"Are you okay?" He mouthed over the loud crowd. She wanted to say she was fine and push him away. She wanted to inform him that she was supposed to be shielding him, not the other way around. But she only managed to get out a quiet yes, too unnerved by their proximity as the students stormed by. In that instant, she had nothing to do other than stare into the prince's deep eyes. Why were they so blue? So entrancingly blue.
She chose to stare past his shoulder to get a peek at the students rushing past. They were all primly dressed in the Legacy school uniforms. Blue dress shirts, and darker blue pants or skirts, were overlaid with purple vests or corsets—depending on the student's gender or preference. Naomi also noticed there wasn't one unattractive person in the whole bunch. No messy, windswept hair or crooked teeth. These children had been polished to physical perfection by their wealthy parents.
After what felt like an eternity, the second bell rang, signaling the end of the rush. Malcolm pulled away from her. While he'd been covering her, Figgis and Sam had dutifully guarded their prince against the hallway mayhem. Naomi wondered if they behaved this way on every school day with Malcolm.
Figgis triumphantly cleared his throat. "See?" he said. "That's why I hover."
Malcolm rolled his eyes, and Naomi wanted to laugh. He and Figgis must act like this on a regular basis. She wondered if she'd end up developing the same dedication. With how things were going currently, probably not.
"You still look nervous," Malcolm said.
Naomi straightened her clothes and stuck out her chin.
"Only because of what happened. I'm fine. You can take me to the dean's office, and—"
"Not yet. I want to show you something else first."
"What is it?"
"Something that might make you hate this whole situation a little less."
Without any further explanation, Malcolm headed down a different hall, leading them away from their previous direction. Naomi hesitated, but eventually ended up following along with Sam and Figgis. Although she didn't want to obey, this was her new job. She also didn't want to get lost on the enormous campus.
They passed by multiple classrooms. Peeking through the windows, Naomi caught glimpses of students doing a variety of tasks. Some teachers were going about their lectures, while in larger classrooms the lessons were more hands-on. Students practiced their magic in various forms. Mages utilized their elements to concoct potions and charms. Elves experimented with building their shields or telekinetically tying large vines together into immense towers. Griffon shifters worked on transforming different parts of their bodies into their animal counterparts, while kitsune shifters lit up their paws and tails with flickering fire. The imagery was intoxicating. Talented pupils, learning and exploring, connecting with their inner magic.
Naomi felt a strange tug inside that she couldn't explain. Longing, envy perhaps? She'd never had the chance to do any of this, to challenge herself magically or intellectually like these students were doing.
Naomi noticed that Malcolm was walking backward so he could take in her expression. He was showing her that not everything had to be torture here. That she might like it. Well, the school at least.
Malcolm made a right turn through a stone archway and brought Naomi out onto the lush, green grass of the school courtyard. Glorious flowers were sprinkled across a vast, tree-lined quad. Everywhere she looked, students lounged on the grass, talked in groups, and studied under the trees or on long benches.
"What do you think?" Malcolm asked, a light teasing lilt in his voice.
"It's pretty." Naomi tried to sound neutral. Secretly, she had to admit a thrill went through her.
"Just pretty, huh?" Malcolm chose to go with her nonchalance and glanced down at his watch. "Hmm. I wanted to show you the stadium where we do the battle magic games, but it'll have to wait. I'm pretty sure the dean is steaming, wondering where we are."
Malcolm waved her toward the hallway, heading back to where they'd originally come from. A twinge of regret filled Naomi at the idea of leaving. She went anyway, knowing the entrance exam was unavoidable. Her stroll through academic possibilities was over as she returned to reality. Dismay and hope ran through her equally as she walked toward this next step, prepared to meet her fate.
***
A few more agonizing steps later, and they arrived at the dean's office. When Naomi entered, a new receptionist greeted her with a smile. She seemed nicer than Mrs. Tinkle and had a slightly better name too: Mrs. Rothman. With a tight, brown bun and bright smile, the petite woman had a cheerful glow.
"Prince Malcolm!" the woman exclaimed. "How may I help you?"
"Good morning, Mrs. Rothman. I've brought along a prospective student. She's here to meet with Dean Wellington about taking the entrance exam."
"Well, isn't that wonderful!" Mrs. Rothman gushed.
Yes. She was much nicer than Mrs. Tinkle.
"Um, I guess?" Naomi said, lacking the woman's enthusiasm.
"Please have a seat, Naomi. I'll let her know you're here, and I'm sure she'll be out in a moment," the receptionist added.
"This is where I'll have to leave you. I've missed half the school day as it is," Malcolm said.
Naomi hummed understandingly, but it didn't matter. He was the prince. He could skip class whenever he liked.
"Thank you for bringing me here. I appreciate it." Naomi settled for civility since Malcolm had taken the time to ease her worry. They wouldn't become friends any time soon, but politeness was possible.
