When the debate starts getting personal, with people shouting about the guilt and emotional turmoil their mother or brother or neighbor has to live with every day—“Surely that’s punishment enough!” a guy from the front row yells—Irwin brings it to a close. We’re told to report to the training center for the next three hours. After lunch we’ll be back here for another lesson with a different mentor.
Chatter rises, along with the scraping of chair legs against the floor. Saskia’s textbook slaps shut before scooting toward the edge of the desk and dropping neatly into her bag. I stand, feeling the stirring of nerves in my stomach again. Surviving a lesson was easy enough; now I have to survive three hours in the training center. Three hours that most likely involve one-on-one combat with someone from this room who wishes I wasn’t here.
Well, I suppose it’ll be like fighting a real opponent then.
Saskia stands and lifts her bag onto the desk. “You don’t look the way I imagined,” she says, tilting her head to the side and examining me.
“Oh.”
“I’ve never met anyone with actual gold in their hair.” She pulls her own hair over her shoulder and twists it around and around, the red and brown strands tangling together. “I suppose it’s just another thing that makes you different.”
Different. Yeah. Not something I want to be. “Um, thanks.” Her probing gaze makes me uncomfortable, but that bright smile is back on her face, so I figure I should take the opportunity to try and make a friend. “And thanks for coming to my rescue with the textbook.”
“Oh, sure, of course. Any excuse to sit next to you.” She leans closer and lowers her voice. “I wanted to be the first to ask you about the boy and the bicycle.”
“W-what?” A slow chill creeps up my spine. The boy and the bicycle. Incident Number Four.
“You know,” she says. “That boy at the healer school who suddenly started riding his bicycle in frantic, weird patterns because he was convinced he was riding through a maze with some terrifying creature chasing after him.”
I do know. I wish I didn’t, but I do. “That’s … not really …”
“My mom’s a healer, you see, so she heard about it from her friend who teaches at the school you were expelled from. She said your mom’s an Unseelie faerie who taught you dark magic so you could make that guy go crazy as punishment for teasing you. She said I have to stay away from you. I told her she was being ridiculous, of course, and that I’d find out the real story from you.”
“I don’t have Unseelie magic,” I say automatically. “Neither does my mother.”
“Oh, yeah, of course not. I mean, there’s no way the Guild Council would let you in here if you did. But everyone knows weird stuff happens around you. So I just want to know how you do it.”
I glance around. Irwin is gone, and only a few stragglers remain, quietly gathering their things. I resist the urge to hug my arms tightly around my middle. “I don’t do anything,” I say to Saskia.
“Come on, share your secret. Otherwise everyone’s going to think you do know dark magic.”
I step closer to her. “I don’t have a secret,” I say firmly, “and I don’t know any dark magic.”
She shrinks away from me as though in fear, but I can see a triumphant gleam in her crimson eyes, and I get the feeling this is the reaction she was aiming for all along. “So it’s true then. You do know dark, Unseelie magic, and the only reason the Council let you in here is because your brother’s now one of them so he can cover up your secrets.” She steps backward and raises her voice to add, “I guess we’ll have to stay away from you after all.”
CHAPTER
SIX
Ten minutes later, after quickly changing into my training gear and taking a few moments to push down the anger beginning to boil deep inside me, I join my classmates in the vast hall that serves as the training center. Most of them have already moved to various stations around the hall—running, balance practice, high bars, stick fighting—but a few are still standing in front of the notice board examining the schedule. I move closer so I can read the names on the list. Two girls step hurriedly away from me, whispering to one another. Rather than shouting out that I’m actually not contagious, I pretend I didn’t notice.
I locate my name on the schedule and find my three hours of training divided into Climbing, Target Practice and Fish Bowl (Solo). My heart lifts at the sight of that small word in brackets. Thank goodness I don’t have to fight any of my fellow trainees just yet.
