She glowered at me. “Two full days. I want your word.”
I nodded. Since my head spun, and my entire body felt as if I had run a marathon where the finish line was a brick wall, I didn’t have it in me to protest.
She turned to go but paused to look back at me. When she spoke, her voice was quiet.
“You’ve been unconscious for approximately thirty minutes. The result of your burn out.”
I nodded slowly, and she replied with a single nod of her own before disappearing off to the far side of the room.
Finnian gave me an odd look, but none of the others seemed to have noted our interaction, and I offered no explanation. I had never told my friends the real reason for the medically induced sleep Acacia had put me in for my two days of recovery after I burned out in first year. I had only discovered in second year that it had been less to ensure my full recovery, and more so that Lorcan and Jessamine could harvest my blood for testing purposes without my consent or knowledge.
If I had needed proof that my status both at the Academy and among the mages had changed, Acacia’s assurance was it.
“You nearly killed yourself, Elena,” said Coralie, and this time there were tears in her voice. “You were stupid.”
She threw herself half onto the bed so she could give me a tight hug, moistening the blankets that had been tucked around me with her tears.
“Any one of us could have died without you,” said Saffron quietly.
“Thank you,” said Finnian, “for being you. And doing what no one else could.”
I shifted uncomfortably, awkwardly patting Coralie’s back.
“I only did what any of you would have done. If you could.”
“Yes, if we could. A fairly major distinction.” Finnian shook his head before looking down at me, a slightly wicked gleam in his eyes. “You know a number of fairly important people now owe you.”
I snorted. “Yes, because I can see Natalya and Calix being eager to repay that debt.”
“Next time, if it comes down to you or them, feel free to leave them out of your shield,” muttered Coralie darkly, sitting up and mopping at her eyes.
“Coralie!” I poked her. “Didn’t you just hear? They’re Fairly Important People.”
She giggled a little wetly. “It’s just…after the way they’ve treated you…” Her face tightened. “It makes me angry. And you know they won’t be properly grateful.”
I smiled, touched at my friend’s defensiveness on my behalf. “Then it’s a good thing I didn’t do it for their gratitude.” I grimaced. “To be honest, I didn’t think at all, I just reacted on instinct.”
“A generous impulse that might get you killed some day.” Finnian met my eyes with no sign of his usual lighthearted humor in his own.
I bit my lip and looked away, unable to hold his gaze. Was he right? Would I end up reacting one day to something too big for me to recover from? Every time I reached new heights of my power, I found new limitations, new dangers—all unique to me. If only I could store up my power somehow, like normal mages did with their written compositions.
Acacia bustled over to banish my friends, but Coralie begged to be allowed to stay, and the healer relented. And I appreciated her presence when Acacia eventually permitted me to leave the healing rooms for my own suite.
I had to lean on my friend’s arm all the way up the stairs, and I made no protest when she insisted I go straight to bed. Frustrating as it was, I was clearly going to need the two days’ rest Acacia had prescribed.
Coralie tucked me in, fussing around the room closing curtains and ensuring I had a glass of water within reach before she would leave. But as she gave the blankets a final pat, she glanced at me sideways.
“Lucas carried you to Acacia himself. He wouldn’t let anyone else touch you. I just thought you might like to know.”
I made no answer, so she crossed over to the door.
“And I’ve never seen him look so white.”
“Goodbye, Coralie.”
“Goodbye, Elena.” She shut the door, clearly suppressing a smile.
My mind clung to her words and tried to process what she meant them to convey to me. But sleep dragged me down too quickly for me to come to any satisfactory conclusion.
I slept on and off throughout the next day. Coralie and Saffron took turns bringing me food, and Acacia stopped by once to check I was obeying instructions. In the unfeeling way of healers, she was delighted to find me bedbound.
All for my own good, she assured me. I’d feel better in no time. But it was hard to believe that when I barely had the strength to feed myself.
And yet, when I woke up on the second morning of my convalescence, the heaviness of the day before had almost entirely lifted. The idea of beating any of my year mates with a practice sword—as we did on non-arena days—held no appeal, but otherwise I felt almost normal.
When I opened my door to head down to the dining hall for breakfast, however, I found a tray outside my door.
“Well-meaning, over protective…” I mumbled to myself as I carried the food back inside my suite for a solitary meal.
I spent the time considering which of my assignments was in most urgent need of work until I remembered that Acacia’s prohibitions had included study. I let my eyes roam around my suite. It was a pleasant space to spend an idle day.
Two hours later I had changed my mind about that. With no books allowed, the confinement was going to send me out of my mind. My thoughts only wanted to circle around to the one topic I had sworn not to dwell on, and watching the tiny figures of the other trainees battling it out in the distant exercise yards could only hold my interest for so long. Idly I picked out my own year mates, and then the first years. Thornton didn’t seem to be with either group, so he was no doubt in the arena with the fourth years.
A knock on the door mercifully cut short my boredom, and I hurried to answer it. When the door swung open, I realized I had been wrong. Thornton wasn’t in the arena, after all.