"You're welcome, and...good luck," Malcolm said as he walked to the door. With one last wave, he was gone. Figgis and Sam quickly followed him.
Naomi suddenly felt cold. Their tour had kept everything light. Now she would soon have to take on this dreaded exam and the dean of the entire school.
Naomi's mind raced as she sunk into the nearest chair. While Naomi had promised she wouldn't let her new challenges faze her, her leg began to shake. Her anxiety was reaching a high when suddenly the dean's door swung open.
The woman waltzed in like a model, her impressive high heels striking the floor in a quick sashay. She looked the part too. With a dark brown complexion, glimmering amber eyes, and thick, wavy hair any woman would envy, the dean didn't look like the quintessential headmistress. Instead, she was middle-aged and drop-dead gorgeous. The only thing that suggested a life in academia were her stereotypical square glasses.
"Naomi Cliffton?" she asked.
Her eyes swept the room until they settled on Naomi. The woman confidently strode toward her. When she stopped in front of Naomi, she looked at her pointedly. Naomi realized the woman expected her to rise from her chair to greet her. She rushed to stand up.
"Y-yes, that's me." Naomi held out her hand for the dean to shake.
She didn't.
"I'm Dean Wellington. Nice to meet you," she said, although her cold tone displayed an opposite sentiment. "Please step into my office."
Dean Wellington didn't wait for Naomi's response. She stormed back toward her office, expecting her to follow. Naomi moved as swiftly as her legs could carry her. The moment she stepped through, the dean waved a hand. The door to her office slammed shut, the loud thud sounding like a guillotine.
Dean Wellington stared at Naomi—hard. The silence stretched between them. The dean was trying to intimidate her, but Naomi wouldn't let her tactics work. She returned the headmistress's look for several moments until Dean Wellington spoke.
"So, Naomi, tell me."
"Tell you what, ma'am?"
The dean's eyes hardened. "What should I do with you?" she asked.
"What do you mean?"
Dean Wellington leaned back in her chair, examining Naomi with intense scrutiny.
"We both know what you are. What you're capable of. How do I know your reasons for getting into Legacy are pure? How do I know you won't be a danger to the other students?"
Naomi's concern was instantly replaced with anger. With her heritage revealed, this was the kind of persecution she had to look forward to. Granted, she would encounter it frequently, but at school? She didn't want to deal with the dean and other students looking down on her, constantly suspecting or fearing her.
"I'm not dangerous. Instead of using my powers to hurt anyone, I saved the prince. I'm sure you've heard of that," Naomi said, hinting at the fact the king had probably already spoken with the dean. This meeting was a formality, and they both knew it.
"Because King Drewell wants you here, you think you're entitled to be let in? With no evaluation of your motives?"
"No, that's not what I think."
"I don't believe you." Dean Wellington stated the accusation as innocently as if she was saying, "the sky is blue." It burned Naomi up inside.
"Then don't. Frankly, I don't give a damn," she hissed, standing up from her chair. Without hesitation, she turned to walk out.
"Not so fast, young lady. I'm not done."
Naomi faced the dean but didn't sit back down. She would retain that tiny bit of defiance.
Dean Wellington sighed. "I'm seeing many qualities in you that I dislike. Short-tempered, rude, and probably violent. I shouldn't let you into this school."
Naomi opened her mouth to defend herself, but the dean held up a warning finger.
"But...as you said, the king wants you here. I can hardly refuse him."
"So?"
"So underneath your huffy tantrums and all the warning signs, I still have to wonder...maybe this girl could truly be extraordinary. I'd be a fool not to find out. If there's one thing I can't stand for—in myself or anyone else—it's foolishness."
"What are you saying, exactly?"
"I'll let you take the test. Now."
"Don't I get any time to study first? Learn the rules? No one's told me what to expect."
"This isn't the kind of written test you study for. I've seen your grades. They're...sufficient. I'm not worried about your academic aptitude."
"What other test could there be?" Naomi frowned.
"One of the soul, Naomi," Dean Wellington said. There was a hint of secrecy and delight in her words that Naomi disliked immensely.
A test of the soul?
That sounded ten times more terrifying.
"You see, Legacy isn't only about endowing our students with excellent academics. We expect integrity and dignity from them. Ethics, if you will. That's what I want to see in you."
"You want to find out if I'm a decent human being?" Naomi asked.
"Basically, yes."
Naomi bit her tongue. She resisted her defensive spark that was on the brink of reigniting. She shouldn't care what this woman thought. Hell, she hadn't cared that much about going to Legacy in the beginning. The king would pull strings to get her in, either way. In spite of Naomi knowing all of this, Dean Wellington had gone too far.
This was war.
A battle for Naomi to blow away Dean Wellington's preconceived notions.
"Fine," Naomi said through gritted teeth. "I'll take it."
*** You got one shot, Naomi. Let's do this!
What do you think Dean Wellington's "test of the soul" will be like?
Find out next weekend!