Voice of Power (The Spoken Mage Book 1)

by Melanie Cellier

  He paused again, and I realized that he wanted me to choose. Me. Have a hand in choosing a room of my own in this magnificent building. I shook myself before I could forget the truth. It was only for now. There was still the testing to come, and then who knew what after that.

  But for now I was to have a room. “I’d like a view, please.”

  “Good choice.” Damon finally stopped ascending, and gestured to the right, down a broad hallway. “Second year rooms are down there. First years down here.” He led me to the left. “Third years have suites on the level below, and fourth years on the level below that. The next level down is instructor suites and classrooms. And then of course the ground floor has offices and workrooms like where we got you those robes. You’ll find the dining hall down there too.”

  I tried to make my overwhelmed mind absorb his words. It felt almost impossible to imagine myself trotting along to class and meals in the dining room when I hadn’t even been outside Kingslee before this morning.

  Damon stopped before one of the closed doors and withdrew a large key ring. With some hemming and hawing, he selected a key and unhooked it. Handing it to me, he gestured for me to open the door. I juggled the robes into one hand and obeyed without thinking.

  The room on the other side of the door made me catch my breath. Hadn’t he said it was small? It looked enormous, the single bed leaving plenty of room for a large chest, a wardrobe, a sturdy desk, and two chairs. Bright rugs covered the floor, and thick curtains obscured the windows.

  Damon crossed over and flung them wide, letting light stream into the room. I gasped again and rushed over, my load dropped heedlessly on the bed. Far below us, gardens gave way to an expanse of green grass and several fenced areas of packed dirt. Behind them sat something that could only be a mini arena, sloped seating surrounding a large oval floor. Something shimmered around it, but I didn’t examine it for long, my eyes drawn onward. We were high enough up to see over the city wall, and endless fields and rolling hills stretched out as far as I could see, the glitter of the river the only barrier between us.

  “It’s beautiful,” I murmured.

  Damon nodded at me approvingly. “Like I said, good choice. Some of the students don’t appreciate it—I suppose they see better at home every day. But I never tire of coming up here.”

  Yet another reminder that I could not be more different from the other trainees, despite whatever strange aberration had allowed me brief access to a burst of power.

  “Lorcan told me you’re in something of an unusual situation and have had to come without luggage.” Damon looked sympathetic and surprisingly incurious, although perhaps he just hid it well.

  Whatever expression crossed my face, he misread it.

  “Oh, we don’t stand on ceremony here. You’ll find all the instructors go by their names, even to us non-bloods.” He used the term I had first heard from the mage this morning easily and without rancor. “No one has time to waste around here. Not like up at court.” He laughed again at his own joke. “Some of the students find it a bit of an adjustment. But they learn quick enough.”

  Interesting. So his familiar chatter had been a first test of sorts, then—how easily could I adjust to the ways of the Academy? Of course, in my case there was no haughty offense to be swallowed. I wondered how the green-eyed boy had fared. It was hard to imagine even Damon daring to joke with him.

  “Don’t worry about classes for today,” Damon continued. “You just get yourself settled, and I’ll have some basic supplies sent up for you. You’ll find the dining hall on the ground floor, as I mentioned. Come along for the evening meal—all the first years will be there. And then tomorrow you can join them at classes.”

  And with that he was gone, while I was still blinking. Start classes tomorrow? What sort of classes?

  Composition classes. Writing classes. So what would happen when they realized I had no idea how to access or control the power that had burst out of me last night?

  I was still pacing my room considering this question when a knock sounded, and a timid servant delivered several large parcels. She began to unwrap them, but I sent her away. I had nothing else to do for the afternoon.

  To my relief, she immediately returned with a tray of food, and I sat down at the desk to eat before unpacking anything. Even my nerves had only been able to keep the hunger away for so long.

  The parcels turned out to contain various sets of clothes—in a practical style but still far finer than anything I had ever owned or worn—and other such necessities. But the smallest of them was the one of greatest interest. It contained a stack of fresh parchment, and a supply of pens and ink.

  I placed them on the desk with trembling hands and then stared at them for a long time. Could it be true? Was I really going to learn to read? To write?

  When I thought of my family, of the uncertain fate hanging over all our heads, I felt ashamed. But I couldn’t deny the longing inside me. The call of the blank page and the memory of the shape of letters. I had always assumed that everyone felt like this—felt the words calling to them. It was our greatest struggle, those of us not born into the mage families. A sacrifice we must make every day to protect ourselves.

  But now that the question had been raised, now that the possibility dangled before me…The longing grew stronger and pressed against my will. All those books in Lorcan’s study. What must it be like to take down any one of them and discover what secrets it held?

  I wished I could sit down at the desk and write a note to my family to let them know I was safe. But the idea was laughable from every angle. Even if I could write such a thing, my family wouldn’t be able to read it. And I had no coin to hire a messenger who would memorize my message and deliver it to them. Even if I could get out to a market and hire one. There was nothing I could do for my family except to stay alive and not offend anyone important.

