Pros and Cons of Studying at the Galeon

  Top 10 Reasons to Study at the Galeon

  Welcome to the World’s Best Educational Institution

  Do not come to the Galeon!!!

  “Why not?” Ashey rolled over on her bed, tapping on the video. She hoped there wasn’t some deep, dark secret — some weird ritual or something. It would suck to die abroad.

  “Hey everyone, welcome back to my channel…” The tone of the speaker was surprisingly light-hearted for such a dramatic title and thumbnail. “I was six when my family moved to Arden. For those of you new to my channel, I’m from Alana, a small island nation right on the coast of Kil’Emis…” The woman had never gotten into the Galeon. Ashey wasn’t sure what the video was even about.

  “Put your computer away. You have school tomorrow.” Mariel’s hand hovered over the switch. She would wait until Ashey was tucked in and still before leaving.

  Time to try her luck.

  “But I’m not done with my assignment,” Ashey said. “I’ll be done in an hour, then I’ll get some sleep. Promise.”

  “You had the whole afternoon to get that done. Put it away.”

  Unlike Ashey’s mum and Aunt Terry, Mariel had not been born the normal way. They’d picked her up from a freezer at the mall and raised her as family. Her heart was yet to thaw. It had grown even harder after Ashey had turned down the Yunnish royal family. She wasn’t going to apologise for that.

  “You’re so unfair,” Ashey grumbled, putting her computer away. “No one likes a killjoy, you know.”

  “I’ll be more laid-back the moment you learn to be mature,” Mariel said. “Don’t assume I enjoy raising you any more than you enjoy living with me.”

  “You can’t say that to a child,” Ashey retorted. “That’s mean. It’s child abuse. You should really be more careful about my mental health. I could sue you.”

  “Come on, you’ve heard worse.” Mariel turned off the lights and headed out.

  “I bet you won’t say that to your own daughter,” Ashey hissed into her blanket.

  “What was that?”

  “Nothing.”

  When Mariel’s footsteps were long gone, Ashey pulled her phone from under her pillow and continued her research. Wasting time on that last video had only whetted her appetite for conspiracy theories about the Galeon. There had to be some.

  She got hooked on a three-hour documentary about the dark history of the school, which, to her surprise, was far from boring. Swayers were so much more interesting than boring sword and boom-boom crafters. They manipulated, schemed, backstabbed, and presented exactly how they wanted others to see them. The next time someone tried to pick a fight with her, she would just tell them, “It is dogs who bark for attention, my dear.”

  How come Se Fina never taught any of this stuff? She would never have missed a class on the Sunset War, or about Sabina Monikr, who led a coup against the Swayer’s Dawn. “After Sabina escaped, she and her followers fled into hiding and would soon emerge as the notorious Swayer’s March.” The narrator giddied her up. She kicked her blanket away, sat up straight, and drew her knees close.

  She was about an hour into part two when the narrator said, “Even though the Dawn and the March were fierce rivals, there was one thing they had in common: their absolute disgust for the Sorel family.”

  “Who doesn’t hate us?” Ashey snorted.

  “No, seriously. The Dawn and the March hated the Sorels so much that Sabina hated the Dawn for not hating the Sorels as much as the March did. It was one of the reasons the March was created in the first place.”

  “All this happened a million years ago, right? It’s not like history matters today, right?”

  “Even to this day,” the narrator continued, “the Dawn sign a pact of non-forgiveness to never forget the crimes of Thorel Sorel.”

  Ashey groaned all through the night, never stopping, even after sunrise. “Why?” she moaned. Why did her stupid family ruin everything? There was no way she was getting into the Galeon.

  “Ms Sorel!”

  The entire class turned to her, some sniggering, some laughing. Her mouth was dry. And her head— “Sleeping during my period? I guess maths isn’t all that important to you.”

  “It is,” she said, seething. “And I wasn’t sleeping.”

  “Stand up.”

  “Mr Douglas, I wasn’t sleeping.”

  “Stand.”

  How was she going to get the elephants sitting on top of her to move? She balanced on her desk, dropped her head, and caught three more microseconds of sleep.

  “You say that you were not sleeping.”

  “I wasn’t.”

  “Then would you mind sharing with the class the last thing I said?”

  The board was a blur of scribbles and bendy lines. What the hell was he teaching? The teacher scoffed and returned to the board.