“Can’t I swap with someone?” Saskia’s annoying voice carries over the general hum of activity around me. I glance to the side and see her speaking to a woman standing by the door. “I don’t want to be next to her,” Saskia whines. “Don’t you know how dangerous she is?”
It doesn’t take a great deal of intellect to figure out who Saskia is talking about. I clench my fists and head for the far side of the hall. The climbing area is made up of trees, ropes, a cargo net, and various types of walls. The cargo net is the most difficult. I had to race Ryn up and down almost every day during my summer training, and I never once managed to beat him.
I choose a spot on the wide mat in front of the rock wall, sit down, and reach for the bracelet on my arm. Attached to the chain is a hollow bead used for storing items that are shrink-safe. I remove the bead and hold it in my palm while saying the words to enlarge it. When it’s reached its maximum size, I twist to open it. I take out my fingerless climbing gloves and pull them on before shrinking the giant bead and returning it to its place on my wrist. Then I spend a few minutes stretching. I’m about to jump up and start on the rock wall when a dark-haired girl sits down beside me.
“Hi,” she says. “I’m Gemma.”
I watch her warily. She seems friendly, but then, so did Saskia before she started accusing me of dark magic. “Look,” I say with a sigh, “if you’re here to ask about my Unseelie mother or if I can teach you how to make your ex-boyfriend go nuts, you’re wasting your time.”
Her eyes widen slightly. “Oh, you mean like Saskia?” She rolls her eyes. “Don’t worry. I don’t believe any of that. Saskia doesn’t actually believe any of the nonsense she’s spouting either. She’s just ticked off that the Council let you join us. Her cousin wanted to join the Guild when he was fifteen, and they didn’t let him. But that was because he didn’t pass any of the entrance tests they gave him, so it makes complete sense. You obviously did, so that’s why you’re here.” Gemma stretches her legs out in front of her and reaches forward to touch her toes.
Still uncertain of where I stand with this girl, I say, “And you don’t think I should have started at the bottom? In first year?”
“Well, you’ve been trained privately, haven’t you?” She straightens, then leans to one side and stretches the opposite arm over her head. “And you passed all the exams the Council gave you during summer break, right?”
I nod slowly as suspicion weaves its way through my mind.
“Yeah, so then you’re hardly any different from the rest of us.”
I cross my arms. “How do you know about the private training and exams?”
“Oh, my mom’s in the admin department here.” Gemma rolls her shoulders a few times. “Not the most exotic of jobs, but she knows more about what’s going on than most of the—”
“Heeey, ladies.” A tall guy skids across a shiny section of the wooden floor and drops onto the mat beside Gemma, almost knocking her over. “So,” he says, beaming at me. “You’re the new girl. The one who makes weird stuff happen to people. I was—Ow!” he exclaims as Gemma smacks him across the head. “What?”
“Don’t be nasty.”
“I was just joking. You know, lightening the mood.”
Gemma shakes her head. “This green moron over here is Perry. And this blue—” she says as a shorter, stockier guy takes a seat on her other side “—is Ned.” Ned gives me a shy smile, which I return hesitantly.
“Um, I thought it was rude to refer to people by th
eir color,” I say.
Gemma shrugs. “We’re friends. We don’t mind.”
“So, Calla,” Perry says. “Tell us about yourself.” The three of them stare while I blink awkwardly at them.
“This is weird. I kinda feel like I’m in an interview.”
“You are,” Perry tells me. “We’re interviewing you for the position of Friend.”
“Friend? Really?” It’s a nice thought, but after my experience with Saskia, I can’t help wondering if Perry, Gemma and Ned have another agenda. “I thought we were supposed to be training now.”
“Nah, don’t worry about that.” Perry leans back on his hands. “Nobody gets serious about anything until at least the second session. Well, except the overachievers.”
“Plus the Head Councilor’s visiting today,” Gemma adds, “so no one’s paying attention to us. They’re all running around the rest of the Guild trying to keep up appearances—”
“A little difficult when a valuable item has just been stolen from the artifacts level, wouldn’t you say?” Perry interrupts, his eyes widening and eyebrows climbing.
