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He didn’t phrase it as a question, but Merletta answered anyway. “I am, sir,” she said, holding her head up. She refused to be ashamed of her background, even in front of the Record Master.

He nodded slowly. “Admirable, to have achieved so much with so little advantage.”

“Thank you, sir,” said Merletta carefully.

His piercing gaze was still fixed on her face, his expression impossible to read. “What is your name?”

“Merletta, sir.”

There was another long moment of silence as he seemed to measure her with his eyes. “Well, Merletta, even just gaining entry to the program is an achievement of which you may be proud.”

Merletta wanted to raise her eyebrows at the way he spoke, as if he was literally giving her permission to feel proud. But she controlled her features, knowing better than to do or say anything that might offend.

“Thank you, sir, I am. And I’m just getting started.”

He regarded her for another second before turning away. “Enjoy your evening.”

And with that, he was gone, off to speak with the next lucky attendee. Sage sucked in a mouthful of water, letting it out in a shaky stream.

“I can’t believe we just spoke with the Record Master!” she gushed. “And he approached us! Wait until I tell Mother!”

Merletta gave her a tight smile. She hadn’t been especially impressed by the encounter herself, but it had clearly been an exciting event for Sage, and she didn’t want to ruin it for her friend. She thought she felt someone’s eyes on her, and she turned to see Ileana glaring at her with an expression of absolute loathing. Clearly she also placed a high value on the Record Master’s attention, and from what Merletta had seen, she had gotten none of it. Merletta met the other mermaid’s glare boldly. She couldn’t care less what Ileana thought.

“You were right that you’re just getting started, you know,” Sage said unexpectedly. “The entry test is the easiest of them all to pass. We’ve been talking about my test, but you should be thinking about yours. It might feel like ages away, but it’ll come around quickly.”

“It can’t come soon enough, as far as I’m concerned,” said Merletta frankly. “I’m determined to do well enough to prove to Ibsen and Wivell that they’re not getting rid of me anytime soon. And then I get to move to second year. I don’t want to be a guard any more than you do, but I’m actually looking forward to a year with more focus on physical training. At least it’s easier to measure my progress.”

“Or lack of it, in my case,” Sage sighed.

“Enough,” said Merletta firmly. “You’re getting yourself down for no reason. You’re going to pass this test.” She rose into the water. “Let’s go.”

“Go where?” Sage looked up at her, bewildered.

“We’ve both eaten more than enough, and floating around at a banquet isn’t going to help you pass your test. We’re going to go train. You need to stress less, and prepare more.”

“But…it’s Founders’ Day.” Sage looked out through the doorway. “And it’s dark.”

Merletta rolled her eyes. “We’re at the bottom of the ocean. It’s always dark.”

Sage looked at her strangely, and Merletta realized it had been an odd thing to say for a normal mermaid, one who didn’t spend every available moment at the surface.

“You know what I mean,” she said briskly, trying to cover her blunder. “The lanterns will be on, so no excuses. We’re going to whip you into shape for your test.”

Sage glanced around the space, a small smile spreading across her face. “You know, I think you’re right. All these important people are just making me nervous.” She rose from her seat as well, following Merletta toward the exit.

They had almost made it from the room when she surprised Merletta by speaking again.

“Thanks, Merletta. You’re a good friend.”

Merletta turned away quickly to hide the flush of pleasure rising up her neck.

Friend. It was a nice word.

* * *

Most of the trainees seemed to feel a bit flat in the aftermath of Founders’ Day. But Merletta’s mood lifted a little as the week dawdled by. She knew it was foolish—chances were that Heath would again fail to show up. But she couldn’t help looking forward to the end of the week. It had become habit.

And it wasn’t just the rest day. She also found the two days before it to be the least frustrating of the week. Of course, they were the most difficult in another way, since Agner continued to push her mercilessly. But she always came out of training feeling like she was getting somewhere, which was more than she could say for her other classes.


Tags: Deborah Grace White The Vazula Chronicles Fantasy