  “Mr Douglas,” the boy behind Ashey called, raising his hand. “I can’t see.”

  “Ms Sorel, go to the back of the class.”

  She stood against the wall, her butt pressed against her hands to fight the numbness. The best way to get on Mr Douglas’ good side was to pay attention and answer a few questions. Don Roy’s guitar simulator on his phone looked far more interesting, though.

  “Welcome back to the trenches, comrade,” Don Roy whispered. “We don’t reject anyone here.”

  “Shut up, I’m trying to listen.”

  “Sure thing,” he muttered.

  She tried to pay attention. The scribbles on the board were beginning to look a lot like geometry. “To calculate the area of a hollow cylinder…” This was way harder than anything Hamis and Jenne had endured at Se Fina.

  “Excuse me, Mr Douglas, may I interrupt your class for just a moment?” The principal stood at the entrance.

  Mr Douglas shrugged. “Every day,” he said. “There’s always something going on in this school.”

  The principal walked in, laughing apologetically. A stir ran through the class. At least seven boys could no longer sit still, making fools of themselves at the sight of Verimae.

  Ashey already knew Verimae had started working here. She was the school counsellor’s assistant. Unfortunately, the counsellor was out sick, so Verimae had taken over. “I’ll be in my office every day at all times,” Verimae said, pointing down. “Don’t hesitate to visit when you get the chance.” The last bit was clearly meant for Ashey.

  Ashey lifted a hand. “Can I come right now?”

  “Take your seat, Ms Sorel,” said Mr Douglas.

  Ashey brightened. “Thank you.” Her teacher’s face shifted from anger to confusion to apathy.

  “So, Ashey, have you applied to the Galeon yet?” Verimae asked from behind her new desk.

  “This feels so weird,” Ashey said, tapping at the water dispenser. “You don’t look like yourself. Are you comfortable in that dress?” As she fetched some water, she bent under the desk to glance at Verimae’s feet. They were still in shoes — probably the first time Ashey had seen her in them.

  “Suffering a little discomfort to help you is a sacrifice I’m willing to make,” Verimae said. “Besides, this gives me something to do. I get bored living alone in your aunt’s house.”

  “How did you get this job anyway?”

  Verimae simply smiled and gestured to the empty seat. “Your appointment will be over in five minutes, so it’s best we begin the process.” She hit the keyboard and stared at the screen with increasing worry. “Hm, I do not know how to use this thing.”

  Ashey narrowed her eyes at the fae girl peering at the monitor, waiting for the punchline. “Are you serious?” she asked.

  “I am,” Verimae said, teeth showing in her smile, her tone oddly bright.

  Ashey got up and shadowed her, hunting online for any kind of application portal. “Oh — there it is,” she said, clicking a link that made her uneasy.

  Strange symbols lurked in every corner of the page. It looked like an application portal. The Galeon bird was present, but the text was scrambled. “What is this?” Verimae leaned in.

  “I don’t know. Doesn’t it look familiar?”

  After a pause reading the content, Verimae guessed, “I suppose it’s Yyrdish. Maybe. But I don’t think this is the right place. Try another portal.”

  “This was the only one I could find,” Ashey said. “What if they don’t take students who don’t speak in triangles and circles?”

  “Ah — Noreen, just in time,” Verimae said. Noreen, the short girl with glasses from Ashey’s class, greeted them awkwardly and came over after Verimae invited her.

  “But Ashey, the link is right there,” Noreen said as she took the seat, nudging Ashey and Verimae aside. After scanning the results she added, “You skipped Galeon-Henrikia and went straight for Galeon-Yyern.”

  “Yes, Noreen, no need to explain my mistakes,” Ashey said. The truth was she hadn’t made a mistake at all — she simply didn’t want to apply. They would take one look at her name and bin her application.

  Noreen opened the page with text in Kirisi. After a few clicks she stood up for Ashey again. There was a form Ashey had to fill in. “I’ll leave you two to get on with this,” Verimae said, making her way out. “The principal’s asking for me.”

  They peeled the form from the computer screen and filled it.

  Name: Monica Grand

  Age: 15

  Parent/Guardian Name: Celest Grand

  “Ashey, what are you doing?” Noreen asked. “They’ll absolutely reject this.”

  “I have to use a fake name or I’ll get rejected even faster.”

  “I don’t feel right about this. You could get arrested for fraud, for all we know. What if there’s a real Monica Grand out there who’s having a hard time because of you?”

