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“Honing.”
“Huh?”
“Emerging. Honing. Binding. The three Rites.” She tosses her dagger, catching it with her opposite hand. “To be inducted into the Order you have to complete them all. But Second Rite is honing your dagger, and it’s a pain! Been stuck on it for two Seasons.”
Mom gave me her dagger. I swallow, unsure what all this means.
“Good luck.”
Her brow furrows. I set my bag on the bed, where I notice a stack of clothes with a note and a thin wooden tiara. I pick it up. Abby takes it from my fingers.
“First Rite is the easiest. Especially for you.” She nudges me with her shoulders, grinning. “Your magic is probably so much more refined than anyone else’s here. Being a Marionne and all.”
I go cold all over, not my toushana, just bone-chilling angst.
“Once you start, you’ll emerge in no time. But for now.” She sets the wooden tiara on my head, and I pull it off, dread slinking through me. I told my grandmother I wasn’t signing that roster.
I pick up the note on the stack of clothes.
Quell,
Forgive me for my haste tonight. To be quite transparent, Prospects are breaking their necks to be admitted here. I haven’t found myself courting someone’s interest in, well, ever. I strongly encourage you to explore the grounds, pop into classes, or sessions, as we call them here, if you like. Allow me to show you who you are, what you’re capable of. Much of the world’s mysteries are at your fingertips. Have a good sleep.
Warmly,
Headmistress
Tears well in my eyes. Underneath her title is a hand drawn fleur. She’s wrong about me. Whatever potential she thinks I have like Abby, and the others here, that’s not me. A part of me throbs with longing at the glimpse of a life, a secret magical life, I could have if I were like everyone else here.
“I am broken,” I mutter, words thick in my throat.
Abby keeps talking, but I’m distracted by a small booklet that was underneath the note from Grandmom. I unfold it and remove a Post-it on it that reads, Just in case. Inductees Rules and Responsibilities.
“What’d the note say?”
“Nothing.” I toss it and the rule booklet in a trash bin.
“Okay, well.” She slides off my bed and back into her own, turned off, I guess, by my lack of enthusiasm and small talk. I feel bad. She’s trying to make conversation. I blink and see a house swallowed up in flames. Why couldn’t I have been in my own room, alone? Alone, I know. Alone, I can do.
“Breakfast opens at six, sessions start at eight,” she says, painfully nice, despite my inability to reciprocate. “It’s still pretty early summer, so sometimes sessions are outside. The last month of season, it’s too sweltering for that. If we leave early, I can give you a tour. What time is your first session?”
I shift uncomfortably. The truth, that I’m sneaking out of here the minute Mom shows up, hangs on my lips. “I don’t have my schedule yet,” I lie. “But maybe I’ll check out some sessions in the morning.”
Abby wraps herself in blankets, turning her back to me. “Sleep well, roomie.” She turns off her lamp, and I climb into bed in my clothes. Fortunately, she is already snoring and doesn’t ask any questions. I bury myself in the blankets. My bag with the few things I brought is at the foot of my bed, and my key chain is beside me so I won’t miss its glow. My fingers are warm and the cinch between my shoulders eases some. My toushana is settled, thankfully.
I shuffle under the blankets, restless before deciding to pull out the page Mom gave me with the address. I realize a postcard of a beach is clipped to its back. The water on the picture is so blue it can’t be real. I settle down in the covers but avoid lying too flat. I don’t want to doze off. Mom’s going to be here soon. Guilt worms itself through me for the hard time I’ve given her over all of this. My toushana has ruined not only my life but hers, too.
Somehow, someway, wherever we go next, I have to make sure Mom is not in harm’s way.
SIX
A man reaches into my chest.
And pulls out my heart.
I fall to my knees, cold all over.
Clutched tightly in his hand, he tips the glass, pouring.
