Today's Reading
There were rumors about the exam and its impossible pass rate. And even though I'd taken it three times, rumors were all I had. The proctors wiped everyone's memories at the end of the test, leaving the contents a mystery. Official guides emphasized the importance of psychology, physics, chemistry—the foundational knowledge for magic. But the rumors whispered of other challenges: interviews, duels, mind-bending puzzles that induced madness.
I'd prepared for everything. I would make this year different, even if it killed me. And it almost had.
I'd spent thirty-one hours in an ancient lighthouse off the coast of the city, taking a test I couldn't even remember. I'd emerged aching and dizzy, my arms covered in bruises, dried blood staining my lips. And I'd passed out in the basement for three straight days, my dreams haunted by death and deep oceans. Clementine had been furious. But it was a small price to pay.
Because Gabriel Heywood was right. Paragon students got a new, healthy chassis with their admission, and you didn't have to hand over a penny. If I got in this year, I could escape my withering body. I could be free. And I could help people. Save others, the way I'd been saved.
A hand grabbed my wrist, snapping me out of my make-believe. "Show us the full chassis, why don't you?" Gabriel Heywood squinted at me. His rough fingers dug into my skin. "I've never seen a defect quite like this."
"May I be excused, ma'am?" I looked at Clementine. "Guillaume needs help with the cleanup."
The table went quiet. The gramophone played a calm piano solo. "Please, ma'am," I said. "They really need me."
Time stretched. Outside the windows, dark waves crashed against the seawall.
Clementine smiled. Heywood let go of my wrist, leaving a red mark. My shoulders began to relax.
"It's all right, Ana," said Clementine. "Do as he says."
Icy terror flooded my veins. I felt dizzy, far away, even as nausea bubbled up from my stomach.
I pulled off my threadbare jacket and set it on the floor. One by one, I undid the buttons of my dress shirt, hands shaking. I slid it off my shoulders, and Clementine's guests leaned in, both intrigued and repulsed.
Patches of grey crisscrossed my chest, staining my dry, papery skin. The color had drained from the veins in my wrists, and my right shoulder was as cold and colorless as a rock. I looked like a grotesque statue, buried in some distant ruin.
My muscles clenched. Every instinct screamed at me to cover up, run away. But I strangled the impulse. I couldn't lose this job. Clementine had hired a weak, ugly Edgar with no references, an anomaly that wouldn't repeat itself. 'I believe in good deeds', she'd said during my interview. 'Helping the helpless.'
Gabriel Heywood lifted a silver cheese knife, raising it toward me. "Stay still, please."
He pricked a vein on my chest, and I flinched, shivering, as droplets of blood oozed onto the blade.
"Still red. Fascinating."
"You are wasted on wine-pouring, Mr. Gage," said Jasper Isley. "You could make a fortune at the circus. Dance on top of an elephant."
"They'd think you were cousins," said a woman beside him. The others laughed.
For the second time that day, crimson tears welled in my eyes, blurring my vision. I bowed to Heywood and Clementine in rapid succession. "Thank you! Please excuse me!" I grabbed my clothes off the floor and ran out to the main hallway.
"Amusements aside," said Clementine, "let's return to business. You'll find the details of tonight's job in the silver folders in front of you. I believe there's a chance for all of you to grow your fortunes."
I closed the door behind me and squeezed my eyes shut, then pulled my shirt and jacket back on with shaking hands. The fabric felt damp where I'd been pricked. I stood alone in the entrance hall, surrounded by cold marble and hideous paintings that resembled mud smears. A chandelier cast harsh, pale light over the room, and a silver folder sat on a cabinet. One of the servants must have misplaced it.
Then I glanced at the front door. And I stopped breathing.
Clementine's mailbox wasn't empty. A shining blue envelope sat at the bottom, held in the arms of the fake gold mermaids.
It was a letter. My letter.
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