Page 21 of Kingmakers, Year Two

It’s a pretty little town, the weathered wooden buildings stacked right up against the water on stilts, with spaces beneath so that rowboats can take the fisherman all the way to their doors.

The island rises up behind the village—fields and farms, orchards and olive groves, and patches of thick green forest. Then, at the highest and most distant point: the spires of Kingmakers.

The air carries the familiar salt tang of the sea, but also sharper, colder scents—pine and stone. Smoke and iron.

Several open wagons wait to take us to the school. I check to see if my suitcase was safely unloaded from the ship, but there’s too many students milling around to get a good look.

“Come on!” Perry cries. “Let’s grab a seat!”

I follow her into the closest wagon, where she squeezes us into a group of kids she apparently already knows. They’re pleasant and friendly, but a quick round of introductions reveals that they’re all Accountants or Enforcers. I haven’t met a single other Spy, which isn’t helping my nerves.

Worse still, every time I explain my division I’m greeted with a bemused expression. I really must look as incompetent as I feel.

The Accountants division is the usual catch-all for the studious and introverted children of mafia families. It’s the place we can be useful. A job intended to keep us safe.

As a Spy, I’ll be nothing but a liability.

I’m scared I won’t even survive the classes. Nobody’s pulling any punches in Combat. We’ll use live ammunition in Marksmanship. Worst of all is Torture Techniques.

“They hook you up to a car battery,” a stocky Enforcer says. “You do it in pairs, and you take turns. One of you has to pull the switch, and the other has to take the shock. It’s to desensitize you. If you can electrocute your friend, you’ll have no problem doing it to an enemy . . .”

Perry’s friends are sharing the most outlandish and terrifying stories they’ve heard about Kingmakers.

“I heard at least five students die every year,” a slim Asian girl says.

“Bollocks,” a plump blond boy retorts. “It can’t be that many, or nobody would send their kids.”

“People do die,” a red-haired girl with a French accent says. “The year my oldest brother was here, a Senior hung himself in the cathedral.”

“Well that’s suicide,” the blond boy says stubbornly. “That could happen anywhere.”

“He only did it because they drove him to it with all the assignments and exams,” the redhead says, lifting her chin.

“I hate exams…” Perry lets out a dismal sigh.

I don’t mind tests. In fact, sometimes I take them for fun, if it’s something interesting like an IQ test or a personality quiz. But that’s a nerdy thing to say, so I keep it to myself.

“Who has siblings here?” Perry asks.

About half the kids raise their hands, including me.

“It’s so stupid that they don’t let us bring our phones,” a short, stocky boy grumbles.

“It wouldn’t do you any good anyway,” the red-haired girl says. “There’s no internet, no cell service.”

“No toilets either,” a skinny, freckled boy says. “You have to use a chamber pot.”

The Asian girl stares at him in horror.

“He’s fucking with you,” Perry laughs. “They have normal bathrooms.”

I force myself to laugh along with the other kids. Honestly, nothing would surprise me when it comes to Kingmakers.

At least the island is beautiful. Visine Dvorca is not unlike Barcelona in that it’s sunny and green, with a pleasant sea breeze. I’m guessing it gets colder in the winter, however, judging from the thickness of the pullovers and wool jackets that were included with our uniforms.

Thinking of the winter reminds me that I won’t be going home for almost an entire year. For the first time I feel a slight frisson of anticipation—the relief that I won’t have Daniela’s sharp eyes constantly fixed on me, or my father’s hot temper applied to me.

Several of our cousins attend Kingmakers. Zoe cautioned me that two in particular—the hateful Martin Romero and the arrogant Santiago Cruz—have been spying on her and reporting back to our father. That’s still less oppressive than living under his roof.

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