The thought haunted me over the next days, as a new interpretation of the attack occurred to me. When I entered the library to study for the latest healing essay, my mind was so full of the thought that my feet led me to the back of the library before I had made any firm decision on my destination.
A lone figure studied there at a single desk, as he always did at this time. Everyone else knew to respect the space of royalty. Everyone except me, apparently.
I plopped down into a seat on the other side of his desk and leaned forward, my elbows propped against the surface.
“What if it was a test?”
“Excuse me?” He narrowed his eyes at me, unused to interruptions.
I ignored his look but did lower my voice. “The attack. What if it was a test?”
“A test?” He frowned. “Of what?”
“My ability. My control.” I took a deep breath. “The likelihood of my passing the exams.”
I watched as understanding filled his eyes, followed by a thoughtful look. He didn’t say anything, however.
“You heard them at that council. They don’t believe I can be safely imprisoned. If I contravene any laws, I’ll be executed. And I’ve just found out mages aren’t allowed to fail at the Academy. What a simple way to be rid of me—as long as they could be sure I wasn’t going to pass, of course.”
“That sounds a little far-fetched, Elena.”
“Would you say that if it was your life in question?”
“Considering I’ve nearly been caught in both of these apparent attacks on you…”
I wrinkled my nose. “Nearly is not the same as actually. And you have no reason to be worried. You’ll never fail. But what if I do?”
He regarded me steadily. “So don’t fail.”
I gaped at him, but he merely returned to the book in front of him.
I spluttered. “Just—just like that?”
He shrugged and looked up, annoyance on his face now. “What exactly were you expecting me to say, Elena? You’re worried what will happen if you fail. So don’t fail.”
I leaped to my feet. “Of all the obnoxious—”
He raised an eyebrow at me, and I spun around and stormed out of the library. Never mind execution, there was no way I was failing now. In fact, I had every intention of coming top of the class. That would show certain arrogant, uncaring, obnoxious…
I briefly considered dropping my voluntary discipline studies so I could focus on exam preparation instead. But Jocasta seemed to be watching me with a look that said she expected me to abandon classes at any moment, and combined with the infuriating sight of Lucas—who showed up every day as he always did—I couldn’t bring myself to do it.
So instead I found myself returning to the library late one evening, determined to fit in a little more study before bed. I had a common feeling with Jasper these days, having to work harder than everyone else since I couldn’t take any notes. I had no idea how he did it when he couldn’t read either.
Most of the lights in the library were off, and I wondered uneasily if trainees were supposed to be here at this hour. But a golden glow shone from the back of the room, so I made for it with soft steps. Surely they wouldn’t leave any lights on if the library were closed. And the doors had been open.
A solitary trainee studied alone in the back of the room, in his usual spot. I stood for a moment, undecided and awkward, until Lucas looked up and gave me such a challenging stare, that I put my chin up and took the desk across from his.
He continued to regard me silently, but when I pulled out a book and began to read, I felt his eyes drop back to the parchment in front of him. We remained there in silence for the next two hours, until my eyes began to droop so badly I had to admit defeat and head for bed.
As soon as I did, Lucas closed his own book and followed me out of the library. He didn’t say anything, though, and I soon left him behind as he headed for his suite on the fourth year floor.
The next night I found him there again. And the night after. On that third night, we were interrupted by Walden, who was strolling the perimeter of the library, pushing in chairs and checking for abandoned books. He whistled cheerfully to himself, the sound breaking off when he looked up and saw the two of us.
“Well, well, well, exam prep, I suppose.” He smiled at us. “You know, strictly speaking, the library isn’t supposed to be open to students this late.”
Lucas gave him a look of such royal superiority and expectation, that I shook my head and quickly began to pack up my books, determined to show the librarian that one of us, at least, respected his domain.
But he shook his head and held out a hand to stop me.
“No, no, I’m not so hard hearted as that. And I can’t have my favorite trainee failing.” He winked at me, and I resisted the urge to smirk at Lucas. Apparently not everyone was falling over themselves to curry royal favor.
After chatting for a few moments, and recommending several books to me along with broad hints that I might find them useful for Redmond’s exam, Walden continued on his way.
Lucas watched his retreat.
“He’s awfully friendly,” he said, once the librarian had disappeared.
“Surprising, isn’t it?” I said sweetly. “For a mage. But sometimes people do surprise you.”
Lucas gave me a flat look. “And sometimes they don’t.”
I looked down at my book, not wanting him to see how his words stung. It didn’t matter how hard I tried, it would never be enough for people like him.
“You seem extremely concerned about the exams,” Lucas said, surprising me into looking up again. Apparently Walden’s visit had loosened his tongue.
“I should think the reasons would be obvious,” I replied.
“It just strikes me that if your little theory is right, then you have more to worry about than just passing the exams.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” He had my full attention now.
“Only that if the attack was a test, I can only assume you passed. In which case your mystery enemy will not be reassured at all. Assuming they do, indeed, want you dead, that is.”
