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Heath made no attempt to argue this time. With a last lingering look, and a swift squeeze of the hand, he stepped back, allowing Reka to seize his shoulders.
“Goodbye, Merletta,” he said. “For now.”
* * *
The following fortnight passed interminably for Merletta. In spite of the softening words, Heath’s farewell had felt uncomfortably final. But he would be back. She knew he would. He’d promised that he’d always come for her if it was in his power. No matter what passed, no matter the dangers, he always came back for her. If only Griffin hadn’t planted such foolish concerns in Heath’s already over-anxious mind.
About two weeks after the visit to the island, Merletta found herself scowling down at the writing leaf she was working on, her irritation with the youngest of the guards flaring once again. The earful she’d given him after Heath’s departure hadn’t made her feel better at all, perhaps because he’d shown no sign of contrition whatsoever. Even August, when he’d returned, had taken the news of the dragon’s visit far more gravely than Merletta knew it deserved. The guards all knew the extent of the Center’s lies from their own experience. Why did their faith in what they’d been taught about dragons run so deep?
“You’re going to put a hole in the leaf if you push that hard,” Sage commented from beside her.
Merletta grimaced as she followed Sage’s gaze and realized she’d been pressing down so hard that the coral implement in her hand had indeed punctured the writing leaf.
“Tell me that’s one of yours, not a leaf from the public records,” Sage said dryly. “You don’t need more reasons for Ibsen to make you do penance by assisting the scribes for the rest of the day.”
Merletta made a dismissive noise in her throat at the mention of the previous day’s incident. “We both know that wasn’t penance. It was his latest inspiration for how to prevent me from a day of actual learning.” She leaned her head to the side. “Although I did learn quite a bit. I don’t think he realized Emil was overseeing the scribes that day.” A grin spread over her face. “The records he had me copy out were a little above the clearance level of your average scribe.”
Sage gave a light laugh, in itself an indication of how much more of a rule breaker she’d become since befriending Merletta. “I didn’t know Emil was there. That was lucky.”
“It was,” Merletta acknowledged. “You’re right that I shouldn’t give Ibsen more opportunities to block me, though. You’ll be glad to know this leaf is mine. Much good it does me, to have my own record of injuries suffered by workers on the oyster farms over the last six months. Something tells me that’s not the kind of history that will be in the third year test.”
“I doubt it,” Sage agreed.
“Was it like this for you?” Merletta asked. “I wasn’t paying much attention to your studies last year, but I don’t remember you spending much time in the public records room like this.”
Sage shook her head. “I was hardly ever in here. There are special study areas for higher level students, which you should be able to access from the start of third year.”
“Yes, well, I can’t,” Merletta said darkly. “Ibsen says I have to earn the right to access them by passing a practice test. But he’s clearly not giving me the information I need even to pass that.”
Sage frowned. “You shouldn’t need to spend this much time in private study, anyway. I was given most of my information in class. But when I did access the records for clarification, Ibsen had nothing to do with the process. I got in by…” She lowered her voice and looked around. “By using the watchword.”
Merletta stilled, surprised. “The one from the second year test? But I know that. Where do I go?”
“It’s inside the Center’s central spire,” Sage said softly. “At the base.”
Merletta gave a decisive nod. “I’ll go right now.”
She’d half risen into the water already, but Sage reached out and pulled her down.
“Wait until a different day,” she pleaded. “If you race straight there from talking to me, it will be obvious that I told you where to find it.”
“You’re right,” Merletta realized, glancing over at the record holder on duty in the public records room.
Sage was still months away from her final test in the program, and she couldn’t afford to antagonize the instructors just yet. Merletta glanced at the light filtering in through the room’s small windows.
“I need to go, anyway! I’m supposed to be training with Freja’s patrol today. I almost forgot.”
“Don’t keep them waiting,” said Sage vaguely, returning to her own study.
Merletta swam from the records hall swiftly, dodging around the two new first years who’d started in the last fortnight. They watched her curiously as she passed. She’d heard that the Center had received a record number of applicants in recent months, including a continued stream of Tilssted hopefuls. None of them had made it through, but this pair—both from Hemssted—clearly had.
Merletta sent them a small smile, reminding herself not to be prejudiced against them simply because the other Hemssted trainees tended to be unfriendly. She still hadn’t quite come to terms with the fact that she was apparently from Hemssted by birth. At least the two trainees returned her smile tentatively, which helped a little.
Freja was already in the training yard, but she didn’t look impatient. As Merletta swam up, Felix appeared from one of the storage areas, a new slingshot in his hand.
“Ah, Merletta, good,” Freja greeted her with a smile. “We’re all here. Let’s go.”
Merletta caught sight of Ileana across the training yard. The look she sent Merletta was resentful. It was no surprise—she was an actual guard, unlike Merletta, and the squad she’d been assigned to wasn’t nearly as senior as Freja’s. But there was something more than resentment there. Merletta would almost have called it wistfulness. She shook the thought off uncomfortably. She’d suspected before now that Ileana was jealous of her, but it was still hard to fathom. At least the former trainee had so far shown no sign of approaching Merletta at all, let alone trying to hassle her as she’d once done.
