The library is my favorite place in the estate so far. Rich, cinnamon-brown parquet floors extend into the length of the expansive room. Light pours in through tall stacks of paned windows wedged into dormers at the ends of the aisles, each of them framed with blue, white, and black stained glass. Sturdy walnut shelves tower overhead, while long, tapestry-like rugs in a rich parade of greens and blues line the aisles, and large, overstuffed leather chairs are tucked into every nook. Dean Edina pointed out a few relevant shelves when we arrived, and most of the girls pounced on those. I explore.
I can’t quite get my head around what we’re doing. I know we’ll be negotiating a mock treaty between Nordania and Swendenland, but I don’t know what Swendenland would want from us. Something tells me Fiona’s banking on negotiating for Nordania, and she seems like the type of girl who gets her way, so I need something unexpected.
I pass rows and rows of shelves until I hit the back wall, where a large map hangs. I vaguely remember seeing maps like these when I was still in school, with raised bumps for the mountains and depressed swaths for the oceans. It’s been years since I’ve examined one, though. Considering our assignment, I decide to take a closer look, on the offhand chance it might somehow give me an advantage. Nordania is in the top left quadrant, bordered by oceans to the west and north, and the Mittlesee to the east. Directly beneath us is Espancia, and Brandeissland to the southeast. Well, there’s the answer to that exam question at least. East of Brandeissland is Sudersberg, and then, to its north, on the eastern shore of the Mittlesee, is Osterstan. North of Osterstan is the focus of our day: Swendenland.
Our assigned country sits along the same approximate lines as Nordania, running due east across the notorious Mittlesee. It’s wider than Nordania, but about two-thirds its length—except for a long, hand-drawn corridor that dips through Osterstan and into Sudersberg. What’s so important about this strip of land that it needed to be edited in with ink?
“Arden?” I whip around and find Avery standing at the corner of the nearest shelf. She’s the perfect image of the inquisitive pupil, wearing a blush-colored, lace-collared blouse and neat navy skirt. She tilts her head to the side, assessing me, but the smile she gives is warm, and genuine, as though it’s impossible there’s anything other than sunshine and rock candy shimmering below the surface. Still, as her gaze lingers, I wonder just how benign her intentions toward me are.
“Yes?” I ask.
“We have everything we need on Swendenland. Did you find something else?” I’m about to ask her about the map, but I don’t know which side of the debate she’ll be assigned to represent, or if the hand-drawn alteration is even worthy of note. With my luck, it’s just another detail that will cement my standing as last. So instead, I grab a few books from the nearby shelf of atlases and follow her back to the table.
“So, Swendenland relies on rail and road for transporting goods?” Molly asks, and Fiona nods. I’m only half paying attention as I flip through a brown, leather-bound book called The Geopolitical Boundaries of Swendenland.
“Yes. Trust me, our family compound is on the coast, and those waters are treacherous, even in good weather. My father used to sail for sport as a boy and lost more than a few friends to the undertow. He says the Mittlesee floor is inconsistent, the weather unpredictable. You really have to know where you are,” Fiona says with expert gravitas. A hint of something flashes in the back of my mind, unable to take root.
“It’s a wonder they’re able to trade at all, being so far from everyone else,” Molly says.
“Well, the same could be said for us,” Fiona says, flipping her long red hair over her shoulder and showing off her sparkly silver choker. These girls wear more jewelry than I’ve seen in my entire life. And it’s only been two days. “We’ve mastered the western waters, though, and we have help from our rivers.”
“I’ve heard so much about the Peninsular Port over the years,” Avery says, distracting me from my half-thought. She turns a page in the tome she’s been quietly scanning. “It must be a very exciting place.”
“I guess,” I say, wary of her interest in my world. The truth is, while I don’t miss Conrad’s estate, I do miss the scent of the harbor, the bustle of the people, the creak of the ships moored along the docks. It’s strange to have spent so much time wishing to be on one of those boats, watching the sky, smelling the mystery of another world as it blows in off the current, and then never having the opportunity to do so.
“Swendenland is a wealth of high-priced luxury items,” Fiona says, interrupting our conversation. She trails a manicured finger over the text laid out in front of her, illustrating the path her eyes take as she skims for helpful factoids. Or maybe just for something to keep the attention centered on her.
“Coffee, gemstones—what else?” Molly asks.
“Furs. They practically grow minks on trees there,” Fiona says with a broad smile. “That’s where my coat came from.”
“Aren’t you from the Southeast?” Molly asks, raising an eyebrow.
“I am, but it gets positively chilly down there. Why, last winter, we had a day so cold, slush fell from the sky!”
I page through my chosen book until I reach the third to last chapter, called “Annexing Suderstan.” The chapter is short, and primarily describes the geographical features of the region and the official date of annexation, which was five years ago.
After years of complex negotiations, tensions between the triad of Eastern states strained beyond function and a more permanent solution was reached. The people in the eastern corridor of Osterstan voted overwhelmingly, in a special election, to become annexed to Swendenland. Trade relations in the region have prospered ever since.
“How can their economy survive on luxury items?” I ask, interrupting some nonessential chatter about fashion.
“Well, it doesn’t,” Avery says. Her tone is kind, but her words ring with easy confidence. As if the answer is so simple, so basic, it costs her nothing to retrieve it from her memory. Again, I’m reminded of just how ill-prepared I am to be here. I may have escaped CJ, but he may yet win the day.
“They produce other essentials they don’t trade away,” Molly says. Fiona raises an eyebrow at her, having clearly judged her knowledge of all things based upon her seat next to me.
“They don’t actually import much of anything,” Avery says.
“Copper, of course, and perhaps cotton from Espancia?” Fiona runs her fingers along the flutter sleeve of her cobalt-blue dress. “I mean, they’d be mad not to import Espancian cotton.”
“But they grow timber, their land is fertile, and the weather is more consistent than here—makes for a strong farming season,” Molly says.
“They’re known for being self-sufficient,” Avery adds. “I’m surprised this wasn’t covered in your schooling.” Avery, Molly, and Fiona look at me with confusion, consternation, and victory, respectively.
“You know, it probably was.” I deflect, hoping the flush of embarrassment doesn’t creep onto my face. “My brain is still mush after so little sleep.”
“What are you reading?” Fiona asks, grabbing the book. She holds it up, and a satisfied smile spills across her face.
“What is it?” Molly asks, looking over Fiona’s shoulder at the brown leather book.
“The Geopolitical Boundaries of Swendenland,” Avery reads over Fiona’s other shoulder.
“What did you need this for?” Molly asks.
“I’m not sure this is necessary. Dean Edina gave us so many other books,” Avery says with a gentle smile, the kind adults offer a well-meaning child. Fiona tilts her head, eyeing me with shrewd skepticism as she pushes my book off to the side. It doesn’t take a lot of brains to know she’ll be waiting for my next misstep to pounce. Or that my time here is quickly running out.