Page 58 of The Art of Exiley

I remember what Madam Adelina said, to find the truth of the emotions of the song instead of focusing on the technique. “Your world ruined your singing,” she’d yelled at me. “They made you think that things need to be perfect. But beauty is in the flaws of truth. Stop covering up the truth!”

I try to sing my truth.

These hands of mine

Could reach out so I’m not alone

Could plant the seeds to grow a home

Could hold your face between them

But instead

These hands of mine stay clutched behind my back

I try my best to block out the crowd, to sing for no one but myself.

Will I do more on this earth than waste away my hours?

Can I do more for the earth than one day become her flowers?

As the last notes die out, I take a moment to compose myself. Following Madam Adelina’s advice had brought on more emotion than I had intended, but I think it went okay. Maybe not great but at least a perfectly acceptable level of good.

I take a deep breath. “That concludes my gallerie,” I say.

Although I’m mostly pleased, I can’t help but notice how anemic my presentation was in comparison to the others.

Headmaster Bloche and some of the other guildmasters ask me questions about my strengths (plants) and weaknesses (math), specific interests (healing), and methods used in the work I presented. I answer everything as best I can.

“One last question,” Bloche says. “How did you open your guild box?”

“Excuse me?”

“The box that was part of your application. The method used to open it can be a useful indicator for affinity and guild fit.”

Oh. Was there more than one way to open it? And how come no one else was asked this question? Maybe only recruits get a puzzle box. Well, I’m not going to admit I tried to break it.

“I pricked my finger,” I say.

Every single guildmaster’s head shoots up at this.

“You used blood?” Bloche asks, with the faintest note of accusation. The gaze behind his smoky monocle bores into me.

“It was… an accident?” I respond.

The Blood Science guildmaster looks down in derision, but the others continue to stare at me quizzically.

Bloche clears his throat.

And then the Cipher guildmaster rises.

It’s starting.

She says, “While we recognize that you have a strategic mind that would be beneficial to the Cipher guild, you have made it clear that mathematics is not a strength, and it does not appear that your interests align with our guild at this time. We do not extend an invitation to our guild.”

I hadn’t wanted to join the Ciphers, but that doesn’t prevent the sting of rejection.

The Artisan guildmaster is already rising. He says, “Though it seems you have a propensity for art, considering that you are a Sire, we are surprised that you had not cultivated a more developed talent in any of the fine arts before arriving here, which may be a sign that it is not your true calling.”

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