“Hey.” Gemma nudges his arm. “You’re not supposed to know about that.”
“You’re not supposed to know about that,” Perry says, “but your mom tells you every—”
“Would you prefer me not to pass on all the interesting bits of information I—”
“Guys,” Ned says.
“Right, sorry.” Perry returns his gaze to me. “We tend to ramble at times.”
“How about all the time,” Ned mutters.
“You know what?” I say to them, pushing myself to my feet. “I probably don’t fit into the overachiever category, but I do feel like I need to prove I belong here, so … I’m gonna get on with climbing this wall.” I hurry away from them before they can say anything else. I know I’m being rude, but I can already predict how this will end. There are only two options. Either these people are being over-friendly because they want something, or they’re being over-friendly because, well, they’re genuinely friendly people. And if that’s the case, it’ll hurt a whole lot more when they decide I’m not worth hanging out with after all.
I stop at the foot of the rock wall. Painted along the bottom are ten small clock faces. No one else is climbing here, so I pick one in the middle. I touch the clock, the painted second hand begins moving, and I start climbing. I move as quickly as I can, reaching for handhold after handhold, never slowing for a break, never allowing my fingers to slip. I slap the ceiling with my hand, then begin the descent without a moment’s pause. I feel the way with my toes. Down and down and down, until eventually I drop to the floor. I smack the clock face, then stand back as smoky black numbers float into the air.
Darn. Not my fastest time. I can certainly do better.
I glance briefly over my shoulder to see if Gemma, Perry and Ned are still sitting on the mat, but they’re gone. It’s a relief to know no one’s watching me.
I climb the rock wall a few more times, then the tallest tree, and then give the cargo net a go. I navigate the squares of knotted rope as quickly as a I can, but the smoky black numbers that rise off the painted clock face when I’m done tell me I’m nowhere near Ryn’s time.
For my second session target practice, I’m not alone. I’ve got Saskia on my left and a guy on my right. Saskia’s throwing knives—and doing an excellent job of it—while the guy practices with a bow and arrow. They’re both using their guardian weapons, which means I should probably do the same. I roll my shoulders, pretending to loosen up while focusing on the sparkling throwing star that’s part of my invisible collection of weapons.
Come on. See it, feel it, pull it right out of the air.
Finally, after plenty of internal instruction, I grasp the air and find a throwing star between my thumb and forefinger. I pull my arm back, line up my elbow, then bring my hand down fast. The star hits the target almost exactly in the middle. I allow myself a quick smile. There’s a reason I’ve practiced this particular weapon more than anything else: it’s always been my favorite.
Once I get going, it’s easy to keep pinching the air and finding a new throwing star in my grip. The target is enchanted so that seconds after a weapon strikes it, the weapon vanishes. It makes for an uninterrupted practice session.
When the hour is up, I head for the Fish Bowl feeling pleased with myself. Aside from the throwing stars, I practiced with several other knives from my guardian collection, and I did a pretty good job. Not as excellent as Saskia—I kept track of her performance from the corner of my eye—but good enough to show anyone who might be watching that I know what I’m doing. Hopefully any rumors that I don’t belong here will soon die.
I hang around the edge of the giant white orb known as the Fish Bowl, waiting for the setting designer to tell me I can go in. She’s standing on a platform above the orb with an amber tablet in one hand. She makes a few notes on the tablet with her stylus, then calls out, “Next trainee, you’re up.”
I step forward and push my way through the wispy white tendrils, wondering what I’ll find inside the orb today. I’ve enjoyed most of my Fish Bowl experiences. Some were solo like this one, where I was required to fight against the environment inside the orb, while in others, I had to fight an opponent. I’ve been chased through a jungle by nameless creatures, I’ve fought Ryn on a ship in the middle of a stormy sea, I’ve outrun flowing lava from an erupting volcano, and I’ve swung through a forest of vines while fighting off a hippogriff attack. All without weapons or magic. That’s the Fish Bowl rule.
