Academy of Magic Collection

by Angelique S Anderson et al.

  He rides to the opposite end of the list and pulls down his visor, which helps soothe my concerns a little. At least his face won't end up smashed to pieces.

  His opponent is a lot bigger than he is. How can Edward possibly win this? Even if it's only a practice run, I can tell they all want to win.

  A trumpet sounds and the two of them begin charging towards one another. Though that doesn't quite fit what Edward's horse is doing. It's almost like the creature is dancing.

  I want to cheer him on, but my voice sticks in my throat. There's too much at stake for me to shout and distract him. The book lays forgotten on my knee. I don't need it, not when Edward is so graceful out on the field.

  The two lances hit their marks at the same time, the sickening crunch hard to ignore. I leap to my feet, my book dropping to the ground.

  Edward sways in his seat, almost looking like he's going to fall. A strange strangled sound escapes me.

  It's just practice. They're not trying to hurt each other.

  It's hard to remember that when he seems in such danger.

  He steadies himself and glances in my direction. Or I think he does, it's difficult to tell while his visor is down. He gives me a half wave and returns to the opposite end of the list. Apparently, they haven't finished yet.

  Even though I don't know if I can take watching more of this, I don't move. There's something riveting about it. I can see why he likes to joust.

  I sit back down and watch the next few jousts. Edward wins a couple and loses one, at least, if I'm managing to score it correctly. I'm a little confused by what's going on and just have to take it at face value.

  His horse is panting from the exertion, and I'm sure Edward is feeling the same inside his armour despite the cool breeze of the day.

  "This has to be the last one," I whisper, more to reassure myself.

  The two of them gallop towards one another. I don't stand up this time, I'm getting used to the sound of hooves thudding on the ground and the crunch of metal. If this keeps up, I'll be able to watch Edward on the lists again. He'll like that, I'm sure.

  The lance crashes into Edward's breast plate with a sickening squeak. That isn't the sound I'm used to.

  I jump up and rush towards the field even as he falls from the horse. His stallion knows just what to do, and stands next to him, blocking Edward from the view of his competitor. It isn't like Edward is actually at risk from the other jouster, but it's good training for the horse to have.

  Not caring for the mud it'll get on my pale pink skirts, I crouch down next to Edward and push the visor from his face. He winces.

  "That hurt." A groan follows his words.

  "You shouldn't be speaking," I chide him.

  He chuckles, though he doesn't do a good job of masking the pain beneath it. "I've been through worse. I promise, I'm fine."

  "You fell from your horse," I counter.

  "Firefly knows not to trample me," he says. "But you felt the need to come comfort me anyway?" He smirks up at me.

  "Really? You're going to rub it in that I wanted to make sure you're alright?"

  "I find it charming, actually." He reaches up and strokes a thumb across my cheek. "But I really am alright, Snow."

  "I'll believe that when you're standing," I counter quickly.

  "Your wish is my command." He puts his arms back and pushes himself up.

  "No, that's not what I meant..."

  Firefly walks slowly to his side, letting Edward use part of the saddle to get himself up.

  "See, I'm fine."

  I narrow my eyes and get to my own feet. "I didn't mean for you to rush yourself."

  He's saved from answering by the other jouster entering our conversation.

  "Good joust, Your Majesty."

  "I've asked you to call me Edward already, George."

  "It doesn't feel right. You're..."

  "On the same jousting field as you." Edward holds out his hand, and George takes it after another moment. They shake hands before George moves away to deal with his horse.

  I flash Edward a confused look.

  He sighs. "George is here on a scholarship, I think he struggles to accept that he's worth as much as the rest of us."

  "Is there anything we can do to change that?" I don't like the idea of people thinking they're inferior just because of something as simple as their birth. Not when he's at Grimm Academy with the rest of us.

  "Nothing more than treating him like an equal. It's not easy with Phillip and the likes over there." He nods to three boys I recognise as part of the jousting team. "Arthur treats him alright, but the others..."

  "Arthur the Captain?" He's the only jouster I know the name of. And that's only because he's the one who goes to collect all the awards when the team wins.

  He nods. "He believes in talent over birth."

  "Crown princes can do that," I mutter.

  "You know about him, then?"

  "It's hard not to." And I know why he's here too, I'm not the only prophecy student in the vicinity.

  "Hmm."

  "He asked me to go to dinner with him when I first came here," I admit. "Though I think he wanted to do it just so he could avoid his prophecy." It's one of the few I know, other than my own. But it says he's supposed to lose his wife to his best friend. It's harsh, but Arthur doesn't seem too affected by it.

  A low growl slips from Edward.

  I shake my head at him. "I said no. You're the first person I agreed to see outside classes." I don't know where this confidence is coming from. Maybe it's because of how right being with Edward feels. Or perhaps its more to do with the fact we're standing in the middle of the list after I've shown everyone how I feel about him by rushing to his aid.

  Oops. Not the reserved and poised princess I normally am.

  "I like that you came to my aid," Edward whispers. Leaning in close and acting like he's going to kiss me.

  Nerves spring up throughout my whole body. I want him to, but I'm aware of where we are and I don't want the other boys to think badly of me for turning them down but progressing quickly with my relationship with Edward.

