Privileged (Talented Saga Book 7)

by Sophie Davis

  Julie is going to freak, Cressa thought, picturing the look on her best friend’s face when Cressa told her about the encounter with Kev Leon. Julie was even more obsessed with the young heartthrob than Cressa, and still heartbroken over his death. At least, Cressa assumed she was, since it had been a month.

  As a reward for being accepted to the Institute, Cressa’s father had used his connections to secure exclusive access tickets to the premier of My Heart to Break, Kev’s last movie before his purported death. Julie and Cressa had spent an entire day with Mrs. Karmine’s personal shopper, selecting the perfect dresses for their big night out. On the day of the premiere, just as the girls were finishing their appointments with glamour specialists, Mr. Karmine had commed Cressa to say that the event was unexpectedly canceled. She and Julie had been despondent, and locked themselves away in Cressa’s room to cry over the fact they might never meet their shared dreamboat.

  Then, the news broke—Kev Leon had died of an apparent drug overdose.

  “Thank you, I did receive the order.” Gregor’s voice jolted Cressa from her memories. Kev was still watching the older cadets intently, sparing Cressa another look that she couldn’t decipher.

  “Very well. Good night,” Leslie replied, removing her finger from the elevator’s Hold button.

  The doors slid shut on Kev and his sad smile.

  “2P girl’s dormitory,” Leslie commanded.

  Cressa knew she should keep her mouth shut. She knew she shouldn’t bring it up. But she was practically choking on the questions lining up in her head like rowdy fans waiting for entrance to a concert.

  “That…that was Kev Leon,” Cressa finally said.

  The older girl stared down her nose at Cressa, her disapproval palpable in the small space.

  “No, he was Kev Leon,” Leslie replied. “Now he is Cadet Kevin Leonard. Like you, he is in Phase Two of the Privileged program. There are no celebrities at the Institute, and I suggest you do not treat him as such. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, ma’am. We are all equals at the Institute,” Cressa replied absently, her thoughts still on the movie star.

  Leslie shook her head. “No, cadet, there are no equals—not in life, and certainly not at the Institute. But status must be earned here, entirely separate from whom you once were. From the time you received your acceptance until your last breath in service to the Dame, you are part of the greatest competition in this world. Every person under the Dame is ranked, based solely on your performance within the Institute. Technically, all cadets can advance through the phases, but those at the top of the classes will receive greater rewards than the bottom-dwellers. Once the Dame’s word is spread to the masses and society comes under Privileged-rule, her worthiest disciples will be the true stars of the new galaxy.”

  Cressa cringed at the rebuke. She’d been so starstruck by Kev Leon that she’d forgotten one of her earliest lessons. Leslie’s little speech was a close approximation of the one Madame Gillis had given Cressa on her first day about the Dame encouraging an adversarial environment. The Institute believed pitting cadets against one another pushed them to do better, to be better.

  Life is a competition, Cressa reminded herself. Winning is up to me, no one else.

  It was her father’s favorite and most repeated idiom. After all, the Karmine fortune hadn’t been built on luck or generosity. It was earned. Through blood, sweat, and tears, her ancestors had bested their competitors to make Karmine Pharmaceuticals the largest drug company in the world. And it was solely Cressa’s responsibility to continue the Karmine legacy of greatness, through hard work, determination, and doing whatever it took to be the best.

  I’m still working on that last bit, Cressa thought wryly.

  The elevator doors opened and Leslie stepped into the dorm’s atrium, which appeared identical to the one on the boy’s floor. The glass stones radiated a cool beauty that was somehow both enticing and off-putting. Leslie stopped in the middle of the space and pointed upwards. Cressa followed the direction of Leslie’s finger and did a double take. The ceiling was rounded, the highest point directly above where the two girls stood. Ivy meandered across the glass roof, with small flowers in an array of colors and patterns twined through the vines.

