Chapter 20 #2
Alana hangs her head, tracing the lines in her palm with her fingernail.
“I went home and told my parents and it all hit me. I cried the rest of the night when I realized I’d thrown away my chance.
I didn’t think I’d ever get a retrial. I had other professors who vouched for me, but it wasn’t enough.
Vivienne felt so guilty and tried to speak up, but Madam Harroway was determined to punish me. ”
I take Alana’s hand in mine, and she releases a slow exhale.
Mother always said the Morphics aboard were hardly a step above criminals.
How wrong she was. How wrong I was. The crestfallen disappointment in Father’s eyes and Eliza’s smirk flood my memory.
A sharp pang shoots through my chest, like I’ve shot myself with my own arrow.
Niko scoots out from his spot by the bathroom door.
“It’s not just you, Lana. Try screwing up in front of your entire family.
I’m talking about parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins.
They were so excited because I was supposed to become this great chef in Nashorne. I already had jobs lined up afterward.”
Ivander reaches out and squeezes Niko’s shoulder. They stay like that, drawing support from one another until Niko clears his throat.
“My specialty is enhancing foods with experiences. I made a drink that gave the judges the feeling of jumping into a river and moving with the current. Everyone loved it. After that, I made a dish that was meant to taste like sunlight on your skin. It did, but it also gave the judges third-degree burns. Menders had to come fix their mouths. It was horrible.”
“You didn’t do it on purpose,” Isla calls down from the top bunk. “And you haven’t done anything like it since.”
He lets out a dull laugh. “Yeah, I know. I have someone test all the food I make before it goes out now.”
Isla laughs, throwing her head back. “I wasn’t even a chef before all this.
Not like Niko. I had picky little sisters who wouldn’t eat much.
So I’d enhance their food for them. I don’t even like food half the time.
It’s a guessing game to figure out which foods won’t hurt my stomach.
Sometimes I wish I didn’t have to eat at all.
My entire future rides on my performance at a job I’m not even qualified for.
” Isla snorts. “At my trial, I enhanced a simple toasted cheese sandwich because I wasn’t taking any chances.
But one of those snobby judges said something rude, and my toasted cheese sealed her mouth shut for an hour.
My little sisters couldn’t stop laughing until they realized I’d failed. ”
Zora twists a bronze ring on her finger.
Tiny tongues of flame twine around the band.
She must have crafted it herself. “No one came to my trial. Everyone was so sure I would pass that they didn’t bother.
After I failed, guards took me straight to the port.
I had to leave a note for my family.” She swipes a finger under her moist eyes.
“I created a cloak that could acclimate to temperatures. If you were hot, it would blow a cool breeze. That kind of thing. But I was so nervous I lost control. The damn thing started choking one of the judges.”
Ivander slides down and sits next to Niko.
He raises his hand in the air, and Zora throws a chocolate-coated strawberry to him.
He catches it, scrapes the chocolate off to our horror, then pops it in his mouth.
For some reason, this breaks the tension in the room, and we all laugh. “What?” he asks. “I don’t like sweets.”
“Monster,” Isla murmurs in mock horror.
The silver shimmer dust on Ivander’s collarbones, left over from his performance, makes him look like one of my spirits on a visit to this plane of existence.
I can’t look away. I’ve felt his muscles contract against my skin, felt the heat of his breath as we spun together on a strip of silk.
What is he thinking when he looks at me?
After seeing him through the bars of a cell, I don’t know anymore.
Despite what he admitted a few minutes ago, I’ve caused more trouble than I’m probably worth.
But the glint in his eyes goes beyond curiosity or frustration. It might be respect.
“My older sister passed her trial many years ago now,” Ivander says.
“She’s a mender. Served two years in an infirmary in Sarryndar working with the best physicians.
She loved it so much. But she chose to move herself and her family home after Mother lost her Morphia because of me.
My sister’s kids are young, and they’re having to watch my mother struggle to find another job.
My little nephew is non-Morphic, but my niece was born a shifter like me.
Now my niece asks if her Morphia’s going to be taken away too. ”
Ivander shakes his head as if to rid himself of the memory.