  “You don’t get what it’s like,” Ashey explained. “What do your parents say about my mum?” Noreen looked down at the tiled floor, cheeks puffed up. “What do they say?”

  “That she deserves everything that’s happened to her — and more.”

  “I don’t want them to take one look at me and see my mum. So, please, let me be someone else.”

  Noreen’s mouth worked, but before she could respond, as pressed the paper to the computer and the filled form was already on its way to the Galeon. A loading screen appeared, giving way to a dashboard. The menus and icons confused Ashey at first glance. Just as she moved the mouse to navigate, everything greyed out.

  No, no, no. They couldn’t kick her out like this. Noreen snapped Ashey’s hand, saving the mouse from another round of frantic clicking. Before Ashey could cry, a modal appeared on the screen, attached to it a file.

  “Please allow a parent/guardian to sign this letter of consent before proceeding,” Ashey read. She groaned. Noreen exhaled in relief. She grabbed the form, glancing over the two dotted lines at the bottom of the sheet. Ashey opened her hand, Noreen dropped a pen into it, and she signed beneath her fake name: Monica Grand.

  “Celest, would you mind signing?” she murmured.

  She had barely finished when Verimae walked back in, startling the two girls as though they’d been caught in a robbery.

  “Are you done?” Verimae asked. “Let me see.”

  Ashey slid the paper off the table, hiding it behind her. “I don’t think you should look at it now,” she said. “I had to fill in some very embarrassing details about myself that I really don’t want you to know.”

  Verimae tilted her head. “Noreen saw them.”

  “Yes,” Ashey admitted. “But I don’t respect Noreen as much as I do you.”

  “Ouch?” Noreen muttered.

  “Mariel needs to sign it for me,” Ashey said. “And then I’m done.”

  “Okay,” Verimae said with a smile. “Good luck.”

  “I’ll definitely need it,” Ashey said, laughing nervously, backing out of the room with a nod and wink at Verimae.

  Ashey spent the rest of the afternoon cooped up in Neva’s room, practising fake signatures for her fake mother. The scribbles had to look like a mature adult’s signature. She could hide ‘Grand’ in there with a flourish.

  “Ashey,” Neva whined. “You’re not looking at me.”

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  “Huh? What is it?”

  Neva wore an upside-down smile, contrasting sharply with the bright shirt she had on. She had just gotten her uniform and would soon be joining Ashey at school. They might look similar, but Neva had a certain something Ashey lacked. You could put them in the same dress and fit the same shoes on them, and it would simply suit Neva better. When a stranger met the two of them, they stared at Neva for longer.

  “You look stunning,” Ashey said honestly. “I can’t believe we’re actually going to be in the same school.”

  “Just like old times,” Neva said, flopping onto the bed. “What was the name of the school we used to go to together?”

  “H.E?” Ashey asked.

  “Right,” said Neva, reliving a fading memory. “Why did you stop?”

  Ashey shrugged. “It wasn’t the same without you, I guess.”

  Neva lifted herself off the bed and paced about the room, keeping an eye on her reflection. She would stop every few steps to pull her skirt higher than it already was. “We’ll be coming over for a tour tomorrow.”

  Ashey was about to reply when she had a new idea for a fitting signature. “I have to sign for a parent, but I’m not feeling too confident about my handiwork.”

  “Is it for a field trip?” Neva came over and picked up Ashey’s form. “Why is Monica making you sign as her mum—oh, I know what this is! You girls are getting out of town for a few days, aren’t you? I wouldn’t have gone for the fake field trip, but it’s going to be so fun if you guys pull it off.”

  She knelt at the foot of the bed, whispering into Ashey’s face. “Can I come? I can sign Terry’s signature myself. She lets me do it anyway. Next question: are there going to be boys? Will we share the same room with them? How many cute boys are in your class? On a scale of one to ten, how many are a hard seven—”

  Ashey put her notepad over Neva’s mouth.

  “Neva, can I ask you something?”

  Neva nodded.

  “You’ve been bullied, right? People at your old school hate you because you’re… well, you. Do you sometimes wish you weren’t born into this family?”

  “What? No. Never.”

  “You’ve never been ashamed of being a Sorel?”

  “I’m technically not a Sorel, but no, I’m not ashamed. Why would I be?”

  “Our family’s done a lot of bad things. We’ve hurt a lot of people.”

