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Now he was there every meal. And the four of them had spent the last few rest days together as well, leaving the Center to spend pleasant afternoons wandering through the markets of Skulssted with Sage while she was still on break. In fact, Emil was now such a fixture that Andre had stopped being starstruck. He gave the older merman a natural smile as he moved along to accommodate Merletta’s shift in position.
Merletta saw Oliver send a suspicious look at the four of them, but Emil met his eyes so unflinchingly that the trainee turned away without comment.
“Strange that there’s no one in third year now,” mused Andre.
“There will be soon enough,” said Sage, as she nudged Merletta.
Merletta shook her head. “I’ve just eaten, Sage. Don’t talk about my test—you’ll make me feel sick.”
“We’ve all seen more than enough of that,” muttered Lorraine, and Oliver gave a nasty grunt of laughter.
Again, Emil just looked at them. He said nothing, but his expression made them both subside. Something swelled inside Merletta as she watched Emil return calmly to his food. Having him on her side was worth more than pearls, and not just because he had the influence and access of a record holder. She’d had Tish at the charity home, and in her first year at the Center, she’d had Sage. And, in her stolen other life on Vazula, she had Heath. But she’d never had a group of friends like this before, a team who had each other’s backs.
She sometimes felt a twinge of unease at the inclusion of Andre—so young and enthusiastic—in their group. He’d wanted to be on good terms with them since he’d started in the program, but she still wasn’t sure he understood the cost at which the friendship had come. She’d tried, haltingly, to say something to that effect after their visit to August’s wife. She’d almost wondered whether he’d take the offered out eagerly, perhaps even be angry with her for throwing him into something so dangerous. But he’d surprised her with his fierceness in declaring that he wanted the truth as much as she did. August, he reminded her, had been a friend of his family’s.
She knew she should let him make his own decisions, but she still worried sometimes. Not that there was anything she could do about it. To anyone who might be paying the kind of close attention Merletta was worried about, Andre’s presence on their excursion to pay respects to the widow had already marked him as part of their group.
Her thoughts were cut off as the two Hemssted trainees rose into the water. The dining hall was beginning to empty.
“We’d better get to class,” Sage said.
As always, Merletta half expected Emil to drift along to class with them, like he had the year before. But of course he didn’t, instead nodding his usual calm goodbye and floating across the room toward the far exit, where the other record holders were disappearing.
Merletta entered Ibsen’s class without enthusiasm. She remembered dully a time when she’d thought it would be exciting to learn the history of the triple kingdoms as a trainee at the Center. She had an unpleasant feeling that the true history of the triple kingdoms probably would be exciting, and for all the wrong reasons. But as she was increasingly confident that what she was being taught was a heavily censored version, it was hard to take Ibsen’s classes too seriously.
She could be training for her guard test right now. She knew from what Felix had told her the week before that Freja’s patrol was once again going beyond the barrier today, to oversee a group of hunters. Now that would have been interesting!
“Rise.”
Ibsen’s curt voice pulled Merletta from her thoughts, and she realized the other trainees were all pushing off their seats, up into the water. She copied them, wondering what they were doing. She hadn’t been listening to a word.
“All year levels will participate in this task,” Ibsen said, his eyes narrowing slightly as they rested on Merletta. She was fairly sure he knew she hadn’t been listening. “You are to work in groups—according to your city of origin. Each group will give its presentation after lunch. You may access the public records in order to form your arguments.”
Merletta wanted to roll her eyes. It was childish, really. She’d been in the program for almost two years. Was Ibsen really still looking for opportunities to embarrass her for being from Tilssted?
There was very little movement in response to the instructor’s words, given that everyone already sat according to city. Oliver and Lorraine bent their heads together as they sank back into their seats, and Andre turned to Sage.
“You can join us, Merletta,” Sage invited.
Merletta saw Ibsen open his mouth to protest, but she forestalled him. “Thanks, but no thanks,” she said cheerfully to Sage. She gestured flippantly down her body. “This is the Tilssted team.”
Of course, it would help if she knew what she was supposed to be doing, but she wasn’t about to let Ibsen think he was getting to her. Fortunately, the trainees all drifted out of the room to take advantage of the public records. As soon as Ibsen was out of sight, Merletta put on a burst of speed and caught up to Sage and Andre.
“So what are we doing?”
Andre grinned, and Sage rolled her eyes. But before either could answer, a young mermaid wearing the bracelet of a Center messenger swam up to them.
“You’re Trainee Merletta, right?” she asked, and Merletta nodded. “There’s someone waiting to see you in the receiving hall.”
Merletta could feel her own wariness reflected in the suddenly tense posture of her companions. Who would be asking to see her alone, away from her friends?
“Who is it?” she asked cautiously.
“She said her name is Letitia,” the mermaid answered.
Merletta’s stiffness fell away at once. Tish was there? In the receiving hall to the Center of Culture?
“I’ll come now,” she said.