  “Every floor devoted to housing those in Phase Two and above has one of these gardens,” Leslie told her. “Each of the flowers represents a cadet who has passed through these halls. Tomorrow, your flower will be added to this collection. As you continue through the program, your representative flower will change to reflect you as an individual. Right now, as a 2P, your flower is white, because you are a blank slate with little choice in any matters. With each Phase, you gain more insight and more control. This is reflected in your flower. By the time you complete Phase Eight, the petals may all be different colors, or spotted, or striped—a representation of who you are as a Privileged. You see those flowers?” Leslie pointed to the base of the dome, where black flowers ringed the perimeter. Some were withered and dying, while others were still blossoming, though dark as a moonless midnight. “That is the graveyard. Every black flower you see denotes an individual who has proven unworthy by failing to achieve Privileged status.” She stared hard at Cressa. “See that your flower remains in the garden above.”

  Cressa swallowed around the lump in her throat. The symbolism was not lost on her—a black flower meant failure, while a withered one likely signified death. There was an awful lot of black beneath the rainbow garden.

  “The common room is this way, come now,” Leslie said, heading for the archway. Cressa followed on her heels, unsteadied by the alien environment. “Your belongings have already been relocated to your new quarters,” Leslie continued.

  “Belongings?” Cressa echoed, temporarily distracted from the morbid flower garden.

  Per Institute regulations, Cressa had been allowed only a single personal item from home. She’d chosen a one-eyed stuffed frog she called Frieda, given to Cressa by her father on her fifth birthday. After her first day of instruction at the Institute, she’d returned to her room to find Frieda gone. Naturally, Cressa had asked Madame Gillis if she knew anything about the frog’s disappearance.

  “Stuffed animals are for babies,” the woman had replied.

  And that was that. Cressa hadn’t seen so much as a stray green thread from the frog since.

  “Your clothing and toiletries,” Leslie clarified as the two girls entered the commons.

  The large room was highbrow-meets-homey. Artwork from notable painters hung on walls the color of butterscotch, each framed creation more expensive than the one beside it. The couches and tables were also clearly made by high-end designers, but the leather cushions looked soft and supple and inviting. Cashmere afghans were folded over the backs of chairs and on the arms of sofas. The material would be soft to the touch, Cressa was positive, since her mother had similar ones sprinkled throughout their home. Finally, motivational maxims were stenciled in looping letters below the wainscoting—Power is Strength; Privilege is for the Worthy; Destinies are Made, not Inherited; Sacrifice in Service.

  Each word made Cressa’s skin grow colder and colder, until she felt as if she would shatter into a million shards of ice. They were all sayings she’d heard before, either from Madame Gillis or one of the senior cadets. Still, seeing them written out brought a new level of clarity for Cressa; she began to truly appreciate how high the stakes were.

  Five girls, ranging in age from about ten to approximately eighteen, were scattered throughout the commons. They all looked up from what they were doing when Leslie and Cressa entered.

  “This is your newest classmate, Cadet Cressa Karmine,” Leslie announced. She pointed to where two identical girls sat across from each other at a small table in the corner, a chessboard set up between them. “Shyla and Lyla Towers.”

  The girls waved in unison, and Cressa returned the gesture.

  Next, Leslie indicated a tall girl with dark chocolate skin and a silky silver ponytail
curled up on an overstuffed sofa with a paper book.

  “Nydia Lupo,” Leslie said. Obviously shy, Nydia peered over at Cressa through long lashes, but didn’t make eye contact. “Cadet Lupo will be your roommate. She will show you to your room and make sure you become acclimated to your new surroundings.”

  “It is nice to meet you, Nydia,” Cressa said, infusing as much warmth in her greeting as she could muster. Even after her long, arduous day, Cressa wanted to get off on the right foot with her new roommate.

  In her short time as a 1P, Cressa had lived with three different girls. The first, Jinger, had advanced to Phase Two shortly after Cressa’s arrival. Wendi, her second roommate, passed the Phase One advancement exam on her first try, leaving Cressa after only ten days.

  Then there had been Steph, the opinionated daughter of some high-ranking military man in Argentina. Steph had a delayed reaction to the talent serum, and had been carted off to med bay just twenty-four hours after her initial procedure was completed. Cressa didn’t know what happened to her after that, but she hadn’t seen the Argentinian girl again. That was a week before, and Cressa hadn’t been assigned a new roommate.