  I changed into one of the delivered outfits, but my eyes kept straying to those alluring blank pages on the desk. When a bell sounded through the building, I started, my eyes flying to the window. Sure enough, the light had begun to dim, the sun sinking lower.

  Meal time already? I eyed one of the white robes, now hanging neatly in my wardrobe, with trepidation. I was about to walk into a room full of mages—trainee ones, anyway. The last thing I wanted to do was stand out more than I already would. So would they all be wearing their robes, or not?

  They had been wearing them when I saw them in the corridors earlier. But that had been on their way to classes, surely. I sighed and slipped a robe over my head. If no one else was wearing them, I could always take it off, whereas the reverse would require me to hike back up all those stairs.

  Slipping out of my room, I hurried down the long staircase. No one else joined me, and I wondered if they were all coming straight from classes. When I reached the lower levels, a few people appeared—their eyes either glazing over me once they saw the white robe, or lingering with curiosity if their gaze caught on my face. I didn’t make eye contact with anyone.

  My first emotion on reaching the ground floor was relief. It seemed awash with white robes, and they all seemed to be heading in one direction. I slipped into the stream as subtly as I could. But I could still feel the ripple spreading out from me, a disturbance caused by my presence. Whispers hissed and rustled through the corridor.

  Damon had said that he knew every student by name and face. How much more must that be true for the trainees themselves, who had no doubt all grown up together as well? I had been foolish to think I had any chance of joining their midst undetected.

  The doors of the dining hall appeared, and I rushed through them, only to face a new dilemma. Where to sit. A large number of tables had been lined up in four straight rows. The trainees flowed around me to take their places without hesitation, and I moved forward with tiny steps, my eyes darting around the room.

  Finally I directed myself toward the furthest and most empty row of tables. The few students who already sat there loo
ked younger, and many places remained empty. If they sat in year levels, Damon had said first year was a small group this intake.

  I picked a seat at an empty table. I knew I should keep my eyes down, but I couldn’t help darting furtive glances at the trainees. They all wore the same identical white robes and had their hair in practical styles. My own loose waves still fell about my face, and I let them drop further to shield my expression at the same time as I wished I had thought to tie them back.

  All but two of the other students were eyeing me back—with equal curiosity but a great deal more openly. I tried not to think of the accumulated power those eyes represented. And not just their ability to compose. The status and wealth and position of their families hung around them, even if the actual lines of their faces reflected more fatigue than anything else. These weren’t like the other youngsters back in my village, and I would do well to remember it.

  “Who are you?” A pretty girl with an open face plopped herself into the seat beside me.

  I startled, not having seen her coming.

  “I’m Elena.”

  “Yes, but what family are you from?” She sounded impatient. “I don’t recognize you. You are a first year, right? That’s why you’re sitting with us.”

  I swallowed. “Um, yes?” I wished it hadn’t come out sounding like a question. “And I’m from Kingslee.”

  “Kingslee?” A boy at the next table frowned. “I didn’t think there were any mage families in Kingslee. Isn’t it tiny? And so near the capital. Why live there when you could just live here?”

  I licked my lips. “Not exactly tiny, but it is fairly small, I suppose. And, no, we don’t have any mage families there.”

  “So how can you come from Kingslee, then?” The girl beside me sounded genuinely curious rather than accusatory, so I focused on her when I replied.

  “Because I don’t come from a mage family.”

  “What?” Startled gasps sounded from several mouths, and all the trainees in our line of tables were now paying unabashed attention to our conversation.

  “Don’t say it,” I said, my exhaustion suddenly catching up with me. “It’s impossible—I know. And I didn’t ask to be here, but here I am. Ask Lorcan if you want an explanation.” I couldn’t face the skepticism and barrage of questions that I knew would come if I tried to explain the situation myself.

  Several backs stiffened, and multiple pairs of eyes narrowed. I had just identified myself as well below them on the social ladder, so apparently my attitude wasn’t appreciated. I sighed. My brother had been right, even without being here. I hadn’t even lasted five minutes without saying the wrong thing.

  A new figure approached the tables, moving slowly but confidently through the assembled students. His broad shoulders and air of command attracted attention, despite the fact that he was moving toward our end of the room. Many heads nodded at him as he passed, although he didn’t respond. His eyes were fixed on us. On me.

  I gulped. The boy with the dark hair and green eyes.

  His approach silenced the trainees around me, most turning their attention to him as he walked the last few steps and sat down smoothly in the chair across from mine. But despite their attention, his eyes never left me.

  As if his arrival had been a signal, servers appeared with trays of food. They went first to the trainees on the far side of the room to us, except for two who broke off from the others to approach my table.

  As they laid out various dishes before us, one of them gave a half-bow to the boy across from me.

  “Your Highness,” the man murmured.

  I straightened. The prince. It had to be. Prince Lucas of Ardann. Damon had told me he was here, and I should have known it would be this boy, who stood out so effortlessly from all the others. So he was a first year.

  What did it mean that he had chosen to sit at my table? Lorcan had spoken of informing the palace. Surely the prince already knew my story, even if he did currently reside at the Academy rather than with his family.

  A boy at the next table down the line leaned forward and in our direction. “This girl claims to be a first year and not from one of the mage families. What’s Lorcan playing at? Do you know?”

