The sky is drab and overcast as we finally reach the gate, reflecting our group’s heavy mood. Robert understandably lagged behind, wanting to put distance between himself and the royal corpse on my shoulder. His friends joined him in a show of solidarity, taking on his quiet countenance.

Orphelia sticks close to me but her attempts to create a friendly atmosphere drown in Alana’s quiet contempt. I might have underestimated my friend’s virtuous spirit. She is truly bothered by the slaughter she witnessed and will not be satisfied until she sees someone punished for it. Orphelia’s disregard for her supposed impending punishment only sours her mood further, the future saint stomping forward, never taking her eyes off the killer for long.

William and Marthe are not as bothered but they seem uncomfortable. The redhead more so than the skinny nobleman to my surprise. She actively avoids me, putting as many bodies between us as possible and never looking my way. I didn’t take her for the squeamish type. William is less squeamish and more catatonic, walking stiffly as he does his best not to acknowledge the situation.

Arthur is taking things the best, beside me. He looks…cheerful as he struggles with the blankets holding our haul, eyeing Geneva. No doubt thinking about the conclusion of our bet.

I’ve undoubtedly contributed more to the team, obtaining an uncontested victory. It doesn’t need to be said. The terms of our bet say Geneva gets to have her way with him for a night. I have no idea what he thinks is going to happen, but I have my doubts he’ll be smiling by the end. Poor bastard.

Our grim procession comes to a stop as we pass through the gate. A group of tenders and three acolytes are waiting for us. The acolytes are seated behind tables with papers stacked along them, I’m guessing to record our scores, while the tenders are sorting corpses and corralling squeaking mamaroons trapped in cages made of earth, metal, and even ice.

Three teams are standing off to the side, discussing the test and fighting sleep. Several eyes turn to us and linger, conversations dying as they gape. I don’t blame them. We must make quite an unusual sight, especially as I’m still not wearing any clothes.

The tenders aren’t immune either. One of them curses as a small mamaroon slips from his inattentive grip. I swear the other beasties squeak in encouragement as it dashes away from him, disappearing into the earth before the young man can catch it.

The acolyte at the closest table is similarly affected, gaze firmly attached to my breasts until I clear my throat. “Ah, team number?”

“Thirty-seven.”

His eyes move to the papers in front of him with reluctance, leafing through them with dexterous fingers. “Team of five, Lourianne, Alana, Arthur, William, and Marthe.”

“Correct.”

“Can the guide step forward?”

Cloud moves past me, fingers brushing my cheek as she flashes a smile. “This is where we part, honored sister. Do visit me again before the snow falls.”

“If I can.”

Her eyes move to Alana. “The winter is cold. I’ve found the best way to keep warm is company.”

“Or covering yourself in fur.”

“It is stronger against the biting wind than mere flesh, yes. But I do not think the life of the Temple suits you.”

“Goodbye, Cloud,” Alana groans in exasperation.

“See you again.”

Cloud moves toward the table and bends over, holding a whispered conversation with the acolyte. Then she jogs off, heading for a group of other guides. My eyes are glued to her ass until Alana elbows me, pointedly glaring at the rug on my shoulder.

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

The acolyte waves and a tender approaches. “If you could hand over your mamaroons for recording.”

I wave my hand. Arthur, William, and Geneva work together to put the blankets holding our points in front of the tender before the seadog dramatically rips away the blanket covering the corpses. I hear an eruption of gasps, curses, and whispers as all the watching eyes take in our haul. Mm, quite a few people are feeling inadequate.

“Ah, gonna need some help with this,” the tender mutters. “How they’d even get so many of the buggers? It’s like there’s a whole den here.”

“While he’s handling that,” I say, drawing the acolyte’s attention back to me. Well, to my breasts but he meets my eyes when I snap my fingers a few times. “I was wondering, do you have a way to contact an instructor?”

He frowns. “No. We are fully capable of handling this part of the test.”

“I don’t think you’re prepared for this.”

