Princess Academy By Shannon Hale

Chapter 10

No wolf falters before the bite So strike
No hawk wavers before the dive Just strike

  One more snowfall, then the clouds retreated higher than any mountain. Winter's grip eased, and the sun seemed to lean in closer to Mount Eskel. It was painfully bright, the sky a hot blue. The hard crust of snow softened and patches of earth emerged, showing green things rising out of the mud and pushing up onto the hills. The smell of the wind changed—it felt thicker, richer, like the air around a cook pot. Spring was stretching on the mountain.

  More and more often, the girls looked up from their books and toward the heartening sight of Mount Eskel's peak, shedding white for brown and green. Miri could not think of returning home without a plummeting sensation in her belly. She hoped so powerfully to be able to share the secrets of Commerce and change trading for her village that she nearly trembled with it. Then, the day before they planned on making the trek for spring holiday, Olana announced a test.

"I know you think to return tomorrow," said Olana. "Your spring holiday is not a Danlander tradition, and this academy is under no obligation to honor it. Let the exam determine if you've earned the right to return home. Those who don't pass will remain at the academy, engaged in personal study."

  The testing began with reading aloud, and Miri winced when Frid struggled with the big words and Gerti had no comprehension of the text on the page. Olana asked questions on History, Geography, and Kings and Queens, and the girls wrote out their answers on clay tablets. They walked across the room to exhibit Poise and conversed in pairs. Olana kept track of each girl's progress on a piece of parchment. As painful as the testing was, Olana made it worse by declaring she would not give the scores until the next day.

"It will be good for you to ponder your performance until morning," said Olana.

  In their bedchamber, Miri heard panicked whispering late into the night. "I have to go home."

"Me too. No matter what."

"I know I failed. I'm sure I did. All the questions were so hard."

"She hates us. She'll fail us all just to be mean."

"Shush, or she'll fail us for talking."

  The next morning, the girls sat so straight that they did not touch the backs of their chairs. The weight of Miri's desire to return home made her feel lopsided and giddy. If Olana won't let me go, she thought, I may have to run. But she was not ready to give up on the academy either, on all she was learning, on the hopes of becoming academy princess and being that special one, even on the rough and furtive yearning that she would not let herself think on too long—leaving the mountain, giving her pa the house in the painting, becoming a princess.

"Well," said Olana, facing the class with hands clasped behind her back. "Any guesses?"

No one answered.

"No need to drag it out," said Olana, and someone snorted at the comment. "You all failed."

A collective gasp went up.

"Except Miri and Katar."

  Miri exchanged looks with Katar and saw that the other girl was pleased. "You both may go." Olana waved them off.

Katar walked to the door and turned, waiting.

  Miri had not moved. "Tutor Olana." Miri swallowed and spoke a little louder. "Tutor Olana, that doesn't seem fair."

"Passing the test doesn't give you freedom to speak out, Miri," said Olana.

"Go this moment or forfeit your right to go at all. Now, the rest of you are miles behind where you should be, and I will not have you mortify me in front of the chief delegate and the prince. I will busy myself elsewhere in the building for the next couple of days. I'd rather not see much of you, which means I had better not hear much from you."