Chapter 27-Limited Access

Odett’s POV

  The announcement covered every fifth-year classroom door before the first bell. SECOND TERM ASSESSMENT stretched across the top in letters large enough to alarm students on the far side of the courtyard. Six pages of requirements hung beneath it.

  Joshy stood beside me while I read the list for the third time. The assessment included a written examination, a leadership hearing, a combat evaluation, and a two-day emergency exercise involving every fifth-year division. Our semester-long pack proposal would also be reviewed by a panel of instructors instead of the single teacher who normally graded it.

  “They could have announced this without making it look like a public execution,” I complained.

  “Six pages is excessive when the important part is that none of us will sleep for the next three weeks.”

  I turned the last page over, half expecting more requirements on the back. Joshy bent over the sleep schedule. I doubted anything printed there would make the next three weeks easier.

  “The schedule includes designated sleep periods,” Joshy pointed out with maddening calm.

  “Apparently, we are allowed four hours if our imaginary settlement does not collapse before midnight.”

  He tapped the line requiring teams to rotate overnight command. His expression suggested that was somehow comforting.

  Nolan arrived with Cassian and joined the crowd forming around the door. Nolan looked offended by the combat requirements, while Cassian had gone pale over the leadership hearing. Neither seemed comforted when the instructor opened the classroom and ordered everyone inside.

  Our instructor took her place at the front and waited for the relieved whispers to settle.

  “This is not your final Academy assessment,” she clarified.

  “It closes the second term and determines which responsibilities you may hold during the third.”

  “You are being tested on what you have learned, not declared finished with the Academy.”

  It was only the second-term assessment, with a third term still to come. That should have helped. Instead I read the list of duties we could earn and the sections we might have to repeat if we failed.

  “Will the emergency exercise use the same teams we have now?” Cassian asked.

  “Some of us have only recently learned how to stop stealing command from each other.”

  His fingers pressed against the edge of his notebook. His gaze moved toward me before the class began laughing.

  I tried to look offended, but even the instructor’s mouth twitched. Cassian had earned the joke after our last exercise. I resolved to be less predictable by the leadership hearing.

  “Your teams will change at the beginning of each stage.”

  “One stage may place you in command, the next may require you to advise, and another may leave you without the information you want.”

  “Leadership includes functioning when authority belongs to someone else,” the instructor answered.

  She pointed toward the sealed evaluation packets on her desk. No one laughed at that warning.

  Our scheduled lesson on diplomatic procedure gave way to a review. Border law, emergency supplies, protections for different species, limits on authority during a joint response: each subject was familiar on its own. Together they filled the board and made the remaining weeks feel short.

  Our pack proposal caused the longest argument. Joshy and I had planned an emergency council, a community council, training rules, supplies, and protections for families of different species. Now we had to defend those choices before a panel and explain what the winter exercises had taught us.

  “The emergency council still has too much authority,” Joshy argued.

  “We wrote that before the lessons about review dates and incomplete information.”

  He spread our proposal between us and underlined the emergency restrictions. The clause looked harsher after the winter exercises.

  “It needs enough authority to keep people alive before the larger council can meet,” I countered.

  “We can shorten how long an emergency order lasts and require written reasons before it is renewed.”

  I drew a line beside the review clause without crossing it out.

  While Joshy considered the change, I studied the council seats. We had included a wolf, a vampire, a witch, a fairy, a human advocate, and the pack leaders. I had been proud of that list. Now I wondered whether a representative would be heard once they sat down.

  “Every representative should be able to delay one decision long enough for a safety review,” I suggested.

  “They cannot stop a response, but they can force the leaders to explain who carries the risk.”

  I wrote the change in the margin and slid the page toward Joshy. The protection gave each representative a purpose beyond attendance.

  “That will make the hearing harder, but it gives us a better answer when the panel asks how our pack avoids using cooperation as decoration,” Joshy warned.

  He added the same protection to the resource and evacuation sections. I accepted the extra difficulty as a fair price.

  By the final bell, corrections crowded every page of our proposal. Nolan and Cassian stayed to challenge our council rules, and we questioned theirs in return. We kept the full proposals to ourselves; at the hearing, each team would have to answer for its own choices.

  The younger students waited in the outer courtyard when Joshy and I left the building. Zerina complained about a tracking examination, Zander insisted he had not lost anything all week, and Gaven immediately reminded him about the glove missing from his left hand. Sean carried their study guides and wisely stayed out of the argument.

  “Are the second-term assessments as bad as everyone says?” Zerina asked with poorly hidden excitement.

  “One of my instructors said people cry during the leadership hearing.”

  She walked backward until Joshy caught her shoulder before she hit a bench. Her interest contained far too much enjoyment.

  “Only the ones who walk backward near furniture,” I replied with teasing caution.

  “Study your own material before you start enjoying our suffering.”

  I turned Zerina around and nudged her toward the castle path. Gaven laughed while checking whether Zander still had his other glove.

  Every Academy student knew the assessments were coming. The younger ones did not know Dad had separately asked Joshy and me to report to his office after dinner. He had used the wording reserved for administrative work, so we saved our questions for home.

  Mom had already heard about the assessment when we entered the family dining room. Dad had apparently received the schedule from the Academy before I had finished complaining about it. Aunt Jess looked far too delighted by the combat section, while Uncle Orian had marked the leadership hearing on a copy of the calendar.

  “I can help you prepare for the combat evaluation,” Aunt Jess offered with dangerous enthusiasm.

  “We have three weeks to correct that opening near your left shoulder and make sure no one knocks you unconscious in front of the instructors.”