  Deciding there's nothing for it, and that I want the kiss more than I fear the humiliation, I beat him to it and press my lips against his. He slips an arm around me, his hand resting on the small of my back and pulling me closer.

  Dimly, I'm aware of cheers and catcalls from the others, but I don't care. I can worry in a moment when I don't have Edward kissing me.

  We break apart. I can feel my smile reach my eyes, I don't think anything could happen to break through my haze.

  "I need to take Firefly back to the stables," he murmurs. "But I'll meet you later?"

  I nod. "I'd like that."

  "Good." He leans in and gives me another swift kiss.

  He picks up the reins of his horse, and tugs him in the direction of the other tent like structures. I assume that's where the stables must be, though I realise I should probably find that out for when Luna moves into them. I hope it's soon, even though I barely know the unicorn foal, I still miss her already.

  Chapter Eight

  I glance over my shoulder to check the guard from the academy is still following me. I'm not sure his presence completely helps, but it's something and I need to do it. There's no way I can be out on my own in the middle of the town without him.

  The bell on the dressmaker's rings out as I step inside.

  "Hello, dear," the woman greets me. Her wizened face stretches as she grins.

  This is a bad idea. My heart bangs against my chest and my palms begin to sweat. I can't do this. I should go back to the academy and forget this whole affair. I don't need to get a new dress I have plenty already.

  "Hello," I say awkwardly.

  "How can I help you?" she asks. "Is it a dress for the ball at the academy?" she checks.

  "How did you know?" How can she possibly know what I'm here for? I haven't said anything about it.

  "I've had a girl a day in here
asking about my wares, but none of them seem interested in my dresses. They say they're out of fashion." She runs a wrinkled hand along the gowns hung up on the racks.

  "Is there another dressmaker in town?" I ask. I don't think there is, but this is only the second time I've ventured outside the academy since I arrived, so I don't think it's necessarily the truth.

  "No. But there's a couple of girls with the talent to become them. One of them was an apprentice of mine for the longest time." Her mouth slips up into a grin.

  I take a step back, hitting the door with my back and stopping my own escape. "A dress would be good," I whisper.

  "Alright. Anything in particular you'd like from this dress?" She looks me up and down in a way that makes me uncomfortable, even if I know it's just so she can take a guess at my measurements.

  "No corset," I say swiftly. "And a pale colour. Dark clothes make me look sickly." It's just about the only thing I know about fashion and me. I shouldn't dress in anything that'll wash me out. A little part of me is sad I haven't found out Edward's favourite colour so I could make sure the dress matches. But, considering he doesn't even know we're going to the ball yet, there hasn't been much of a chance for that.

  I'm not sure why I haven't told him yet. Probably so I can still change my mind and not look like a fool, though I'm sure he'll understand if I do. There's no shame in being nervous about these kinds of things.

  My mind strays to the kisses I've shared with Edward, and my nerves settle a little bit. We'll have a great time at the ball, and a good dress will be part of that.

  I find the old woman rifling through dresses and startle. I must have zoned out a little while thinking. That's not a good look on anyone, never mind a princess. I need to snap out of that one.

  "Something like this?" She pulls out a dress and drapes it over her arm with surprising dexterity.

  It's pale and fluffy, with slightly capped sleeves and a fitted bodice that doesn't look like a corset, so probably isn't. Even so, I'm nervous. It looks tight, and that's something I try to avoid for fear of my prophecy starting to come true. I don't want to be trapped in a dress and squeezed to the point of close to death.

  "Yes." The word slips out before I can change my mind. It's better this way. I won't second guess myself or go back on my word if it's what I've told the dressmaker I want.

  "Why don't you try it on, then we can see how it looks and if any changes are needed to the design." The croak is almost gone from her voice as she speaks to me, and I wonder what that's about. It must be my imagination, people don't start talking differently for no reason.

  "Alright." She gestures towards the stool in the middle of the room.

  I step onto it, having been in this position many times throughout my life. Even if I'm particular about my clothes, I have to go through the motions with the palace seamstresses back at home. They then design things the way I prefer them instead of the more fashionable tight corsets and fitted torsos.

  The woman closes the curtain over the window, and for a moment, I regret that the academy guard hasn't been able to come inside with me. But this is a woman's domain. It isn't a place for men to be, even if they want to come in.

  She comes around behind me. "Hmm. Where are your laces?"

  "Oh, down my side," I respond, lifting my left arm so she can see the laces there. Without corsets, I have no need for any maids to tie me into them, and I long ago changed it so I could do up my dresses myself instead of needing help. The less people I rely on, the less people can betray me.

  Her deft fingers make quick work of them as she makes small comments about the ingeniousness of the design and the quality of the work.

  "Thank you, the seamstresses back home are very talented," I inform her.

  "I can see that. The stitches are incredibly fine." She pulls the string at my hip and the skirts of my dress fall to the floor.

  Moments later, she pulls the soft bodice away, leaving me standing in the middle of the shop in nothing but my shift. I shudder. There's no going back now. I can't leave the shop in the thin fabric I'm wearing.

