by Jordan Rivet
“Tiber Warson.”
Cheers erupted as Tiber sauntered up to the podium. The son of a prosperous innkeeper, he was the only student in their cohort who was actually from Redbridge, making him a local hero. He shook hands enthusiastically with Master Kiev and Lord Ober and took his time returning to his seat, clearly enjoying the adulation of the townsfolk in the audience.
Tiber was one Mimic Mica hoped never to see again, whether in his own face or in one of his impersonations. Broad-shouldered and blond, he was what Sapphire called “objectively handsome.” He had excelled in every class, and Mica had seen him working on his pale Obsidian faces a little too often for comfort. Even though she knew several members of their cohort were likely to receive assignments in Obsidian, she couldn’t help feeling that she was competing against Tiber for a spot.
He ripped the ribbon off his scroll on his way off the stage, and he was beaming at whatever it said by the time he reached his bench. He had clearly gotten what he wanted.
“Stop scowling,” Sapphire said. “Your face will stick like that.”
Mica jerked her head at Tiber’s broad back. “It just occurred to me that we’ll have to work together if we both get Obsidian assignments.”
“I know you have a few faces even I haven’t seen,” Sapphire said. “You can avoid him if you really want to.”
“Good thing Obsidian is a big kingdom.”
“Mmm.” Sapphire craned her neck, searching the hall for any sign of Danil, whether in his natural form or in one of the dozen others they’d seen him wear.
“I’m sure Master Kiev won’t take away Danil’s assignment, Sapph,” Mica said as more names were called and the graduates received their scrolls one by one. “This is just a formality.”
“It’s not that,” Sapphire said. “I’m worried he’s avoiding me.”
“Why?”
Sapphire glanced around at their classmates, her face going pink. “I’ll tell you after.”
It dawned on Mica that something must have finally happened between Sapphire and Danil last night. The two had been dancing around their growing attraction to each other for a while now. Mica had skipped her evening impersonation exercises many times to listen to one or the other talk through their feelings on late-night walks through Redbridge. But as the day of their graduation neared, she had begun to doubt whether either one would ever make a move.
She was busy sorting through what it would mean for her two best friends to form their own bond when Sapphire nudged her.
“You’re up.”
“Huh?”
“Master Kiev just called your name.”
Mica’s stomach plummeted. A hundred faces turned to look at her. Tiber wore a condescending smirk. Master Kiev cleared his throat expectantly.
“Micathea Graydier.”
Mica got to her feet. She felt her features shifting, and she struggled to master them as she edged past her classmates and walked to the stage. Her nose used to grow and her jawline change shape when she was nervous. She thought she had kicked that habit. She took a deep breath and ascended the steps to the platform.
“Congratulations, Micathea.” Master Kiev’s deep voice rumbled through her. “You have done well.”
Then the scroll was in her hands, the thick parchment smooth against her skin. It was lighter than she expected. Did that mean something?
She felt cold and clammy as she moved on to shake hands with Lord Ober. His eyes twinkled, and his firm handshake pumped a little life into her.
“I hope you got a good one,” he said.
She blinked at him, at that fine specimen of a nose, and turned back to the assembly. Faces blurred together as she stomped off the platform. She had pictured herself waving to her family, perhaps giving a jaunty bow to her friends, but she barely felt in control of her body as she stumbled back to her seat. The whole point of being a Mimic was to be able to control every inch of her body. She clutched the scroll tight, willing her hands to stop shaking.
Sapphire returned to her seat while Mica was still staring at her scroll, at the simple black ribbon and the scrawl of her name.
“You didn’t have to wait for me,” Sapphire said. She also clutched a scroll now.
Mica shook herself out of a daze. Her friend had been called up right after her, and she’d missed seeing her walk up to the podium.
“Are you ready?” Mica asked.
Sapphire looked around, perhaps hoping Danil had made it. It felt strange to do this without him. “On three?”
“One.” Mica’s hands stopped vibrating at last.
