Twelve nodded, knowing it was true, unable to meet Silver’s or Victory’s eyes.

Eventually, the Elder sighed and rubbed a hand over her face. “What are we going to do with her, Victory?”

The weaponsmaster shifted. “If anyone knows the best path, it’s you, Silver. By the frost, you’ve mentored enough difficult youngsters, and I include myself in that.”

“Hmm, well. You’re my greatest success story.” The two women shared a smile, the warmth between them palpable. “This one though . . .” Silver broke off and shook her head.

“Oh, Twelve,” she groaned. “What am I supposed to do with you? Punishments that deter other students don’t faze you at all and I still receive at least one complaint a day about your behavior toward the Hunters or other students.”

Twelve winced, desperately tried to convince herself that Silver’s opinion of her didn’t matter. “Yes, Elder Silver,” she said, her voice shakier than she’d intended.

“I understand . . .” Silver began hesitantly, “why you’d be wary of forming relationships here, especially given . . . well . . . we both know the circumstances that brought you to the lodge . . .”

Twelve stiffened in horror. Silver had promised her, promised her when she’d arrived that they would never speak of that again.

“You’re not alone though, Twelve,” Silver continued. “You’re certainly not the only student here to have lost their family.”

Twelve’s jaw clenched. Her family weren’t “lost”—they were dead, murdered by the cave clan in the coldest of cold blood.

Silver must have seen the look on her face. She stopped talking and sighed, glancing at Victory for support.

“You’re one of the best students in battle class,” the weaponsmaster said, taking Twelve by surprise. “Probably the best. But you’re also the least likely to pass a Blooding.”

Twelve stiffened despite herself. “Why? You just said I was one of the best!”

“She knows what she said,” Silver said quietly. “Why do you think, Twelve? What do you know of the Blooding?”

Twelve wished again that Victory had taken her to another of the Elders. Elder Hoarfrost would have roared at her, then given her a night watch on the skybridges and forgotten her immediately. Elder Argyll would probably have just made her write lines. Why did Silver have to care so much? Guilt gnawed at her.

“Um”—Twelve paused, collecting her thoughts—“I know that when they’re deemed ready, a team of students goes out together to the Frozen Forest, similar to how a team of Hunters might be called to a real hunt in a village. They’re given a task to complete there and, when they return, it’s decided whether the students can become Hunters and choose new names.”

If they return.