  "Is it your choice not to wear a corset, or is it your parents?" she asks.

  "Mine." And I don't want to explain the reasons to her. Some people act funnily about anyone who has a prophecy about them, and I don't want to bring that on myself without meaning to.

  "I don't see many young ladies your age who go without."

  "I find it more practical." That's not a lie, in theory. I've never worn a corset, having always refused to, but the concept of them seems incredibly uncomfortable and even if I wasn't scared of them, there's a chance I'd avoid them still. More than one woman at court has fainted from having her laces pulled too tight. I don't know why they inflict it on themselves.

  "That is true. But you don't seem like the kind of young lady who needs to do anything practical."

  I scrunch up one of my hands to stop myself from replying. What does she know about my life? I may be exactly the kind of person who needs to wear practical clothing. I may be a princess, but that doesn't mean I can't be useful.

  "Arms up, please." She holds out the bodice of the pale dress she held out to me, and I do as she asks.

  It slips on with ease, but she doesn't do up the back. Instead, she has me step into the skirts and pulls them up before going to the back of the dress and beginning to tie the laces here.

  "Would you like the laces to be moved to the side when I make your dress?" she asks.

  "I would appreciate that, please." It'll be a nice touch, and one that'll make me more comfortable wearing this.

  She finishes tying the bodice and moves on to the skirts, tucking the strings in and hiding them from sight.

  I take a deep breath. It's tight, but not too tight. I know it's coming from the tight fit of the clothes, but that's not stopping the slight panic rising within me. It's just to do with this being a show dress. It's to demonstrate what the style will look like on customers just like me.

  "If you step down, I can uncover the mirror and you can see what you look like. Then we can discuss colours and any other embellishments you'd like."

  I nod, but my mind isn't on the way I can make the dress look more beautiful. It's all I can do to keep my mind focused on the truth of what's going on here.

  The dress isn't going to hurt me. I've been wearing it for a couple of minutes now. If it was going to do anything, it would have done it already.

  I keep reminding myself of all the facts, even though it's hard to do that. I don't want to be this person. I want to be free of the pressure of the prophecy. I should have brought someone with me today, but there's no one I trust at the academy except Edward, and I don't think he's supposed to be in a shop like this.

  The woman whips a sheet away from a floor length mirror.

  This day is getting worse and worse. I'm facing all kinds of fears now. All that can possibly make it worse is if the woman insists on me purchasing a matching hair comb or suggesting I eat an apple.

  Despite all that, I take a step towards the mirror, admiring how my skirt swishes as I walk. This is a slightly more belled skirt than is currently in fashion, but I have no problem with that. I like the way it acts when I move. It's one of the reasons my other skirts are all slightly bigger than the norm too.

  I want to reach out and touch my reflection, but that will go against every precaution I've ever made when it comes to reflective circumstances.

  "It's beautiful," I whisper.

  "That's just the effect of you in it," the woman assures me. "It'll be even more beautiful once we have the other details added. Do you know what colour you'd like?"

  "Soft blue," I whisper. I'm not sure why I want that colour, but it's the first one that pops into my head when I think about it.

  The woman scribbles on a piece of paper. "Any other adornments?" she asks.

  I barely hear her words. The corners of the mirror have caught my attention with the swirling black smoke creeping in from them. The r
est of the mirror darkens into a murky grey as the magic takes over.

  My eyes widen and my panic builds, only worsened by the ability to see myself in the mirror. My breathing changes, becoming shallow and hasty.

  "I can't breathe," I croak, clutching my hand to my stomach.

  My eyes flutter closed as I try to steady myself.

  It's my imagination. This isn't happening.

  I open my eyes again, only to find my paler than normal reflection in the mirror.

  "Are you okay, my dear?" the woman asks.

  I manage to shake my head, but there's no verbal answer for her. I don't think I could get one out if I even tried to.

  My breathing is laboured. If I can even call it that. And it's not the panic that's causing it. I claw at the bodice, anxious to get it off and free my lungs.

  "Help," I whisper, the word coming out as a strangled cry. Edward's face flashes through my mind. I want him here. I want to feel safe and he's the only way to. Why didn't I ask him to come?

  The woman is behind me now, fiddling with the laces and pulling the fabric away from me. I'm grateful for her help, but it's almost like it's too little, and too late.

  My vision swims. Little black spots drifting across my eyes, almost like the magic is drifting in front of my vision. It's too much, and consciousness leaves me.

  Chapter Nine

  I blink my eyes a couple of times, trying to bring my world back into focus. It takes me a moment to realise I'm still in the dress shop, and that I'm only wearing my shift. The dress I'd been trying on hangs in front of the mirror, blocking it from my view. I'm not sure if that's just good luck, or if the dressmaker understands magic and the prophecies and has used it to protect me.

  I find that I don't care which of the two it is. I'm breathing, and for that I'm grateful.

  The woman bustles into the room.

  "Good, you're awake again. Drink this." She passes me a steaming cup and I take it, not wanting to be rude.

  I lean over the cup and give it a sniff.

  "It's just tea," she assures me. "I'm not trying to poison you."