“Plenty of people want me dead. You know that.”
He shrugged. “It’s not personal, Elena. It’s politics. And in politics things change all the time. Just because that’s what they wanted a month ago doesn’t mean that’s what they want now.”
I closed my book, forgetting to mark my page. “Ugh. How can you stand it?”
A slight crease appeared between his eyes. “I don’t have a choice. Just like you. We neither of us chose our life.”
I pushed my book away, pulling another toward me blindly, merely because my hands wanted something to do. His words gave me the same uncomfortable feeling from months ago when I learned how his family had designated him the disposable one. I reminded myself that I was nothing like this prince—not really.
“It has some advantages for you, though, doesn’t it?” I stared across the desks at him. “Like when you wanted to report a crime, no one brushed you aside.”
He sighed and rubbed the side of his head, as if I wearied him. I maintained my stare.
“Responsibility and privilege go hand in hand. It’s always been like that.”
I shook my head. “Power, you mean. Power and privilege go hand in hand. Responsibility is what those in power are supposed to have. You know, like making sure that the law treats everyone equally.”
“Equal?” He laughed. “Grow up, Elena. Nothing in life is equal. We are all of us products of our birth, ability, and choices. And not necessarily in that order.”
I almost snarled at him. “You think I don’t know that? I’m commonborn, remember? I’ve had to watch my sister cough and burn and grow weak every time the smallest ailment passes through the village, knowing I can do nothing to help her. Because no healer would deign to visit a town like ours—where no one is rich enough to pay their fees. I’ve watched families turn against each other in the hardest decisio
n anyone could have to make—which of them they should offer up as a sacrifice to conscription. I’ve seen the mothers cry once their boys have left.” I paused as a rock settled in my gut. “Of course, it’s not always the boys.” My voice dropped low. “I know all about not being equal. And maybe that’s why I believe it’s the duty of those in power to strive for equality.”
Lucas stared at me, his face twisted, and for a moment I thought I had gotten through to him. Then he spoke.
“Conscription? You could hardly have picked a worse example to make your case. Ardann are not the aggressors in this war. We fight Kallorway for our survival. If we lost, the whole kingdom would suffer.”
“Easy to say when you’re not the one forced to fight.”
He stared at me incredulously. “How long have you been here, Elena? How many hours have you spent in this library? How can you still know so little of our ways?”
I straightened, drawing an angry breath, but he pushed on.
“Why do you think we spend half our day on combat training? You’re upset because you common folk must sacrifice one from every family? Look around! Every mageborn in the kingdom attends this Academy, and yet there are so few of us. One from every commonborn family must go to fight, it is true. But every single mageborn must go. We wouldn’t have a chance of holding back Kallorway otherwise.”
The angry retort on my lips froze. “Wait…what?”
He shook his head. “Four years at the Academy. Two at the front lines. And then entry to the University or training within a discipline. Our lives have less choice and more structure than most of yours.”
“Most of ours? The other day I was the Spoken Mage—one of you. Now I’m one of them. Which is it, Prince?”
He gave a long sigh, his face growing suddenly weary. “I don’t know. Tell me when you decide.”
My eyes dropped from his face, my mind still reeling from his revelation. How had I missed something that important? I thought back over many conversations at the Academy, searching for the clues I’d missed. Had I really been that self-absorbed?
“That doesn’t absolve you of responsibility for the rest of the kingdom,” I muttered, unwilling for him to carry the point entirely.
“Absolution?” His laugh was grim. “No, I don’t suppose any of us have that.”
Neither of us spoke again for the rest of the evening.
The days grew unbearably warm, but not even Coralie attempted to lure us out of the stuffy building. She, Finnian, and Saffron had taken to joining me in the library in the empty session after composition to study for exams. As well as a long written exam, they would also be expected to demonstrate three different compositions—both composing and working them in front of the examiners.
Redmond had commanded me to stay back after class one day and had informed me that I would need to complete the same set of questions in a different room. I would read the exam questions and then answer verbally for a panel of examiners. I would also demonstrate my compositions to that same panel once the verbal exam was completed.
I didn’t bother to ask why a panel was necessary. From the interest shown in my progress so far, I could only imagine the spots had been highly sought after. How many of them would be there hoping to see me fail? Ready to influence the exam in that direction, perhaps?
Redmond’s face made it clear he highly disapproved of treating any trainee differently. Making an exception for me, in particular, seemed to almost cause him physical pain. But since I could hardly complete a written exam while forbidden from writing, I wasn’t sure what option he would have preferred. Other than my being failed outright without ever being given a chance, perhaps. He was the only Stantorn instructor, so that probably would have been his choice. No doubt Lorcan had stepped in on my behalf.
The twins and the Stantorn cousins largely ignored me now, too distracted by their own study to have time and energy even for their usual snide comments. As Lucas and I progressed in our studies, Dariela—although she gave no other sign of caring about her position as head of the class—appeared at our evening study session in the library. Her presence made no difference since Lucas and I hadn’t had a proper conversation since our argument the night Walden found us. It just meant that now three of us sat and studied in silence.
