The assisting mages from yesterday returned, passing out small strips of cloth to each student they passed. Alex, Ella, and I each accepted the offering, exchanging dubious expressions as we lined back up in the two-columned formation.
“Blindfolds everyone. Today's exercise is going to expose the problem with yesterday’s performance.”
I tied the rag across my eyes, clutching the staff to my chest. I felt silly standing there, unable to see anything, and I was wary of what the masters had in store.
“You are going to spar. Second column defends as the first leads the assault.”
Really? Staff fighting while blindfolded? This was only going to make me perform a million times worse.
Grudgingly, I engaged with the gangly girl who’d been standing across from me. Attacking was impossible. My sense of balance was completely thrown off without sight. The echo of a hundred wooden staffs clashing was deafening. I couldn’t find my partner even if I tried.
I spent most of my time swiping the wind or accidentally knocking my staff into the person on my right's shoulder.
“Change positions!”
If blindly hitting someone was hard, it was worse on the defense. I had to guess where my offender was coming from. My shoulders ached from being continuously whacked.
I tried to listen for rushing air when the staff came in for a hit, but I couldn't hear anything above the clamor of our group or the barking of Sir Piers. My best bet was to try and focus on the stink of sweat when my partner raised her arm.
A couple more drills produced better results, but only slightly. If anything, I now had a nose attuned to perspiration. I wasn’t sure that was a good thing. The scent wasn’t exactly pleasant.
“Take a seat and remove your blindfolds.”
Our lesson was over.
Relieved, I tossed the sweat-stained rag to the ground.
“Forgot about the other senses before today, didn't you?” Piers grinned wickedly. “You’ve been relying too much on sight.”
And why wouldn’t I? It’s only our second day at the Academy, I wanted to shout.
“Every action requires more than one sense for a performance to be seamless. Just now, all of you were forced to recognize other ways of predicting an opponent's attack. Heightened listening, body heat, smell, and an increased understanding to the different points of pressure in a blow are all observations the best warriors make.”
The crowd was grumbling. I’d bet I wasn’t the only one who had forgotten a few of those senses.
Master Cedric cleared his throat, coming beside Piers for the first time in our drill as he addressed our year. “If you were to engage in a casting, these types of observations would increase the potency of your magic. Your spells are derivatives of the information, experience, and desire you put forth. I'm sure all of you have desire—it's why you are here—but the amount of information and experience you put into your castings will be important indicators as well. You can want something more than anything, but if you can't build up the proper projection in your mind, it won’t be very effective. You need to consider all aspects, not just the image or obvious sense of the action or thing you are trying to create.”
I strained to listen, but the pounding in my head was making his words an endless drone.
“The irony of your training here at the Academy is that, while we require you to ignore your physical senses in meditation and acute focus, we ask you to embrace them in your mental casting. You are not allowed to feel what is physically going on around you during the moment of your spell, but you are expected to cast an image evocative of all those physical senses in your mind. I admit that the practice of these two things is not easy. It is not something you can master in a day or even years. All I can advise is that the more you practice, the more you dedicate yourself to exploring these two states, the better your chances at succeeding within your own magical faction.”
The end of Master Cedric's lecture was spent in silence. Most of us were still trying to take in everything as we followed him out to the field to continue yesterday's meditative exercise. I hoped it would make sense after a long night's rest.
At the end of our session, we were informed that this would be the pattern for the rest of the month—half of the session practicing a heightened awareness of the senses, the second half learning to block them out. Supposedly, with enough practice, we would be able to transfer easily between the two states.
Of course, to be “competent” we'd have to continue the practice on our own during any “free time” we were lucky enough to acquire. Knowing how much free time I actually had at my disposal, it was obvious that the highborn students had a huge advantage.
Those who had grown up with a parade of tutors didn't have to be worried about the lack of free time they had now. The non-heir's group wouldn't falter under our intense workload; they were already proficient in foundation. Meanwhile, I’d be struggling for any free moment I could find to try and catch up.
It was unfair that I would be working doubly hard, but if I didn't try, I'd only be widening that gap in the months to come.
By the time dinner ended, I was in an irritable state. I forked piles of manure out of the straw and ground my teeth the entire walk back to the castle, unable to let go of my growing resentment toward the privileged class. Highborns—even Ella and Ruth—had no problem finishing each night's assignments, which meant it would always be people like me mucking out the stables.
I refused to cheat. What was the point of pretending to know the foundation if I didn’t? To be the best, I had to complete those blasted papers in time. Copying answers would only hurt me in the end.
I’d known all along I’d have a disadvantage, but I had hoped the masters would help. Shouldn’t they help the underprivileged instead of capitalizing on our weakness? Why take away free time from the ones who needed it most? Why punish me for incomplete assignments using mundane tasks that had nothing to do with the practice of magic?
No matter how tired you feel, you’re going to finish today’s assignments. I heaved back a sigh.
