“Make sure no one sees you.”

I tried to nod, but my neck felt stiff.

“Speak up.”

My mouth moved and I heard my voice say, “Yes, Teacher.”

She said more, but I didn’t hear. My gaze drifted over her shoulder to the panel of wood that framed the chalkboard. Engraved on the panel were three words. They seared my eyes like a bright light in a dark room. Even when I looked away, as I left the senior classroom for the last time, the words hovered in my view like a holograph. Ad Maius Bonum: for the greater good.

The Spy

THE SPY

That night, an argument broke out in the supper line. I tilted my head for a better look.

Two secondary students gestured angrily at the Vine Keeper, who was holding up the queue. His mouth was set in a firm line as he stared with great interest at one of the kitchen maids. The other conversations in the Hall stalled as the argument grew louder.

I huffed and looked around. Teacher Rowan sat at a table with Teacher Saxon a few feet away from the ruckus; neither seemed inclined to interfere. I stopped short as, across the room, Teacher Jones caught my eye. Her gaze shifted to the scene of the argument, then back to me—pointedly.

This was my opportunity. Mouth dry, I strode to the front of the line. The two secondary students talked over each other in their effort to accost the Vine Keeper.

I raised my voice, undercutting their rant. “You two, you’re holding up the line.”

They stopped warily. They knew I had the Teachers’ ear. I fixed my mouth in my best impression of Jones’ scowl. “What are you waiting for? Move,” I said.

One student pointed at the Vine Keeper. “He’s the one holding up the line,” she accused.

I crossed my arms. “He’s a senior student, and deserves your respect. Now, to the back of the line, and hurry.” My tone left no room for argument.

They looked at each other, shrugged, and retreated.

I watched them take their places then glanced at the Vine Keeper. I rolled my eyes. He wasn’t paying attention to me. Instead, he continued to stare at the kitchen worker, Windy.

She tried again to hand him a plate. When he wouldn’t take it, she pressed the tray into my hands. It was piled high with meat and fruit.

“Thank you,” I said, still assessing the Vine Keeper.

“Yes, Mistress.” She spoke quietly with her chin tucked in.

Suddenly, the Vine Keeper came to life. He took the next tray she filled and moved on.

I caught up to him. “What was that about?” I asked.

He ignored me and strode away.