“Elena,” he said with a nod.
I blinked at him in confusion, but when he raised both eyebrows, I hurried to invite him in and offer him one of the chairs in the living portion of my suite. He declined it, however, insisting I sit instead.
“You are the one recuperating, after all.” He crossed over to take my place at the window, surveying his classes below.
I had no idea what had brought him to my suite, but I was trying to learn to listen before I spoke, so I said nothing, letting him take his time to reveal his purpose. After what felt like an excruciatingly long wait, he turned back to me.
“I thought,” he said, directing a stern look at me, “that we had covered the issue of energy expenditure in your junior years.”
Any thought that he might wish to congratulate me for saving my year mates died.
“Yet it seems,” he continued, “that you are in need of the most basic lessons on the matter. Every living person can access power through words—written, of course, for everyone except you—but only mages can control that power. But channeling power comes at a cost—a cost of energy. For a commonborn, it makes no matter that accessing power burns their life energy. The act itself consumes them with explosive force, so their energy levels are hardly relevant.”
He shook his head. “But you are no ordinary commonborn. You must understand energy even more acutely than a mageborn. All mages have the same finite levels of energy, and all of us use it when we compose. Nothing can prevent the use of power consuming energy. Yes, we can train to increase the amount and control of the power we can access, but we cannot increase our energy levels. Which means there will always be a limit to how far we can push ourselves. Efficiency and strength can only be increased so far. And we are each bound by our natural range. Some are born with greater natural strength and with greater propensity for control.”
I opened my mouth to remind him that I knew all of this, but the irate expression on his face made me close it again without speaking. P
erhaps being addressed like a first year was part of my punishment.
“You are fortunate in that you are naturally stronger than any trainee mage I have ever encountered,” he continued. “But you are limited as well. You cannot store compositions. And I do not believe you take your limits seriously enough. Here at the Academy we teach many lessons. But two of them are more important than any others: how to prevent the uncontrolled release of power—such as occurred in your recent class—and how to access controlled power in such a way that you do not burn out and kill yourselves.”
He bent a disapproving eye on me. “The instructors must bear the blame of the recent accident, but no one but you carries responsibility for your own energy.”
“But if I hadn’t acted, someone might have been killed,” I said, struggling to remember my earlier resolve to stay silent. At least I managed to keep the heat out of my voice.
“You cannot be censured for shielding yourself and others from deadly danger,” Thornton said.
I stared at him. “But…you just said—”
“I said,” he interrupted, “that your energy levels are your own responsibility. You, of all trainees, should know that danger may lurk anywhere, anytime. You must not allow anything less important than protecting your life drain you to the point where you cannot act to shield yourself.”
I wanted to snap that I had drained myself in his class, but somehow I held my tongue. He must already know that. And he had said the responsibility was mine alone, so I doubted the excuse would carry much weight.
I shifted in my seat. Thornton took his role as combat instructor seriously. He had never liked me, but he had also been one of my first instructors to actually go out of his way to teach me something, rather than simply enduring my presence. And he had done it because nothing was more important to him than equipping his students to stay alive. I could hardly fault him for that.
“So,” I said slowly, “you’re saying, as my instructor, that I should hold back in classes—fail at tasks, even—if it means preserving my energy reserves?”
“Being top of your year will do you no good if you’re dead.”
I nodded and cracked a small smile. “I can hardly argue with that.”
He regarded me for a moment, either disapproving of my humorous tone or surprised I didn’t intend to dispute with him.
“I would recommend you not forget it again,” he said. “You have unique challenges that your year mates do not, but you also have unique strength. Don’t let it go to waste due to foolishness.”
“I’ll do my best,” I said.
He gave me a long look, his expression suggesting that he wasn’t entirely convinced my best would be enough. But he said nothing more than a farewell. Only when he had crossed back out into the corridor did he pause to say, “Lorcan has given me a positive account of your shielding expertise. It is fortunate you were present at the accident.” And then he closed the door.
“Well, I suppose that was a congratulations after all,” I muttered to myself, getting up and striding across the room. But I had no sooner reached the window than I turned back again. I needed to get out of the Academy altogether. To clear my head.
And there was only one place—or rather one person—I felt any interest in visiting. My brother wouldn’t be happy to hear why I had the day off, but his scolds would be worth it for the chance to see him.
No sooner had the idea occurred to me than my arms were already reaching for my cloak. The heavy, expensive material settled around me with the weight of memories and complicated emotions. As complicated as the prince who had given it to me.
I had considered leaving the garment back in Kingslee with my parents, but I hadn’t been able to bring myself to part with it in the end. And whatever bittersweet memories it evoked, it certainly performed its primary function admirably. I wouldn’t be cold in my walk to the University.
Stepping down into the Academy courtyard, I took a deep breath of the cool, crisp air. Winter was basically upon us, and the bite of the breeze proclaimed it. This was exactly what I needed.
