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Emelle hesitated in the Wild Whispering archway as I turned to find Mr. Gleekle striding toward me, his cheeks tightening with a shiny, false smile as per usual. The sight of him soured my gut.
“Go on ahead.” He flapped a hand at Emelle. She gave me a last loaded glance before hurrying up the staircase that led to our testing rooms, leaving me alone in the lobby with the man who had branded me twice now. “Nervous, Ms. Drey?”
I refused to engage in small talk with him. He’d known who my mentor would be and had to know under which conditions Fabian was being kept right under his nose. “Did you need something?” I asked.
“Ah, yes.” Mr. Gleekle’s smile faltered. A slight wind puffed around us, as if he’d just let out a nervous belch of magic. “I would like to inform you that after your Wild Whispering tests, you are to return to this lobby with your fellow pre-elites for a little… bonus test, if you will.”
My heart bottomed out. Okay, so maybe I wouldn’t just be facing a few centipedes and ocelots today. What did a pre-elite test even look like? Would it be dangerous, or merely “very, very uncomfortable” like all the normal quarterly ones?
The return of Mr. Gleekle’s smile told me I’d be lucky to get the latter.
I could only hope that all my party tricks would be enough.
Up in our first testing room, Mrs. Smetlar snapped the door shut.
“Take a seat, take a seat, or don’t you want to pass your test?”
Everyone hurried to a desk, although there weren’t any papers and pens on their surfaces this time. Instead, a strange assortment of leaves, herbs, ferns, and other plucked pieces of the jungle were strewn across each of them.
I slid into a seat between Emelle and Rodhi, chewing on my lip as I tried to piece together what this meant. A bad feeling roiled in my chest, especially when Mrs. Smetlar merely stood by the bloodred armchair at the front of the testing room with an expression that suggested she was about to rip into our carcasses.
“Today, you will not be completing a History test in the typical sense.” Her shoulders jutted as she clasped her hands behind her back and began a creeping pace. From somewhere behind her, hidden from view, a strange, click-clacking voice began to spew out muffled words. “Rather, you will have to rely on past historic events to shape your decisions in the present. Any volunteers?”
Nobody raised their hand. Nobody spoke besides that mysterious, muffled voice from somewhere behind her. But I saw the moment Mrs. Smetlar’s eyes slid to Rodhi’s knee. His leg couldn’t stay still, jiggling in place.
“Ahhh, Mr. Lockett! Thank you for volunteering. Kindly take a seat here.”
She gestured at the bloodred armchair.
Rodhi only hesitated for a moment. Hands shoving against his desk, he raised himself to his full height and marched to the armchair before sinking in. Elbows resting on the velvet arms. Chin tilted high. Ready for whatever was about to come.
Mrs. Smetlar couldn’t contain her delight now. From behind the armchair, she stooped low and brought up a rusted canister topped with a threaded lid. After unscrewing it, the voice grew louder, spitting out words that we all strained to hear.
“Hungry. Hungry. Must eat. Can’t wait.”
Emelle flung me an alarmed glance. Gileon shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Mrs. Smetlar peered inside with a twist of her mouth, but didn’t reach in to grab whatever animal was rattling around inside.
No, she simply tossed it out, right onto Rodhi’s lap.
I’d barely registered the scorpion—roughly the size of a teacup with a pale, watery yellow exoskeleton and lobster-like pinchers—before its tail curved forward with lightning-speed and stuck right into Rodhi’s thigh.
From somewhere behind me, Cilia and Mitzi screamed. Rodhi himself barked out a cry and ripped the scorpion off him before it could dig into his flesh. When the scorpion began scuttling along the carpet, Mrs. Smetlar slammed the canister back down on top of it, trapping it within, and sighed happily at us.
“Well, there you have it, class! Your first History test of the year is to create an antidote to the effects of scorpion venom to save your classmate’s life.” She nodded at all the herbs and leaves scattered across our desks. “Referencing, of course, the great scorpion infestation of 37 AF. Best of luck to you!”
My heart dropped through the floor, down and down and down.
At this point, I knew Mrs. Smetlar’s game. She’d never taught us about any scorpion infestation, and we certainly had never learned how to create an antidote. All I knew about the creatures was that most kinds couldn’t produce enough toxins to kill a human.
But this… this was personal. Just like the enlarged centipede from the beginning of the year, just like the quicksand in Mrs. Wildenberg’s class and the chains holding Fabian back, this scorpion had been magically enhanced.
Right on cue, Rodhi jolted in the armchair and began to seize.
CHAPTER
31
RAYNA
