by Megan Crewe
“I know!” Prisha said. “I didn’t realize... I didn’t want to go behind everyone’s backs, but the sorts of things he was saying were exactly what the examiners wanted me to watch for. I had no idea how much they could hear right then. They might have known he’d said something and I hadn’t reported it, and that would have ruined the deal. It never occurred to me they’d set him up like that.”
Her voice broke. She dragged in a breath. “I went to try to talk to them last night, but they wouldn’t listen to me. They just told me to follow our agreement or accept burning out, and then sent me away.”
I swallowed thickly. “Who else have you reported on? Did you— I’ve criticized the Confed.”
“I know,” she said darkly. At my expression, her mouth twisted. “Fates help me, Finn, do you really have to ask? I didn’t want you here in the first place. Of course I didn’t say anything that would hurt you.”
I supposed I hadn’t made any truly seditious remarks—nothing close to Mark’s rant. Still...
Her gaze remained on me, both despairing and accusing. I found myself wrenched between two ends of anger, toward her and toward myself.
No wonder she’d pleaded with me to leave the Exam last night. She’d already given me another advantage I hadn’t earned. If I had said anything she couldn’t just ignore, she’d have been forced to decide between throwing me to the examiners and risking the future she’d sacrificed so much for already.
“If you’d told me—”
“What would you have said? What would you have done? It’d only take one slip for the examiners to realize I’d revealed the secret.”
What had I told her when she’d announced that she’d declared? That she should have appealed the Dampering decision instead. I’d believed all the ruling bodies within the Confed were reasonable at heart. It hadn’t crossed my mind that the Exam committee could be so scheming as to plant spies among us.
If she’d told me, I wouldn’t have understood how vital it was that I held my tongue. I might even have protested on her behalf. Where would that have gotten her? No doubt I would have emerged unscathed, while she...
“So now you know,” she said. “I don’t care if they see I’ve told you. I’m pretty sure if I hadn’t stepped in with Rocío back there, I’d have been blown to bits with the rest of you, so their end of the deal clearly counts for nothing.” She sighed. “You can think whatever you want about me, but can we at least keep moving?”
The conversation didn’t feel complete, but I didn’t know where I’d have it go. An ache was spreading through my forehead to my temples. I’d worn down my limited endurance, attempting to save the man in that last test.
“I think we should stay to the right.” It was the sole certainty I still held. “Is there anything to worry about other than that sinkhole?”
“I can’t be sure,” Prisha said. “The bigger things... I didn’t have any more warning of when they’d come or what they’d be than the rest of you did. They’re testing me too.”
“Conjure me a stick or a pole, several feet long?”
She cast without questioning me and handed me the long slender tube she’d conducted the magic into. The material felt as flimsy as cardboard, but it would serve for my purposes.
I tapped the ground ahead of us and, when the gray surface held, walked forward, pushing the end of the tube along in front of me. After a few steps, the tip sank into the ground, just as the ball had before. I yanked the tube back up and swung it as far as I could reach. The ground a few feet on the other side of that spot was solid.
Not so difficult then. I backed up for a running start and jumped the sinkhole. Prisha leapt after me. I grabbed her hand to steady her, and then dropped it as if her touch had stung me.
“I’ll take the lead from here,” she said, pretending she hadn’t noticed. “At least I have a better chance of noticing if there’s a snare we need to avoid.”
She stepped ahead of me. At the next branch, she turned right without protest.
I trudged on, grappling with the twist of horror and guilt inside me. Then one thought pierced through the turmoil.
“Rocío?” I said. “Did you report anything about her?”
“There hasn’t been anything to report,” Prisha said. “That girl keeps a close council.” She peered back at me. “Though not always with you.”
