Voice of Power (The Spoken Mage Book 1)

by Melanie Cellier

  “Apparently. For now, at least. Lorcan seemed to find the whole thing intriguing more than anything.”

  My eyes caught on the prince as he strode into the room. His eyes found me quickly, latching on as they hadn’t done for weeks now. His step faltered for a brief instant before he continued in to take a seat beside Calix. His look had been accusatory—did he regret speaking up for me to the council members? But something else had lurked there as well. A look that said I was a puzzle he couldn’t quite figure out.

  I swung back around to Coralie. Well that made two of us. I couldn’t work him out and had given up trying.

  “So…what does that mean?” asked Coralie, oblivious to the moment that had just passed between Lucas and me.

  “It means I’m a regular old non-blood, after all.” I stabbed at the food in front of me.

  Coralie snorted.

  “Well, maybe not completely regular.” I sighed. “But no writing for me.”

  The other trainees had grown accustomed to my presence in my weeks at the Academy, but this new incident had the whispers following me again. Except this time no one leaned forward to look. Instead they all drew back, leaving a wide band of space around me wherever I went.

  At combat, a wide space separated Coralie and me from the other pairs, and when we ran laps, I no longer ran in the middle of the pack since even the slowest of the class did their best to avoid me. I ignored them all, reminding myself over and over that I was not a danger to anyone. As long as I didn’t try to write, there would be no more explosions.

  I hoped.

  And since Thornton had introduced staffs to our pair exercises, distracting myself was easier than it would otherwise have been. With a weapon in play, I felt like an untrained idiot again, all my progress with unarmed blows gone in an instant.

  But no distraction helped when I stood outside the composition classroom. Natalya and Lavinia walked past me while I hesitated, both giving me horrified glances as they did so. I had needed to stop off at the library for reading material from Jocasta on my way to class, so I was on my own and would no doubt be the last one in. But the bell would ring any second, so lingering out here would only cause more problems.

  Taking a deep breath, I pretended a confidence I didn’t feel and strode into the room. My eyes fixed on Coralie, and I slid into the seat beside her before I absorbed the rest of the room.

  Unlike previously, when only the first two rows of desks had been taken, the students had now rearranged themselves. The desk I shared with Coralie was in the second column of desks, in the second row back, as it had been before. But now the entire front row had moved themselves over to the fourth column of desks on the far side of the room. And Weston, short a desk in that column, sat in the third column in the last row. In other words, they had all positioned themselves as far from me as possible.

  I bit my lip and looked down at my desk, willing myself not to flush. A rustle of whispers had greeted my arrival, but when Redmond took his place at the front of the room, Natalya spoke up more loudly.

  “Is it really safe for us to be in an enclosed space with her?” She put her hands on her hips. “The Academy is supposed to be a place for those with control.” Her narrowed eyes turned to glare at me.

  I couldn’t help responding to her tone, my back straightening as I glared back at her. This wasn’t really about what had happened in the library. She had never even considered giving me a chance.

  Redmond looked slowly from her to me, speculation in his eyes. How much did he want to be rid of me? Enough to defy Lorcan?

  But before he could speak, the door opened, and I remembered we were still a student short.

  The prince strode into the room, and this time his steps didn’t falter, although he took in the situation in a glance. For a brief moment silence fell over the room as twelve pairs of eyes watched him. He gave no indication of being aware of our interest as he slid calmly into his previous seat directly across the thin aisle from me.

  An audible breath sounded from Natalya before Lavinia gripped her arm, and she subsided. Redmond watched Lucas for another second and then cleared his throat and began the lesson. A rustle sounded through the trainees, but no one protested, and I slumped into my seat as Redmond droned on.

  Sneaking a sideways glance at the prince, I examined his face. He gave every appearance of earnestly listening to our instructor. Yet once again he had defused anger and threat directed toward me—and this time merely with his presence. Had he known what he was walking into? Had he heard Natalya’s words from outside the door?

  And if he had, what did it mean? That the royals continued to side with Lorcan, despite what I had done? That I was truly to be permitted to stay—for now, at least?

  It took me a long time to focus on the lesson, and even when I did, I could make little sense of it. Unsurprisingly the other trainees had moved past binding words. I looked blindly down at the book I still clutched in my hand. I had been too focused on the upcoming class to take a good look at it when Jocasta handed it to me, but I tried to puzzle out the words now.

  THE. That word was familiar and easy to read. B-A-S-I-C-S. I sounded it out in my head. Basics. Well, thank goodness for that. Clearly I needed basics. OF. Another easy one. The next word was long, but it was a familiar one since Jocasta and I had gone over it many times. COMPOSITION. The Basics of Composition.

  My hands gripped the leather binding more tightly. Thank you, Jocasta, I whispered in my mind. I promised myself that no matter how tired I felt, I would dedicate all my spare time to puzzling out the words inside the tome. Somehow I would catch up. I might not be able to participate, but I would at least find a way to understand.

  Chapter 12

  To my surprise, composition class ended well before the evening meal. The prince was the first one out the door, but the other students soon followed, leaving Coralie and me alone in the empty classroom.