“I wonder all the time what could have happened if I hadn’t gone to Alexandrite Estate with Mother that day.
But I’m going to make things right. The more connections I make with the guests, the more influence and trust I’ll have off this ship too.
I could make things better for my niece one day. ”
I lean forward, elbows on my knees and chin propped on my clasped knuckles. Knowing how much Ivander dedicates himself to helping others, even at risk to himself, I imagine he always had a plan for the day after he passed his trial. “What do you plan to do?” I ask.
His long lashes flick up as his gaze meets mine.
“I wanted to create a place—a school—where Morphics can train to use their abilities. A place where young Morphics can make their mistakes in a controlled environment. They can learn to keep calm in high-stress situations.” He takes a breath.
“And when I get out of here, I want you to help me build it.”
They’re all looking at me now. A hot flush rises in my cheeks.
What’s he talking about? The idea has never occurred to me before.
Before the Celestial, I had thought Morphics could only learn through trial and error.
If you messed up one time, that was enough to be punished.
Now I know how wrong I was. Anyone can make mistakes.
But the idea seems impossible. Most schools receive hefty donations from powerful, mostly non-Morphic families.
Like the families on the council. They’ve been teaching the same way for centuries—maybe more.
“I’m not a professor. That’s my mother. She teaches at the University of Credence.” I let out a half-hearted chuckle. “Trust me, you wouldn’t want me teaching students.”
Ivander rolls his eyes and his smirk sets me on fire.
The belief he has in me warms me from the inside.
His lips press into a serious line. “I want your help in a different way. We’ve all seen the way things are here—brutal, unfair.
I—we,” he says, indicating our other friends and himself, “are going to help you get your trial in two weeks.”
I hold my breath. Where is this going? “Why?”
“Well, for one thing, we like you.” Before I can point out he said we, he adds, “For another, you could help us change things. Once you pass, we hope you’ll go home and use your influence to talk to Lord Damarcus.
I know you wanted to start training with the Hawks, but what if you campaign for the council instead?
Then you could advocate for us. Advocate for real change.
I still have work to do here. I can still help others get their retrials while I try to secure the favor of guests who might support my school. But you could change things now.”
He wants to help me. After all the times he warned me I needed to do this on my own and not interfere with anyone else’s chances, he believes in me so much he’s willing to throw all that away.
With my head spinning and my fingertips tingling with nerves, I dare myself to consider the future.
I’ve always dreamed of joining the Hawks, but am I really of the most use there?
Maybe Father’s dream for me to learn from him and eventually take his seat on the council makes more sense for me now.
Niko nods and gestures to the small room. “Talk to him about getting us some upgrades. Seriously. Pay us for our work here. It should be a job, not a prison.”
“Don’t forget the bosses,” Zora adds. “They need to stop using the raw Morphia. It’s damaging them, and their sick punishments are damaging us.”
Alana bounces on her seat next to me. “They should raise the age for trials and offer more retrials aboard the Celestial.” She runs a finger over her lips, deep in thought. “And maybe … maybe if someone fails their retrial, they could go back to Ivander’s school.”
It means the first arrow in our quiver won’t be to take someone’s Morphia. It will be to help them.
Isla clears her throat. “I don’t want to be that person, but do you all really think this is going to work? I mean, I’m all for helping Roe get a retrial. But…” Her face flushes. “I want mine too. What if the council doesn’t listen to her after everything we go through?”
It’s a lot to ask anyone to forget about their own retrials for me, even if I do have the best chance of changing things because of my father’s position.
“Then I make them listen. My father could start withholding potions from the apothecaries. I could even dredge up spirits who might have secrets the council members don’t want out. ”
Ivander raises an eyebrow. “Blackmail would be our last resort.”
Isla worries at her bottom lip. “We’re taking a big risk here.”
I nod to her. I’ve valued her honesty from the start. I can’t imagine her without it.
Niko drums his fingers on his knee. “If we don’t, nothing changes. The reality is most of us won’t leave with our Morphia anyway.”