The vapors around me disappear, and my ears are assaulted by the crashing of brick and concrete against tar and the rumbling of the earth as tremors race through it. The ground shudders, causing me to lose my balance. I grab onto a street light before I fall, my eyes darting around as I take in my surroundings. I’m on a city street surrounded by crumbling high-rise buildings. Crushed cars and giant pieces of rubble litter the road. I hear a scream. In the distance, a small girl stands in the middle of the road.
I have to get to her.
I push away from the street light and jump onto the nearest car. A shadow passes over me, and I hop onto another car as a broken piece of building crashes onto the spot I was just balancing on. I clamber over and around more rubble, dodging falling items and struggling to keep my balance as the ground shakes. The girl screams again, but we’re separated by more cars and the shattered wreckage of a giant word that must have been attached to the side of a building not too long again.
Then I see my way to the girl. A concrete pipe. Cracked, but still intact. Looking through it, I see her on the other side. I run to it, telling myself how easy it will be to crawl through and get to her. I place my hands on either side of the opening and get ready to crouch down.
But I can’t. I can’t, I can’t, I can’t. Panic sets in as I imagine the concrete closing in on me, squeezing tighter and tighter, trapping me until there is no air, no light, no way out. My throat constricts. My breath shortens.
I back away, forcing myself to breathe deeply in and out. I’ll navigate the deadly shards of broken building signage if I have to, but I won’t crawl into that tunnel. I hurry away from it. The ground shudders once more. A jagged line races toward me, splitting the road in half. I jump out of its path and land against the side of a car. The concrete pipe rolls to one side, and the sign slides to the other. I see the girl clearly now, further ahead and on the other side of the chasm that divides the road. Behind her, a car goes up in flames. The shuddering ground keeps tilting, its gradient increasing, and the burning car and surrounding rubble begin rolling toward the girl.
I run at the chasm and leap with all my might. I need to knock the girl out the way. I need to reach the other side of the chasm. But it’s wider than I thought, and instead of landing on the other side, I find myself falling, falling, falling. Arms flailing. Darkness growing.
And then it’s all gone. I’m lying on my back blinking up at the white wis
ps of the Fish Bowl’s surface, my body shaking and my breath coming in quick gasps. I sit up and look around the empty orb.
I’ve failed. Day one as a real trainee, with who knows how many of my classmates watching on, and I’ve failed.
Dammit.
I pound my fist against the floor before standing. That stupid concrete pipe. Why did that have to be the only way to the girl? Why did I have to freeze instead of calmly crawling through it? Surely I’m old enough now to move past this ridiculous fear.
Apparently not.
I stride toward the edge of the orb and push my way through the vaporous barrier. On the other side, I try not to meet anyone’s gaze. Why are people standing around? Don’t they have their own training to do?
“Do you want to go again?” someone calls to me. I look around and up and find the setting designer peering down at me with raised eyebrows. “You’ve still got plenty of time left in this session,” she says.
“Uh, no.” I back away. “I’m feeling a little lightheaded. I’m just going to … sit down.” I turn and almost walk into Saskia.
“Wow, that was impressive,” she says as I jerk to a halt. “You lasted, what, a whole two minutes?”
“Stop being such a troll, Saskia,” Gemma says, walking up to us with her arms folded over her chest.
“Hey, I’m just stating the facts. Miss Nepotism wants us to believe she’s guardian material, but she can’t even make it through a solo experience in the Fish Bowl.”
“Miss Nepotism?” I demand. I’m frustrated enough as it is without this girl implying that the only reason I’m here is because my brother is on the Council.
“Yeah, you know, it means—”
“I know what it means,” I snap. “And I’ll have you know that the Council—before my brother was invited to be a member—laid out a long list of requirements for me, and I passed every single one. So I have just as much right to be here as you do.”