  “Does it always finish this early?” I asked her.

  She nodded. “From second year, trainees have to choose two disciplines and pursue further study in them. You can change them each year or keep the same two the whole way through. So the older trainees are all busy studying right now. Mercifully, the Academy takes pity on us first years and we get this time off.”

  “Unless you have Jocasta as your personal mentor.”

  Coralie chuckled. “She’s tough, I know. But better her than Thornton or Redmond!”

  To that I could willingly agree.

  “So what are you going to study next year?” I asked her.

  “I don’t know. I can’t decide. I guess I’ll keep switching them each year until I find something I love. It will put me a little behind when I eventually join a discipline after the Academy, but better that than being stuck with something I end up hating.”

  I nodded. It would never come to that for me, of course. Even if I survived my three years of conscription, I would come out the other end in a no-man’s land. Neither normal common folk nor graduated mage. But that was a problem much too far away to be worth worrying over. I had a lot to survive before I made it there.

  “Do all mages join a discipline?” I asked, still curious, even if it didn’t apply to me.

  “You don’t have to, but most do.” She made a face. “I don’t suppose someone like Natalya would have to, with her father being general and all. They’re one of the most prominent Devoras families and rich as anything. But someone like me?” She shrugged. “I’ll need to join one if I want to draw a salary from the crown. My family isn’t rich enough to appreciate me lying around doing nothing and earning nothing, and I’d rather be part of a discipline than end up selling basic compositions to non-bloods rich enough to buy them.”

  “You can do that?” I stared at her in astonishment. Kingslee didn’t have any resident mages to purchase such a thing from, and if any of the families who made the trip into the capital had ever bought one, they hadn’t mentioned it to me. Likely none of us were rich enough to do
so.

  “Of course.” She gave me a strange look and then shook her head. “You really need to read that.” She tapped the book lying on the desk in front of me. “Most mages bind their personal collection of compositions so only they can release them. But there’s nothing to prevent a mage composing a more general working. Some of the least skilled mages can’t even get accepted into a discipline at all. So they sell all sorts of compositions.”

  I looked down at the book on my desk. There was so much that I still didn’t understand. I had never attempted to read anything but the worksheets Jocasta wrote for me, and the idea of struggling through all the words that must fill the pages in front of me filled me with dread. But another part of me itched to open it and begin.

  “Of course, there’s also the free spirits,” Coralie added. “I had a great-uncle like that. Didn’t like the idea of taking orders and was perfectly content to sell compositions. My brother thought he was the family embarrassment, but I always liked him. He made me laugh.”

  I sighed. Since I couldn’t write, let alone actually compose, such a path was hardly open to me. But I knew it would have been the one I chose. I had no interest in a lifetime of taking orders from some arrogant mage who would no doubt look down on me as inferior.

  “It’s prestige that drives those from the richer families into the disciplines, of course,” said Coralie. “There’s no other path to a proper title and a seat on the Mage Council. That will be enough for Natalya and Calix and the like, I’m sure.”

  I absentmindedly stroked the leather of my book binding. Coralie’s eyes dropped down to it.

  “Would you like some help with that?”

  I brightened, and then paused. “Are you sure? It’ll be horribly boring for you.”

  She grinned. “I don’t mind. It’s not as if I have anything else pressing to do.”

  As the days ticked by, the weather growing colder and colder, both my reading and my understanding of composition improved. Things I had seen or heard began to make sense to me—like why a longer composition was a source of shame—or at least a marker of limited skill in the particular discipline. In composition class, the first year trainees wrote long passages for even the most simple of compositions. It ensured their workings took the exact shape they intended.

  But as they grew in skill and control, they would learn to make them shorter and shorter, channeling the power with more precision. Trainees loved to tell stories about great mages of the past, some of them rumored to be so strong and so skilled, they could control a composition with a single word.

  The story I heard repeated most often was that of the great general who won a decisive battle against Kallorway. He had been injured, near death, lying on the ground, his store of compositions exhausted, when he had composed a working great enough to win the day by scratching a single word into the dirt.

  But that had been long ago in a different war, and I had to wonder how much the story had grown as it was passed down through the years. Still, such tales always made me uncomfortable. The more I learned, the more I understood why my one semi-successful working had so discomposed the mages who heard of it. There were far too many things about it that should have been impossible—especially for someone like me.

  To my ongoing surprise, I received no more unexpected testing visits, and no mages appeared to hound, prod, or observe me. Either my unintended explosion had given them all pause, or Lorcan was somehow keeping them away. Why I didn’t know.

  In composition class, Redmond pretended I didn’t exist, and I had no desire to seek his help anyway. But I needed help. Every evening I dragged my battered body up the endless steps, my mind almost equally exhausted by composition class and reading practice, only to sit in my room and attempt to shape power with my words.

  Despite the rain which often soaked us now, my skill with the staff had finally begun to grow. And I rarely needed Coralie’s assistance with the longer words in my books anymore. But neither of those skills would make me into a mage. Neither would teach me control. And while no obvious threat hung above my head, I hadn’t forgotten the look on General Thaddeus’s face during my testing. I was isolated from the rest of the kingdom here in the Academy, tucked away inside a bubble. If a sword was going to fall on my defenseless neck, it might well come with no warning.

