Academically Inclined
She’d learnt how to choke a man to death by age four. At seven, she’d mastered the art of the con. Wrapped in rags with cupped palms, she’d learnt to pick her mark within a crowd. And, more importantly, how to use her tiny fingers to switch out precious items with those of similar size and weight.
Darius had seen to her education personally and though his methods left something to be desired, her other option had been far worse. Something he’d been sure to remind her of during her younger years.
Still, she mused, as she swept another round of gloss on, it was hard to fault the man who had housed her. She smoothed her tunic with her hand, being sure to double check the seam holding her knife.
Throwing her hood over her hair she smiled, canines nipping at her bottom lip.
Three.
Two.
One.
A bell chimed. Reminding her that though the building might rattle in the night, it wasn’t as dead as one would perceive from the outside.
Throwing a wink over her shoulder, she skipped down the stairs. Taking them two at a time.
She hadn’t even made it to the meeting room before she heard them. Noisy first years… She’d have to have a word. But… She rolled her eyes. It would only get her into more trouble.
She paused as a sound whispered to her left, from behind the old staircase. The barest twitch of a finger to silk. She threw herself to the floor, knife in hand.
“Boo,” Garren said wickedly as he crept from the shadows. Giving him a mockery of a smile, she swept her foot out, catching his knee and bringing him tumbling down.
“You’re an idiot,” she scoffed, her forehead crinkling as she noticed a small tear at the corner of her cloak. “And you owe me a new cloak.”
Garren shook his head. “It may shock you, but the world is more than pretty dresses and makeup.” He flicked her nose. “Perhaps you should remember that.”
Extending one delicate middle finger up his way, she tucked her hair into her hood. “I didn’t choose to be here. But, if I have to, the least I can do is look nice while doing so.”
She threw her hands in her pockets, glaring at the man before her. He shrugged boyishly and strode towards the room.
“Are you coming?” He asked over his shoulder. She stuck her tongue out, earning her a rough laugh. Dickhead.
Talah held still, waiting for him to disappear before she moved.
A held breath. One. Two. Three.
She went to move but… something was wrong.
She trained her eyes on the ceiling as she listened. If those damn first years could just shut up, she’d be able to hear.
Walking on the balls of her feet, she hid in Garren’s hiding place, shadowed from the lights on the walls. Freeing a thin knife from her boot, she pressed the tip to the wooden slats. Thumb resting upon the hilt, she dropped her ear down atop. Feeling the vibrations of movement from someone directly to her right.
A tug at the scarf on her wrist caused her to stumble before she was wrenched upright, her knife clattering against the stone.
“You’re late,” Darius whispered wetly into her ear. Cringing at the intimacy, she gulped, feeling the tip of her own knife pressed to her side.
“Want to know where you failed?” He asked, easing the knife down to her hip. A warning. It wasn’t rhetorical.
“Garren,” she forced the name through gritted teeth. “That bastard.” He would’ve ratted her out.
Darius chuckled, finally lowering the knife. “Not the boy. Though he would do well to learn.” With a flourish, he threw the scarf her way. She snatched it from the air.
“That’s cheating,” she snarled, bunching the material in her fist. Darius crossed his arms, eyes dark.
“There’s no such thing as cheating in this Talah. There’s only life and death. The sooner you remember that, the better. Get rid of it”
Jutting her jaw out, she threw down her hood and extended a palm. Darius tutted. “You know the rules.” Sweeping the knife within the depths of his own cloak, he flung the door open, a hush instantly descending. He didn’t look back at her before disappearing into the room.
Eyeing the door, she uncrumpled the silk in her hand and unconsciously wound it between her fingers, before crisscrossing it back around her left arm over the scratch marks Lady Maria had left. A calling sign, she’d been taught, was the dumbest mistake those in their profession could make. She looked down at the silver brocade, smoothing the silk over her wrist. It was a good thing she wasn’t in their profession then, wasn’t it?
“Talah!” Darius stood at the doorway, eyebrows furrowing as he watched her stroke the scarf once more. “Do you really think yourself so important that we should wait on you?”
“No sir,” she bit out, hands disappearing beneath her cloak. “Just waiting for Merrick and Elias.”
Darius tutted again. “Had you arrived earlier, you would have noticed they’re already in attendance.”
A snicker could be heard from inside, no doubt belonging to Garren. Talah hung her head.
“Sorry,” she muttered, hands bunched at her sides. She gestured towards the door. “Let’s not keep the monsters waiting.” She grinned at Darius’ disgruntlement. A hushed whisper had begun to escalate from within. Darius’ eyes further darkened.
“Come.” Was all he said, sweeping once again into the room.
Fluffing her hair, she sauntered in behind.
“Finally,” Garren exclaimed. Talah raised a brow.
“I hadn’t realised the separation would’ve affected you so.” She flicked her hood back. “I certainly don’t blame you though.” Garren glared at her from within his own hood. She flipped him off.
“You bitch,” he spat, leaping to his feet.