By the time I reached the barracks to grab my books, I had only an hour left till curfew. I looked for my study group as I entered the crowded library, but they were nowhere to be seen. They’d probably already left.
Grumbling, I shoved my way past a horde of students and headed to the back of the room. I could see why Ella had been so irritated the day before. With Darren's group hogging the largest, most comfortable lounge, there was little space left for the rest of us. There was crowding down every aisle on either floor, and the chatter was loud enough to set my teeth on edge. There was no way I'd be able to concentrate.
Spotting a ladder at the end of the room, I decided to leave the masses and see what the third floor could offer instead. When I reached it, I could see why no one had bothered. There was no torchlight, no books, and no seating.
The third “floor” was nothing more than a cramped alcove with spiderwebs hanging from empty shelves. At a corner on the left was a makeshift bench composed of wooden crates. The place had probably been used as a study at some point, but it had been long since abandoned.
Unwelcoming and lacking, just like me. The irony was impossible to miss.
Avoiding the darkest part of the room, which I suspected was crowded with unfriendly critters, I made my way to the only source of light. I dragged one of the crates over to sit beneath a dirty paned window that streamed moonlight and quickly commenced my study. The alcove wasn't comfortable, but it was quiet and remote.
My time passed quickly. It’d been productive, but I was nowhere near done when I heard Constable Barrius ordering the first-years to return to their quarters. I was in the midst of grabbing my belongings when I began to contemplate my situation. If I left now, I would never finish the day's work.
But, I thought as I listened to the pounding of busy feet, I could stay up here, and no one would know. It was risky, I knew, to stay out past curfew. If the constable spo
tted me, I could be expelled on the spot... but if it worked, I could actually complete the day’s assignments.
Lights out in the barracks were mandatory in an hour; I could never continue my assignments there. This was the best chance I had, and the only one that made sense.
I was careful not to make a sound as everyone exited the room. I ducked down behind the crates as Barrius and his assistant made their final inspection of the floors.
They never checked the third.
Finally, after much pausing and condescending chatter, the two servants left, leaving me alone in a situation I hoped very much not to regret. I had no idea how I would make it to the girls’ barracks, but I saved that worry for later. I contemplated going down to the lounge where there was more light and comfortable seating, but I knew it was too risky. Who knew how often Barrius would check the library? I’d best stay where I was and make the most of it.
I’d only been studying for twenty minutes when one of the doors creaked open below.
Carefully setting down my belongings, I tiptoed to the railing's edge and peered down into the dark study beneath. Sure enough, it wasn't my imagination. In the shadows, I could see a hooded figure quietly slinking to the couches, clutching an armful of books.
Seconds later, the servants were back.
I watched as the figure ducked behind a bookcase to the right not a moment too soon. Torchlight illuminated the library, and I watched as the constable chastised Frederick for his imagination.
“But I thought I heard someone—”
“You think you hear a lot of things, but once again, you've managed to waste my time.”
“But shouldn't we still search?”
“Really, Frederick, who would sneak off to the library of all places?”
“I don't—”
“Out!” Barrius snarled.
“Yes, sir.”
The two servants retreated.
After their footsteps faded, the figure below chuckled. I watched as the student settled comfortably upon the couch below and set to work organizing papers, a bright glow in hand. I squinted at the casting. It wasn't very bright, just enough to give out light to read, and see the face of my fellow rule-breaker.
The hood had fallen away to reveal black bangs and the dark eyes I’d since grown accustomed to loathing.
Darren.
The non-heir sat below, poring over the same books as me.
My jaw dropped. The very thought that he and I had shared the same idea was distressing in more ways than one. I had come here to make up for lost time, but Darren, who already had such an advantage in his training, he had come here to study anyway. Someone who didn't even need to, someone who was already at the top of our class…
And I bet he had come here the night before too.
I refused to consider what it meant.
Turning back to my studies, I tried to focus my thoughts and block out anything other than the problems on the page in front of me. I bit my lip resolutely. Don’t let this opportunity go to waste, especially with him down there.
Minutes slowly trickled by as I read the questions once, twice, three times before attempting to solve them. You can do this. I stifled a yawn and kept at my work.
Two and a half hours later, I finally finished the assignments.
I could have left at that point, but seeing as how Darren was still working below, I decided to stay. My conscience could not allow a condescending prince to work harder than me. Especially one who had insinuated I was here to “socialize.”
So I stayed. Math and Crown law were beyond comprehension at that point, as was geography with all of its confusing maps, so I chose a history scroll instead. It was the right choice. Almost like a storybook in narration, the long and detailed accounts of Jerar's fighting mages helped retain my focus into the late hours of the night.
Our last war had been ninety years ago, but the book's breakdown of battle strategy made me feel as though I were a part of it now. I'd had no idea how intricate the planning was behind our army's attacks. Silly me, I had always assumed victory just came down to how much power a nation's mages had… That was part of it, but hardly the whole.
I’d just started reading about a particularly bloody battle when Darren stifled a yawn downstairs. Taking that as my cue, I packed up my work and stood by the rail to watch for his departure. As soon as he left, I would follow.
