Page 17 of The Teras Trials

“The teras, Mr Jones, are quite encouraging.”

“I think there’s more to you than that, Mr Shaw,” I say, perhaps because I hope there is, and in part because I know for sure. Leo Shaw could be a brute if he wanted to be. The University might take him for that alone. The strength. The brawn. But he is here trying to make a friend of me because he’s smart enough to know the value in allies.

“I’d hate to disappoint you,” Leo says.

“Then don’t,” I smile up at him, and exhale. He doesn’t move and lets the smoke curl around his face. His eyes soften, melting in a sense; the pupil expands, the emotion bleeds down into his cheeks and I’m sure that little twitch is a smile.

He tilts at the hip, bending down to whisper in my ear.

“Are you flirting with me, Mr Jones?”

I freeze, but only for a second. I let him catch my frown. “God no, Mr Shaw. What a thing to say. I’m a Christian, you know.”

He’s smiling genuinely now. “Of course. As am I.” But as I turn to walk away, I hear him say, “May God lead us away from sin.”

Buzzing, excited, I eat my smile the instant I turn back the way we’re walking. At the end of the vestibule, someone is waiting for us.

She is a particularly tall, lanky Hunter, flared leather tricorn sitting low on her head. Her hair is a warm auburn sitting loose and long over her shoulders. A tiered set of briefcases are flung open next to her, where an assistant is stacking the vials of blood from prospective students.

I sniff. “Blood Hunter,” I tell Leo before he asks.

He spins to me, smile gone. “What?”

“They’re trained to hunt via blood. Tracking, and the like.” When Leo doesn’t look away, I flush. I don’t know the details, but I also don’t want him to know that. Instead, I shrug and tried to play it off. “The University has its secrets. It intends to keep them.”

“But she’s here. . . to hunt us?”

He doesn’t sound afraid, exactly, only cautious. Wary. There is nothing else to be done except to hand it to her, and so I do. Under the long shadow cast by her tricorn, the Hunter is hauntingly beautiful. She is porcelain white. Freckles dot a broad, straight nose, and beneath her green eyes. She says nothing to me, but when she opens up her palm, I feel compelled to give her the vial. If there is magic involved, I can’t say; I do as she wants before she’s asked it, and with it complete the ritual of this entrance.

Still, the echo of Leo’s concern is in my head. I know he’s right.

For whatever reason, if I leave and the University wanted me, she or one of her kind will be tasked with finding me.

When Leo is done, we walk to the next threshold. I spy what’s beyond and lean into Leo, hoping to rekindle that spark we had earlier. Flirting is far more fun than bleeding into vials.

I want to sling an arm around his neck, but I’ve never been so forward in my life. And, of course, there is the matter of why Leo Shaw wishes to be close to me. I am useful. I have an advantage. So instead, I twist and shoot him a grin before we head inside.

“Welcome to the University,” I say, and his eyes do that thing again, softening at the corners, locked somewhere between amusement and disdain.

He moves ahead of me, and I linger just over the threshold. Thaddeus is in my mind. Talking to this boy is like spitting in my brother’s face. He never wanted me to have friends. Not even allies. Leo Shaw is a distraction. Maybe that’s why I feel such a thrill about doing it.

Or maybe it’s that other intangible thing I can’t quite place. Something in Leo’s eyes, the way he holds himself. He’s seen plenty of teras, but no stink of trophy-glory wafts off him the way it does most Londoners. He is scrappy. Desperate.

I find myself liking it.

I head into the room. The initiation is at an end. Now it’s time to feast. I raise my hand at the faces I pass: many I don’t care for, but Thaddeus ran with their siblings or studied with them, and that means I must stay in their good graces.

Leo has moved on. His eyes are hungry when they land on bowls overflowing with fruits, cheese, and meats. London might be overcrowding, on the brink of a famine, but here is another reason to join the University’s ranks: all the best food lands here first. I steer him away from the first table he wanders to, because what I think is happening is this: there are around ten tables. Groups are forming. Who knows if this is a social game or a singular test, but I saw the way Thaddeus stuck to his friends. His fellow graduates.

If I’m to choose my allies, I will choose them wisely—and I will start now.

I scan the hall, not knowing what I’m looking for until my eyes land on them. Two people sit side-by-side picking at their meal. The girl is fawn-skinned, ample-sized, long brown hair thrown over one shoulder. The boy has dark curly hair, pale skin. I recognise them. They’re good enough to ally ourselves with.

“Sit,” I prompt Leo, taking him by the shoulder to lead him further down to the table in question. It is absolutely not an excuse to touch his shoulder—which is not only broad, but firm and well-defined beneath my touch.

Leo doesn’t flinch, so I send up a prayer that his opinion on sinning changes sometime soon, and then I turn my attention to the table.

“Victoria,” I say with a purr.

---