Crown of Danger (The Hidden Mage Book 2)

by Melanie Cellier

  A little of my guilt lifted. I had only exacerbated a problem Royce had already created. But it was a good lesson for me as well. If I was going to be taking control of the compositions of other beginners like me, then I needed to be more prepared.

  In fact, I needed to study just as hard as they did—as if I was the one crafting the composition from the beginning. The wave of understanding that came when I connected with a composition would be essential for situations where the knowledge of the mage in question far outstripped my own. But it wouldn’t do me nearly as much good at the Academy.

  In one way the experiment had been a complete success, however. No one was looking at me—no one even seemed to have any undue interest in Royce. I had successfully practiced with my ability—and had learned a lot in the process—with no one any the wiser.

  Even as I thought it, the weight of a pair of eyes drew my gaze sideways. One person in the class was looking at me, his inscrutable gaze making it impossible for me to guess if his interest had anything to do with what had just happened. There was no reason to think Darius—or our instructor—could possibly have felt my involvement. Not if I was right and I was using energy to make my initial connection with the composition.

  But still Darius’s eyes burned into me. He had said I could assure my aunt I was being watched over at the Academy. Apparently I would have to be wary of that in the future.

  That night, when I returned to my suite well after the evening meal, my mind still whirled with my experiment. I itched to try it again. Distracted, I walked straight through my sitting room, headed for my bedchamber door and my bed.

  But a flash of purple caught my eye, making me slow. When I got a good look at the spot of color, I stopped completely. My first instinct was to glance wide-eyed around my sitting room, but I was alone, just as I had thought myself.

  Walking slowly over to the small side table beside one of the sofas, I picked up the brilliant purple flower that lay there. My eyes flashed to the tapestry, but it lay just as still as usual, giving no sign that anyone had used the door it hid.

  And yet, how else had this flower gotten here? Ida could have brought it, perhaps. Another trainee—or even instructor—might have requested her to leave it for me, and she likely wouldn’t have seen any harm in doing so. It was just a flower.

  Or a token of love, a dangerous voice in the back of my head whispered. One created by someone with enough power that it still hadn’t wilted.

  I told myself I had no reason to suspect such a thing, but I still slept with the flower under my pillow all night. The next morning, my heart beat extra fast when I saw Darius at breakfast, but he paid me no more attention than usual.

  So I threw myself into the distraction of my new experiments. I paid far more attention to Alvin’s previously tedious lectures than I had ever done in the past. I was even grateful for his constant need to go over the most basic material again and again. In my spare time, I returned to my old haunt of the library, studying the art of composing.

  I often encountered Isabelle there, usually lost in the section on wind working. At first I thought she might be hiding in the library since she was somewhat at odds in our year without any particular friends. But every time I saw her, she seemed cheerful and genuinely interested in her reading.

  The first time I passed her perched in a puffy armchair with her gaze focused out a narrow window instead of reading, I paused awkwardly. But she turned to me with a broad smile.

  “Isn’t it cozy to be hidden away in here, looking out at the world? I can tell you like it as much as I do.”

  I blinked, taken aback. “It is pleasant,” I said after a moment. “And warm. Bryony would be out in the training yards all year round if she could, but it’s much nicer in here.”

  Isabelle grinned. “It is starting to get a bit cold out there, isn’t it? When you’re studying wind working, you don’t get much of an escape from the outdoors. I think that’s why I like to spend time in here.”

  “You’ve mentioned your family live on the coast and your estate includes a lot of farmland. I’ve always pictured you striding up and down wind-swept beaches or through wet and muddy fields. Don’t tell me you actually have a hatred of the outdoors!”

  She laughed, the merry sound startling in the quiet library. “Oh no, I don’t hate the outdoors. Wind working would have been a terrible choice if that was the case. I just enjoy the contrast—the library seems even more warm and cozy after time spent outside, and after long enough ensconced in here, I start to itch for fresh air again.” She looked around. “Plus it reminds me of home.”

  I looked around at the enormous library blankly.

  “Home is a great deal smaller, of course,” Isabelle added, the laugh still in her tone. “And with infinitely fewer books.” Her voice took on a wistful quality. “But it’s cozy like this.”

  I felt a swell of fellow feeling. The library had always reminded me of home as well, although for different reasons. It was strangely reassuring to know that some trainees in Kallorway missed their families, just as I did. Not everyone had parents like King Cassius and Queen Endellion.

  “I hope I can visit the north coast one day,” I said. “I haven’t had the chance to see much of Kallorway yet.”

  A fleeting look of discomfort crossed Isabelle’s face before she spoke in a more stilted voice than she’d used before. “My family would be happy to host you if you ever want to visit, of course.”

  I thanked her, wishing I could take back my words. I had meant them in a friendly way, but it sounded like Isabelle—or perhaps her family—had no interest in royal visitors from the world of courts and politics. And could I really blame them?

  I steered the conversation to wind working, and her previous ease soon returned. After that, we often stopped for a short chat when we crossed paths in the library, and I sometimes asked her questions about power compositions that occurred to me during my study.