  And so I struggled alone, attempting to unlock my ability. And yet every night I slipped into bed, my head aching, feeling like a fool. It didn’t matter how many words I spoke, they remained like all the other words I spoke all day—flat and empty of any sort of power.

  I might have grown sick of Jocasta’s remorseless tutelage in the weeks I spent with her in that horrible room, but eventually I found myself back at the library. This wasn’t something I could ask of Coralie, and I had nowhere else to turn. I just hoped Jocasta would be willing to help me, and that she had somewhere else for us to study. I couldn’t imagine either of us had any desire to be closed up in that room together ever again. Even if it had been restored to its previous state by the creator mage.

  But it wasn’t Jocasta behind the desk when I arrived. Instead a middle-aged man with a cheerful face smiled a greeting at me. I had seen him before, although we had never spoken. Walden—the head of the Academy library, Jocasta’s senior, and an Ellington. He had usually been busy when I saw him in the past, often helping older trainees.

  Looking around now, I saw trainees scattered all over the library. I should have noticed them previously and wondered at their numbers. This must be where they studied their chosen disciplines before the evening meal.

  “Ah, Elena,” said Walden with a broad smile. “I was wondering when you would find your way back here. I’ve been looking forward to meeting you.”

  “You have?” I stared at him before realizing how rude that sounded and rushing to recover. “I mean, of course, I’ve been—”

  He smiled again and waved away my stumbling words. “Of course I’ve wanted to meet you. I know all the other students, you see. And you’ve spent so much time here. I like to know those who frequent my domain.” He gave me a mock stern look, and I found myself smiling back.

  “Now, please, tell me—what can I help you with?”

  “Well…” I bit my lip. “I do need help, but I’m afraid it isn’t something I’m likely to find in a book.”

  Walden turned to survey the seemingly endless shelves of books behind him with raised brows before turning back to me. “Now you’ve intrigued me, do explain.”

  “I was thinking maybe Jocasta would be available to…” My words faltered when I felt the weight of someone else’s gaze. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw an all-too-familiar figure standing a short distance away, the dark hair and bright eyes distinctive without my needing to turn to see him fully.

  What was Lucas doing here? I tried to regain my train of thought, but I hated to outline my problem with the cold prince watching on.

  If Walden noticed my discomfort, he didn’t let on. “There’s no need to bother Jocasta. I’d be more than happy to help you myself. Especially now that you’ve intrigued me so. You’ll have trouble convincing a librarian there’s a problem that can’t be solved by a book. It’s just a matter of finding the right one.”

  I swallowed and tried to ignore the green eyes that bored into me. If only Lucas would leave. I couldn’t have hoped for a more welcoming reception than I was receiving from Walden, and I was starting to think it great good luck that I happened to come at a time when Jocasta was away from the desk.

  “If you have a book on spoken magic, then by all means, direct me to it,” I said at last, attempting to mirror Walden’s own smile. “I would settle for even the hint of such a thing—although step-by-step instructions would be a great deal better.” I broadened my smile to show I meant the words in jest.

  “Ah! Spoken magic.” Walden rubbed his hands together. “I had an account from Jocasta, you know, who was there at your testing. Remarkable. Truly remarkable. And a puzzle worthy of even my
time.” He winked at me, and my smile grew more genuine.

  “Perhaps you would care to step into my office to discuss it further?”

  I nodded eagerly, conscious that Lucas’s eyes still hadn’t left me. Did he approve or disapprove of my attempting to explore my power? Wasn’t that what they all wanted? For me to unlock the secrets of this new ability? But when I risked a full glance at him, just as I moved to follow Walden, I couldn’t see any happiness on his face.

  Something about the situation had unsettled him, and I could feel the pressure of his eyes long after Walden’s office wall stood between us.

  Walden listened with great interest to my account of the confrontation in front of my parents’ store. I almost suggested he compose the same working as Lorcan and Jessamine to see it for himself, but I managed to swallow the words just in time. Lorcan and Jessamine were both members of the Mage Council—two of the ten most powerful mages in the kingdom. I didn’t want to embarrass Walden if he didn’t possess the skill for such a composition.

  “So you have no idea what unleashed the power?” he asked when I finished recounting every relevant point I could think of. “None at all? And you never felt even a stirring before that?”

  I shook my head. “I have no explanation for it. And I have tried and tried to reproduce it since my arrival here, but it’s been a rather useless exercise since I have no idea where to start.”

  “A most interesting conundrum.” Walden ran his hand along his chin, his eyes distant. “You’ve tried speaking the binding words that begin a normal composition, I suppose.”

  I nodded. “I borrowed a book on standard compositions only last week and tried reading out every one of them.”

  I flushed slightly at the admission, but Walden just nodded thoughtfully as if it had been a reasonable attempt. He leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers.

  “I must ponder this further. And scour the library. There may yet be some useful hint to be gleaned from some ancient record.” His eyes focused on me. “Do not despair, Elena! We will find the key to your control, I feel certain of it. There can be no greater quest than the search for new knowledge.”