As long as they don’t believe the really weird stories, Emily thought. The stories that suggested she’d beaten Shadye using advanced—and forbidden—sex magic should have been unprintable. But bards had been singing songs extolling the power of love over necromancy ever since Shadye’s death. She’d cringed every time she’d heard the tamer lyrics. I don’t know what I’ll do if they believe them.
She met Marian’s eyes, just for a second. She’d expected a challenge, but instead ... Marian looked depressed, too depressed to believe in a better future. Or any future at all. There was a loneliness in her eyes that tore at Emily’s heart. She’d been depressed too, once upon a time. She hadn’t climbed out of it until Shadye had kidnapped her and Void had sent her to Whitehall.
Marian will do better here, she told herself, firmly. If nothing else, she’s a long way from her parents.
She composed herself as quickly as possible, remembering the rules for public speaking. In hindsight, she should have practiced more. Speaking to her friends—or even to a handful of Fifth Years—wasn’t so bad, not compared to the firsties. There were nearly a hundred pairs of eyes looking back at her, an alarming number glowing with hero worship. She didn’t think she could live up to her legend. They wanted a heroine, not ... not her.
“Whitehall is a very different environment from your homes, wherever you come from.” She tried to project her voice as much as possible, keeping her eyes fixed on the far wall. There was no way she could speak if she met their eyes. She’d never make a natural politician. They could make crappy ideas sound good, just by pitching them. “None of you have any real idea of what studying here is going to be like.”
She paused, allowing her words to sink in. “Each of you will be assigned to a mentor,” she continued, after a moment. “That mentor—an older student—will advise you, if you need advice; support you, if you need support. You can go to them at any time you like, if you have a question that needs answered. They will be able to advise you on anything from approaching your tutors to comprehending basic spell notation. Think of them as your elder brothers and sisters.
“They will not do your homework for you, but they will show you how to do it. They will not fix your mistakes, but they will show you how to avoid making them in the future. They will not speak for you, if you have problems with your tutors, but they will help you understand the problem so you do not make the same mistake over and over again. They will, in short, help you to come to grips with life at Whitehall.
“Life here can be wonderful. You’ll learn about magic and make new friends, play games and study hard. But it can also be difficult. You are away from your families for the first time in your lives, living with other students who are often very different from you. Life here is different. The mentors will do their best to help you get through the transition as quickly as possible. Listen to them, learn from them ... and if you have any problems, come speak to me. I will try to help.”
She took a breath. “Each and every one of you has already been assigned to a mentor. When you are dismissed, go into the next hall and link up with your mentor, who will explain the basic rules to you. After that ... how much use you choose to make of your mentor is up to you. If you think you already know everything—if you feel prepared to move ahead without delay—you don’t have to speak to your mentor again. If not ... remember your mentor is giving time up for you. Do not waste their time.
“And, once again, welcome to Whitehall.”
She stepped back, gratefully. Gordian took the stand, said a few brief words and then dismissed the firsties into the next hall. Emily followed, watching as students thronged about, checking lists and finding their mentors. Aloha had used a simpler system, she recalled, but she’d thought it was too random. And then she’d realized separating out the students wasn’t easy.
My system was random too, she thought. I just thought I was trying to be clever.
Her eyes sought Marian and found her, standing shyly next to Jacquelyn. Jacquelyn was Jacquelyn of House Firestorm, if Emily recalled correctly; she was a pretty girl who hadn’t impinged on Emily’s radar. But then, she hadn’t had time to research the Fifth Years in any depth. Perhaps, in hindsight, that had been a mistake. Jacquelyn would see too much—know too much—about Marian for anyone’s peace of mind. If she took what she’d seen to her family ...
I’ll have to have a word with her, Emily told herself. She had told the Fifth Years they were expected not to talk about their mentees, certainly not to anyone outside the school, but she hadn’t demanded any formal oaths. If I speak to her tonight, she’ll be warned before it’s too late.
“You did reasonably well,” Gordian said, coming up behind her. Emily twitched. She hadn’t sensed him coming. “A little unsteady at first, but good afterwards. Perhaps a course in public speaking ...?”
Emily sighed. “I never wanted to speak in public.” Alassa could do that, if she wished. But then, she had no choice. The Crown Princess was meant to speak in front of the Assembly every three months. “How many speeches do I have to give?”
“You’re a public figure,” Gordian said, amused. She couldn’t help noticing that he hadn’t actually answered her real question. “You’ll give many speeches throughout your life.”
He gave her a droll smile. “Learn.”
And that, Emily knew as she watched him walk away, was good advice.
She just wasn’t sure she could take it.
Chapter Ten
“THEY’RE LETTING HER in the school?”
Emily sighed as she walked up the mountain trail. Perhaps it had been a mistake to tell Frieda that Marian had entered Whitehall. But Frieda would have recognized Marian the moment she laid eyes on the younger girl. And, unlike just about everyone else, Frieda knew what Marian had done. She’d been far less forgiving than anyone else too.
“She wasn’t in her right mind,” Emily said. She smiled as a gust of warm air struck her, brushing through her hair. “She can’t be blamed for what she did.”
“She also nearly managed to get us all killed,” Frieda pointed out, sharply. “And she did manage to destroy your ... relationship ... with Caleb.”
Emily sighed, again. “That wasn’t wholly her fault. Caleb and I ... we were having problems, even before our final fight.”
“Which wouldn’t have happened if she hadn’t betrayed us,” Frieda said. “She should be kicked out of her family, not sent to Whitehall.”
“That wasn’t our choice,” Emily said. “And I don’t blame Sienna for wanting to take care of her daughter.”
She glanced at Frieda’s hard face and knew she wouldn’t be believed. Frieda had grown up in a mountain village, where family was all. Betraying the family wasn’t a harmless little prank like arson, murder and jaywalking. There could be no greater sin in a world where family was often all that stood between you and darkness. Willing or not, Marian had called into question the building blocks of House Waterfall itself. Frieda couldn’t forgive Marian for her betrayal, not when it had almost cost her everything. She couldn’t understand, either, why Caleb and his family were prepared to keep Marian with them.