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“Oh yeah,” she nods. “I was gonna guess Russian—the accent sounds the same.”
“To you.” I grin. “Not to us.”
“Fair enough.” Sabrina smiles back at me.
There’s an easy comfort between us already—the kind that springs up between people who are blunt. It’s so much easier to know where you stand with someone who says whatever pops into their head, rude or not.
“Are you excited to go to Kingmakers?” I ask her.
“Hell yeah,” she says. “I’ve been jealous as fuck of all the fun my cousins have been having.”
“I’m jealous you’ve got cousins,” I say. “I don’t know anybody here.”
“You will soon enough. There’s less than a hundred people in our year. By Christmas you’ll know them all, and by springtime you’ll be sick of them.”
“That sounds . . . pretty nice,” I laugh.
“I recognize a few people,” Sabrina says, her eyes sweeping the bunches of students all over the deck. “That’s Leah Weiss over there—she’s from Chicago. Her older brother Jacob’s in the Spy division. I think she said she was gonna be an Accountant. Fucking kill me—I’d rather scrub toilets than balance books. No offense, if you’re one.”
“I wouldn’t mind it,” I say. “I like numbers. I’m an Heir, though.”
“Me too,” Sabrina says easily. Then, continuing her survey of the students, she adds, “That kid over there, I’ve seen him before, he’s from one of the Italian families in New York, but I can’t remember which one. Oh, and there’s the rest of my cousins!”
She waves to a boy with dark, curly hair and a friendly grin, who’s pushing his way through the crowd of students to join us. Right behind him follows a pretty brunette girl with delicate coloring and a reserved expression.
“There you are!” the boy says to Sabrina, puffing slightly.
“ThereIam!” she laughs. “Where the hell have you two been? I thought you were gonna meet me at the airport?”
“We missed the flight,” he winces. “It was my fault. Got pulled over—might have been speeding a bit ‘cause I was late picking Cara up from her house. Almost missed the boat too, quite honestly. They re-routed us through Madrid and then Bern. With the layovers, we only arrived an hour ago.”
Sure enough, both cousins look rumpled and sleep-exhausted.
Cara seems to accept the fuck-up with equanimity. Serenely, she says, “It doesn’t matter Caleb. We made it.”
Caleb is less gracious. “Thanks for NOT waiting for us on the dock!” he accuses Sabrina.
Sabrina laughs carelessly. “How was I supposed to know what happened to you? I left my phone at home, remember? No cellphones on the island. I wasn’t about to miss the boat out of solidarity.”
“Anyway,” Cara says to me, interrupting the pleasant bickering, “I’m Cara Wilk. This is Caleb Griffin.”
“You know Sabrina?” Caleb asks me.
“For about ten minutes,” I say. “I’m Nix Moroz.”
I think I see a strange expression pass over Caleb’s face, but he smooths it away as quickly as it came.
“Nice to meet you,” he says.
“What division will you guys be in?” I ask them.
“Enforcer,” Caleb says. “My brother Mi—I’ve got an older brother who’s Heir.”
“I’ll be with the Accountants,” Cara says.
“She’s actually a writer, though,” Sabrina says.
“Oh, really?” I say, curiosity piqued.
