy’s mom.”
I don’t know who Ozzy is, or what happened to his mom, but I’m guessing it wasn’t good.
“You’re right,” Sabrina says. And then, with an apologetic look at Chay, “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Chay says, squaring her shoulders. “Ozzy’s doing great. Honestly, I just want to get this damn school year over and done with so we’re not long-distance anymore.”
“You guys are gonna have to share a room,” Anna tells us. “Alyssa Chan demanded the single.”
Sabrina laughs. “She was trying to buddy up with me in Dubrovnik—guess she changed her mind.”
I feel a little flush of relief that Sabrina doesn’t seem to mind rooming with me, even after everything that happened.
Anna is still watching me as the two older girls show us our room on the second floor.
“It’s for the best,” Chay says. “That single is the size of a closet. Remember poor Zoe trying to squeeze in there?”
Anna laughs. “That seems like a hundred years ago.”
I’m reminded again how small my network is, compared to all these people known to Sabrina.
Our dorm room is no closet—it’s open and spacious, with twin beds pushed up against opposite walls, a carved wardrobe, and a stunning view.
Anna and Chay look around nostalgically.
“We stayed here first year,” Anna says.
“I almost like it better than our room on the top floor,” Chay says. “The one we have now is bigger, but the window looks the other way over the grounds. I liked the ocean.”
“It’s tradition, though,” Anna says. “The Seniors get the Lord’s room. This one probably belonged to a Lady-In-Waiting.”
“Or a mistress.” Chay grins.
Anna seems to remember we were supposed to be hurrying.
“Drop your bags off!” she says. “No time to unpack right now. Dinner’s only an hour long, and we already missed half of it.”
“Which bed do you want?” I ask Sabrina.
“I’ll take left,” she says.
“I’m right then,” I say, throwing my duffle down on the rough gray blanket stretched over the mattress with military precision.
“We’ll wait outside for you to change,” Chay says, eyeing my cargo pants. “They’re not fussed about how you wear the uniform, but you are supposed to wear it.”
“Right.” I nod. “I’ll be quick.”
5
The Spy aka Ares Cirillo
I’m standing at the window of the Octagon Tower when Anna and Chay cross the lawn, followed closely by two Freshmen girls. Through the bubbled glass I see them: Sabrina Gallo, and the other girl, tall and fit, with a mane of flaming red hair trailing down her back. She’s dressed in military gear, an olive-green duffle bag slung over her shoulder.
The loathing that boils up inside of me is immediate and intense.
She looks like her father.
Same bold set to the shoulders, same stride. Same bluish cast to her fair skin that seems to make the coarse, wild hair burn all the brighter by comparison.
Those features are scorched in my memory as the most abhorrent, the most revolting.
The hatred surprises me. I’ve spent so much time in frustration and waiting that I forgot I could still feel anger this acutely.