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It was mostly true. Normally she brushed off the abrasive instructor’s insults, but it had stung a little to see Ileana’s sneer. It had taken Merletta a while to identify the change, but she finally had to admit to herself that she had been more sensitive about her orphaned status since discovering that Heath was some kind of noble.
That had been nearly two months ago, and it was almost the last conversation they’d had. He’d come only briefly the following week, and had said that he’d be unable to come for a while.
She’d assumed he meant one week, maybe two. But it had been five weeks of absence now, five times she’d made the swim all the way to the island, only to wait in growing depression for the entire day, with no sign of a dragon growing steadily larger in the westward sky.
Five weeks.
Even the heavy downpour of rain the week before—one of her favorite things to experience at the surface—had done nothing to improve her mood. She’d never been a big worrier, but she couldn’t help being afraid that something had happened to Heath.
Or that he’d lost interest in her.
The thought flashed through her mind that such an idea was almost worse. But she immediately chastised herself for the selfish thought, and for her continued abstraction, pulling herself back to the mermaid beside her. She needed to stop daydreaming about humans and focus on where she was.
“I’m glad you’re not letting him get under your scales,” Sage was saying, flicking her decorated brown tresses over one shoulder.
Merletta stared for a moment in growing panic, wondering how Sage could read her mind, before the other mermaid’s next words reminded her they were supposed to be speaking of Instructor Ibsen.
“He’s just cross that you performed so well in that practice test.”
“I should hope I performed well,” Merletta said dryly. “I barely slept the week before with how much time I spent in the public records chamber.” She sighed. “It would certainly be nice if I actually had help from my instructors in studying, instead of having to do most of it out of class time.”
Sage grimaced sympathetically, and for a moment they floated in silence. Merletta glanced toward the opening to the banquet hall, and the open water beyond. The days were at their shortest, and soon it would be truly dark. She could see the glow of a jellyfish cage at the entrance. She shivered slightly.
“But why are we talking about my practice test?” she asked, turning suddenly back to her companion. “Your real test is only a couple of weeks away!”
“Yes, and I’m sick of talking about it,” Sage said firmly. She gave a slight shudder. “And thinking about it.”
“Are you nervous?”
Sage gave her a look. “Am I nervous? Have you forgotten that combat is my weakest area? And that if I fail second year, my only fallback is to be a scribe, spending my entire life copying and re-copying harvest records for posterity? Yes, I’m nervous.”
Merletta opened her mouth, then closed it again. It was times like this that it was hardest to keep it in. It was so absurd to think that generations of scribes were copying records onto writing leaves day after day after day, when the human world had the means to make records that could last for centuries. But she had no idea what would happen if she told Sage about the island, and Heath, and everything.
She shook her head slightly. She was trying not to think about Heath.
“You can do it,” she said instead, in a bolstering tone. “You’re better in combat than you think you are. You beat me easily last time we fought, remember?”
“It wasn’t easily,” Sage said dryly. “And I’m pretty sure I got lucky.” She sighed. “But thanks. It’s just so unfair that I have to pass guard training to progress. I don’t want to be a guard—why can’t I skip straight to the educator assessment? That I can at least study for.”
“You’ll get the chance to take that test,” said Merletta firmly. “And you’ll be all the tougher and stronger for having passed your guard test first. Oliver passed. I’m sure you can.”
If possible, Sage looked even more nervous. “Talking about Oliver’s test is not going to make me feel better. Did you see how nervous he was before he went in?”
Merletta nodded. “He looked almost as green as Emil’s tail.”
The joke failed to get a smile out of her companion. “And when he came out, he looked even worse. I get the sense he only just scraped by, which is terrifying. He’s definitely a better fighter than I am.”
“Surely it can’t all be about combat,” Merletta said. “He really won’t tell you a thing about the assessment?”
Sage shook her head. “Of course not, and I haven’t pressed him. We’re not allowed to talk about the tests to younger trainees, especially the guard test. It’s supposed to test your ability to respond to the unexpected.”
“I know,” said Merletta matter-of-factly, “but I wondered if you insiders really kept to those rules, when no one’s looking.”
“You’re an insider, too, Merletta,” Sage said firmly. “You’ve earned your place as a trainee, like anyone.”
Merletta just gave her a look, and Sage sighed.
“Besides, Oliver wouldn’t feel any loyalty to me. He’s from Hemssted, remember? They look down on those of us from Skulssted.”