He looks offended. I smile. “Well, if you’re sure—”

Orphelia puts a hand on my shoulder. Alana smoothly knocks it off, glaring at her. She doesn’t take offense, her voice sweet as she says, “I would appreciate it if we could handle this with discretion.”

Does it matter? She’s mad if she thinks this is going to remain a secret. Nothing spreads faster than gossip. Nothing.

But this is her mess so let her handle it how she wants. “Alright. Bell.”

“Coo!” At my feet, she stands at attention.

“Explain everything to Kii. Tell her—” I turn to Orphelia. “Is there a particular instructor you want me to contact?”

“Miss Alyssa,” Alana says over her. “She is affiliated with the Hall and the Hall only,” she continues when I raise my brows in question. “She is also from Victory. No forces from the capital will be able to influence her.”

“I would also request you inform Umphrieltalia. She is—”

“The dorm mother of the Gold Dorm.” My gaze narrows. “Why?”

“You know her?”

“Vaguely.” A blatant lie. I met Miss Talia when she presided over my first duel. A powerful mental caster, so powerful in fact that she is a candidate to be the next head interrogator, she noticed something odd about Geneva. That my elemental was more than she presented to be.

Luckily, Miss Talia is more concerned with her personal power than any obligations she may have toward the kingdom and has since attempted to get closer to me. We occasionally have dinner but it is difficult find time with her responsibilities. I still consider her a friend and I don’t take kindly to having her dragged into this mess. “I know what she can do.”

“Are you worried? I’m not contacting her for nefarious purposes. I couldn’t if I wanted to as she has taken the same vows as the crown’s interrogators. Lady Filigree will undoubtedly have questions. It will save time and kill suspicion if Umphrieltalia is there to ascertain my honesty.”

“…don’t try anything.”

Her features form a mask of innocence. No doubt she’s misunderstanding my warning but that’s easier for now. With my mental assent to her request, Bell dashes off, a reddish-orange blur that quickly disappears. Orphelia gives me a questioning look. “Physical affinity,” I offer.

“Your elementals are quite capable.”

“The joys of summoning.”

“I must admit, you have me interested in the art.”

Saints damn it all, that’s my weakness. I can’t help from smiling as I turn to her, even as I see her eyes narrow slightly with the anticipation of a predator cornering prey.

“You won’t have much to talk about if she’s detained for murder,” Alana says sharply, interrupting the moment. Her obvious displeasure is enough to reign in my excitement but I can feel Orphelia’s eyes on me, telling me that she won’t let me escape that easily.

Off to the side, tenders are swarming over our pile of mamaroons. “One hundred fifty-four!” one of them shouts, standing from a crouch and rolling his shoulders.

“…seven hundred seventy points,” the acolyte mutters with disbelief.

“Does that mean we passed?” I ask, holding back a snicker.

“Yes, Lady Tome, your team has passed. And I dare say you all will have your pick of the instructors.” He notes the number down on his paper. “The previous record was five hundred eighty-five points, held by the grandmaster himself. Along with his team, of course.”

I grin broadly. I beat Dunwayne? That feels amazing.

“Congratulations on completing the qualifiers. Results will be released Saintsday. At the same time, you will also receive any personal offers of instruction from interested parties. I wish you the best of luck.” He looks around me. “Please step aside for the next team.”

“That’s fine,” Orphelia says. “We will be scored later.”

“…why?”

“It’s better that way.”

Of course it is. If she does it now, he’s going to do a headcount and she’s going to have to explain why one of her members is missing. Has anyone noticed she’s a member short? It could be difficult to tell with all of us hanging about in one large group. “Are there any rules against such?”

“No, but—”

“Good, thank you.”

His mouth gapes but he soon decides it’s not worth it, shaking his head. “Then have a good day.”

“Arthur, grab the blankets.” I motion them to the side. A few other initiates wander over to chat but they find us unresponsive and soon wander off. We stand in quiet tension until the sound of pounding hooves catches my attention.