Flight of the King (4 page)

BAILEY WALKED PHI TO
Treetop and then doubled back across the snow-covered campus, which glowed in the moonlight. Past the Scavage field, he threaded
through the trees that separated the Fairmount grounds from the woods. Bert the iguana nestled underneath Bailey's wool coat, his scaly claws gripping the cables of Bailey's sweater for
balance.

When the rigimotive had first pulled into Fairmount that afternoon, Bailey had sensed that Taleth was near. At least, he thought he'd sensed this; he felt a sort of low hum that spread out
in all directions from him, like a faint electro-current charge crackling in the air. Was this how it felt all the time to have a bond? He didn't know.

He wondered how different his Awakening would have been if the Velyn, the tribe of his birth, hadn't been nearly wiped out during the Jackal's reign. Did Taleth once have family too?
Would he have felt the same strong pull to another white tiger, if they had survived, as he did to Taleth? He had so many questions. He wished that he'd been able to spend more time with the
Velyn and their leader, Eneas Fourclaw, before the Midwinter break. Bailey hoped that the Velyn were still in the woods outside Fairmount, and he carried this hope like a lantern, lighting his way
through the shadowy trees.

He walked through brambles and over frost-slick stones to the last place where he'd seen Taleth—a small, rocky cliff visible from the highest hill on campus. All around him, he heard
the rustling of winter birds and the darting of white-furred rabbits. Then there came another sound, low and gravelly, as familiar as if it had come from his own throat. He saw an enormous white
form through the trees ahead. Taleth was waiting for him on the rocks, and she was purring. He wanted to throw his arms around her soft, furry neck—but the truth was he hardly knew her. His
first hours with her had been spent fighting for their lives, and he didn't know how she would react to him now. He walked forward slowly, holding his hand out to her.

Taleth waited until he approached, and then she lowered her huge forehead and rubbed it against Bailey's outstretched palm.

When he and Taleth had first come face-to-face, Bailey's Awakening had been undeniable—he'd actually been able to see himself through Taleth's eyes, as clearly as looking
into a mirror. Now his connection with her was more like a humming energy inside him, unfocused, chaotic, and untrained. It would take him time, as Tremelo had said, to tap into it at will.

As Taleth purred and sat down on her haunches, Bailey tried to concentrate on the nature around them, the way that Tremelo had taught him in the fall. He could smell himself, faintly, the way
Taleth smelled him: something comforting and foreign about the damp wool of his winter coat, and unmistakably human about his hair and skin. But that was all—as though the humming inside him
was set on a low dial.

Bert the iguana shuddered inside Bailey's coat and tried to crawl up onto his neck.

“This is Bert,” said Bailey awkwardly as the lizard poked his head out of Bailey's lapel. Bailey couldn't be sure whether speaking to Taleth had any effect on her at all.
The tiger leaned forward, sniffing. Clouds of wet breath rose from her nostrils. Her whiskers twitched as Bert craned his scaly head out of Bailey's coat, and touched Taleth's nose with
his own.

“Bert's nothing like you,” Bailey said—or maybe he only thought it. Taleth stretched and paced past Bailey to sniff him from all sides. She nudged him again, butting her
heavy head against his upper back. All at once, Bailey could feel exactly what she felt—her relief at seeing him safe, her delight that she'd found him, her sadness that he
couldn't stay here in the woods with her always. It was not like seeing through her eyes, but as if she'd left a trace of her emotions on him.

“I know,” he whispered. His own breath rose into the crisp air and dissipated. “I wish I didn't have to stay away. It's not fair.”

Bailey tried to hold on to this strange feeling. But the sensation waned, and he was left with only his own sadness, his own relief.

Taleth perked her head and looked over Bailey's shoulder into the trees. She was more worried now; Bailey could tell by her twitching ears. His heart began to beat a little faster as he
followed her eyes around the edges of the clearing. Anyone could be watching them at that moment. He put his arms around Taleth's neck, just as he'd wished to when he first saw her.

“I have to go,” he said. “It's the only way to keep you safe.” He felt the enormous tiger purring—a rumbling that nearly shook his whole body. But if what
he'd experienced a moment before could be trusted, he knew that underneath that purr, she was also sad, and that he was the only person in the world who could know that.

