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“So it’s very important that the educators have the correct information, then, I suppose,” said Merletta innocently. “And remember it accurately.”
Ibsen’s eyes narrowed as he studied her. “Indeed.”
As soon as he turned away, Sage shot Merletta a warning look, and she subsided, raising one hand slightly in a gesture of surrender. She wasn’t sure there was much point pretending to play along with Ibsen, though. It wasn’t as though anything she did or said would change the hatred he had for her.
When the small group of trainees met for their combat lesson early the next morning, Andre floated up beside Merletta.
“Ibsen was really on the warpath yesterday, wasn’t he?”
Merletta shrugged. “Is that any different from normal?”
“Seemed worse than last year to me,” Andre commented. “You’re going to need to be careful.” He hesitated. “Sage told me it was your birthday a few days ago.”
Merletta nodded. “That’s right.”
“Happy birthday,” he said. “Eighteen is a big deal. I wish you’d told us.”
“Why?” Merletta asked, surprised. “I don’t have a home or a family to host a celebration, so there didn’t seem much point.”
“We could have had our own small celebration,” Andre insisted.
“That’s what I said,” Sage chimed in. “But she didn’t want to make a fuss.”
“That’s your job, isn’t it?” The snide comment came from Lorraine as she drifted past, her eyes fixed on Andre.
“Oh, shut your clam hole, Lorraine,” Andre said tartly.
He didn’t seem especially bothered by his fellow second year’s words, but Merletta felt her face heating at the reminder of her misstep regarding Andre’s birthday celebration. Clearly the gossip had spread to Lorraine, which meant it was probably all over the Center.
“About that, Andre,” she started awkwardly.
“No need to say a word,” he told her firmly. “You did nothing wrong, and I didn’t read anything into your request which wasn’t there.” His voice took on a scolding tone. “You shouldn’t have swum off like that when the event had barely begun.”
Merletta shrugged. “I’d done what I came to do.”
“And?” Andre’s eyes had become keen.
Merletta nodded curtly. “Successful communication. And…” She lowered her voice. “Successful outing the following day.”
Andre looked more eager than ever, but Sage made a warning noise. Merletta looked up to see Oliver swimming past nearby, and they dropped the topic.
“Trainees!” Agner’s cheerful voice carried across the square, and they all turned to see the older merman swimming toward them. “Everyone ready to fight? Merletta, welcome back. Good break?” He didn’t wait for a response, rubbing his hands together as he looked at the group at large. “Excellent, excellent. We’ll start you right off against Oliver, I think.”
When the group broke for lunch—Merletta bruised but satisfied by her efforts, given she’d actually won a bout against Oliver for the first time—Agner signaled to Merletta to approach him. Sage and Andre cast her curious glances as they swam out of the training yard, but Oliver didn’t even look back, evidently still disgruntled about his loss.
“Is everything all right, Instructor?” Merletta asked.
Agner nodded. “You did well this morning. I’m glad to see you’ve stayed in shape over your break.” He considered her for a moment, as she waited for him to get to the point. “This year will be different for you, Merletta. Physical training isn’t the focus—which means I can’t help you as much as I did last year.”
Merletta nodded. “I understand. Instructor Ibsen is my main instructor for third year.”
Agner raised an eyebrow, and Merletta grimaced, silently acknowledging the unspoken words about the likelihood of Ibsen actually teaching her anything.
“Third year isn’t an easy year to pass,” Agner said. “It’s not too late to change your mind, you know. You could stop here, claim a place in the guards. We’d welcome you readily.”
“Thanks, Instructor,” Merletta said firmly. “But I’m determined to continue.”
Agner sighed. “All right,” he said, his voice dropping to a mutter. “On your head be it.”