  But as helpful as I found the research, it was still secondary to actual experience. Each time Alvin had the trainees complete a practical exercise, I chose one of my year mates to practice on. I tried to rotate around equally between them, although given I couldn’t use Bryony, Tyron, Jareth, or Darius, that only left seven options.

  Now I was learning how to craft a composition for myself, I got better at noticing flaws in their workings. Where possible, I tried to leave the flaws there—or even exaggerate them, if it was safe to do so. I couldn’t bear the idea that even Royce might leave the Academy having failed to learn some basic and essential lesson because of my interference.

  I caught Jareth watching me with a questioning, almost calculating look at times, and when he finally cornered me after the evening meal one day, I discovered why. I would have liked to be curt in response, but Darius lingered behind him, and his presence made me consider my words more carefully. It was clear that while Darius hadn’t asked directly, both princes were interested in the progress of my secret ability.

  It might have been easier to lie outright, but with Darius standing there, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Instead I drew on all of my court training to return an answer vague enough to be true but which left them with the impression that I no longer trained with Bryony not because I had outgrown her, but because there was no further way to develop such a limited ability. As far as they knew, my ability was restricted to redirecting energy being given or taken through an energy composition toward myself.

  To my relief, Jareth seemed to accept my answer. And after he left, it occurred to me that his understanding of my ability would be enough to explain my effective defense against the energy mage during the attack in the village. Maybe I hadn’t tipped my hand as much as I thought.

  I spent the first week of classes with a constant minor tension at the back of my mind as I waited to hear my family’s response to the attack. And when Captain Layna reappeared at the Academy, my heart sank all the way into my boots.

  But when she announced she’d com
e alone, my horror turned to confusion. I couldn’t imagine my family sending anything less than a platoon to guard me through two days on the open road, given the circumstances.

  “Don’t worry,” she said, with a knowing grin. “I haven’t been sent to haul you away. From what I hear, Queen Lucienne managed to talk your parents down on that topic. Instead I’ve been sent to assist Captain Vincent in his investigations.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “And how do Captain Vincent and Duke Francis feel about that?”

  The Academy Head was famously neutral, and I wasn’t sure how either the king or General Haddon would feel about an Ardannian captain nosing around in Kallorway.

  “Well, since it was Captain Vincent himself who suggested the attackers might have come from Ardann, he can hardly complain now about my being sent to assist,” she said triumphantly.

  I chuckled. “That does sound like my aunt. So you’ll be here at the Academy, then?” I brightened at the idea of having another familiar, trusted face around.

  “I’ll be stationed here,” she said. “But I’ll be bunking in the guards’ barracks, and I expect I won’t actually be here that often. Given how tight a ship Captain Vincent runs, this is the least likely location to find any hint of your attackers.”

  I held back a wince, wishing I could believe that as easily as she did. But then I doubted Captain Vincent would be investigating his two primary charges.

  “I’m glad to have you here, anyway,” I said. “You’ll report anything you find to me as well as back to my aunt?”

  Captain Layna nodded. “Those were the queen’s instructions.”

  I smiled, touched again by the faith my aunt continued to place in me. The smile fell away when Layna left my suite, however. Every day that I developed my ability in secret, telling no one but Bryony about my efforts, was a betrayal of that trust. And every time Darius looked at me with closed, cold eyes, it got harder and harder to believe the flower had come from him, or to remember why I was keeping my ability secret from my own family.

  Only two things stopped me from doubting my decision. One was Bryony, the friend whose loyalty never wavered. I had been so worried about my aunt sending me to use my ability against Kallorway, but over the summer she had said it was the Sekali Empire where trouble was brewing. Bryony was Sekali, as was her family, and it didn’t matter what my aunt commanded, I would never be able to see her as the enemy.

  The other person who stopped me was Darius himself. Not because of the lingering feelings for him that still bubbled beneath the surface, no matter how I tried to suppress them, but precisely because of the closed expression on his face. I had seen behind that illusion and seen something that burned him so badly he could barely contain it. Darius had grown up as the tool of a king, and I had seen what he had been shaped into. He had no freedom to be himself or even to reveal a hint of his true emotions, and he trusted almost no one, living his life without friends and almost without family. I couldn’t bear to risk the same thing happening to me. Not for any king, queen, or emperor.

  That night was the first night I glanced at the tapestry on my wall and remembered that the previous year, Darius had shielded it with a composition crafted to allow me access.

  But I had changed the compositions guarding my doors over the summer, and he might easily have done the same. My courage failed me, and I didn’t test it either then, or on the many nights afterward when I stared at the woven feature and wondered what exactly was driving Darius to hide the person I knew existed under all those layers.

  Chapter 10

  The weeks wore on, and the weather grew colder. I gave up waiting in daily expectation to hear of progress in Layna’s investigations. But though she hadn’t discovered my attacker, neither did she return to Ardann. I began to suspect that my parents had only capitulated and agreed to leave me in Kallorway if my aunt found a way to send my personal guard to watch over me.

