Page 107

“Theresult,” Quin barks.

I warn him to cool his temper with a curled finger, ready to release, and he moves to bite me.

A laugh bubbles up before I recall I’m still angry he tried to sabotage my exam. I restore my scowl. Skriniaris Evander watches us, rapt, from his corner.

Horus inches over to Quin, hovers his fingers at his extended wrist, and hesitatingly drops them to read his pulse.

His gaze flickers in surprise. “Did you aid the candidate in any—”

“How presumptuous!”

Horus scurries back. “Forgive me. Only one other candidate managed to steady his patient’s pulse.” He eyes me in disbelief. “I never thought—”

“No, it seems you don’t. How do you rank his result?”

Horus frowns at the floor, eyes moving side to side as if analysing and comparing in his head. “Both stitched the source of the wound and found substitutes for snow silkworm. Florentius used a more elegant spell for internal warmth, but...”

“But?” Quin says.

“But the effect is the same. In fact, for not using a spell, Amuletos’s method—sealing your meridians—is...”

“Brave?”

“And”—Horus bows his head—“ingenious.”

Skriniaris Evander beams at me, and my voice fails, coming out as wobbly as I feel inside. I grip Quin’s shoulder to keep steady. “What are you saying?”

Vitalian Horus looks at me. “The merits of your solution are equal to his.”

“Equal?”

Quin’s lips press tight. He turns his head to me. “He’s saying both you and Florentius Chiron...”

“What?”

He grimaces. “Shall study in the royal city.”