There was only one person I felt anything for, and he was the last one I ever wanted to see.
The next month slipped by far too quickly for comfort. If a student wasn’t in the library, they were on the field, practicing drills or conjuring spells out by the armory. Most of us weren’t even aware of the passing of days. We were far too consumed with our studies to take notice.
The trials were to be a weeklong affair. The masters had since broken down the exact schedule, and now that everyone knew what they would entail, we were frantically preparing for the worst.
For Combat, the structure would be almost identical to our midyear tourney. Each one of us would be taking part in a duel, and the competitions would span out across a day. This time our matches were expected to play out between fifteen minutes to an hour—however long it took for one person to concede. The main difference was that our opponent would be random, decided entirely by chance. Each student would draw from a bag of tokens, and whoever had the matching statuette would be the person we went up against.
I wasn’t sure if I was excited or alarmed by the change. I might not fight Priscilla, but I could end up sparring with someone far worse. Eve and Darren were the true contenders to beat, and it would be even harder to go up against a friend. There could be no victory to the latter.
Restoration’s first trial would be a healing demonstration of sorts. Students would be taking turns curing one another of projected ailments. It had sounded well enough, until Alex pointed out an unpleasant factor: the more he restored, the more complaints his or her partner would be forced to endure. “In other words,” my brother had noted, cringing, “you better hope you go up against someone who doesn’t know what they are doing because if they do, Master Cedric will be inflicting increasingly painful conditions for your partner to ‘cure’ you of.”
Ruth told us Alchemy would be the first trial to take place. Her faction’s section would consist of two parts: the brewing and application of various potions. The first half of the day, her class would be mixing their draughts according to the judges’ request. The final hours would be spent experiencing the resulting effects.
After the initial trials concluded, there would be two days in which every student was called before the judges for a private oral exam in the west tower of the Academy. That was the portion Masters Eloise and Isaac had warned us about.
On the seventh day, the judges would make their choice. They’d spend a good portion of the day before weighing one student’s performance against the next, and then, after the evening meal, they would call everyone to the atrium for the results.
It was bound to be the most nerve-wrecking week of our lives.
“I don’t think I am ready for this,” Ella confided over the course of a late evening in the library long after everyone else had gone to bed. She and I were pouring over a mountain of scrolls for the hundredth time while Clayton snored loudly on the study’s couch behind us.
“I don’t think we’ll ever be ‘ready,’” I told my friend, trying to stifle a yawn and failing. “If they wanted us to be ready, they would give us more than a year.”
Ella sighed. “Well, let us hope the time was not in vain.”
“Agreed.” Despite my calm response, I was terrified. I knew I had done everything I could but self-doubt was a hard habit to break.
Throughout my entire stay, I’d been able to tell myself the trials were months away. That I had plenty of time to become the greatest Combat mage the school had ever seen. Now ten months had come and gone, and I had no more room to pretend.
I was as good as I was going to get. I only hoped it would be enough.
“Welcome proud families, friends, visiting mages and nobility. Today marks the beginning of our first-year trials. I am Master Barclae, the current Master of the Academy, and I will be your guide to all that encompasses the competition for the next seven days…”
Master Barclae continued on as I scanned the rows of high-rising benches across the training field. I knew my family was somewhere in the audience, but with the sheer magnitude of people and the dramatic costume of the spectating nobility in front, I could not make out their faces.
Right now, all forty-three of the remaining first-years, myself included, were lined up facing the stands so that the audience could get a good look at the surviving applicants. It was a bit degrading to be introduced by each of our faction’s training master while the first couple of rows whispered amongst one another.
I had no idea who most of the spectators were, yet they all had opinions about me and the rest of my class. Which one of us looked the strongest. Who was the weakest. Who would be apprenticed. And who would fail.
Barclae had gathered all of us that morning before the visitors had started to arrive. He and the rest of the staff had explained exactly what we could expect to see in the next few days. Our families would not be the only ones arriving, he had noted. Graduated mages would also be returning to catch a glimpse of the newest faces, and so would the Crown and its ensuing nobility.
It was true that King Lucius and Prince Blayne had family participating this year, but what I had not realized was that the king and his court came every year. Since the Crown was funding the Academy, the trials were “an opportunity to check on the progress of its efforts.” They also made for entertainment—nobility contributed donations in exchange for the privilege to attend. They made sport of the event, taking bets and wagers on the rest of us.
The Academy allowed the practice because the extra coin helped fund its continued enrollment. First-year study was financed by the Crown, but the training of apprentice mages and the salaries of the Academy’s prestigious staff—those were financed by the trials.
Another advantage to spectatorship was that the entire village of Sjeka made more than half of its yearly earnings from a week’s worth of board. The township raised the rent on all of its housing, which the nobility and visiting mages easily afforded. The king and his family, apparently, had rooms in the Academy—which was interesting to consider, since Darren had spent the entire course of his study in the barracks. Further south was cheaper board, much less accommodating and nearly a two-hour walk from the Academy, but that was where many of the visiting lowborn families, including my own, were expected to stay during the trials.
