A Deadly Education (The Scholomance, #1)(95)

And all of that was what induction meant to everyone. A tiny infusion of hope, of love and care; a reminder that there’s something on the other side of this, a whole world on the other side. Where your friends share whatever has come to them, and you share back. Only that had never been induction for me. It was the first time I’d ever been on the inside of it, and my eyes were prickling. I had to fight not to put my tongue out and lick the balm over and over.

Orion joined us with his own mail already in his hand, a fat envelope and a small bag, and whispered to me in a cheerful singsong under his breath, “Busted,” slinging his arm around my neck and grinning at me. I made a face at him, but I couldn’t help smiling a little myself as I carefully unrolled my very own letter—a single tiny strip of onion skin so thin it was translucent, which had been rolled up into a bead not much bigger than the ones Pamyla had on the ends of her hair. It had faint folding lines scored along the length, one every inch: marks for tearing the sheet into pieces to eat. When I held it to my mouth and breathed in, I got the smell of honey and elderflower: Mum’s spell for refreshment of the spirit. Even just that one breath of it was good; I swallowed down a hard lump of happiness that warmed my belly as I brought the strip down again to squint through it. Mum’s writing on it was so small and faint that it took me a second to puzzle out the single line.

    My darling girl, I love you, have courage, my mother wrote, and keep far away from Orion Lake.





       For lim, a bringer of light in dark place





Acknowledgments


I owe endless debts to Sally McGrath and Francesca Coppa: allies in the graduation hall.

Thanks also to the many other beta readers who cheered me on, especially to Monica Barraclough, and to Seah Levy, Merry Lynne, and Margie Gillis, who also put me up through the frantic homestretch run of writing. Katherine Arden wrote alongside me and let me lose myself in her own work when I needed to step out of the Scholomance now and again.

And to my tireless agent, Cynthia Manson, and my editor, Anne Groell, for telling me who this book was for (PS: Anne, I still don’t believe they’re in their thirties), her associate editor, Alex Larned, and the entire wonderful team at Del Rey Books, the best partners that an author could hope for, including in particular David Moench, Mary Moates, Julie Leung, and Ashleigh Heaton, and with special thanks for so many years of enthusiasm and support from Scott Shannon, Keith Clayton, and Tricia Narwani.

I am also so grateful to the PRH rights team, especially Rachel Kind and Donna Duverglas and Denise Cronin, and the many brilliant editors abroad that I’ve had the good fortune to work with thanks to their efforts, and in particular on this one to Ben Brusey and Sam Bradbury in Penguin Random House UK.

The Scholomance posed some unique visual challenges to the imagination, and I’m so lucky to have had help realizing the details of my world from David Stevenson at Del Rey, and the work of several brilliant artists, including Elwira Pawlikowska, my own assistant Van Hong, and Miranda Meeks, as well as Sally McGrath’s brilliant work on the Scholomance website.

    And finally and always and most to Charles and Evidence: thank you for loving me, for being proud of me, for holding me and holding me up.