  “That’s like ninety-nine per cent of all ascenders. We’re hardly the only culprits.”

  “We do worse stuff.”

  “Like what?”

  Ashey sat up. “What’s the first thing that comes to mind when I say, ‘Schemel’?”

  “Awesome,” Neva said. “Your mum is cool. I liked her at first until she tore down Pedo Tower, then I loved her.”

  Pedo Tower? What was Neva talking about? It hit Ashey instantly. She felt like she’d turned to mud, slipping through the cracks of the floor. The surface world no longer seemed to matter.

  “Wiseman pissed me off so much when I heard what he’d done to you,” Neva said. “I wanted to smack his teeth out. Then this happened.” She showed Ashey the video. Wiseman, on his apartment balcony, giving a speech, claiming he had nothing to do with Ashey’s kidnapping. Ashey’s mum had cast a beam of sunlight to slice through him—and the tower.

  She didn’t dislike him entirely, but it was hard to reconcile that everyone else thought differently. Wiseman had been kind to her when no one else seemed to care. Jenne and Hamis had both turned out to be super geniuses she couldn’t hope to match, so she had run away and spent a few days at Wiseman’s place. But defending him in front of Neva would have looked really weird, so she thought of something else.

  “What about all the other people in the tower who weren’t creepy old men?” she asked.

  Neva weighed an imaginary scale in her hands, attempting poorly to justify killing a few innocents along with the guilty. She was more of a Sorel than Ashey had realised.

  The little argument with Neva gave Ashey the drive to keep practising her fake signature. She worked through the night, skipping morning assembly and arriving in class early to continue. She did not expect to see Illah sitting on her desk with Dan between her legs, furiously making out.

  Without a better way to announce herself, Ashey cleared her throat. Illah shoved Dan away, hopping off the desk, before recognising Ashey. She wasn’t pleased. Embarrassed, Dan muttered an awkward “hello” before heading out of the classroom.

  A term or two ago, this would have been exactly the kind of thing either Ashey or Illah would have gossiped about, laughing over it at lunch for at least a week. Now, they could hardly meet each other’s eyes.

  Ashey skipped her own desk altogether. She didn’t want to sit on it after Illah’s butt had left its mark. She placed her form on the nearest desk, took a deep breath, and pressed her pen against the dotted line.

  Her fingers felt strange. The joints weren’t as firm this morning. This wasn’t hard. She’d signed countless fake letters in the past.

  “Need any help?” Illah asked, peering over. “You haven’t been yourself for a while now. I thought it was your usual two-week reinvention, but this seems different. Are you in some kind of trouble, Ashey?”

  “No, and I don’t need your help.”

  Illah sat down, took the form and the paper, read through it and chuckled. “You weren’t joking about the Galeon.” She signed under Monica, clicked the pen shut and handed it back.

  “Thank you,” Ashey mumbled.

  Unlike yesterday, she couldn’t just walk into the counsellor’s office whenever she liked. Ashey had asked Noreen to watch the door until Verimae stepped out; new admissions were arriving and Verimae was giving them a tour of the campus. Once they had their chance, Noreen kept guard while Ashey logged back into the website.

  She pressed submit. The page loaded a spinner, then a red triangle with text appeared on the screen. She screamed. Noreen dashed to her side. “Oh no,” Noreen said, reading.

  “The words — what do they mean?” Ashey asked, clutching Noreen’s arm.

  “You’ve been given a three?year ban for policy violation.”

  “What? Why? What is happening?”

  “Stop shaking the monitor so I can read,” snapped Noreen.

  The door opened and Illah came in, hands behind her back, looking around the office. “Hey,” she said, grinning. “What are you two up to?”

  “What did you do?” Ashey snarled.

  Illah blinked, eyes widening. “Me? I’m not the idiot who put my real signature against a fake name.”

  “No, I didn’t,” Ashey said — or maybe she did. Oh no. She couldn’t be that stupid. Why would she do that? It couldn’t be true. Illah had sabotaged her somehow, and Ashey was ready to make her pay.

  “I think it’s your fault, Ashey,” Noreen said, still reading. “It says here the form failed the verification process. The signature used matched a different identity attending Glen Jacobs School.” She continued: “If you believe this is a mistake and you are indeed who you claim to be, appeal the ban.”

  “No way,” Ashey said. “I’ll just try again. We’ll create a different account.”