“Garren!” Darrius snapped. “You will stay behind to talk of this behaviour. I will not tolerate that kind of language at my table.”
Talah’s grin soured. His table. A subtle reminder that no matter what name he gave this group of young people, they were still his property.
Custodianship was a nice term. On the good days, she would use it almost liberally. Slavery was her other term. The one she threw around on a daily basis. Unironically.
Emotion had no place at the table. Swallowing her disgust, she turned to face Garren, hoping to get a rise from him.
“Say it again, I liked the sound,” she said sweetly. “Had a nice ring don’t you think?”
Garren seethed. However, he wasn’t the first to pipe up. “You will remain behind as well Talah. I am thoroughly disappointed in the two of you. This is not how I have raised you.” Darius rumbled. She crossed her arms and shrugged. Internally however, great big sirens were erupting in her chest, warning her to pipe down.
“And grant him more of my extraordinary presence? Gladly.” Clearly, meek wasn’t going to work for her tonight.
Someone coughed. A space-filler or nervous tic, she honestly didn’t care. It was distracting and unwanted. Talah ran her eyes along the group before settling on a young boy with shocking red hair.
Raising her brows at him she mockingly put a finger to her lips. “Hush, the headmaster wishes to speak.” The boy paled. At eleven, he was the youngest at the table. Too young to realise that the dark grounds should not be coveted as a haven. Not that she took interest in anyone else. But, if his timid expression and mannerisms were to indicate anything, it would be that he hadn’t been sent out yet.
Darius sent Talah a look, to which she responded with a saccharine grin. She was walking a fine line, but she couldn’t find it in her to give a damn that evening. Particularly after last night’s events.
Clapping his hands, a hush fell again upon the table as all eyes turned to the headmaster. “Now,” he said. “In two weeks, the Duke and his family will be arriving by the south wall.” He steepled his fingers, his ring pinging against the table.
“Who’s the employer?” Garren asked, face drawn.
“It’s none of your concern,” Darius growled, and Talah was almost impressed by Garren’s tenacity. Almost. She threw her feet on the table and leant back into the chair she’d claimed. Directly opposite Darius.
“Quick and clean?” She asked, folding her arms across her chest. Darius frowned at her boots.
“Not this time, we’ve been given specific instructions.” He said, two fingers raised before quickly dropping. Message received.
With a huff, she took her feet off the table and threw them beneath her as she leant back into her chair. “What sort of instructions?” She asked.
“Does it matter?” A tiny voice piped up. The young boy. She raked her brain for a name. Nicholas or Klause? Not that it mattered. A weasel like him was unlikely to stay for long.
“Of course it does,” She scoffed. “Tell me, have you ever felt a man take his last breath? Or had to increase the pressure you’re placing with a pillow on someone’s mouth? Their attempts to hit you getting softer, and softer and softer. It means everything.” Talah watched as the boy’s face paled.
“Do you even know what we do here?” She asked, voice dropped even lower as she watched him. “How many throats we’ve slashed. Boy, if I were you, I’d be getting out of your pretty little uniform as soon as you can, before it-”
“Talah!” Darius snapped, “that’s quite enough.” She rolled her eyes. This was always the worst part. Seeing all the first years who had yet to learn the truth behind the academy. As soon as they did however, their debt had already grown too large to manage anywhere else. The perfect trap.
“Regardless,” Talah said, dismissing the topic. “We need to know how and why.” She looked over at the boy whose face had paled marginally more so. Good, he still had time to return to the streets. Better to be scared away than trapped in the academy. “The who would also be nice to know.” She added.
“None of these are important. It is not your job to question. You will follow orders or else,” Darius said, the scar on his lip creating a slight hiss between words. Talah glanced over at Garren. As the eldest two, these tasks often relied on the pair to lead such ‘excursions’. Garren was the first to drop eye contact. She smirked.
Another ping sounded as Darius knocked his ring on the table and, at once, all thirteen pairs of eyes locked with his, awaiting his next words. “As we have no direct access for the Duke, we will be taking a… creative approach to this.” As annoyed as she was with the old man, she found herself drinking his words in. A quick glance around proved this to be a unanimous experience. “The Duke is a paranoid man,” he said. “A nature of which is often mirrored amongst these royals.”
Garren muttered something beneath his breath but was quickly silenced with a look from Darius. “We will be operating from within the palace itself,” Darius announced. Wary looks were all exchanged from student to student. Talah averted their eyes, preferring to stare at a particularly boring shade of grey – likely mould – in the ceiling. Alliances were not something she sought. At least, not anymore. She smoothed the silk around her wrist once again, an instinctual habit more than anything.
“I don’t see how we will be able to get in that easily. I’d imagine, given the size of the mark, we’d need a substantial team?” Garren mused and, much to her displeasure, she found herself nodding in agreement.
Darius knocked his ring once more against the tabletop and, just like that, he had the table’s attention on him again.
