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“Stop being so dramatic, Merletta,” said Ileana, schooling her features into an impressively convincing look of disdain. “If you can’t handle a decent fight, don’t accept my challenge.”
“Accept your challenge?” Merletta echoed. “You attacked me, two to one! I didn’t even know you were here!” She glared at the other girl, her hands tightening convulsively on her spear. “I let the jellyfish go, and I was willing to dismiss the pufferfish as a stupid prank. But this is too far, Ileana. You just tried to murder me!”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” said Agner, and Merletta was infuriated to hear a laugh in his voice. “Let’s not get carried away. I know emotions can run high in a bout between such…” he glanced between the two mermaids, “passionate rivals. But it’s best to leave those frustrations in the practice yard. No need for accusations.” He turned to Ileana. “What’s this about pufferfish and jellyfish?”
Ileana shrugged a careless shoulder. “I have absolutely no idea what she’s talking about, Instructor.”
Merletta narrowed her eyes. Enough. She should have reported the other incidents. It was foolish to think those pranks were like the ones she’d experienced at the charity home. Any one of them could have killed her. She had thought before now that it might have been ignorance that led Ileana, and most likely Jacobi, to choose such dangerous jokes. But this went beyond any prank.
“I want to see Instructor Wivell,” she said abruptly. “He’s the chief instructor, right?”
Jacobi looked more nervous than ever, but if Ileana felt any fear of being exposed, she showed no sign of it. Her expression was a perfect blend of disdain and boredom.
Agner sighed. “Merletta, I would encourage you not to make more of this than necessary. The other instructors don’t appreciate being appealed to about injuries sustained during training.”
“I want to see Instructor Wivell,” Merletta repeated stubbornly.
An hour later, her blaze of determined anger had abated, and she felt close to tears as the aftermath of the incident began to wear her down. The fact that she’d been kept waiting so long didn’t bode well for Wivell’s reception of her complaint.
When she was finally waved into his office, she was disheartened but not surprised to see the stony look on his face. When she stated the details of the three potentially fatal attacks, his expression didn’t change in the slightest.
“Do you have any proof that these weren’t just accidents, or that any trainees were involved?”
“Not for the first two,” Merletta admitted angrily. “But believe me, Ileana was very much involved when she had her staff pressed to my throat an hour ago!”
Wivell waved a dismissive hand. “I don’t count that incident,” he said, sounding irritated. “Injuries sustained during training are inevitable and necessary if trainees are to reach the requisite level of combat skill.”
“Injuries like this?” Merletta gestured furiously to the bruises now blooming all over her body. Her voice was still raspy from the pressure on her throat. “And it wasn’t in training! They were waiting for me before class started, and attacked without warning!”
Wivell was unimpressed. “I am aware that Instructor Agner encourages his trainees to initiate their own bouts, and to test their skills in a variety of settings.”
“I’m telling you, she was trying to kill me,” Merletta insisted.
Wivell raised an eyebrow. “That’s quite an accusation. From what I understand, you were the one fighting with a sharpened spear, not your classmates.”
Merletta opened her mouth in frustration, but closed it again. Angry tears sprang to her eyes as she realized she should have listened to Agner. It was clear that she wasn’t going to get anywhere with this complaint. It was also clear now why Ileana and Jacobi had come at her with training poles instead of spears. A chill passed over her at the realization of how easily they could have gotten away with making her death look like an accident.
“The other two incidents, then,” she said. “What was my crime there?”
“If these incidents happened,” said Wivell calmly, “why didn’t you report them at the time?”
“Because I didn’t think I’d be taken seriously,” Merletta snapped. “I can’t imagine what would have given me that impression.”
Wivell sighed. “I don’t appreciate my time being wasted, Merletta. I’m sure that at the charity home, such outbursts as this weren’t uncommon. But in more civilized society, we try to control our emotions.”
Merletta propelled herself toward the door without another word. There was no point in saying more. She didn’t know if Wivell supported the attacks against her, or if he simply didn’t believe they’d happened. Either option was equally possible.
But it didn’t matter which it was, because the message was clear. As long as it could be explained away as an accident, the instructors weren’t going to step in to protect her. Not even if her life was on the line. She was on her own.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Heath shifted his feet impatiently on the flagstones, earning him a reproving look from his mother. He stilled, but a moment later found himself drumming his fingers against the hilt of the dress sword he was required to wear for the occasion.
“What’s up with you, Heath?” Percival muttered from beside him. “I’m usually the one who can’t stand still for the lighting of the flame.”
Heath grunted. “Turns out you were right all along. This ceremony takes forever, and it’s freezing out here.”
“Boys,” their mother reprimanded, her mouth somehow not moving, and her placid for-public-occasions expression remaining firmly in place.