  The prince took a calm bite of food, his eyes still not leaving my face.

  “That is correct, Calix. She does not come from a mage family. She is—as far as we are currently aware—a non-blood. And yet, despite having no training, yesterday she composed a controlled working. Using only a spoken word.”

  For a heartbeat silence fell on our side of the room. And then chaos broke out, spilling from our table until it encompassed the entire dining hall.

  Chapter 6

  I could hear chair legs scraping against the ground as people stood, and from the corner of my eye I could see white-robed figures, all leaning this way, trying to peer over each other to see me. But I remained in place, transfixed by the green eyes across from me.

  The prince still hadn’t looked at anyone else. And now a small smile played across his face, as if he had known exactly what result his words would produce and was rather enjoying it. But as I watched, the smile fell away, and a darker look took its place.

  He stood, bracing his hands on the table and leaning across as far as he could. Without conscious thought, I leaned forward as well, closing the gap between us.

  “Lorcan may think you belong here, but there are others who can see the truth.” His voice was low, his words only for me. And their dark tones held me in thrall, reflecting the threat I saw in his face. “You are not one of us, Elena of Kingslee. Never forget that. We will discover your secrets. Sooner or later. You cannot hide.”

  He straightened and looked away from me for the first time since entering the room. I drew a ragged breath, suddenly realizing I had forgotten to breathe. For a moment I felt only shock. And then anger surged through me, driving away whatever had held me in place.

  I shot to my own feet, but Prince Lucas was already disappearing from the room, his meal almost untouched. I risked one glance around at the crowd of trainees milling about in loud confusion, many of them pressing closer and closer to me. The sight was enough to send me speeding from the room.

  While I didn’t think they meant any violence toward me, I didn’t intend to stick around to find out. Not with the anger pulsing through me. I was far too likely to say something I shouldn’t.

  I took the stairs two at a time, slamming my door behind me and locking it for good measure. Only when I leaned against it, my heart beating as if they had all been chasing me, rather than the solitary run I had actually made, did I take a moment to breathe.

  And to consider what else I had seen in Lucas’s face. Lurking somewhere beneath the amusement, the superiority, the anger, and the threat, had been another emotion. One that I recognized because I had been feeling all too much of it in the last day. Fear.

  And as I climbed into bed for the night, my mind still churned over and over that one thought. How could such a situation ever have come to be? How could a prince of Ardann possibly be afraid of me?

  I slept much more deeply than I would have thought possible. So when a bell sounded through the building, I jerked and nearly rolled out of bed. After several breaths, I remembered where I was and groaned. Rolling back into the center of the bed, I stuck my pillow over my head.

  But all too soon another bell sounded. Sighing, I forced myself out of bed and slipped into one of my new outfits. A white robe went over the top. A long mirror had been attached to the back of my door, and I paused for a moment to consider my reflection. My wavy brown hair—neither straight nor curly, dark nor light—hung around my face. I went searching through the supplies provided until I found a tie and quickly secured it back out of my face. With my hair constrained, my eyes seemed to grow large in my face.

  They were almost as confused as my hair—unable to make up their mind as to whether they were brown or gold or green. Usually the green only showed when I was particularly excited, but
today they looked bright and more green than I ever remembered seeing them. I glared at myself. Being stuck here in constant danger and surrounded by mages was the last thing I wanted. I was not excited about today.

  But they might teach you to read, said an insidious voice in the back of my mind. But I pushed it away and turned from the mirror. I was not excited. I refused to be.

  I had only taken two steps toward the door when a frenzied hail of knocks sounded. I rushed over and pulled it open. The girl standing in the open doorway looked startled and then apologetic.

  “Oh, sorry. I wasn’t sure if I should knock, only I didn’t see you at breakfast, and now we’re going to be late, and I thought you might not know where to go.” She paused for a breath and beamed at me. I recognized her from the dining hall the night before—the girl with the open face who had sat next to me and asked most of the questions.

  I didn’t say anything, and she shifted her weight impatiently from foot to foot before stopping and bouncing once on the spot.

  “Oh, I’m Coralie, by the way. I think I forgot to introduce myself last night. I’m terrible that way. My family is always scolding me for it. You’re Elena, of course. I remember that. And, like I said, we’re going to be late for morning class.”

  I took a breath since she didn’t seem to be planning to pause for one. The first bell must have meant breakfast, and apparently I’d dropped back to sleep between the two if I’d missed it. My stomach gave a protesting rumble, but I could hardly go charging down the stairs and demand food now. Not if Coralie said we were late for class.

  “Thank you,” I said in response to her expectant look. “You’re right, I don’t know where to go.”

  “Ha! I knew it!” She smiled and stepped back from the door, and I followed her reluctantly, being careful to shut and lock my room behind me.

  As we started down the stairs together, Coralie kept up an almost constant stream of words, although she said little of any great consequence. And apparently she had decided to handle the strangeness of my situation by avoiding any questions. Something I appreciated. In fact, the longer she talked, the more I warmed to her, despite her status. It was hard not to.