  Now, she found herself hoping that Nydia wasn’t close to advancing to Phase Three. She’d been so focused on passing her first test that the isolation hadn’t hit her completely until that moment. Cressa suddenly realized that the Institute—where she knew no one, had no one to conspire with, and was cut off entirely from her parents and friends—was a very lonely place.

  “I’m Gracia Beaumont, captain of the floor.” This introduction came from a willowy brunette at the opposite end of the couch from Nydia. Gracia’s slipper-clad feet were propped up on a coffee table, and a handheld gaming device sat in her lap.

  “I thought we weren’t permitted electronics.” Cressa said the words before she’d given any thought to how much they sounded like an accusation. Gracia’s hard, violet stare told her that was precisely how the comment came across.

  “You,” Gracia began, jabbing her finger towards Cressa with a toss of her dark curls, “are not permitted electronics.”

  “Only the chosen one is,” another voice chimed in.

  Cressa turned to see the last girl in the commons. She was the youngest of the group by several years, with shaggy bangs and a tiny ponytail on the top of her head that looked like a unicorn horn. The girl was curled up like a cat in the center of a large, round chair suspended from the ceiling. To Cressa, she looked like a canary in a cage, though that might have been because her hair was the color of freshly churned butter.

  The girl stood, somehow managing to appear graceful despite the chair swinging precariously on the hooks above it. She crossed the room and offered a small, freckled hand to Cressa.

  “I’m Daphne. Until you came along, I was the newest 2P, making me the grunt of our lot. So, thanks for taking over the position.”

  “You’re welcome, I guess,” Cressa replied uncertainly, shaking Daphne’s hand.

  The small girl’s face quirked into a mischievous expression. “You know, I bet—”

  “Lights out in twenty,” Leslie interrupted. “You had best all return to your rooms and prepare for inspection. Gregor and I will be by shortly.” She turned to Nydia. “Cressa Karmine is your responsibility now, Cadet Lupo. Make sure she understands all protocols and she’s in compliance.” Leslie turned her blank gaze on Gracia. “Of course, they are all your responsibility, so you may want to supervise tonight while Cadet Karmine settles in.”

  “Of course,” Gracia replied quickly.

  “Also, the Dame requests your presence in her office tomorrow morning, directly following breakfast,” Leslie added.

  Gracia smiled knowingly. “So it’s been decided then? I have been selected?”

  Leslie gave Gracia a hard look. “I am not a liberty to discuss such matters, Cadet Beaumont. Even if I were, this is not the appropriate time or venue, as you well know. Such matters cannot be discussed in front of your charges, and you’d do well to remember that.”

  Cressa wanted to crawl under the coffee table at Leslie’s harsh tone, and the 8P’s words weren’t even directed at her. Gracia Beaumont, however, seemed undaunted by Leslie’s rebuke. If anything, Gracia’s smile became smugger, looking like the cat who ate Daphne. Evidently, she found Leslie’s non-answer to be a confirmation of some kind.

  “Good evening to you all.” With that, Leslie turned and left.

  “Thank you, Cadet Abbot,” Cressa called after her, though there was no sign Leslie heard her.

  As she watched the older girl leave, Cressa filled with anxiety. Leslie Abbot was far from the warm-and-fuzzy type, yet her presence had made Cressa feel oddly safe. Not only that, but their time together had been the most she’d spoken to anyone since arriving at the Institute. Without Leslie, Cressa was once again alone, facing a room of unfamiliar faces and appraising looks.

  Stretching languidly, Gracia stood. She tossed the gaming device on the coffee table, and then turned to study Cressa. For several moments, no one spoke, the other cadets taking their cues from the dorm captain. They all simply stared at the newcomer, while she stared expectantly back at the girl in charge.

  Something about Gracia was oddly familiar to Cressa. And yet, she was sure they’d never met. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but Gracia definitely looked like someone Cressa had seen before coming to the Institute.

  Maybe she was famous? Not Kev Leon famous, obviously, but maybe a minor celebrity?