  “It’s not going to work, Ashey.”

  “Of course it will.” Ashey shoved Noreen aside. The two girls watched as she reopened the Galeon website, clicked Register — and was met immediately with the banned screen. “How can it not be working?”

  “You should really get your ears checked,” Illah said. “Noreen just told you it won’t work.”

  Ashey pulled out her phone and tried again. It didn’t work. “How come?”

  “Come on, Ashey, don’t tell me you’ve never tried creating a fake account to get a freebie online,” Illah said.

  “No, my grandma pays for everything.”

  Illah and Noreen’s faces dropped.

  “It won’t work because they know your signature now. Your core signature, I mean—not the one on the paper.” Noreen snatched Ashey’s phone, which instantly locked. “Same reason I can’t use your device.”

  “Oh,” said Ashey, learning quickly. No, this wasn’t the time to dwell on that. “What can I do?”

  “I can create the account for you,” said Illah, shooing Ashey out of the hotseat.

  “You probably shouldn’t,” said Noreen. “Unless you want to manage Ashey’s account for the rest of your life.”

  “I don’t mind,” said Illah. “This way I get to know when she gets rejected before she does.”

  “I don’t mind either,” said Ashey.

  “What if you don’t get rejected?” asked Noreen. “Is Illah going to Solvaria with you?”

  “The Galeon is in New Arden, not Solvaria,” Ashey corrected. The narrator from the documentary had made it clear. Noreen was annoyingly right, though — she had to appeal the ban.

  Illah clicked on the ‘Appeal Ban’ button, giving them the option to message the school or get on a direct call with an agent.

  “Call,” said Ashey. After providing her number, they waited. Ashey’s phone rang, tossing in her hands. She passed it to Noreen and took a giant step back.

  Noreen frowned, glancing at Illah, who shook her head firmly. Sighing, Noreen answered. After introducing herself, she said, stressed, “I am not Ashamel Sorel, but she is here with me.”

  After a long pause, Noreen added, “It was my fault. I made her use a fake name because I thought you wouldn’t accept her if you knew she was a Sorel.”

  An even longer pause followed. Noreen grew sicker by the minute before handing the phone to Ashey. “She wants to speak to you,” Noreen whispered.

  This would be the second coldest phone call she’d make in a week.

  “Ashamel Sorel?” a voice with an accent said. “Are you interested in applying to the Galeon?”

  “Yes,” Ashey said. “I am.”

  “I have reopened your portal so you can rectify all errors and resend the form. We need accurate information and an authentic signature.”

  “Okay. Thank you.”

  “However, due to policy restrictions, you have thirty minutes to complete the form. Otherwise, your application will be considered null, and the ban will continue until the allocated time has passed.”

  “I understand. Thanks again.”

  “Good luck, and we hope to see you soon.”

  Ashey collapsed into the office chair. Silence hung over them, each waiting for the other to speak. The portal had reopened with a new form, a timer blinking insistently at the top.

  “Well, it was fun while it lasted,” Ashey said. “But I’m not sure I can go through with it. Noreen, thanks for everything. I owe you big time.”

  The bell for closing rang. She stood to leave.

  “Pathetic,” called Illah from across the room. “Come on, pull your stupid form out. If you won’t fill it, I will.”

  Noreen adjusted her glasses, standing beside Illah. Ashey returned to the screen, peeling the digital form out of the screen and handing it over. Illah filled it in with Ashey’s full name, including the dreaded Sorel. Ashey pretended not to care, but stopped Illah when she tried putting Schemel as her parent.

  “My mom can’t sign this,” Ashey said firmly.

  “So, whose name should I put here?” Illah asked.

  “Mariel,” Noreen suggested, which was worse.

  “Just leave it blank,” Ashey said. Immediately, a red border formed around the ‘Parent/Guardian Name’ field.

  “You have to put in a name,” Illah pressed.

  “Leave it. I’ll think of something.”

  Illah backed off, handing the pen to Ashey. She signed her own name, ignoring the timer ticking down in bright red at the top left corner of the sheet. Noreen and Illah watched, wide-eyed, as the minutes slipped by. With twenty minutes left, they pushed her out of the office, shouting at her to run.

  Ashey folded the form into her pocket and gazed at the orange sky, smiling to herself. She didn’t run. It was okay. The Galeon was too good a school for someone like her anyway.

