“I’ll send your maid up for a late bath. You need one. Also, check under your door tomorrow for your copy of the final essay. Hand it in, and you’ll maintain your class rank.”

I blinked. She believed me. She’d swallowed every word. After the Final Exam I’d be a Senator in the Assembly. I waited for happiness to overtake me. It never came. Instead, my whole body seethed.

She sniffed pointedly. I jumped. “Thank you, Teacher, I appreciate your generosity,” I said. I heard myself as if from a distance. But I didn’t feel the words. My palms were wet with sweat as my body worked to cool the heat in my belly.

She fingered the last pink slip and set it down. “Take this too. Get anything you want. Consider it a personal gift to you, from America.”

I glanced at the slip then gazed at her desk. As usual, it was spotless. Nothing to mar the gleam of fresh polish, or hide her reflection in it. She was smiling at me, conspiratorially—as if we were allies in this cruel world.

Thousands were dead from the mysterious fever, and thousands more would perish. The Kongo Guard would murder the White-Face soldiers and Rebels would slaughter the Loyalists. In the end, they would all die. Population control was for the greater good. My head steamed. The greater good meant only the good of the English—not the Kongo. Never the Kongo.

Jones interrupted my thoughts. “Go on, girl. Take the passes, they’re yours.”

Obediently, I leaned forward to take them.

She went on. “A good dog deserves a treat.”

My limbs turned to stone.

She smiled, showing square gray teeth. Suddenly, her smile went stale and she crossed her legs, bobbing one snakeskin boot.

Whatever you do, stay far back from her feet. She kicks like a donkey.

I picked up the pass, moving like a marionette. I stood and I walked to the door. I had come to Jones for two things: to ensure my safety, and William’s. I took a cool breath. It was time to implement the heart of my plan.

With one hand on the knob, I turned. “Oh, Teacher. I forgot to tell you,” I said.

She frowned. “Yes?”

“On my way back to the Schoolhouse, about a mile east, I saw two feral men. They seemed to be headed this way.”

“Travelers, from the other Houses,” she surmised. “They come in droves for the Joust.”

“I know, I saw them walking.”

“If you know, then why are you asking?” she snapped.

“These men were different.” I paused, as if the act of recalling overwhelmed my feral mind. Then, slowly, deliberately, I laid the bait. “They had white paint on their faces. They might have washed it off now, but it was odd. I wonder if they had the proper passes to travel between Houses. I thought I’d tell you—just in case.”