My back tensed. Rocío hadn’t spoken overtly against the Confed to me. The worst was likely her snarky remark about which novices they chose for the college the first night, which Prisha had witnessed too. She’d even tried to talk Lacey and Judith down when they’d—
My feet stumbled as the recognition hit me. She knew. Rocío had known the examiners would be paying attention to what we said, by whatever means. I’d bet there were innumerable thoughts she’d felt it wisest to keep to herself. Her brother had died here, she’d said. How could she not hate the examiners, if not the whole Confed?
I certainly wasn’t sharing that observation with Prisha after what she’d just revealed to me.
“You like her a lot,” Prisha said after a moment. It wasn’t a question.
“I do.”
Prisha was silent for several paces. Then she said, “Be careful, all right? The Circle has their eye on her, and not with approval.”
That cautioning sounded so absurd from someone who’d admitted she might very well have gotten one of us killed that I scarcely caught a laugh before it jolted out of me.
My eye caught on a flicker of movement far off down the path: a figure emerging from a side branch. Hope raced through me.
“Rocío?” I called, speeding up. “Hey!”
Rocío stepped fully into view, froze, and then relaxed at the sight of us. Desmond and Judith joined her. They all looked well enough—as weary and beaten down as I felt, but alive. After everything, I’d count that as a miracle.
Rocío’s gaze skimmed over Prisha before settling on me. If she was still upset about Prisha’s interference during the last test, she must have decided to set aside her feelings. The small smile she offered me was a light flickering on amid the shadowy clash of emotions inside me.
“It looks like we might finally be getting somewhere,” she said, motioning toward one of the walls.
Not far beyond the hedge, an ivory spire pointed up past the brambles toward the gray of the faux sky above. Did it mark the exit to this labyrinth? Were we nearly there?
“The maze could twist us around for another ten miles before we get there,” Desmond said, but his tone was hopeful. We hurried forward, maybe lacking quite our usual caution.
When we took the next bend, a hiss split the air. The hedge to our right erupted into dozens of thick vines, the same metallic dark green as the brambles. They lashed out in every direction.
I flinched backward, but a clump of the vines caught me around the arms and legs. As I struggled against them, more and more spiraled around me. Some snatched at my body, their jointed surface rasping against my bare arms and neck, as rough as sandpaper. Others arched around me like a cage.
The vines heaved me up, clinging tight. For an instant, I flashed back to a friend’s lakeside cottage, to the feel of seaweed tangling around my ankle when I’d accidentally swum into a patch—that sensation as if I were about to be pulled into the suffocating darkness of the water. A gasp slipped from my lips. I flailed harder, managing to wrench my ankles and one of my hands free from the grasping strands.
The vines circled me until I was completely encased in a pocket of air. They overlapped so tightly only a sliver of light seeped in through a tiny gap down near my feet. No sound reached me from the outside. Had the others all been caged like this too?
I lay there on my back, panting and staring at that gap, taking stock. I was trapped, but only one vine held me directly now—a tight loop around my left wrist, pinning it to the wall of my cage like a shackle.
Well, the goal of this test was clear. I had to get out.
I tugged at my wrist, and
the vine pulled tighter into the wall, scraping my skin. Okay, simply wriggling my hand out was not an option.
I groped for words and found a lyric that provoked a sense of loosening, expanding. I murmured it, focusing my intent on the cord.
My headache pulsed with the tingling of the magic—and the vine clenched even tighter. My tendons pinched so painfully I choked. The entire cage contracted at the same moment, forcing me to press my head against the surface behind me to prevent the strands from scratching my nose.
O gods, this was a tough one. My casting provoked the vines. If the loop around my arm yanked more, it was going to break my wrist. The trap would crush my entire body at this rate.
My breath had sped up again, harsh in my chest. That slit of light by my feet was still open, giving me a direction to the world outside. It was the closest thing I had to an escape route. Was there a way to get through that? I’d have to get down there if I wanted to test it.
I steadied the heaving of my lungs. First things first. Start with what you do know.
Before anything else, I needed my arm free.