Sapphire grinned, her eyes suddenly turning back to their natural blue. “Two.”
“Three.”
The scrolls unfurled together.
Chapter Two
Mica stared at the words on the parchment. She was still staring when the last name was called, still staring when Master Kiev invited everyone to adjourn to the town green for a picnic. She didn’t understand. In swirling letters scrawled with the finest ink, she read:
Princess Jessamyn
The Silver Palace
Jewel Harbor
Sapphire tugged on her arm. Mica was vaguely aware of her friend saying something, but she couldn’t concentrate on what it was. She was still trying to process the words written on her assignment scroll in black and white.
“There’s my mother,” Sapphire said after failing to get a coherent response. “We’ll talk later.”
“Wait, did you—?” But Sapphire disappeared into the crowd before Mica could ask if she got the assignment she wanted.
The rest of their classmates were dispersing to greet their families. Mica blinked at the commotion as if she’d just awoken from a deep sleep. The Assignment Ceremony was over. She was now a fully-fledged Imperial Impersonator. But she was not an Obsidian spy.
Mica looked down at her assignment scroll. The parchment was supposed to have a single name on it, Master Black, which was how the Academy notified Impersonators assigned to the Obsidian Kingdom. They would then be called in for individual meetings to discuss the sensitive details of their missions. The other scrolls would name the noble or business that had requested the services of an Academy-trained Impersonator—for which they paid handsomely. Some wanted informants, while others used the Impersonators as body doubles or pawns in their schemes. A few prestigious theaters even used them as actors.
As Mica ran through all the jobs she could have been assigned, a hollow feeling opened in the pit of her stomach. She read her paper again.
Princess Jessamyn
The Silver Palace
Jewel Harbor
Despite all the time she had spent worrying over her assignment, she had never truly believed she’d fail to get an Obsidian mission. She was near the top of her class. She had practiced that pale Obsidian look more than anyone else. And while she wasn’t the best or biggest fighter, spies rarely needed to fight anyway.
The parchment crinkled in her hands. She wasn’t even sure what this assignment involved. It made sense that Emperor Styl’s daughter, Princess Jessamyn, needed an Impersonator. Many important nobles employed them as doubles for safety or to fulfill their less enjoyable tasks. The nobles with Lord Ober could easily be Impersonators, if the real lords and ladies hadn’t wanted to leave the comforts of Jewel Harbor. But the Academy Masters wouldn’t waste Mica’s abilities on an assignment like that, would they? There had to be some mistake.
A mistake. Of course. Mica stuffed the parchment into her pocket and straightened. She must have been given the wrong scroll. She’d talk to Master Kiev. He would clear this up.
No sooner had she put away the scroll than two identical men barreled into her, nearly knocking her off her feet.
“Did you get it?” her brother Wills asked.
“You got it, didn’t you?” crowed his twin, Rees.
“Let me see it!”
Mica swatted their hands away, though of course it didn’t hurt them. Like all of her family members
, the twins were Talents, people born with one of four supernatural traits. Theirs was impervious skin.
Emir, the second oldest brother, appeared before them, seemingly out of thin air. “You heard Master Kiev. She has to be discreet.”
“I’ll get it from her.” Suddenly, Mica was grabbed from behind. Aden, the oldest of the Graysons, lifted her into the air as if she weighed nothing at all. To him, it was just about true. He tried to snatch the scroll from her pocket.
“Put me down,” Mica snapped, more sharply than she intended.
“No need to be snippy just because you’re a fancy spy now.” Aden set her back on her feet.
Mica hadn’t meant to let on that she was upset. She squeezed her eyes shut for a second, and when she opened them she wore Aden’s features on her face (heavy jaw, hazel eyes, knobby forehead). She stuck her tongue out at him.
Aden roared with laughter.
“Do us! Do us!” the twins called.