I barely shifted the books in my arms when my quill dropped. It echoed unsettlingly down the stairs.
Darren jerked his head upward in my direction. He didn't ask who was there, but he did get up to investigate. Rather than waiting for him to find me, I gave up my hiding place and started down the ladder instead.
Settling onto the first floor, I turned to find Darren standing with a palm full of light.
“You?” he rasped.
He sounded so surprised, and for some reason, that made it worse.
“You're not the only one who wants to get ahead,” I snapped. Then, because I couldn't help it, I added, “You know, us commoners, not all of us are just here to ‘socialize and talk about feelings.'“
Darren's eyes flashed with an emotion too quick to place. For a moment, I imagined it was shame, but I wasn’t that vain. A righteous prince would never stoop so low.
The two of us stared in the ever-mounting silence: me, aware of every flaw in my appearance and the hint of manure tingeing the air, and Darren, looking as inscrutable as ever.
Sighing, I broke his gaze and squeezed my way past.
I was almost to the door when he cleared his throat.
“Wait—”
I paused.
“Don't take the right hall. Barrius had Frederick patrolling there last night.”
“A-all right.” Was he helping me?
My confusion must have shown because his next words were cold. “The last thing I need is for you to get caught and make it harder for me to come here at night.”
There was the prince I expected; I was tempted to laugh. “My furthest intention,” I assured him dryly.
Darren just stared, eyes dark and unreadable, and I didn’t bother to wait. I had more pressing concerns than a royal’s approval. I hurried out the door in the direction of the women's barracks.
The prince didn’t cross my mind again. Not as I was quietly sloshing around in a dark tub, washing the stench of the stables out of my hair, and certainly not as I slept.
5
The next two weeks flew past in a blur. I would crawl out of bed and rush to the dining hall with Ella in hopes of catching the last couple of minutes of the morning meal. Even then, I was too tired to do much else besides stare lifelessly ahead. The extra hours I was losing to the library had started to take their toll, and it was all I could do to stay awake.
The only comfort—besides my assignments—that made the experience worthwhile was catching sight of Darren across the hall. A part of me smirked at seeing the prince grip a steaming mug with the same bloodshot eyes as me. He might have been better at carrying an inscrutable air, but there was no denying his misery.
At first, Alex and Ella had wondered why I stayed behind studying each night, but it hadn't been hard to convince them I needed the extra time to myself. They knew how slow I was at finishing some of the assignments. No one in the women’s barracks ever mentioned my absence. Ella was the only one who had noticed, and she kept it to herself.
Each day was filled with the same tedious coursework as the last. The bright side, of course, was that I was no longer behind. My assignments were always turned in complete, and I could tell from Master Eloise and Isaac's approving remarks that I was no longer a disappointment. Mathematics was still a time-consuming ordeal, but with the extra two to three hours each night, I was easily gaining traction in the basics and moving on to more complex issues that dealt with warfare and Crown law instead.
It was a strange schedule, and a tiring one, but it seemed to be working. Still, I was beginning to wonder how much longer I'd be abl
e to hold out. I was doing well in the first half of my day, but three weeks of sleep deprivation had weakened my performance in the remainder. I was lagging through Sir Piers's drills and Master Cedric's lessons, and while everyone else had started to improve, I was still as clumsy as the day I had started. To make matters worse, everyone had noticed.
The worst embarrassment came that afternoon.
“I said stop sparring, first-year!”
I froze, cheeks burning as I tore off my blindfold. The entire class was staring. Priscilla of Langli stood in front of me, one large, red welt plastering the left side of her face. She was furious.
“Didn't you hear me give the command to halt?” Sir Piers barked. “Or are you really that thick-headed?”
I winced. The knight hadn’t hid his disdain at my progress, and today was no exception.
“I m-must have missed it.” I’d been so exhausted, I hadn't heard anything other than the pounding in my head.
Priscilla dropped her staff and stormed off in the direction of the armory—but not before shooting me a look that promised repercussion later.
Sir Piers showed no remorse. “If you can't stay awake long enough to hear your commander give you an order, you shouldn't be at this Academy—or anywhere near a weapon—in the first place.”
I nodded, eyes watering, and went to return my staff, avoiding Ella's sympathetic gaze.
It seemed that no matter what I tried, it would never be enough. I didn't have enough time to do everything the masters asked of me, and when I tried to make time, my work only suffered somewhere else.
MY EVENING BECAME PROGRESSIVELY WORSE when I ran into Darren as he was leaving the dining commons. As soon as he spotted me, a smirk spread across his face. The non-heir had become less aloof since the start of our late-night studies, but it didn't mean he’d become any kinder.
“What?” I snarled. “Come to gloat?” To say I was defensive in his presence was an understatement.
Darren’s expression didn’t falter. “Do you always attack the blind, Ryiah?”
Several students nearby snickered, and my cheeks flushed.
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