Page 25 of Magic for Nothing

“Here we are,” I agreed, and followed him into what could have been any college dorm in the world. There was a bed on either side of the room; two nightstands; two bookcases. One side of the room was clearly occupied. There was a colorful duvet on the bed, there were books in the case, and most importantly, there was a large crossbow hanging on the wall next to the window. The other side was featureless and plain, waiting for an occupant.

“This is where you’ll be sleeping, for now,” he said. “Your roommate should be along at some point. She’ll get you acclimatized to the way we do things. Meals are served in the dining room, and the kitchen is open between times, but only for those in active training. Have you got clothes that you can move in?”

“You’ve been through all my stuff. You know I do.”

“Ah, but you see, I’m allowing you the polite fiction of my not knowing what your underthings look like. I’ll wait in the hall while you get changed. Choose sensible shoes.”

I blinked at him. “Why? What are we doing?”

His smile was quick and sharp. “Skills assessment, of course. Hurry now, no time to waste.” He stepped out of the room, leaving me to stare in blank confusion at the door.

Skills assessment. I should probably have been expecting that.

With a heavy sigh, I hoisted my suitcase onto the bed intended for my use. Fortunately for me, my cover identity wasn’t one to travel without workout clothes. There were yoga pants at the bottom of the case, and a tank top from the first episode of The Devil’s Carnival, which seemed to be in both character and poor taste. I stripped quickly, changed even faster, and pulled my hair into a ponytail before unzipping my backpack and sticking my head inside.

“I don’t know if it’s safe, so be careful,” I whispered. “But Professor Xavier is a jerk, so please, can you let me know that you’re alive?”

A squeak answered from the bottom of the bag. Mindy was still with me. Relief washed over me, stronger than I would have thought possible. I hadn’t failed her before I even got started. I could do this. I was Antimony Price, youngest daughter of the greatest family of traitors these people had ever known, and I could do this.

I straightened my shoulders and walked to the door. Leo was standing on the other side, patiently waiting for me. He grinned a little at my shirt.

“Did you see episode two?” he asked.

“Oh, yeah,” I said. “I liked the soundtrack for episode one better, but they both held together well. We going to do this?”

“We are,” he said, and offered me his arm.

I took it.

Seven

“There is no skill so specialized that it cannot be adapted to the business of survival. When all else fails, look to yourself for answers.”

—Evelyn Baker

In the training room at Penton Hall, trying not to freak out

MY FIRST IMPRESSION OF the training room at Penton Hall was simple: I was back in high school, and this time there was no chance I was going to be able to get a pass to let me skip P.E. All the requisite athletic gear was there, the balance beams, the tumbling mats, the horse; the open area currently playing host to a vicious game of dodgeball, with the players hurling the red rubber sphere at each other like they were hoping for a fatality; the basketball hoops, the climbing ropes, and—slightly less standard—the competition-size trampoline next to the indoor rock wall. It was the sort of place you’d use to train for the next season of American Ninja Warrior, and it was swarming with Covenant operatives.

Well. Maybe not swarming. There were maybe thirty people in the space, which was big enough to qualify as “Olympic sized,” and half of them were playing dodgeball. But this was still more Covenant operatives than I’d ever seen, and most of them looked cheerfully equipped to kill me if they thought they needed to. Chloe Cunningham was on the climbing ropes, having reached the top before locking her legs around her specific rope and flipping over backward. She hung there, content as a roosting bat, arms dangling and her fingers pointed toward the floor.

“Okay, this is a lot,” I said, watching one of the trainees hit another in the face with the dodgeball. “I feel like I should go have a nap before I try doing anything in this room.”

“It’s all right, Annie,” said Leo soothingly. “We just need to get a basic idea of what you can do, and then we can start your training. You grew up in the carnival. What can you do?”

“Um. I’m pretty good on a trapeze, I can do trampoline, I’m really good at falling without freaking out about it . . . I don’t have the center of gravity for tightrope, but I’m a decent tumbler.” I was lowballing myself. A lot. I’m a great tumbler, and if I’d had my sister’s itty bitty build and willingness to risk exposure, I could have been a medalist. Sadly, I’m too big for the competition circuit, and too ethical to do that to my family.

Being the good daughter that everyone thinks of as the bad daughter sucks.

“Trampoline, okay. We can start there.” Leo started across the room, picking his way between the various pieces of equipment with practiced skill. “I don’t suppose you know how to use any weapons, do you?”

“Um, knives.”

“Knives?”

“Throwing knives, you know.” I mimed a flinging motion. “I started practicing when I was a kid. Sometimes the townies could get a little aggressive with the carnie kids, and my mom wanted me to be able to take care of myself if something, um. Happened.”

Leo’s face softened. “I’m sorry. This has to be bringing up a lot of painful memories.”