I struggled to open the heavy Academy gate, my weak arms reminding me that I was officially still an invalid. A groaning protest sounded from the metal, and then the weight lifted, the gate sliding smoothly the rest of the way open.
“Thank you.”
I turned to whoever had arrived at the perfect moment to assist me, and my voice died in my throat.
I swallowed. “Lucas.”
“Elena.”
His cool eyes were hard to read, but they certainly held none of the heat of the last time we had spoken.
“Shouldn’t you be in bed resting?” he asked.
I bristled. “I rested all yesterday. I’m forbidden from classes and study, so I’m going for a walk.”
“You’re visiting Jasper.” It wasn’t a question.
I looked away, the reminder of how well he knew me stinging more than I wanted him to see.
“It’s a good idea,” he added.
I looked quickly back at him, my mouth falling slightly open. I snapped it shut, a flush driving away the cool of the air.
“Maybe he can talk some sense into you. Tell you to stop stretching yourself so thin.”
I almost laughed at that, although he appeared serious. Jasper would say that the prince clearly didn’t know me as well as I thought.
The ghost of a smile crept across Lucas’s face. “I really don’t know why I even try at this point. You’d probably die of boredom if you didn’t teeter on the brink of ultimate disaster several times a year.”
I tested out the feel of a smile. It twitched slightly before growing more solid.
“I live to keep life interesting for everyone else.”
Lucas snorted. “Well, you certainly do that. And then some.” He stepped closer to me and then seemed to think better of it and quickly stepped away again. “Thank you for what you did. Saving us all in class, I mean.”
I shrugged. “I really can’t claim any credit. I acted on instinct.”
One side of his mouth tugged up, and a softness crept into his eyes that nearly undid me.
“Ah, but not everyone’s instincts are as altruistic as yours, I promise you.”
I looked away, scrambling to regain my composure.
“Why aren’t you in class?” The question came out more abruptly than I had intended, and I flushed again.
“Royal business. I’m on my way to the palace.”
I nodded, and silence fell between us. It happened from time to time that he was called away from classes, sometimes for as much as a day at a time.
He stepped through the gate and gestured for me to follow before pulling it closed again behind us. He turned toward the palace, but I suddenly found I couldn’t bear to let him go on such an awkward note.
“You’re welcome,” I blurted out.
He looked back at me, surprise on his face.
“For what I did in composition class.” I grinned at him. “Perhaps you could mention it to General Thaddeus while you’re up at the palace? I may well have saved a royal life. As Head of the Royal Guard, he’ll no doubt be eager to give me an award.”
A startled laugh burst out of Lucas, and he shook his head.
“I’m sure you’re right. He is your biggest advocate, after all.”
“You can tell him I’d be willing to accept a statue in my honor instead, if he’d prefer. A small one would do.”
“I’m sure he’ll have the creators get right on that,” said Lucas. “Make sure you invite me to its unveiling.”
A wagon rolled past on its way up to the palace, and I jumped out of the way to avoid getting splattered with mud. My movement took me away from Lucas and toward the University, so I waved my hand, not bothering to call out over the sounds of the street.
He waved back before striding off up the road, two royal guards in neat red and gold uniforms falling in beside him. I hadn’t seen them appear, but they must have been waiting for him out
side the Academy grounds. Had they heard us laughing and joking about their general? I hoped not.
Although, then again, they were commonborn guards rather than gold-robed mage officers. I could imagine the jokes they must have among themselves about their mage seniors.
The wide gates to the University gave me less trouble than the Academy ones had done. Perhaps due to the greater daily traffic, they had been designed with a regular size door cut out of one gate, and I easily pulled it open and closed behind me. The fountains, elegant buildings, and arched walkways of the University spread before me, giving an utterly different impression from the utilitarian Academy, despite making use of the same white marble.
The morning was moving toward lunchtime, and several people hurried between the buildings, some dressed as students and some wearing the black robes of University academics. A blue-robed wind worker and a green-robed grower passed, their heads close together in whispered conversation. Harvest must be finished for the year which meant the number of blue and green robes in the capital would be on the increase.
I moved toward a side door in the northern building, but a silver-robed mage officer appeared out of the main building, his path crossing mine. I halted, straightening my spine and pulling my hand up in a hasty salute.
The officer gave me an odd look as he hurried past, clearly unsure why he was receiving a salute from a random civilian. I wondered belatedly if I should have been wearing the untouched gray army uniform from my wardrobe. I didn’t bother usually since I wore my white trainee robe instead, but I had no idea if it was expected dress for privates out and about on personal business.
The officer didn’t stop, continuing on toward the gate, so I shrugged the thought aside and hurried inside. I was knocking on Jasper’s door before it occurred to me that he might have changed rooms for his final year.
But a second later the door opened, revealing a familiar face.
“Elena!” Clara blushed prettily and stepped back for me to enter. “Did you know she was coming, Jasper?”
My brother, looking only slightly more composed than his petite friend, protested that he hadn’t known and came over to give me a hug.
Voice of Dominion (The Spoken Mage Book 3) Page 8