So now here we were: forty-three fumbling first-years for all the world to see. Fifteen of us would become mages. The rest would be a courtier’s joke for a month or two until the shame was finally forgotten.
I was standing before a sea of hungry faces, and at their own private bench, just beyond my row and facing the audience, were the Three. In glistening, many-layered silk robes edged in gold, the Black Mage of Combat, the Red Mage of Restoration, and the Green Mage of Alchemy sat patiently awaiting the end of the ceremony. Our reigning Council of Magic, the three Colored Robes, was to serve on the panel of judges for our first-year trials alongside the Master of the Academy.
When they had first been introduced, the stands had gone wild with excitement. Many of the nobility had brought flowers, and their intentions had become clear as soon as the Three arrived. Elated shrieks and flying petals had greeted the three most important mages of Jerar while they had taken their seats. I’d barely caught a glimpse. The glittering ceremonial robes and jewel-studded hoods had left little for me to see.
When Barclae was done giving his speech, the crowd had still not gotten over its initial excitement. Half the stands rushed after the departing Three, while the rest of the mass, undoubtedly the visiting families, stumbled across the field, attempting to greet the students they had come to see.
Amidst the commotion and cries of delight, I stood, squinting in the brightness of the late afternoon sun, trying to spot a familiar face. It had been so long, I had started to forget what they looked—
“Ryiah!” a high-pitched squeal to my right alerted me my younger brother was near.
I barely had time to turn around before a flurry of blond curls came cras
hing into me. I nearly fell as Derrick hugged me, squeezing me so tight I could barely breathe.
“It’s nice to see you too!” I choked, laughing.
“I can’t believe you and Alex are still here!” Derrick told me, his shout muffled by my tunic.
“Nei-ther can I,” I said between deep gasps of air.
“Ryiah.” I glanced up from my brother’s curls to spot my father and mother shortly behind, patiently awaiting their turn.
“Get off me, you lump!” I pried my little brother off me and then turned to my parents.
“Mom, Dad!” I hugged them fiercely and then stepped back, so I could remember exactly how they looked. It had been so long… My vision started to blur, and I realized I was crying.
“Has it been that terrible?” my father asked, concerned.
“No,” I stammered, “it’s just…I missed all of you so much!”
“Well, you and Alex will make sure it was worth it!” Derrick circled me, taking in the changes to his older sister’s appearance. “You’re so fit now!” he crowed.
I snorted. “Not even close. Wait until you see Sir Piers. Or my Master of Combat, Narhari! He’s like—”
“You chose Combat? I knew you would!”
“Not Alchemy?” My mother was puzzled. “I would have thought you and Alex would take after your father. You two are so well-versed in herb lore and tonic making…”
I grinned. “Alex chose Restoration, Mom.”
My father didn’t look surprised. “You and your brother have always been stubborn. You two are fans of the long road.” He sighed. “Choosing the easiest path has never been a part of your destiny.”
I smiled, wiping the tears away. “Remind me to listen to my father next time around.”
He grinned. “You wouldn’t be my daughter if you did.”
As I led my parents off the field, I caught sight of some of my friends exchanging tearful reunions like my own. My twin was nowhere to be found.
Ruth’s and Ella’s families were much more refined. Each had come from nobility, though their attire was much less decorated than some of the other highborn families’ I had seen today. Ella’s father had the looks of a retired knight, a shade past his prime. Ruth’s parents gave me the impression they might faint under the direct light of sun. Ruth was a stark contrast to the timidity of her parents. She had no siblings who had come to visit.
Ella, on the other hand, had her older brother Jeffrey, and was in the throes of a huge, spinning embrace. Jeff was five years her senior, with short-cropped hair and the same amber eyes as his sister. Though Ella had once told me her older brother was a bit of a gambler, and a lazy one at that, it was clear she and her parents still loved him very much.
I was about to bring my family over to introduce them when an excited voice broke out behind me.
“This is her! This is the girl I was telling you about!”
I recognized the voice and turned to find Clayton, his parents, and a younger sister trailing behind. Clayton raced forward to grab my arm and drag me over until he caught sight of my own family.
“You must be Ryiah’s parents,” the boy said, addressing both my mother and father with a hand outstretched. My dad shook it with a raised brow as my mother smiled.
Derrick stared at the first-year pointedly. “And you are?”
“Ryiah hasn’t told you about me?” Clayton glanced at me and then shrugged, still smiling. “I’m Clay. Ry and I are in Combat together.”
“Ryiah, you never told us you made friends!” My mother said, placing a special emphasis on that last word.
I cringed.
“So, this is the mysterious Ryiah, the girl we have heard so much about.
I blushed and wondered exactly what Clayton had told them. Clearly they were under the same impression as my mom.
“I hope the stories are not all bad,” I said.
His mother smiled at me, a little too fondly for my liking. “Most definitely not.”
I fell silent, not knowing what else to say.
“Are you going to introduce me?”
I whirled around to find Ella and her family grinning broadly behind us. I immediately brought her over to my family, sidestepping Clayton.