  I welcomed the daily combat lessons as an escape from both the churning emotions I couldn’t quite overcome and the intense mental stimulation of my new studies and secret experiments. But the rest of the class were less satisfied that our lessons continued to be limited to sword fighting in our training yard. I even heard Armand complaining almost loudly enough for Mitchell to hear him. The third and fourth years had been training in the arena since the second week of the year, and none of my year mates could understand why we weren’t doing the same.

  “I’ll admit, I’m looking forward to getting back to arena battles,” Bryony said one morning as she gazed toward the bubble of power that encircled the open-air structure.

  “Don’t tell me you of all people are getting sick of poking people with that sword of yours.” Tyron raised an eyebrow. “I might die of shock.”

  She laughed. “I’m not sick of the bouts. I just enjoy the arena battles as well.”

  “I can attest to the fact she’s not lost her enthusiasm for unnecessary amounts of swordplay,” I said. “She still makes me come out here to practice on rest day mornings.”

  Tyron shivered. “Yes, she tried to convince me to join you once.”

  Bryony turned her nose up at both of us. “I’m just being a good friend and trying to stop you wasting your days away in bed.”

  “There are bells to prevent that kind of thing,” I muttered, but I didn’t protest too loudly. Darius had just passed us in the training yard, and my heart flipped over, stuttering for a moment and then beating far too hard. He walked with a deadly grace, his drawn sword in his hand and one of his most commanding expressions on his face. No doubt he had just demolished whatever unfortunate year mate had been partnered with him for the last bout.

  For some reason seeing him in the training yard always reminded me of the time he had carried me to safety after I first discovered my ability. Even after all these months, I could far too easily conjure up the memory of his strong arms around me and my cheek warm against his chest. For all I complained about Bryony’s extra practice sessions, I wished myself in the middle of one now with no distractions but our training. I had discovered the year before that physical activity was the only thing that could clear my mind, and I needed those moments of tranquility that Bryony forced on me even more now than I had done then.

  “Tomorrow morning,” Mitchell announced, cutting across our conversations, “we will be training in the arena. You may gather directly there at the bell.”

  “There you go,” I told Bryony. “He heard you.”

  “As if Mitchell would ever listen to a word I had to say,” she scoffed. “But never mind that. The arena at last.”

  The sense of palpable excitement at breakfast the next morning suggested that most of our year shared her feelings on the matter. Even Frida had abandoned her grim predictions about the terrors we would face and was excitedly talking about the compositions she meant to test. Compositions meant for combat could only be safely worked within the arena shield, and all the trainees lived in fear of releasing one anywhere else. According to the rumor, a number of years ago a trainee had not abided by these restrictions, and the duke had expelled him from the Academy for accidentally demolishing several walls.

  “And you know what happened to him then,” Frida said in a foreboding voice when she told me the story. “Sealed.”

  Armand had been in earshot at the time and walked away with a disgusted expression on his face. Frida watched him go, unrepentant.

  “He’s just sensitive because his father is sealed,” she told me. “Of course his father went whimpering straight to the general afterward, but it’s not something that can be reversed.”

  I watched his retreating back with interest. So Armand’s father had been sealed and had then switched allegiances. Did that explain something of why Armand himself was so reserved and withdrawn compared to his cousin? Despite his connection with the Head of the Creators, I couldn’t imagine his family had much sway within their faction.

  But whether or not it was true that a past trainee had been expel
led for such crimes, the story was effective at discouraging the current group from risking experimenting outside the arena. So effective, in fact, that I suspected Duke Francis of having invented the tale himself. If so, I congratulated him on a masterful strategy.

  Despite my own preoccupation, I found the excitement contagious as we filed into the arena after breakfast. I hoped Mitchell intended to let us all take part in the first day’s battle, whatever it might be.

  Not that I intended to use my ability. Now that I better understood the dangers of taking over the composition of an inexperienced mage—let alone in a rushed, high pressure situation—I didn’t want to risk making a dangerous mistake. But I had managed to participate well enough in first year despite my lack of ability, so I had every expectation of being able to do so now as well.

  None of Frida’s stories of us facing off against monsters composed into being by our instructor eventuated. Instead Mitchell called for those trainees studying to join the growers, the Royal Guard, and the Armed Forces to stand to his left. Frida, Ashlyn, Dellion, Jareth, and Royce stood and made their way down from the seats. When he called for Tyron to join them, I felt a small swelling of hope that Bryony and I would end up on the same team—an unusual occurrence.

  He then called for the creator, wind worker, and law enforcement trainees to come down. Wardell, Armand, Isabelle, and Darius stood, followed by Bryony when he tacked her name on at the end. Only five of them were making their way down to stand at his right, compared to the six at his left, but he still hesitated as his eyes rested on me. From some of his groupings in first year, I guessed he was hesitant to assign equal teams when Darius’s skills so far outstripped the rest of us—an inevitable consequence of both his natural strength and his two years of private training.

  I challenged Mitchell with my gaze, and he finally called my name, gesturing toward his right. I almost bounded down the stairs to join Bryony, carefully not allowing myself to brush too close to Darius.