Bailey, Phi, and Hal sat together in the dining hall on the first morning of classes, in the company of some other Year One members of the Scavage team. Bailey had left Bert
behind in the Towers—the lizard had looked so cozy underneath the heated electro-current bulbs Tremelo had lent him to keep Bert warm. “Basking,” Tremelo had called it. Tall
windows by their table looked out over the sloping, snow-covered hillside that led down to the Scavage field. Inside the hall, students chatted excitedly about their breaks as they ate
egg-and-spinach tarts and bowls of steaming oatmeal with jam made from last year's berries. The morning seemed comfortable and pleasant, but Bailey felt ill as he listened to group's
the most prevalent topic of conversation: the unexpected death of Ms. Sucrette.

“I heard she got sick,” said Terrence, a boy from Bailey's Scavage squad, who sat a few seats down from Bailey and Hal. “And the school sent her to a specialist in the
Gray—but by the time she got there, it was too late.”

“She was
murdered
, you idiot—same night that visiting Parliament member died,” said Arabella, captain of the Blue Squad, before shoveling a forkful of egg tart into
her mouth. Across the table from each other, Hal and Bailey traded worried looks. Arabella was referring to the Elder.

“Parliament, what?” said Alice, a Blue Squad Squat.

“Some old man,” Arabella said. “Had a meeting with Finch, and died the same night. Heart attack or something like that. There was a funeral and everything.”

“But that had nothing to do with Ms. Sucrette,” said Alice.

“Unless the same person was out to get them both!” interjected Terrence.

“But who would want to hurt Ms. Sucrette?” asked Alice. “She was so nice! Phi, you were in her class, weren't you?”

Phi glanced at Bailey before answering.

“We all were,” she said, nodding at Bailey and Hal. “She was…sweet.”

Bailey poked at his breakfast. His appetite had disappeared. He hated thinking of Ms. Sucrette—as a teacher, she certainly had
pretended
to be nice, and done a convincing job of
it. But as an agent of the Dominae, she'd been ruthless. As he listened to the others trade theories, he couldn't help picturing her: not only how she'd looked as she advanced on
him with a knife in her slender hand, but also how small her broken body had appeared afterward, when the animals she'd dominated had killed her. That image had woken him up at night in the
Lowlands, shivering.

The doors to the dining hall opened with a clang, and Headmaster Finch, a skinny, beak-nosed man in a brown plaid suit, entered. He was followed by Mr. Nillow, Bailey's History teacher,
who was as round as Finch was tall. Tremelo entered behind them, wearing a thinly masked scowl. He strode over to a corner by the announcements board, and folded his arms in front of his chest. The
two other men stood before the rows of tables, and Finch raised his arms in greeting.

“Students, students!” Finch said, though he could barely be heard above the chatter. Mr. Nillow stepped up behind him, put his fingers in his mouth, and whistled harshly. The hall
went quiet.

“Thank you, Nillow,” Headmaster Finch said, pulling at his plaid waistcoat anxiously. Finch always seemed to Bailey to be both nervous and angry, as though he was afraid of water
getting dumped on him, but was ready to punish whoever would do it.

“Many of you may already have heard the whispers about the coming week's exciting events,” he began. “And it is my task to make those rumors official—we will be
hosting an important guest next Friday: Viviana Melore of the Dominae party, which is making quick work of cleaning up the political system of our fair kingdom.”

Bailey fought the urge to snort angrily. It was clear that Finch was a Dominae supporter. From the eager whispers in the hall, it seemed many students were, as well.

“Miss Melore will tour the school during morning classes, and we will host an assembly at three p.m.,” Finch said. “Afternoon classes will be canceled that day.”

Bailey looked over at Tremelo in his lonely corner. Tremelo glared at Finch. Bailey could only guess at how he felt—even though Viviana was the enemy, she was also Tremelo's sister,
and he was about to see her for the first time in twenty-seven years.

“Miss Melore and her accompanying associates from the Dominae party have been invited to stay at Fairmount for a full weekend,” Finch continued, “so that they can take in the
whole of what the school has to offer—including our very first Scavage scrimmage of the new year!”

