Pennyroyal Academy by M.A. Larson

she said, working a coarse brush under Evie’s fingernails.
    â€œIt’s all right.”
    â€œOne of the benefits to being raised in a castle is that I’ve learned the value of looking after my appearance.” She suddenly stopped and stepped back. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to imply that you don’t, I just . . .”
    â€œI know I look a mess,” said Evie with an apologetic smile. “I haven’t had a chance to bathe since I left home.”
    Demetra leaned in again and used a fresh cloth to wipe Evie’s face clean. “I hope you’ll forgive me for saying that. I haven’t had much experience with common—” She caught herself, then blurted out, “I mean, nonroyals. And quite honestly, I’d prefer to forget all about that distinction while I’m here.” She stood again and looked down on Evie with a smile. “There. You look bloody gorgeous.”
    Evie studied herself in the mirror. How could that girl, cleaned and groomed and uniformed, be the same one who earlier that morning had torn open a termite nest with her hands, scooping the carrot-flavored insects into her mouth for breakfast while Remington slept?
    â€œRight, let’s go claim our beds before they’re all taken,” said Demetra, leading her out of the latrine and back through the bustling barracks.
    Evie couldn’t help but smile. Girls were settling in, putting their meager personal items in the footlockers, and chatting with one another about who they had been back home. None of them stared at her. None of them laughed at her. None of them even noticed her. It was bliss.
    â€œI’ve held these two,” said Maggie, indicating the bunks on either side of hers. “Whichever takes your fancy—”
    â€œBlimey!” shouted the girl at the next bunk. She dropped to a knee and dipped her head. “I didn’t know you was gonna be here, Your Serene and Exalted Highness!”
    Demetra looked around in embarrassment, hurrying over to pull the girl to her feet. “I’m only a cadet, no different from you.”
    â€œTouched by the royal hand! Me da won’t believe it!”
    â€œThat’s Anisette,” said Maggie with a smile. “She’s a Blackmarsh girl, too.”
    â€œAre you?” said Demetra.
    â€œThrough and through, Highness—”
    â€œThen I order you to call me Demetra.” She walked past Evie and staked her claim to the bunk on the far side of Maggie’s.
    â€œAnisette,” she said, shaking Evie’s hand.
    â€œUh . . . Evie.”
    â€œEvie, pleasure.”
    Anisette went back to her unpacking. Evie looked at her bunk, then watched the other girls, unsure what she was supposed to be doing. She put her knapsack inside the footlocker, then sat down to listen.
    â€œMe da’s a cobbler on Blackmarsh high street,” said Anisette. She was rough-edged, as was Evie, but with a loud, infectious spirit. Evie liked her immediately. “Any time you need shoes mended, Highness, you come see him. Unless you royals just throw ’em out at the first little scuff.” She winked at Evie with a smile.
    â€œPlease, just call me Demetra. I can’t bear that title.”
    â€œRight. Demetra. Well, you come see us. Best cobblers on the Slope. Course, I’m a good sight better than he is these days, but don’t let him hear it—”
    â€œAh, so that would make you a princess of the sole, then,” said Malora with a smirk, her friends from the coach, Kelbra and Sage, trailing behind.
    Anisette looked at her with cinched eyebrows, unsure how to respond to the insult. Before she could, Malora turned to Demetra. “I’ve come to tell you that the kingsblood princesses are over there, if you’d like a bit of space from these street girls.”
    There was a moment where no one spoke, each waiting for Malora to complete what must surely