"How much time is it going to save?" I ask, seriously annoyed he's never said a word about it before.
Part of my irritation stems from the fact that the vixen knew about it and I didn’t.
"Intense sharpening cuts down the duration to one tenth of the necessary time, so in this case, about thirty minutes."
Seriously? He wasted an hour of my life. Heffur is lucky he's from Dorath. If he was one of my citizens, I would have had him thrown in a dark dungeon for a whole week for the offense. "I'll need a magnifying glass."
"Your Grace, I must beg you to choose the safer path. I can't have you come to any harm in my class."
I grit my teeth. "Are you suggesting I can't manage something the foxy teacher’s pet here did?"
"Not at all, not at all." The teacher cleans the rim of his half-moon glasses with a cloth he then uses to dab his brow. "But the risk…"
Never mind where he's from. I'll skin him alive either way if he doesn't shut his hole.
The redheaded vixen rifles through her bag and retrieves a leather pouch. "Here, you can use mine."
She holds it up in the air, expecting me to go to her.
My fingers dig into the side of my desk, cool anger rising to the surface in waves at everything about this situation: the teacher's insolence, this common girl treating me like she’s my equal.
I get to my feet and start to walk, pausing by her desk. I ignore the tool bag still in her hand. "Who do you think you are?"
Her mouth parts but she has the wits to not attempt an answer.
"Your mother may have spread her thighs to one of my subjects, but I am your king. Not your friend, not your peer. You don't get to talk to me unless I say so. Understood?"
I catch the way her skin reddens, an angry blush starting at the throat and covering almost all of her face. I wonder how far it extends under the clothes she chose to hide herself, to pretend she's one of us.
I don't move, demanding an answer.
"What? I thought I wasn't supposed to speak."
That mouth, and that attitude, is going to get her into so much trouble.
I snort on my way out of the study hall.
She chose her fate. When the chips fall, she can't say I didn't warn her.
CHAPTERTEN
AGAINST THE CURRENT
The next several weeks are amazing and terrible all at once.
I can’t say I miss the constant stress I was under in the lanes, but I am restless in this new role of mine.
I don’t have to roam the rooftops in search of a mark, risking my neck to steal what I can to ensure my neighborhood survives. I don’t even have to feel guilty about not being out there, because the amount of money I’m giving Alva helps the undercity far more than my heists ever could.
I soak in every bit of information I can get, and I love the person I am becoming. Each new book transforms me, broadening my understanding of the world, making me feel powerful. The next time I see someone suffer from a fever, I know what weed to collect in the streets to ease their discomfort. Instead of staring in helpless horror when someone is about to die of sepsis, I know how to make a salve almost as efficaceous as a witch’s spell. There’s a stone from Dorath that, if activated on a blood moon, will warm the hearth of one’s home for an entire year. If I can get my hands on some, and distribute them to the households at risk, it might save hundreds, if not thousands of people in the harsh winter.
I know so much more than I did before summer, and it’s not even Lughnasadh.
Five itself is a quandary. The duke did warn me: I am not welcome here. I never was from the start, but the king of Ravelyn ensured that I remained a pariah.
I'm dressed the part, and I'm doing okay in all of my classes. More than okay. In the last six weeks, I've passed three tests. The results of the first two were straight As, and the third hasn't yet been confirmed, but I'm fairly certain I answered all the questions accurately. For all that, I'm a freak. Everyone hates me. Because he decided I was to be hated.
My first interaction with the king of Ravelyn left a cold, dangerous impression. He would have killed me without hesitation if I hadn't obeyed him in the garden. Still, I tried to be nice when I met him again. What a monumental failure.