Page 77 of A Kingdom Threatened (The Vazula Chronicles 3)

Oliver was the only trainee in the room with them, as Wivell was only teaching the third and fourth years. Not that anyone seemed to really be hearing a word Wivell was saying. Oliver looked almost as distracted as Merletta felt, although that was presumably due to his imminent fourth year test rather than Merletta’s precarious position.

Andre and Lorraine were with all the first years, undertaking some task in the scribes’ hall which Merletta didn’t catch. None of it mattered. Having basically decided she was willing to throw away her future as a trainee in order to start standing publicly against the Center’s tactics, Merletta found she had disengaged with the program entirely. She hadn’t counted on being expected to continue with classes as though everything was normal.

When Wivell released them for dinner, Merletta and Sage drifted toward the door in Oliver’s wake, neither speaking.

“Third year.”

Wivell’s voice pulled Merletta up short. She glanced at Sage, who was watching her nervously, then swam back toward the middle-aged merman.

“Yes, Instructor Wivell?” she asked, her calm voice belied by the way her heart was pounding. Was the reaction she’d been waiting for coming at last? The thought was almost a relief.

“I understand from Instructor Ibsen that you were absent from his class last week without explanation.”

Merletta hesitated, unsure whether an answer was expected from her.

“I wanted to remind you,” Wivell went on in his usual emotionless way, “that trainees are only allowed a very limited number of absent days before they are considered to have failed to meet the requirements of their course.”

Merletta blinked. That was it?

“Thank you for informing me, Instructor,” she said blankly.

Wivell waited, perhaps expecting her to apologize, or give some kind of assurance that she would miss no more classes. But Merletta didn’t intend to make any such promises.

When she didn’t speak, Wivell dismissed her again with a curt nod, and swam toward the door himself.

“That’s all?” Sage asked incredulously, as soon as they were alone.

“There’s no way that’s all,” Merletta said grimly. “I can only assume he’s laying the foundation to force me from the program through the rules if other means fail.”

“Honestly, I’m encouraged that he feels the need for a non-violent backup plan,” Sage said frankly.

Merletta nodded thoughtfully. She could see the logic in Sage’s words, but they did nothing to change the sense of impending doom that still hung over her.

“Sage, have you been given a new watchword for the records room?”

Sage shook her head. “Not so far.”

A flash of guilt went over Merletta. “I’m sorry, Sage,” she said. “I never meant to jeopardize your studies.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” said her loyal friend firmly. “You’re not the one who changed a password that’s stood for generations, for less than honorable reasons. Besides,” she shrugged, “it really hasn’t impacted me so far. Both Ibsen and Wivell are drilling Oliver hard in preparation for his final test, and as a fellow fourth year I’m sitting in on every lesson. I’m learning as much as my head can hold.”

Relief buoyed Merletta for a moment. She still felt neither regret nor excessive fear over the gamble she’d taken with her own life, but she had no desire to destroy her friends’ futures.

“I need to speak to Emil,” she mused. “As soon as possible.”

“He’ll be at dinner tonight, I assume,” Sage said. “You can speak to him then.”

Merletta shook her head. “I need to speak with him privately. There’s something I need his help with, while I still have time.”

When Sage gave no response, Merletta looked up. Her friend’s face was hard to read.

“I think he said at lunch that he was fulfilling his weekly training requirement with the guards this afternoon,” she said at last. “You could try to catch him as he’s leaving.”

“Thanks,” said Merletta. She expected Sage to offer to accompany her, but she didn’t.

Deciding not to press, Merletta sped off toward the training yard alone. Her path took her past the scribes’ hall just as the first and second years were pouring out.

“Merletta!”