I tipped my head to the side to inspect my wrist. The skin on either side of the vine’s shackle was flushed an angry red. A persistent, splintering pain radiated through the muscles. I closed my eyes.
I couldn’t wrestle myself free, and any attempt at magic would only worsen the situation. What other options did I have?
Rocío’s words from this morning returned to me. Magic isn’t the only thing that matters. I’d stayed in the Exam because I’d believed I could contribute somehow, even if not with powerful castings. I’d survived that test of illusions without any magic at all, simply by paying attention and noticing the details.
I’d told Judith that counted—that it wasn’t how you made it out that mattered, only that you found a way. If the way I had to beat the Exam was by puzzling my way through it, finding the loopholes in their traps, instead of by any real power, well... so be it. I might not be proud, but at least I’d be alive.
Where were the loopholes here? What did I have that I could use? A small range of motion in all of my body except my left hand. The clothes I’d chosen for comfort rather than any sort of utility. Margo’s dissolving rod in my pocket, which would have been spectacular if I couldn’t feel that the vines around me were no more organic matter than the metallic barbs of the hedges.
Organic matter. I paused. In my mind’s eye, I saw Judith emerging from the shadows with blood dripping from her palm, the knife in her other hand. We used the tools we had.
If I couldn’t widen the loop around my wrist, then I had to narrow my hand.
The thought made my stomach turn. I forced myself to slide my fingers into my pocket and draw out the rod. At that small movement, the cage contracted. I cringed. Then, even more slowly, I eased my arm across my chest until I held the rod level with my left hand.
Bile rose in the back of my mouth. I gritted my teeth.
What was a thumb? What was it really, compared to everything everyone around me had sacrificed to make it this far—in the Exam and in their lives before that?
Margo had urged me not to hesitate if the rod could save my life. Better that it was myself I hurt than someone else.
I flicked open the lid and set the tip against the curve of flesh below my thumb. My muscles tensed, and my heart thumped faster in anticipation of more than just the pain. I was going to need to move swiftly as soon as my hand was free.
Bracing myself, I pressed the base of the rod and jabbed the point in.
The rod’s ’chantment ripped through my flesh with a searing burn, and every nerve in my hand screamed. A cry broke from my throat. I jerked the rod back, and my left hand slipped too, the side of it bloody and useless. It popped from the restraint with a sucking sound that made me even queasier. A stream of blood gushed down my arm, the pain blaring on and on.
The vines shuddered around me. Threads popped on my shirt as I shoved myself toward the opening with a moan. I thrust my good hand through, dropped the dissolving rod, and shoved up with all the leverage I could wrench from my elbow. The strands resisted, but for a mere instant the space gaped wider—wide enough for me to haul my head and shoulders through.
Writhing, kicking, gasping as the vines snapped around my ribs, I shoved again. Something cracked in my side, and my body fell through. I hit the ground beside the dissolving rod with my mutilated hand clutched against my belly, soaking my shirt with the warm flow of blood.
Chapter Twenty
Rocío
When the hedge’s tendrils whipped around me, my first instinct was to struggle. I jerked my arm, and the presence in the magic gripped me from head to toe, so urgently that I went still. I lay motionless as the dark strands wrapped over and under me in a ribbed cocoon, cringing as their rough surface scratched my skin.
A tendril slid around each of my wrists and ankles. The presence held on, and I held with it, clamping down on my frustration. Wait, it seemed to be telling me. Wait. It had helped me before.
I breathed shallowly within the shrinking space. Every other sound faded away. My mind drifted back to the hallways at Brooklyn United Collegiate, to moments when I’d frozen by a locker or a doorway as kids who’d harassed me before ambled past, when I’d willed them with my stillness to overlook me.
The last of the strands settled into place. The conjured trap stopped moving, its walls solid except for a tiny gap by my feet. About a foot of space remained above me and along my sides. The presence eased off in the silence. I stayed still.