Mica engaged the muscles in her face, and soon she was flashing their own grins at them. She knew the subtle differences in their twin features well. Rees tensed his jaw more often and had a more prominent muscle in his cheek, and Wills had a unique twinkle in his eyes. The face she wore now was half of each. Wills and Rees applauded enthusiastically, and it made Mica feel a bit better.
“I’ve never seen you look uglier,” said Aden. The twins tackled him, and he held them off easily with his unnatural strength.
“Take that roughhousing out to the square.” Their father, Gray, had arrived. Like Emir, he moved so quickly he seemed to appear out of nowhere. “You don’t want to embarrass our little Impersonator.”
“They have food outside, you know,” Mica said.
“Say no more,” Wills called. “Race you.” He extracted himself from the tangle of his brothers and charged off, heedless of injury. Rees and Aden followed, narrowly avoiding knocking over an elderly man with a patchwork of scars on his face.
“You’d never know they’re grown men,” their father said, shaking his head ruefully.
“The allure of free food has no age limit,” Emir said. He hadn’t bothered running after his brothers. He was so much faster than the others that he never joined in when they raced each other.
“Can’t argue with you on that.” Their father surveyed Mica for a moment and put his hands on her shoulders. “Micathea, I am so proud of you.” His voice went hoarse. “I remember when you were small enough to sit on my shoulders.” He stepped back and flicked a handkerchief out of his pocket, hands moving so fast they blurred.
Emir rolled his eyes as their father blew his nose loudly enough to make strangers look over. “All right, now you’re embarrassing me.” He clapped their father on the back. They had the same slim build and dark hair, as well as the same abnormally quick movements. “Let’s go see about that free food.”
“Good idea.” He sniffed. “My daughter, an imperial spy.”
Mica watched her father and Emir stroll out of the assembly hall, weaving through the little knots of people gathered around each graduate. She didn’t have the heart to correct her father. He hadn’t doubted for a second that she had received the assignment she wanted.
Her mother, Cora, had been standing back until then, watching Mica closely. She could always figure out what her daughter was thinking, regardless of the face she wore.
“You don’t have to talk about it now, if you don’t want to,” she said softly. Then she wrapped her arms around Mica in a bone-crushing hug. She had a calming presence, steady as a mountain and just as strong. Mica sighed into her mother’s shoulder, allowing her features to return to normal as she breathed in the familiar smells of home: earth, fresh-cut grass, and clean leather.
“Thanks,” Mica mumbled. “I’m still figuring it out.”
In truth, she felt a bit queasy. Her family had used up their precious yearly leave and come all this way to celebrate with her. She didn’t want to let on how disheartened she was with how the day had gone.
The two of them caught up with her father and brother and joined the families and curious locals spilling out of the assembly hall and into the sunlit square.
The town of Redbridge was packed with Talents this week. Many of the graduates’ families showed signs of the hereditary abilities. Some darted across the square unnaturally quickly or moved in the careful manner of those born with tremendous strength. Only one out of every ten people in the empire had a Talent—never more than one—and it was rare to see so many Talented people in one place. The notable exception was on military bases like the one where Mica had grown up.
Her brothers and parents were all Talents enlisted in the Imperial Army. Her mother and oldest brother, Aden, were Muscles, known for being abnormally strong. Her father and second-oldest brother, Emir, were Blurs, capable of extreme speed. The twins, Wills and Rees, were Shields, their skin utterly impervious to injury. Her parents had received their own little house on the base when they got together as an incentive to have exceptional children. They had done their duty, producing four Talented soldiers for the Imperial Army—and Mica. She was the only Mimic in the family as well as the only daughter, indicated by her patronymic: Graydier.
Mica had grown up among soldiers, learning a keen sense of loyalty to the empire. As the daughter of two career soldiers, it had never occurred to her that she would have an assignment that wasn’t in direct opposition to their greatest enemy. She had thought she was destined to infiltrate the evil kingdom that had threatened her homeland for her entire life, serving Windfast in her own way. She didn’t see how the words on the parchment in her pocket fit that birthright.
