Academy Absconditi—definitely Latin. My brain whirls into motion. Absconditi stems from absconditum, meaning “hidden” or “secret.” So it’s either Hidden Academy or Academy of the Hidden. I can feel my eyebrows scrunching up as I try to take it all in. I’m not sure if I’m excited or terrified to be in a secret school with a bunch of knife-throwing deception experts with accent control.

The candles in the room flicker as though to emphasize Blackwood’s long pause, and when she speaks I once again get the uncanny feeling that she’s able to read my thoughts: “The Academy is true to its name. As far as the world’s concerned, we don’t exist. Not even your parents, who may or may not have been students here, know its location.”

Well, at least Dad was telling the truth when he said he couldn’t tell me exactly where I’d be going. Is it possible my mountain man of a father went to this school? It’s suspicious that he didn’t mention it, but he also never talks about his childhood, so it’s not entirely impossible.

“As you may have noticed, there’s no electricity here. There’s also no Internet access and thus no communication with the outside world whatsoever,” Blackwood continues. “Parental visits are organized through the school and approved at our discretion. Understood?”

I stare at her. That explains the lack of a phone and her refusal when I asked to make a call. But this extreme isolation makes me think one of two things is going on here. Either this is going to be the most intense survival training of my life or the threat to our family was significantly worse than the break-in Dad claimed it was and he wanted me far away while he dealt with whatever really happened. My heart beats a little faster at the thought; I don’t want to believe he would keep something that important from me.

“Understood,” I say cautiously.

“And you agree to the rules?”

“What choice do I—” I clear my throat. “I do.”

“Very well,” says Blackwood, and releases her breath like she’s pleased to be moving on. “As I said, you’ve come to us late at seventeen. Most students start at fifteen, with the occasional admittance at sixteen. You’ll have to make a concerted effort to acclimate quickly, although I’ve been assured you have the skills not only to keep up with the other students, but to excel here.” Her look tells me she isn’t sure she agrees. “Still, keep your head down. Watch and learn from the other students. Keep your socializing to a minimum. Be on time and be polite. And above all, do not disrupt.”

I would laugh, except it’s not funny. She just described the anti-me.

“You’ll have meetings with our analyst, Dr. Conner,” she continues, “who will help you assimilate. Now I think it best if you retire for the evening. Dr. Conner will begin your evaluation in the morning.” She gestures toward the two guards. “These gentlemen will escort you to your room. Layla, your roommate, will act as your guide for your first week. She’s been instructed to brief you on the basics, and I have full confidence that she will be thorough. She’s one of our best students.”