The Helix was heavy as I pushed back the bambi wrap. Up close, the ladders were even beautiful. I felt strangely connected to them and my eyes relaxed, searching the tube from end to end. A thrill of power quivered down my spine as I caressed it.

I took the weapon in my bare hand. It grew warm, then so hot I almost dropped it. Then the heat felt good. It settled into my skin, and the urge to close my fist around it became unbearable. I resisted, closing my eyes. It pulsed as it lengthened on my palm, creating all sorts of sensations. Vibrations quivered my nerves. Heat popped along my bones and sizzled in my marrow. My cells, and the bonds that held my elements together, hummed like a tuning fork.

Finally, I opened my eyes and looked down in my palm to see—a curved stick. I blinked, shook my head, but there it was—a stick. Disappointment gripped my chest. I stared stupidly at it, then up at Hosea. Had it malfunctioned? His opaque gaze was solemn. I knew, then, he had given me the weaker sword. He had chosen Voltaire.

“What is it?” I asked. The betrayal I felt was evident in the shallow breaths I couldn’t control.

He cleared his throat. “It’s an Apex, or some call it a boomerang.”

“Boo-merang.” It sounded silly, like a toy. “What does it do?”

“You throw it and hit your opponent from a distance.”

Curious, I looked down at the cold arch in my palm—could it best Jones? I threw it. It landed harmlessly on the ground a few feet away. Embarrassed, I retrieved it quickly.

After an hour, using all my strength, I’d heaved it far enough so that it curved back toward me. It fell short of returning to my hand, as Hosea said it was meant to do. There were no spikes, no blades. No blue fire whips. My hope had careened down. I felt the others snickering at me. I felt my old classmates and the rest of the Schoolhouse laughing, too.

Even now, as I left Voltaire’s encampment behind and hurried toward the spring, I was still cringing with shame. I blamed Hosea Khan. Why give me the weakest weapon? Did he find me pathetic? And what was wrong with me? Why couldn’t I wield the sword?

By the time I reached the spring, I was running. I leapt to the far side of the bubbling eddies. I was miles away from camp when I stopped. I threw myself into the black water and swam back the other way. With the last of my energy I pulled myself out and fell into an exhausted sleep.

* * *

Voltaire woke me with a kick.

“Hey!” I cried.

“Good, you’re awake,” she said.

I rolled over. “What do you want?”

“They sent me to make sure you didn’t harm yourself. Well, William sent me. No one else cares.”