  “Cressa, is it?” Gracia’s wordless staring had gone on for so long that Cressa started at the sound of her voice. “As I said, I am Gracia Beaumont, captain of the 2Ps. Do not misunderstand, however, I am not a 2P; I am in Phase Seven. As top in my class, I was given the honor of supervising and managing the lots of you.” Gracia’s look grew impossibly haughtier. “You should know this is a rare reward for a 7P. Typically, only 8Ps are made captains.”

  “But Gracia is so special, they made an exception in her case,” Daphne chimed in.

  Sniffing, Gracia ignored the younger girl and continued speaking to Cressa. “My commands carry the full authority of the Institute. If you choose to defy me, the penalties will be just as severe as if you crossed the Dame herself. Is this all very clear to you?”

  “Um, sure,” Cressa replied uncertainly.

  The 1P floor did not have a captain. Instead, various instructors watched over the newbies. Madame Gillis had explained that Phase One was very different from the later Phases. 1Ps had to be monitored very closely by instructors, since many had a hard time adjusting to the Institute’s strict lifestyle. Plus, the Dame wanted fully trained Privileged on hand night and day, just in case the 1Ps had trouble controlling their new powers. By the time a cadet reached Phase Two, spontaneous and ungovernable displays of talent became less of a concern.

  Cressa thought the divide between the Phases was probably also due to the high failure rate of reaching Phase Two—from bad reactions to the serum, talents not embedding properly in their new host, and the inability of many to wield their talents well enough to pass an exam—but she guessed no one liked bringing that up.

  “‘Yes, ma’am’ is the appropriate response,” Gracia lectured, interrupting Cressa’s musings.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Cressa parroted dutifully, hating that she was already on Gracia’s bad side. Though, even with the short amount of time she’d known the girl, Cressa suspected that Gracia was like a trick coin—both sides were identical and equally unpleasant.

  “Better,” Gracia said with a curt nod. “Now then, Nydia, come with me and Cressa. The rest of you, to your rooms.”

  The twins quickly stowed the chessboard and pieces, then disappeared without a word through another archway at the far side of the common room. Daphne remained by Cressa’s side, arms crossed over her chest as she glared defiantly at Gracia. Though they were at least five years apart in age, the two girls were nearly the same height, around five feet.

  “Bed. Now,” G
racia barked at Daphne.

  “Leslie said we have twenty minutes,” the canary sang. “Plenty of time for me to help the newbie settle in.”

  To Cressa’s surprise—particularly after the lecture she’d just received about the floor captain’s authority—Gracia rolled her strange violet eyes, but didn’t stand her ground.

  With a gesture that clearly meant Cressa was to follow, Gracia started towards the archway, Nydia in tow. Cressa hurried after them.

  “Including you, there are twenty-six 2Ps—ten girls and sixteen boys,” Gracia rattled off. “That number changes daily, though, as more 1Ps advance. The Institute is welcoming a much higher number of cadets right now than they usually do, so it is likely you will see many new faces before long.”

  I’ve already seen the one face that matters, Cressa thought with another bubble of excitement.

  She considered sharing her encounter with Kev Leon, and then remembered how sternly Leslie had frowned upon Cressa’s gushing. Gracia, obviously made of similar stock to Leslie, was likely to have the same reaction.

  Besides, now that Kev had reached Phase Two, everyone else would see him soon enough. While Phase One was almost exclusively one-on-one instruction, with virtually no interaction between cadets, the 2Ps all took classes together.

  “Here we are,” Gracia announced.

  She stopped in front of an oak door halfway down the hallway off the common room. On a small screen beside the door were two names: Karmine and Lupo. Gracia twisted the knob and pushed the door open, then gestured the younger girls inside. Nydia entered first, moving straight to a set of bunk beds against the right wall.

  “Mine is the top, but I am happy to switch if you’d prefer it,” she told Cressa, her gaze still downcast.

  “The lower bed works for me,” Cressa replied easily, wishing they were alone. She wanted to reassure Nydia that she’d be easy to get along with, but worried about speaking out of turn with Gracia’s hawk eyes watching.