Panic gnawed at me, but the tendrils hadn’t hurt me while I’d lain there. Maybe getting out of this trap required a slow and careful touch.
I turned one wrist, my right, ever so slightly. The stump of my little finger stung as it brushed the tendrils beneath it, but the loop didn’t shift. That strand was loose enough that it barely grazed my skin.
Gingerly, like casting a delicate spell, I pressed my remaining fingers together in as narrow a point as I could form and drew my hand through the loop. At the bump of my knuckles, the strand contracted. But I was already out. I tugged my hand away as the loop snapped tight.
The knobby wall around me clenched a little closer. My heart stuttered. Oh. So there was that to worry about too.
Retrieving my left hand was easier. I adjusted my balance incrementally and slid it out using the same tentative process. Again, my knuckles bumped, but I was ready this time. The space around me shrank, but I didn’t flinch. I’d only lost an inch or two. I still had room to work with.
I peered down at my feet. My sneakers were going to be a problem. I had to get them off, and that meant I had to untie them.
I opened my mouth to ’chant the knot loose, but the presence smacked across my face as if clapping a hand over it. I pressed my lips together, and the sensation receded.
I couldn’t cast? Okay, okay, I could deal. I’d just have to do this the Dull way.
The ceiling of my enclosure was too low for me to sit up, but I doubted that would have been a good idea anyway. Instead, I bent at the waist inch by inch, rolling onto my side at the same time.
My shoulder knocked a ridge in the “floor,” and the walls closed in by another inch. I moved even more slowly after that. Finally, my fingertips hit the tops of my sneakers.
I wiggled apart the knotted laces and loosened them as much as I dared. I didn’t think I could pull the shoes off without more squirming than seemed smart, but all I needed was for them to fall off when I tugged out my feet.
Reaching a little farther, my stomach muscles straining, I repeated the process with the other sneaker. Then I let myself sag back for a moment. Sweat coated my forehead and trickled down my neck.
Even as I lay there motionless, the tendrils contracted another inch. I was running out of time.
I made my left foot go limp and dragged on it as intently as I was willing to risk. My heel slipped out of the sneaker. The shoe thumped against the loop, and the strand clam
ped tight around the ball of my foot for an instant before I yanked my toes free. My foot throbbed as I slumped down.
Just one more to go. Easy-peasy. Ha!
After all the ’chantments and conjurings I’d cast in the last four days, of course pulling myself free of a few vines was the thing to really wear me out. I imagined telling Finn that—imagined him laughing and teasing me about how I needed to work on my plant-taming.
A tight smile crossed my face, but the ache in my chest grew. He and the others had to be stuck in this trap too. I couldn’t help them until I got myself out.
I pulled at my other leg. This time I managed to slip my foot out of the shoe gently enough that it only settled against the loop, but by then, the whole space around me had clenched by another couple inches. The top of my enclosure nearly brushed my forehead now. I swallowed thickly.
At least the little slice of daylight hadn’t squeezed smaller, though it was tiny enough to worry me. Sliding my legs out of the way, I reached toward the opening. Every nerve urged me to throw myself at it, but slow and careful had worked well for me so far.
I edged one hand through the opening and tested the flexibility of the edge with the faintest press of my palm. It gave just a little, enough that I dared to continue pressing as I slid my head out into the open air.
The gray sky above had never looked so welcoming. I maneuvered an arm all the way out and used it to pull at the rest of my body—and the strands around me shivered and started to clench. A bolt of terror shot through me. I shoved myself forward with all my strength, leaning into gravity, and hurtled down. The opening snapped shut just in time to graze my toes.
My spine jarred against the ground. I rolled over and scrambled away.
When I turned, my jaw went slack. A mass of artificial vines loomed over the path higher than the hedge it had sprouted from and at least another ten feet wide, like a lumpy, overblown tree. Cocoons of twisted tendrils jutted out here and there from the denser tangles, dangling like ghastly fruit.
