To Best the Boys(70)

The reality of that about drowns me.

I wince and finish pouring their tea just as the clock chimes that it’s time. I stoop to collect my scribbled notes that Da is tapping on. “I have to check on something real fast.”

I kiss them both before hurrying down to check in on my lab tests again, only to discover that the results of the original crippling disease cells work have revealed what I already had begun to suspect. My stomach turns.





25

The exam takes place in the privacy of a back room at the local constable’s home located in the Upper district—while all the boys from the Upper district take it at the university itself.

Seleni has scoffed about it half the walk there. “Let me get this straight. So you can take the university exam. You just can’t take it at the university like an actual applicant.”

“In all likelihood, they’re probably just trying to keep the Uppers from filing lawsuits,” Da says.

Seleni shakes her head. “Either way it’s wrong. Beryll said some of the men requested Rhen be tested separately, out of sensitivity to the boys taking the exam. They feared she’d be a distraction.” She snorts. “Apparently your feminine wiles are capable of making them idiots, Rhen.”

“They don’t need my bloody help,” I say to keep my nerves from showing. I squeeze both their hands before I take a deep breath, walk onto the porch, and with my head held high stride through the front door.

The constable offers me his arm and wishes me a soft, “Good luck, Miss Tellur,” before he ushers me into a room where three university professors and two board members all take their seats at a makeshift setup of a table and seven chairs. The door closes behind me, and without any introduction one of the professors slides over a stack of papers and an ink quill. “Miss Tellur, let’s begin.”

And so we do.

Only it doesn’t feel like a beginning. Rather, it feels like a continuation of something I’ve been waiting for my whole life and just didn’t know it. Like a part of me that’s been buried beneath the ground is suddenly peeking its head up to bloom.

Which is exactly what it feels like—blooming.

I take a sip of water and answer another question.

Then another. And another—until the combined oral and written exams have gone on for almost six hours, aside from three ten-minute breaks, and a bite of bread and cheese Aunt Sara and Seleni packed. A quarter of the test questions I know without batting a lash, but the rest I struggle through. At one point toward the end of the afternoon, the words and numbers begin shifting order, and my taxed brain breaks into a panic.

Slow down, Rhen. Take a breath.

I shut my eyes and run through the rhythmic species cycles until I can focus again. And then in a matter of minutes we are done, and I’m shaking their hands as a board member informs me, “On behalf of this group that is sanctioned to oversee your testing, we congratulate you on being allowed to do so. You’ll know the results along with our decision in a couple of weeks.”

The door opens and the constable appears. I follow him out into the parlor, which is wafting with cologne, and when I look up, Vincent and his father are standing there, as is my uncle.

Mr. King is speaking with Uncle Nicholae. “Just came to see how Miss Tellur is doing. Vincent took his exams a few days ago thanks to a private contact, and since he’s made a decision to pursue Miss Tellur’s hand in courtship, he felt it imperative to lend his support today.”

I bite down the bile in my throat.

“Your son tried to kill me and was behind a boy’s murder,” I want to say aloud. And I would, too, if it’d do a lick of good. Germaine and Rubin already named him as having paid them to help him win, but since nothing could be directly tied to Vincent, they’re currently on house arrest while he walks free.

I sniff. He’ll make an excellent politician.

And yet . . . even politicians’ sins will eventually find them out. Once they realize those sins become a cage.

I stare at him and stroll over. His blond hair’s mussed. He looks desperate. Uncomfortable. “What do you really want, Vincent?” I hiss.

His mouth flattens in a tight smile. “To let bygones be bygones.”

I raise a brow.

He glances at his father, then lowers his voice. “I’m willing to overlook your little fling with Mr. Wilkes if you’re willing to overlook my misdeeds. We can go back to normal and my father won’t need to know.”

I blink. Is he jesting?

“I can appreciate your mind better than most,” he continues. “We used to be friends once, Rhen, and I daresay I never once judged you or the risks you took. Even being in the maze. What I’m saying is, you’ve made your point. You can let it go now. I’ll appreciate what your mind can lend me. You’ll appreciate my money. Clear as that.”

I actually laugh. And it’s louder and fuller than I intend, which brings a bright red flush to his handsome face.

How very progressive of him.

“Mr. King, I think I’d prefer to put my mind toward my own future rather than be your—how did you describe us in the Labyrinth—rats in a cage?”

A burst of fear erupts across his perfectly chiseled features. It’s pure. Unadulterated. The same fear I saw on him in the hedge maze when facing his visions of the diseased people rising from their graves to come after him.