“Most of you do,” she mutters. I mentally curse at the way I flinch—not only for the implied insult that I should need protection beyond my own abilities but also for the reminder that I am not her only pupil. The knowledge—the fear—that I could so easily lose all I’ve worked for to some other nameless competitor is never far from my thoughts.

Kendara scratches at the bottom of her handkerchief. For all that she’s taught me, she’s revealed almost nothing about her past. I don’t know if she has family, where she grew up, if Kendara is her real name, or even what the upper half of her face looks like.

But I’ve come to know her in other ways. Although she demands the respect and honor owed to her as my elder, she loathes mindless obedience. She encourages my curiosity even as she insults my intelligence. She constantly challenges my limits, but only ever within the parameters of her rules.

Her fierce independence and abrasive honesty are what first convinced me to trust her those years ago, qualities that would have offended others but to me were admirable. Something to aspire toward.

In the four years I’ve been her pupil, her training has been harsh and unforgiving. I’ve stolen fruit from the queen’s orchards. I’ve been shackled and dropped into a flooded well. I’ve crept through a den of sleeping rock scorpions with bells woven in my hair.

Every assignment tested my skill and my resolve. After all, a Shadow is tasked with whispering to the queen the secrets of allies and enemies alike, and with quietly extinguishing any powerful opponents. Kendara has never underestimated me. She is one of the few people who do not equate my upbringing with my worth. And when I am the queen’s Shadow, who I was will matter less than nothing compared to who I will become.

“I heard you’re to accompany the hatchlets to the Valley of Cranes today.” Her lip curls. It isn’t the first time she’s expressed disgust with the prison. While I agree with her, I’m not bold enough to say so. It would mean criticizing the queen, and no one except Kendara would dare.

So I only say, “I am.”

She makes a shooing gesture. “Get going. They’ve already gathered in the Company yard.”

The disappointment strikes swift and brutal, as all her blows do. I’ve less than a month in the Company before graduation, before the Royal Army ships me off to who-knows-where. Less than a month to prove to Kendara that I deserve to remain here and to study as her official apprentice. Every day that passes without her decision is a kick to the gut.