“So when do you ship out?” her father asked as they crossed the cobblestone square toward the town green.
“Huh?”
“I’m not asking you to reveal any imperial secrets.” He winked at her. “Just wondering if you might have time to stop at the base before you report for duty.”
“It’s not on the way.”
“Eh?”
“Jewel Harbor,” Mica said dully. “Stonefoss isn’t on the way.”
Her father stared at her—not noticing his wife giving him a death glare for bringing it up. Yes, Cora had already figured out that Mica hadn’t received the coveted assignment.
“You’ve been assigned to the capital?” her father said when he found his voice at last.
Mica nodded.
“But you always said you wanted—”
“It’s not up to me,” Mica said. “The Academy decides the assignments.”
She studied the cobblestones beneath her feet so she wouldn’t have to see the disappointment on their faces.
“But the capital,” Emir said. “That’s really prestigious, isn’t it? You’ll be working for real lords and ladies there.”
“Is that right, Micathea?” her mother said. “Will you be working for the nobility?”
“Yes.” Mica glanced up in time to catch a rather impressed look on Emir’s face.
“I always knew you’d make us proud,” her father said.
Mica was speechless. It hadn’t occurred to her that this assignment could be an honor. She touched the crumpled scroll in her pocket. Maybe Master Kiev thought this was an honor too! Maybe she could explain to him that she’d prefer a dangerous foreign mission over an accolade any day. She was sure the princess could make do with a different Impersonator.
“I’m proud no matter what assignment you get,” her mother said.
Emir winked at Mica. “Always knew you were the favorite.”
She grinned and tried to elbow him, but he easily danced out of her reach.
She wondered what her family would say if she told them she had been assigned to Princess Jessamyn herself. They hadn’t asked who the Jewel Harbor noble was. Military folk didn’t mix with the lords and ladies at court, and Mica probably couldn’t name ten nobles herself, even if she counted the four who had been introduced during the ceremony. Well, five including Lord Caleb, the one wh
o hadn’t even bothered to show up.
They reached the green in the center of town, where the Academy Masters had provided a luncheon for the graduates and their guests. A river burbled alongside the grassy expanse, and venerable old willow trees swayed gracefully in the summer breeze. The elegant form of the red stone bridge was visible to the west, the bronze dome of the assembly hall overlooked the square in the east, and fine townhouses and inns bordered the remaining sides. Though not too large, the town of Redbridge was prosperous thanks to the Academy, and far prettier than the grim, functional Stonefoss Base where the Gray family lived.
They found the others lining up at the long buffet table on the green.
“There she is!” called Aden. “Hurry up and get some food before I eat it all.” He was at the front of the line, busy filling his bowl with chicken legs and crusty bread. Crumbs trailing down his tunic suggested he had already helped himself to a few bites.
“Will you do the twin face again, Mica?” Wills called from farther back in line. “I want to show my new friend here how good my little sister is.”
He was chatting with a delicate red-haired girl, whom Mica recognized as one of the common guises of an Impersonator called Jack. He winked at Mica, and she grinned. Nearby, Rees had secured a spot in the shade of a large willow tree and glared at anyone who tried to encroach on it. Aden thudded down beside him and began digging into his meal. In an instant, Emir was between them, already halfway finished with his first drumstick.
Mica and her parents joined her brothers beneath the willow tree, and the afternoon passed in a blaze of sunshine. Mica hoped her setback was temporary, but she was still too nervous to finish her meal, the roasted chicken and bread sticking in her mouth. Even so, she pretended everything was fine, smiling and laughing along with her brothers. She’d always felt the need to put on a tough face around the boys.
After they ate their fill, her brothers began circulating among the other guests, making friends in the manner that had always come easily to them. Her father stretched out in the shade of the willow tree to snooze. Her mother settled back against the tree trunk beside him, her hands folded comfortably over her belly. Mica sat beside them, fidgeting with the pockets of her skirt.