“As it so happens, the Duke has returned to Colbridge early in hopes of marrying his son off.” Darius said, the corner of his moustache twitching as he held his breath. She was started to get sick of each grand reveal of information. He was treating them like starved animals, offering the tiniest serve before stepping back to watch them all snap at each other in attempts to gain more.
“Some form of unity I’d imagine,” someone piped up from the other end of the table. Likely Lukas, the 14-year-old sadist. A shudder ran down her back at the thought of Lukas’ preferred methodology on excursions. She prayed he wouldn’t be invited to this one.
“So,” she said impatiently, itching to get to the conclusion of their rendezvous. “How will we be infiltrating? We’ve tried every door and window before. There’s no simple way in.”
“We won’t be infiltrating. We will be competing.” He said simply, causing a cacophony of voices to rise.
“Competing, but that’s a-?”
“What’s the competition?”
“How many of us are supposed to-?”
A smart rap of his knuckles upon the table brought the room to attention. “Stop wasting breath on pointless questions,” Darius admonished. “You should be asking yourself who we will be entering to win the son’s hand.”
Talah gripped her hand tightly within the other for support, dreading the answer that she was sure would to be announced to the group. Sure enough, Darius gestured her way. “Talah, as most experienced, will be our submission to the competition. She’s of age and certainly capable, were she to put her mind to it.”
Talah bounced on her chair. “Are we not going to put this to a vote?” She cried, a note of desperation wobbling her vowels ever so slightly. Darius frowned at her.
“It is not up for debate.” Was all he said, a conclusion to both a conversation and list of demands she’d had on her tongue. Talah jumped up, the legs of her chair scraping on the ground.
“I don’t understand? As soon as they realise I’m not there with ‘honourable intentions’,” she said, fingers creating air quotes. “They’ll lop my head off in front of the whole bloody town.” Darius sent her a look.
“Then I suggest you make good use of your time to prevent such a case from happening.”
She gaped at him. “Do I have no say in this at all?” She asked. Really, she had no reason to be shocked. She’d lived with the man for what was almost the entirety of her life. By then, she’d learnt what one could contest, and what you could not. And yet, she scoffed. “This is ridiculous. Why should we continue to take on impossible requests? Did we not learn from Annie?” A lump rose in her throat, but she had to quash it immediately. No emotion, no emotion, no emotion, she had to remind herself.
“Weren’t you just talking about frilly dresses?” Garren sneered. “Isn’t this the perfect opportunity for you to be amongst your own, ditsy kind?” She flipped him off again for good measure.
“I know it’s hard for you to understand the intent and purpose behind good clothing Garren,” she retorted, voice devoid of any emotion. “But try to understand that there are some of us that appreciate wearing appropriate clothing and feeling respectable once in a while. I know it’s a hard concept.” She drew a swirl in the ground with her toe. “Good clothes can make a big difference.”
Garren jumped up from his seat. “Mind your tongue. Just because you’ve been given free roam here does not mean your place has changed. As a woman, it is your only duty to shut i-.” The last word was a strangled gasp as he stared at the knife protruding from his chair. Inches away from where his head had rested.
“I’d apologise,” she said snidely, “but, I appear to have been told to shut up.” She shrugged.
“ENOUGH!” Darius shouted, the deep timbre of his voice demanding attention. As quickly as he had raised it, he dropped it to a murmur. A parlour trick used to inspire fear. It worked. “The Duke will arrive during the eve in three days. Talah will be masked as a suiter, during which she will be a point of contact.” He turned to her, narrowing his eyes as she stood upright.
“How old is his family?” A tiny voice interrupted from the shadowed table. She wasn’t shocked to find the owner’s red hair. She scoffed, but Darius shocked her by answering the stupid question.
“They are part of the deal,” Darius said smoothly. The boy, not as stupid as she’d previously thought, nodded thoughtfully, letting the conversation die.
“Talah, tomorrow I expect you to visit the dressage.” At this she beamed. Potentially her favourite place in the world, the rows and rows of coloured textures were a personal delight to her bleak existence. “Garren will accompany you,” Darius concluded. She soured instantly and repressed a little groan.
“Talah,” Darius prompted, and edge in his voice. She almost laughed. This disillusioned attempt at making her appear to have a choice wasn’t fooling anyone. She shrugged.
“I have a year left until I’m out of this godforsaken place. What choice do I have?” Crossing her arms, she leant against the wall. “How long will you require me to be in place?”
“At least 3 weeks,” Darius said. “Given the friendship between the Duke and King, it will be hard to access the entire family in a short period of time.” He glanced down the table before folding his hands atop each other.
“I suggest you all return to your rooms and think on the matter. Training,” he said. “Will be increased tomorrow. That is all.” Rising slowly, he exited the room.
As if like magnets, everyone rose silently, candles extinguished as they moved. Talah found herself relieved to be returning to her room. The talk for both Garren and herself evidently forgotten. No, she supposed, they all had bigger things on their mind. Like how they were going to kill the Duke.