She picked up the note and unfolded it. “Viridiana, after your classes this morning, please come to the private dining hall. Elene wishes to meet you. Sister Ariel”

Vi couldn’t breathe. Elene? Oh, fuck. She’d known Elene would show up eventually, but so soon?

The door burst open and a wild-eyed, frumpy teenager stared around the room suspiciously, her arms raised as if she were summoning vast powers. “What’s going on here?” the girl demanded. “You were using magic! Twice! Don’t deny it.”

Vi laughed, first nervously, then openly, glad for the distraction. The girl was practically wheezing from running. Her cheeks were flushed, sweat beading on her pale forehead under dark hair. She was fat enough and short enough that Vi wondered if this lard barrel had been the prior owner of her shift. She was perhaps fifteen, her white cotton dress edged with blue, and a brooch of gold scales prominent on her chest. “You got me,” Vi said.

“You admit it!”

Vi raised an eyebrow. “Of course. Now get out. And knock next time.”

“It’s forbidden!”

“Knocking’s forbidden?” Vi asked.

“No.”

“Then try it next time, Chunky.”

“My name is Xandra, and I’m the Floor Monitor. You used magic, twice. That’s two days in the scullery for your first offense. And you disrespected me. That’s a week!”

“You little shit.”

“Swearing! Another day! They told me you’d be trouble.” Xandra was shaking. It made her fat jiggle.

“You’ve got to be fucking joking,” Vi said.

“Disrespect, swearing again! That’s it! You’ll report to the Mistress Jonisseh for a switching immediately.”

“You call that disrespect, you squealing sow?” Vi stepped forward. Xandra opened her mouth and raised her arms. Vi said, “Graakos.”

The shield snapped in place instantly, and whatever Xandra threw at her grazed right off it. Vi grabbed the girl’s arm, twisted and heaved her out of the room. Xandra slid a good ten paces across the hallway’s polished floor. As Vi stepped into the hall, she saw at least thirty little girls staring at her, wide-eyed, most of them under twelve.

“Please knock next time,” Vi said. She turned on her heel and slammed the door.

From the hall, she heard Xandra quaver, “Slamming a door, that’s—”

Vi opened the door and stared daggers at the girl, who was still lying in a heap against the far wall. The words dried up in Xandra’s mouth. Vi slammed the door again, and sat on her bed, picked up the note, tried not to cry—and failed.

38