  Illah and Noreen stood guard at the classroom door, leaving her unable to retrieve her school bag. She wandered around the school, taking in the quiet. Outside the gates, parked cars lined the street. Parents and new students were arriving, hugging each other, taking pictures. Ashey noticed how lucky some of them were to have normal families.

  A whistle caught her attention. Through the crowd, she saw a lifted hand waving at her. Marcel stood behind a black SUV, the holiday mist gone from his eyes. He was back in a business suit, the attire she was more used to seeing him in. Caught mid-phone call, he waved her over.

  “Do you leave for home by yourself each day?” he asked when he finished.

  “Yes,” Ashey replied, guarded.

  “That can’t be safe. I’ve hired a driver for Neva and Tori. He’ll drop you off at your aunt’s place.”

  “It’s my choice, Marcel,” she said. “Mariel insists, but I like taking time to wander around little Soden before heading home.”

  “You hate Mariel’s place that much?” he said, reading her like a book. “Now that we’re staying longer, you could move in with us.”

  Ashey smiled. “Thanks.”

  Marcel checked his phone, then looked at her. When he met her eyes, she looked away.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  She yawned. “It’s not important.”

  He launched his camera in a hurry. “There she is,” he said with a cackle, taking a picture of Neva, bouncing as she waved at Marcel. The tour had just ended.

  “I never thought I’d see Neva this excited about school. It’s all thanks to you.”

  Ashey frowned; she had done nothing to merit praise.

  “You are part of the reason we chose to stay,” Marcel continued.

  “Because I need family,” she said.

  “No, because we need you. You’re all your cousins talk about,” he said. “Neva’s changing. You’re a good influence on her. I don’t know if you realize it, but she’s had a lot of trouble fitting in. It’s difficult to live a normal life when everyone around secretly hates you.”

  Ashey felt a pang of shame for what she was about to say. “It’s not surprising,” she muttered. “We are hated everywhere.” Marcel grunted thoughtfully. “How did you end up marrying one of us?”

  He laughed so loudly that everyone in the car park turned to look. “I married your aunt because I love her.”

  “Weren’t you scared of what that might mean in the future?”

  “Highs and lows, thick and thin. If the world is against us, we have each other.”

  “But—”

  “What does it mean to be a Sorel?”

  “That I burn and ruin stuff,” she said flatly.

  “And what about your grandfather, who saved tens of thousands of earthens from the brutality of war? Or your aunt Mariel, restoring the country to a healthier state? Not everyone is your mother, not even you, Ashamel. Your name gives you power, but it’s up to you what to do with it. So, who are you?”

  “Someone who definitely doesn’t want to murder a bunch of people.”

  She reached into her pocket and rolled the paper open. Five minutes left on the timer. “Can you sign this for me?”

  Marcel skimmed to the bottom. “I stay here for you, and you’re leaving? No wonder they say the Sorels are evil.”

  “It’s not my fault you can’t keep up with me,” she shot back.

  “Glad to see the old Ashey,” he said, taking a pen out of the car. He placed the form on the bonnet and signed. Before handing it over, he opened a compartment, pulled out his stamp, and inked it.

  “Do you take that everywhere you go?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

  “In case of administrative emergencies,” Marcel said, “this shows you’re from a very special family. Whoever rejects you is a certified fool.” He handed her the paper, barely smiling. “You should probably start running.”

  And run she did.

  Illah and Noreen caught sight of her flying through the school gates and gaped. They barrelled down the stairs, blowing past teachers shouting for them to stop. They stormed into Verimae’s office, sliding behind the computer. With thirty seconds left, Ashey smashed her finger on the mouse, willing the screen to respond. She pressed the paper on the screen, and the three held their breath together.

  Pending.

  The word blinked at her. She didn’t know what it meant. Even Noreen looked confused.

  Ashey’s phone rang.

  “Ms. Sorel, we have received your application,” the agent’s voice said. “Due to unusual circumstances surrounding your submission, the review process has been extended. We need to further verify your identity before allowing the application to proceed.”

  In short: You’ve blown your chance. We don’t want you here.

  “So, what do I do?” Ashey asked, her voice trembling.

  “Be patient,” the agent replied. “But the chances you’ll be allowed at the Galeon are slim. I’d advise you to find somewhere else—a place more welcoming to a Sorel.”

  Tears blurred Ashey’s vision. Her lips opened, but no words came. A warm hand rested on her back.