“This is Ella,” I told them eagerly. “She is the reason I am still here!”
Ella’s brother chuckled. “She seemed to imply it was the other way around.”
Our families exchanged greetings, and once they had finished listening to some of our shared stories, I noticed Ella looking for Alex. He was still out there in the center of the field but he was surrounded by several girls from Restoration.
“Alex hasn’t changed at all,” Derrick remarked.
“Is that the boy you were talking about?” Jeff asked Ella.
My friend looked away, embarrassed, and her brother grinned. “He’s not the type you usually go after, that one.”
I laughed, and Ella shot me a glare. “He wasn’t until it was too late,” I told Jeff.
“Now that makes more sense.”
With our families in stride, Ella and I headed to the backdoors of the Academy. We noticed Constable Barrius and Frederick giving tours of the stables to a party of interested nobility, but we did not join in. It was getting late, and my parents still had a two-hour walk back to their inn.
We had just reached the atrium when we came across some of the visiting mages and a cluster of highborn families that was listening to their every word. The mages were explaining their own experience at the Academy years ago, and it seemed pleasant enough, until I noticed Priscilla and her family at the center of the audience.
I recoiled by instinct.
“Is that who I think it is?” Ella’s brother asked, wide eyed as he stared at the raven-haired beauty.
Ella elbowed him, hard. “Don’t even look her way, Jeff. She hasn’t changed from court.”
“Priscilla is not half so beautiful as your lovely sister here.” My twin had arrived.
Ella flushed.
“Alex!” my father chastised my brother. “How nice of you to finally join us after you finished flirting with half the school.”
Derrick was not distracted by the commotion. “Who is Priscilla?”
Alex ruffled our younger brother’s hair. “The meanest girl you will ever meet.”
Derrick turned back to study the girl curiously, and then his jaw dropped. “Is that the king?”
I glanced back to see who my younger brother was watching, and sure enough, coming down the spiraling stair was Darren, another boy of similar features, and an older man with stark white hair and a permanent frown who I could only assume was their father, King Lucius III.
The king of the realm held himself much the way his sons did, composed and almost disconcertingly aloof. Like his heir, the man wore his hair short, but with a meticulously trimmed beard that was his alone. Both father and eldest bore the same piercing blue eyes, and I wasn’t sure what was worse, the sharp cobalt of ice or the bottomless shading of Darren’s garnet brown.
Each member of the royal family was dressed in the same stiff, fitted brocade robe that was associated with the Crown. It was an elaborate, heavy material that gave off the impression of unrelenting force. While the king and his heir wore their robes with thick golden-laced embroidery and chain adornments, Darren wore his simply, though he did still wear the hematite stone pendant around his neck.
Even if they had not been the Crown, the kings and his sons were easily the most ominous family in Jerar. I shivered as Prince Blayne caught sight of Ella, and when the crown prince smiled the small, cruel smile of their shared secret, I instantly hated him more than the non-heir himself.
Prince Blayne whispered something in Darren’s ear, and the nonheir glanced over at Ella. Darren looked upset, and as soon as he spotted me watching, the frown turned into a glare.
“What was that?” Derrick asked, noting the look that had passed between the non-heir and me.
“It’s complicated.”
My mother looked shocked. “How did you get on a prince’s bad side?”
Alex clenched his fists but said nothing. I just shook my head and let Ella finish for me, “Oh, Darren? Don’t worry too much about him. He hates everyone on sight.”
“Oh.” My mother seemed convinced, but I could tell Derrick was still suspicious.
We continued to make our way down the halls to the entrance of the Academy. Ella’s family had already gone ahead of us, and my parents and Derrick hurried to follow their trail while Alex, Ella, and I waved our goodbyes.
After our families had retired from view, the three of us headed back down the corridor in the direction of our barracks. We had only just crossed the atrium when we found ourselves face-to-face with the crown prince. While I couldn’t be sure, I had the distinct impression he had been waiting. A second later my thoughts were confirmed when Prince Blayne stepped out directly in front of us, cutting off our path.
“Lady Ella,” Blayne said, ignoring my brother and me. “It’s been too long.” He reached out and snatched my friend’s hand.
Ella instantly paled, and I could see fear written all over her face.
An awkward silence passed. Ella was suddenly incapable of speaking. She was usually so outspoken, but now she was as silent as a rock.
I took Ella’s other arm, seeing as how Blayne still hadn’t let go of her first.
“Let’s return to the barracks,” I said very loudly. I curtsied the barest inch that a crown prince would afford and pulled at my friend’s arm. “We need to get back.”
The crown prince faced me with a sneer. “Ella will leave when she’s ready.” His grip hadn’t lessened, and I could see white marks on my friend’s arm.
Alex put himself directly in front of the prince. “She needs to get back.”.
“Just who do you think you are speaking to, lowborns?” Prince Blayne spat at the both of us.
Alex opened his mouth to reply with some chosen words—and I wasn’t far behind—when Darren appeared, seemingly out of nowhere.
First Year Page 21