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the means to offer residence and education to young men and women as far away as Port Ostlea.”
    Gib swallowed thickly as he digested everything he’d just heard, and then he came to a simple conclusion: he liked the dean. Marc Arrio seemed genuinely kind, the type of person who wouldn’t judge another based on their social status or whether or not they were educated. He wanted equal opportunities for everyone, not only the elite. It was admirable, yet Gib still couldn’t help but fret. The dean had shown compassion—but would Gib find it anywhere else in this city?
    “Ah, here we are,” Marc proclaimed, coming to a halt. Gib looked around. They were in a hallway lined with doors made of soft maple wood. “Most of the students on this floor are in their third or fourth year of study. We normally try to house the youngest students together, but due to—recent developments, we’re short on space. Don’t worry though, since you’re new to Silver City, having an older roommate will be beneficial.”
    Gib wasn’t entirely convinced. He’d never lived with anyone other than his two brothers and sister. What if I’m roomed with a highborn? Someone like Diedrick Lyle who will judge me the moment I walk through the door. Will I be laughed at? Scorned? Ignored? What if my roommate hates me so much I have to leave? What will I do then? Gib’s head spun as he tried to steady his gasping breaths. “Am I to meet my roommate now, sir?” Gib managed to ask. He could scarcely hear his own voice through the pounding of his heart in his ears.
    Marc rapped a fist against the door nearest to where they had stopped, the sound of it resonating down the empty corridor. “Indeed. Let’s hope he’s here.”
    Gib held his breath as they waited. For several moments nothing happened. The door didn’t open and he could hear no movement coming from within. Perhaps his roommate had gone to eat lunch. Or maybe somehow, he’d gotten wind of Gib’s arrival and was purposely avoiding answering the door.
    As more terrible scenarios traversed through Gib’s mind, finally a shuffling sound came from inside, followed by the jiggle of the brass door handle as someone from the other side pulled on it. The door slid open and Gib found himself staring at the marble floor, unable to raise his eyes.
    He heard Marc speak in a casual tone. “Oh good! You’re here.”
    A lofty tenor voice responded at once. “Marc? Is everything all right?”
    “Mind if we come in?”
    The other voice hesitated. “We?”
    Marc touched Gib’s shoulder and he jumped. “I found you a roommate. This is Gibben. He’s new to Academy and to Silver. I think the two of you will get along.”
    The dean gave Gib a gentle push forward. His stomach was churning and he was pretty sure his face had turned a horrific shade of crimson. He could feel Marc and the other boy staring, waiting for words or action. Swallowing the nerves down, Gib managed to raise his head just enough to be able to make eye contact with his new roommate.
    A youthful boy stood in the doorway. The boy was tall and slender framed, with raven-colored locks that fell past his shoulders in gentle waves. His skin was light, untarnished by sunlight or malnourishment, and his facial features were soft.
    He was well-groomed, clad in a flowing white robe embroidered with golden lace and intricate beading. A sash made of fine blue silk was wrapped around his waist and small precious jewels hung from his fingers and ears. Gib’s stomach flopped. This boy was most certainly highborn.
    Two silvery blue eyes observed Gib warily, but the smile playing on his thin lips suggested the boy was attempting to be polite, if not friendly. Again the delicate voice came. “Hello, Gibben. My name is Joel.”
    Gib’s voice was caught somewhere deep within his throat. His stomach was in knots. He shuffled his boot against the floor, barely able to hold the other boy’s gaze. Gib felt inadequate standing beside this wealthy