Page 17

Oda sat off to one side in a high-backed chair, perfectly still. Her round gold eyes moved across the line of newcomers one person at a time.

Then the names began.

The first belonged to the boy with the perfect hair who had jogged up the cliff steps two at a time the day before. He climbed onto the dais, placed his palm flat against the black stone, and waited.

The darkness inside the Beastglass shifted almost immediately.

A shape began to form beneath the surface, indistinct at first, then sharper as it moved forward. Gray fur appeared, followed by shoulders, a long muzzle, and pale eyes. Within seconds, a large wolf stood inside the glass, staring out at the hall.

The Fenhall students erupted. They stamped their feet against the gallery floor and started howling with absolutely no embarrassment whatsoever. The boy on the dais grinned.

"Pack," the registrar said.

He brought the stamp down on the ledger with a heavy thunk.

The girl with the matching suitcase went next. The Beastglass revealed a lynx with tufted ears and spotted golden fur, and the Solace students answered with a roar of approval. After her came a tall, gangly boy with ink stains on his fingers, whose reflection gave way to a gray heron. The Skyreach students applauded with considerably more restraint. A quiet young woman produced a badger, which prompted the Bramblegate students to pound their fists against the gallery rail.

Then the registrar called, "Tamsin Reed."

Tamsin straightened and marched up the steps with determined purpose. She planted her hand against the glass, and a sleek brown otter appeared almost at once, rolling onto its back inside the dark surface with an expression that somehow managed to look pleased with itself.

The Saltmere students lost their minds.

Tamsin laughed, did a quick shimmy on the dais, and pointed both hands toward the gallery before hurrying back down the steps, pink-cheeked and triumphant.

"Easy," she whispered, squeezing my arm with a damp hand. "You'll see."

I nodded, although my palms had become so sweaty that I had to wipe them against my jeans.

Everyone else had known what they were going to see. Every person who walked up those steps seemed to have spent their whole life knowing there was something else inside them, something waiting to be named.

I had never been anything other than exactly what I appeared to be.

"Wren Hale."

The registrar said my name without looking up.

I stepped forward.

The walk to the dais felt longer than it had for anyone else, mostly because I could feel the attention of the gallery settling on me as I crossed the hall.

Up close, the Beastglass felt colder than the rest of the room. The chill seemed to gather around its surface and press against my skin. My reflection was barely visible in the black stone: pale round face, glasses, hair pulled back with a scrunchie, cardigan hanging awkwardly from my shoulders.

I looked away.

"Palm flat, please," the registrar said, sounding bored.

I placed my hand against the stone.

It was cold and smooth beneath my palm.

Nothing happened.

I waited for the movement I had watched appear for everyone else. I waited for the darkness to shift, for some outline to form beneath the surface. I waited for the warmth I had felt from the iron seal when I first arrived.

The Beastglass continued to show nothing except my hand and the frightened blur of my own face.

I pressed harder.