Page 14 of Kingmakers, Year Four

The ship has to change directions several times to shoot the gap into the protected harbor of Visine Dvorca. This is the lowest point of the island, encircled by the small village that students are permitted to visit if they don’t mind the long walk down from the school.

We’ll be riding in wagons on the way up.

I had hoped that the crew would untie us, and the whole first-day fistfight could be forgotten. No such luck—it appears that the punishment will be following us up to Kingmakers.

Sabrina and I are marched onto the luggage wagon, ignominiously seated apart from the other students like convicted criminals.

To my utter outrage, Estas Lomachenkoisreleased and allowed to join the rest of the Freshmen like nothing happened.

“What the hell?” I demand of the first mate. “How come he’s not in trouble?”

“ ‘Cause you fuckin’ started it,” the first mate says. “And ‘cause he’s the one bleedin’ all over himself while you don’t have a scratch on you.”

The front of Estas’ dress shirt is soaked red. He looks extremely grumpy as he unsuccessfully tries to staunch the flow from his nose with a filthy-looking handkerchief provided by the crew.

That’s the only comfort I get as the wagons lurch up the unpaved road—that at least Estas looks almost as stupid as Sabrina and me.

Sabrina doesn’t seem to mind. I guess she’s used to attention. She sits tall and proud on the bench seat, glancing around curiously as we pass through farms and vineyards, thick pine forest, and then wide-open fields, fragrant with the last of the sweet summer hay.

Kingmakers looms on the highest point of the island, a vast stone fortress with bone-pale walls and dark gables. Its gates are guarded by two monolithic figures: a knight with an ax to our left, and a winged woman with an upraised sword to our right. Their stone faces look down on us, coldly forbidding.

The inscription over the entrance reads:

Necessitas Non Habet Legem

Necessity Has No Law

The temperature inside Kingmakers is at least ten degrees colder. The grounds are shadowed by the thick stone walls, not to mention the many towers, parapets, and interior structures that make up the castle. It’s like a secret city, whole and entire unto itself, with vast glass greenhouses and terraced gardens and students striding around with a sense of purpose and self-possession that has entirely abandoned me at the moment.

A group of four Seniors wait for us just outside the main Keep. The rest of the students file out of the wagons, called to attention by a bright-eyed blonde girl wearing a pair of pink rhinestone cowboy boots with her school uniform. Even though she’s 5’4 at best and could be mistaken for a sorority sister, her tone more closely resembles a drill sergeant. She shouts, “Hurry up fresh meat! We haven’t got all day!”

She tips a wink at Cara Wilk, apparently recognizing her.

Then she frowns at the sight of Sabrina Gallo, hands tied, perched in the back of the luggage wagon.

“What’s this about?” she demands of the driver.

“Those two gotta go see the Chancellor,” he says.

“What for?” the blonde girl cries.

The driver shrugs.

The blonde gives him an irritated scowl but doesn’t argue further. Instead, she calls the rest of the students to order as the driver begins to unload the luggage.

“Welcome to Kingmakers!” she shouts. “I’m Chay Wagner, and this is Bodashka Kushnir,”—she nods toward a hulking boy with a blocky jaw and a dull expression—“Matteo Ragusa”—a slim boy with close-cropped dark hair, who gives the Freshmen a wave—“and Isabel Dixon”—a clever-looking black-haired girl with a crooked smile and horribly-bitten fingernails.

“I’m going to be taking charge of the Heirs today. My fellow guides will show the rest of you to your dorms. I should hope you know your own division by now, but just in case you’re completely stupid, I’m gonna call your name and you can grab your suitcase and go stand by your guide.”

Chay begins with the Accountants, reading the names off her list with the speed of an impatient auctioneer.

Cara Wilk is already retrieving her single suitcase. She gives us a worried look.

“What should I do?” she whispers up to Sabrina. “Should I try to call someone?”

“I’ll be fine,” Sabrina says, tossing her dark hair back over her shoulders. “Go on, don’t stress.”

Reluctantly, Cara joins Matteo Ragusa and the rest of the Accountants.

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