“You’d have thought a utopian society could have cured pimples by now,” I say.

“Ada!” Georgie shoves me, and I know it’s rightly deserved.

“We have cured them,” Hypatia huffs, “but Simon forgets to use his tincture. His mind is very busy with songwriting.” Ooh. I wonder if I can get ahold of said tincture for PMS breakouts. “He’s in a band, and he plays the hurdy-gurdy.” Hypatia clearly has it bad for this Simon dude, and she babbles on. “He’s guilded as an Artisan, but he’ll need to present at Quorum to switch from the Avant chapter to the Genesis one. I need to figure out how to get him to ask me to Carnevale.”

“You can’t go to Carnevale until you’re fifteen,” Georgie says. The upcoming festival is months away, but I’ve already heard many apprentices grumbling about how they can’t go.

“Yes, I’m still working on solving that issue.” Hypatia purses her lips and appraises Georgie and me, clearly assessing how we can be utilized for whatever plot she’s concocting.

But I intend to keep my hands clean of any rule-breaking that could draw attention.

“So if Simon’s a transfer, does that mean he’s also a Sire?” I ask.

“No,” Hypatia says. “He came because he’s a Valkyrie. Rafe picked him up from Avant and escorted him here the same day you arrived.”

“What’s a Valkyrie?”

Hypatia stares at me like I just asked what the moon is.

But before I can get an explanation, a familiar voice above me says, “Apprentice Castle, do you have a moment?”

Michael is so tall that I have to crane my neck to see his concerned face. The spike in my pulse might be fear that he’s about to bust me for snooping in his office, or it might be embarrassment over the gushberry juice that’s dribbling down my chin. I scramble for a napkin.

“Uh, sure. I was about to head to the Sire lab.” I’m both nervous and excited for a class with journeymen who are closer to my age. Well, not a class exactly. Genesis is less of a school and more of a community. Only the apprentices who haven’t yet joined guilds are considered students. Guild members have “laboratories,” “conservatories,” and “studios,” which are collaborative environments that include both teens and adults.

“I can walk you there,” Michael offers. His friendly smile confirms this is unlikely to be a confrontation about my office escapades, so I relax. And his offer is a relief. I’m not quite sure where the Sire lab is, and I’m still wary of walking around the school alone after my incident with the guards.

Speaking of which. “I heard about yesterday,” Michael says as we make our way out of the cafeteria. “I am so sorry about how the Guard treated you.”