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“Don’t!” I say. “Don’t touch me.” I grab my dagger from the ground and back away. He may be helpful, and perhaps trustworthy, but I must do this on my own. I have no choice. What I might feel doesn’t matter.
His mouth parts.
“You asked if you could assist. And my answer’s no, Jordan. Just . . . please, if you want me to succeed, the most helpful thing you can do is just . . . leave me alone. You said we’ve started over, so those are my terms.”
“As you wish.” His words are as steel as his revised composure. But in his eyes I see the boy who sat with me on the bench just a few days ago. I have wounded him.
“Thank you.” I take off before the thunderclouds in his eyes deliver on their promise of rain.
* * *
I couldn’t eat dinner because of nerves over my exam. I couldn’t sleep for the same reason. And I wasn’t ready to see Abby. So I stayed in the library going over my enhancer note cards until they kicked me out at two a.m. Then I found a settee in the hall not too far from the exam room, and that is where I wake.
I pull at a thread in the cornflower-blue cushion before fully realizing what I’m doing. I try to smooth it back down, but it doesn’t go, so I yank the rogue thread out, which only rips the fabric more. I put my bag over it and try to forget about it. I have bigger issues, such as how I’m going to keep my toushana calm as I push proper magic into my blade. There are seven others waiting to take the exam. Their daggers, all a bit different, rest on their laps.
“Good luck,” I say, when I make eye contact with one of them. They smile nervously and return the encouragement when our names are called.
“Could I see your daggers?” Dexler greets us with a bright smile, collecting our blades. “We inspect them first just to be sure there’s no funny business.”
I look over it once more before handing it to her. Then I force myself to think of positive things. The minutes tick like days and finally the doors open again, and we follow her inside. The exam room is a sparse classroom with a raised platform and podium. In the back, all of the Headmistresses sit at a long table. None of them smile in greeting this time.
“Where emerging shows one’s propensity for strengthening magic, honing demonstrates your measure of control.” Grandmom paces the length of the room and no one next to me moves. “Having access to magic is dangerous if you are not able to command it. The exam is one hundred twenty questions; you must finish them all. You will have one hour.”
I try a smile at Grandmom, but she only points at one of seven desks in the room. I slip into the chair and feel the Headmistresses’ stares fixed on me like sweat all over my skin. The hour winds by, and I answer each question with more certainty than the one before it. The Latin portion is much easier than I anticipated, but I still am careful to take my time, finishing last, and checking it over thrice before handing it to Grandmom.
She gazes over it. “Very good. The oral portion consists of four random questions, one from each of us. We’ll start with Quell.” She addresses the others, “Please take a seat back in the hall and await your name being called.” The door clicks following their patter of timid footsteps. “Do you need a moment?” Grandmom asks me. “Shall we proceed?”
“I’m ready.” Her brow rises. And I nod, assuring her that I am.
As ready as I’ll ever be.
“Take the podium just over there. We’ll go around the room, starting with House Oralia, then Ambrose, then Perl, finishing with myself. You have three minutes to respond to each question.”
“Good to see you again, Quell.” Headmistress Oralia throws her blond hair back over her shoulders. “My question is which enhancer is steeped in argala tea as a part of its mining process and why?”
I know this one. “Brazen Enhancers are mined from a volcano in a toxic region of the Kenetan Rainforest. It’s steeped in argala tea because the anthraquinones in argala have a neutralizing effect on any toxins that may have been absorbed by the stone during the mining process.”
Headmistress Oralia smiles, sitting back in her chair.
“Miss Marionne.” Headmistress Ambrose fixes her mouth in a clever smirk. “What are the limitations of known elixirs?”
Elixirs. The marks all the way up Octos’s arms turn on like a bulb in my memory. This is a trick question. There is a “known” limit for the rest of us, but not for House Ambrose because they aspire to surpass the bounds of the known. I can’t answer her in a way that makes me seem naive. I also can’t answer it in a way that suggests I know more than I should about the intricacies of her House. I clear my throat.
“The only limit is ours. There are twenty-three known elixirs. But with commitment to astute study, the possibility of discovering more is undeniable.”
“Mmm. Yes. I suppose that is correct,” she says, crossing her legs. Grandmom winks at me and my insides flitter.
“Quell.” Beaulah stands to administer her question and my heart knocks against my ribs. “What strands of magic are forbidden? And why?”
Grandmom’s expression at Beaulah narrows.
“Could you repeat the question?” I dig a nail into my palm.
She restates the question.
Know too much, and she’ll see right through you.
I twist the end of my dress. “I only know of one forbidden strand. Toushana.” I can count on one hand how many times I’ve said that word aloud. I hold still, careful not to flinch. “And it’s forbidden because . . .”