A cacophony of cheers erupted around Bailey as his Blue Squad teammates pounded on the table. The Gold Squad, across the room, let out a round of celebratory whoops.

Finch cleared his throat for silence.

“A more serious matter: I know that many of you are still recovering from the loss of Ms. Sucrette,” he said. “She was not with us for very long, but she was a much-respected
presence while she was here. It's my hope that the news of Miss Melore's visit will shine a ray of light into what seems to be a dark time for our school. And I also hope,” he
added, with a newly sharpened edge to his voice, “that you will exercise your most sparkling behavior during her stay!”

Finch finished his announcement, and the dining room chatter resumed as students exchanged exclamations about the big news.

“Can you believe that?” Hal said. “Finch was nearly salivating, he was so excited!”

“No wonder Tremelo can't stand him,” Bailey agreed.

They turned to look across the dining hall at Tremelo, but he was gone.

As Bailey searched the room, a loud pop broke his concentration, and a bright, blinding light nearly obliterated his vision.

“Ow!” he heard Hal cry out, followed by mocking laughter.

He rubbed his stinging eyes to see Taylor, Hal's older brother, accompanied by his usual gaggle of Year Three Scavage athletes. The semester before, he'd teased Bailey endlessly
about his lack of an Animas, and had even stolen his bag, with Tremelo's precious book in it. Taylor didn't know it—but his antics had almost gotten Bailey killed.

“Yes! Point for Gold Squad!” Taylor crowed. A mean-eyed tortoiseshell cat rubbed her arched back against Taylor's shins.

“Those are my stunners!” Hal shouted, pointing at the small pouch in Taylor's hand. They were weapons Tremelo had given Hal to use the semester before, in the battle against
Sucrette. “How did you get those?!”

“Let's just say, maybe you shouldn't leave your knapsack lying around on the rigimotive,” said Taylor.

He tossed another stunner down onto Bailey and Hal's table, where it exploded with a bang. Students all over the dining hall craned their necks to get a good look at the commotion. Bailey
felt his cheeks and ears turning cherry red.

“Give them back to Hal,” he said.

“Like
ants
, I will,” said Taylor. “Could be useful on the Scavage field.”

Taylor deployed another stunner, causing everyone at the table to hide their eyes and shout with irritation. Then he slipped the pouch back in his pocket and stalked off, motioning for his
friends to follow. As Taylor and his friends passed through the doors, Bailey saw another teacher standing there, watching them exit—but this was no one Bailey recognized. Bailey felt the
skin along his arms prickling at the sight of an unfamiliar face. The man wore a long tweed cape and a scarf bundled around and around his neck. He was very short, with a hooked nose and small
eyes. A gray cat stood beside him by the door, where it stopped to touch whiskery noses with Taylor's tortoiseshell. The man met Bailey's stare, and Bailey quickly looked back down at
his breakfast, now cold.

“Who's that?” he whispered to Hal. “Over by the door.”

“I don't know,” said Hal. “Figures there'd be a new teacher, though—to replace Sucrette. He doesn't look very happy to be here.”

Bailey turned in his seat to catch another glimpse of the new teacher. The man's nostrils flared as he looked around the room, as though he'd smelled something very unpleasant.

“I guess Finch decided to go with something other than ‘sweet' this time,” said Hal.

In homeroom, Tremelo had posted a “pop quiz” on the chalkboard that consisted of a series of riddles, such as “What animal keeps the best time?” and “What type of
horse only goes out in the dark?” Hal finished his quiz first, and leaned over to see Bailey's paper.

“
Hmm,
that's what I got for the first one too,” Hal said. “The ‘nightmare' one's the hardest.…” Bailey nodded and scribbled down the
answer, though he knew Tremelo wouldn't actually be grading the assignment.

When it was time to head to Latin, Tremelo pulled Bailey aside.

“Where's Bert?” he asked.

“Oh, ants!” said Bailey. “I forgot him!”

“It's the first day of classes,” chided Tremelo. “The most important time to establish that he's your kin. First impressions are crucial. Go and get him!”

Bailey dashed back to his dorm instead of heading to Latin.