  “Give me the phone, Ashey,” Verimae whispered.

  Shoulder to shoulder, Ashey, Noreen, and Illah watched as Verimae took the call, placing one hand on the back of her waist. She didn’t speak Kirisi or English, but Sekri—the shared language of Solvarians and Ardenites. The girls couldn’t understand most of it, but her tone was calm, deliberate, commanding. The agent stuttered, repeating phrases Verimae seemed to mock.

  Illah nudged Noreen and mouthed, “Sex-y.”

  A pause stretched, long and tense. Finally, she took the phone from her ear, exhaling slowly, her expression unreadable. Then, with a small smile, she addressed the agent in English:

  “Hello, Floren.”

  A brief conversation followed in Sekri that seemed unrelated to Ashey’s troubles. When it ended, Verimae turned to Ashey.

  “Ashey, there is someone who would like to speak to you. She is one of the Soncara at the Galeon. Address her as Lady Sefaney.”

  Ashey nodded once and took the phone. She should have felt nervous. Instead, she felt numb.

  “Good evening, Ms Sorel. How has your day been?”

  “Not too good.”

  “I am truly sorry to hear that. I also wish to apologise on behalf of the Galeon and all of Arden for the discrimination you faced during your application. While we accept very few foreigners, our selection is based solely on character and academic merit—never family background, ethnicity, or nationality. Are you of good character, Ms Sorel?”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “I am sure you are,” Lady Sefaney replied. “As part of the application process, each applicant undergoes an interview. I would personally conduct yours. In the meantime, submit all required documents and prepare for travel. Your application portal has been reopened.”

  Ashey put the phone down, whispering, “I think I’m going to vomit.”

  Her classmates pestered her for details. When they heard the portal had been reopened, they shrieked with joy. When they heard she would face an interview, they mourned her funeral in advance.

  “It shouldn’t be that bad,” Ashey said, trying to regain composure. “How hard could it be? Verimae will be there. She’ll tell me what to say.”

  Verimae bit her lip. “I won’t be there, Ashey,” she said. “It will be just you and Floren.”

  “Come on, there’s no way! You can stand behind the computer and mouth stuff to me. The camera won’t know you’re there.”

  “What I mean is— the interview is in person. Floren will be there. Physically.”

  Blood drained from Ashey’s face. She collapsed into the chair.

  “Come on, Verimae, that has to be a joke, right?” Illah said. “She’s not sailing all the way from Arden just to interview some dumb girl. Do the swayers from the Galeon go around the world interviewing every applicant?”

  “There are three hundred of them in Henrik City alone.”

  “What?” the three girls said in unison.

  Verimae grinned. “I’m joking. The real number is closer to a thousand.”

  The girls exchanged wide-eyed glances. It sounded like something out of a spy movie. Ardenite agents walking among them, in public, every day.

  “So, you’re saying Lady Sefaney chose to interview me personally,” Ashey said, her voice trembling slightly, “because I’m… special?”

  “Don’t flatter yourself, Ashey,” Illah said with a smirk. “I’m sure there’s an actual reason.”

  “There is, actually,” Noreen piped up. “It’s the same reason the Fairy Prince is still in Henrikia.”

  “What is it?” Ashey asked.

  “The World Unity Conference,” Noreen explained. “Mariel is inviting all the world leaders to sign a pact of peace. She wants to assure everyone that the threat of Sovisansel is truly over. I’m certain Floren Sefaney is representing Arden here.”

  “How come you didn’t tell me earlier?” Ashey accused, a sharp edge to her voice.

  “I did,” Noreen shot back, suddenly annoyed. “At the bathroom. At the movies.”

  Ashey blinked. No clue what she meant.

  “There’s nothing to worry about,” Verimae said, lifting Ashey’s chin. “Floren is a Swayer. Even if you fumble your words, she’ll understand what you mean. As long as your heart is in the right place, her judgment will be fair.”

  And what if her heart wasn’t in the right place? The agent had already opened her eyes to the harshness of the world. Ashey felt her anger flare—she hated how they had treated her, how they had made her feel worthless when she’d done nothing wrong. That’s exactly what Floren would see. Her heart, angry, would be a sure rejection.

  Before sleep could claim her, she tried calling Hamis again, pleading for him to pick up. All these hoops she had to jump through would mean be needless if Hamis simply came for her.