Pale, academic Clarence continued to keep to himself, although I saw him occasionally staggering in and out of the library with enormous piles of books. Personally, I thought he would do better spending his extra time on combat practice.
The lack of jabs from the twins and their friends wasn’t the only sign of the equalizing effect of exams. Poor, terrified Araminta overcame her apparent fear of associating with me to join our afternoon study sessions. When I saw how her hand shook as she copied out notes, and how she stumbled when we verbally quizzed each other, I wished I could take a swipe at whoever had decided on such an unrelenting and punishing system.
Araminta might struggle to keep up with the rest of us, but I had never seen her lose control of a composition. She didn’t try anything adventurous enough for that. I could no more imagine her causing anyone harm than I could imagine Clemmy doing so.
Clementine. The thought of my sister always buoyed me up, providing an extra shot of energy. As soon as the exams were completed, we would all be released for the rest of the summer. Which meant home and my family. After nearly a year away, I was so close to seeing them all again.
Jasper would remain at the University for the summer break, studying and using his extra time for odd jobs in the city to help fund his next year’s room and board. But perhaps he would be able to slip away for Midsummer as he had done for Midwinter.
Somehow the weeks passed. My head always hurt by the time I fell into bed—stuffed far too full with questions, answers and memorized compositions—and I dreamed about exam questions every night. I had finally acquired enough familiarity with the sword that I wasn’t in any danger of lopping off my own arm by accident, but I still trailed most of the class.
Finnian had agreed to give Saffron, Coralie, and me extra coaching, so we all met for an hour before breakfast. None of us had slept enough for weeks, but all the moaning about being tired didn’t stop any of us from attending the extra practice session every day. It seemed that the trainees’ legendary ability to avoid all extra work didn’t extend to exam preparation.
And then the big day dawned.
We would complete our combat exam in the morning and the composition one in the afternoon, just like our normal class session. And while we were all highly strung and anxious, we could be grateful at least that we wouldn’t have to physically exert ourselves all morning. Instead we would each engage in a single free bout with one other student, observed by Lorcan and Thornton. And the Academy had taken pity on us first years and given us the first slot of the morning before the older trainees completed their own combat exams.
“Just don’t chop me up too badly,” Coralie said to me glumly as we all traipsed out to the dusty training yard after attempting to choke down breakfast with varying degrees of success.
I snorted. Coralie had come a long way since we’d started training with swords and was better than me.
“Not much chance of that. You’re the one who should be promising to have mercy on me.”
“Relax. You’ll both do fine.” Finnian looked calm and unaffected, the only one of us to have eaten breakfast as if it were any other day. But then he was the son of a duke and had been training with a sword for years. Only Lucas, Weston, Calix, or Dariela would have a chance of keeping pace with him.
Secretly I felt a little sorry for Saffron, being paired with her cousin. I was hoping that Coralie and I would look better by dint of being vaguely evenly matched, at least.
But after we reached the training yard and completed a short warm up with the rest of our year mates, we all received a shock.
Thornton, his face carefully blank, consulted a piece of parchment in his hand and announced, “The first randomly drawn bout wi
ll be between Lucas and Araminta.”
Chapter 26
Araminta stood frozen, looking as if she were about to faint, while Coralie, Saffron and I exchanged horrified looks. Randomly selected? No one had mentioned that we wouldn’t be sparring with our usual partners.
Lucas stepped forward, his face as impassive as Thornton, his dull practice sword gripped loosely in his hand. Araminta made no move to join him.
Thornton cleared his throat, his expression turning sour. “We don’t have all day, Araminta. Please step forward for your exam.”
The poor girl somehow managed to propel her legs into motion, but she looked back at the rest of our study group as she did so. I gave her the most encouraging look I could muster, attempting to mask my own terror as to who I might be paired with. It must have worked, because her grip tightened, and her back straightened.
It didn’t help much, though, of course. Lucas might not have the vindictive streak of someone like Weston, but he was the most skilled swordsman in our year. And he made no effort to go easy on Araminta. She managed to block him twice and to attempt a single, rather weak, attack herself. Then his sword flashed, and while I couldn’t see how it happened, her sword went flying, and his dull blade rested against her throat.
“Yield,” he said, and she started to nod before remembering the sword at her throat and squeaking out, “Yield.”
“Well that was just depressing,” Coralie whispered in my ear. “Although if she manages to pass with that effort, then we should all be safe.”
Thornton made several notes on his parchment and then called the next names without looking up. “Finnian and Dariela.”
Lorcan smiled, no doubt anticipating a much more interesting bout, and I heard Calix murmur, “This should be good.”
And it was, of course. The two of them were even more evenly matched than I had hoped to be with Coralie—only their skill was far greater. They parried and thrusted, ducking and weaving across the training yard for a full fifteen minutes before Dariela managed an expert feint that caught Finnian off guard and let her move in for the kill stroke.
Voice of Power (The Spoken Mage Book 1) Page 24