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“Yes, we’re both from Skulssted. Same as Jacobi, although his family lives on the other side of the city. Jacobi and I had met a few times, but only because both of our mothers are record holders.”
“So you’re both legacy applicants,” Merletta mused, glancing at her fellow first year, his copper hair standing out across the dining hall. “That must be nice.”
Sage shrugged. “In some ways. It also comes with a lot of pressure. I think Jacobi feels it more than I do. My mother was thrilled that I wanted to apply, but she wouldn’t have pushed me to do it if I didn’t want to. I don’t think Jacobi ever had much choice.” She lowered her voice. “Don’t tell him I said this, but sometimes I get the sense that he’s afraid of not being good enough to pass the program, and letting his family down.”
Merletta studied the young merman thoughtfully, noticing for the first time the slight tension in the way he swished his burgundy tail back and forth, even while resting. She felt chastened. She’d been so reactive to Jacobi’s hostility that she’d never spared a thought for the struggles the other trainee might be facing himself. Sage’s willingness to reach out to Merletta wasn’t an anomaly—Merletta wasn’t the only trainee she’d watched with sympathy. She had taken a little while to show it, but underneath all her caution, Sage had a heart as kind as Tish’s.
Merletta looked back at the other mermaid, to find Sage watching her seriously.
“Emil’s not wrong though, that it’s a waste not to properly teach you. I’m glad I’m not the only one to notice how differently the instructors are treating you from the rest of us. I’ve never seen them be so obstructive with anyone else.”
Merletta just shrugged. Being singled out, in a negative way, was something she was very well used to from the home. She had always stood out, and her unwillingness to fall into line had ensured that she was constantly under scrutiny. She liked to think it had made her tough.
“Not all the instructors,” she reminded Sage with a grin. “Agner has taken to me well enough.”
“That’s an understatement,” said Sage dryly. “But it doesn’t make me feel better for you. He works you twice as hard as the rest of us. I don’t know how you can still swim by the end of some of his sessions.”
“It’s because he sees my potential,” Merletta said thickly, speaking around a mouthful. “Or at least, that’s what he claims.” She chuckled at Sage’s pained expression. “Believe me, I don’t mind. I like it. I can actually beat Jacobi now, but I still have a long way to go to match you older students.”
“I’m pretty sure you could match me,” Sage admitted. “I’ve never excelled in combat the way Ileana has.”
Merletta frowned. “Now why go and ruin a perfectly nice breakfast together by talking about her?”
Sage stifled a giggle, glancing around to make sure the other trainee wasn’t in earshot. Her gaze shifted to a large bruise on Merletta’s side, down where her skin met her scales, and her smile dropped away. “That bout with her last week was hard to watch, to be honest.”
“Nothing I can’t recover from,” said Merletta unconcernedly. “I’ll best her eventually, you’ll see.”
“I believe it,” said Sage, with conviction. She considered Merletta curiously. “Is it true that Agner has said he’ll start training you with the sharpened spears next week?”
Merletta nodded. “If I can satisfy him with my staff fighting this week.”
Sage looked impressed. “That’s early to start with spears. I didn’t until the start of second year.” She lowered her voice again. “Jacobi is as prickly as an urchin over it. He still hasn’t started with spears, and he’s been here months longer than you.”
Merletta shrugged again. “Is it true that when you train with a spear, you get to keep it? Take it with you everywhere?”
Sage nodded. “You become responsible for your own weapon. Mine’s stored in the barracks.”
“Why don’t you keep it with you?” Merletta asked, glancing at Sage’s empty hands.
“Why would I need to carry a spear around in the Center?” Sage asked blankly. “And it’s not like anyone’s going to steal it from our barracks.” She hesitated. “People don’t really steal in the Center. Is that…is that why you carry your satchel with you to meals?”
Merletta wasn’t surprised by the question. She’d noticed that while the other trainees all carried satchels to class, they often left them in their sleeping quarters during meals.
She gave a dry laugh. “You mean, because I’m from Tilssted, and therefore think there are thieves everywhere? No. I just like to be prepared, that’s all.” Plus, I don’t want anyone to find the evidence of my adventures while I’m out of the room.
“Have you thought about tying back your hair?” Sage asked suddenly, and Merletta blinked at the abrupt change of topic.
“Why?”
Sage shrugged uncomfortably. “I just think it would help, that’s all. The rest of us wear ours in braids, and it’s more practical, plus it looks a little less…wild.”
A defiant spark flared up in Merletta, and she was tempted to respond defensively. They had always been required to wear their hair in tightly confined—and unflattering—styles at the home, and Merletta had been relishing the freedom to let the dark waves float freely around her since becoming a trainee.
But the look in Sage’s eyes made her pause. She realized that the other mermaid wasn’t trying to criticize her, she was trying to help her. It was the memory of Emil’s expressionless face as he unexpectedly voiced his support for her that made up her mind. She had always operated with stubborn defiance, and it had gotten her incredibly far. But perhaps it was time for a more strategic approach.
She had assumed that Emil, and even Sage to an extent, was fully in line with the views of those in power. But it was becoming increasingly clear to her that she couldn’t judge people’s true opinions and concerns by the reactions they publicly showed. Those who knew the Center—and the program—much better than she did seemed to think it was important to give at least the appearance of compliance.
Perhaps it was time she learned something from them.
