She led me straight from the bottom of the staircase to the wide front doors. I had expected us to head for one of the classrooms on the ground floor, but instead we emerged into a large courtyard, the bright sunlight bouncing off a magnificent fountain in the center of it.
“Coralie.” I interrupted her stream of words.
She immediately cut herself off and smiled at me, not looking in the least offended. I managed a smile back. I had nearly given her the mage’s courtesy title of Lady until I remembered Damon’s words from the day before. I had been thrust into this world whether I liked it or not, and if I wanted to survive I needed to play by their rules. And start acting like I belonged.
I cleared my throat and continued. “Where are we going?”
“Morning class, of course.” She paused for less than a breath before rushing on. “Oh, of course, you probably don’t know what morning class is. We do combat in the mornings, so it’s outside. In the afternoon we’ll do composition. I much prefer composition, naturally, but Mother told me to make sure I work extra hard in combat. You never know when you might run out of stored compositions and have no time for a new composing. Which do you think you’ll prefer?”
A look of consternation crossed her face, as if she’d just remembered that her question violated the no-question rule she seemed to have imposed on herself.
I bit my lip, still trying to adjust to the news I would be expected to do combat training. Or composition training. It occurred to me that they all no doubt already knew how to read and write, and I felt incredibly stupid. Of course they wouldn’t be teaching something so basic at the Academy. So how did I admit that I couldn’t even read or write, let alone compose a magical working?
“Never mind that,” Coralie said quickly when I made no response. “Here we are. First years practice over in this yard.” She had led me around to the back of the building and through the gardens. She now pointed at one of the squares of packed dirt I had seen from my window.
I glanced around at the other yards. Only two others were occupied, although I couldn’t identify what year level they were by sight. My eyes jumped to the arena, further on, and Coralie’s gaze must have followed mine.
“We won’t start practicing in the arena until second year.” She shivered. “Thank goodness. I’m sure I’ll be absolutely crushed.” But she followed this up with yet another bright smile as she stepped over the low fence surrounding our yard.
Crushed? What did she mean? What happened in the arena? I looked up at it again, but a barked command from inside the yard made me hop quickly over the fence after her.
“You’re late.” A tall, hard-looking man regarded us both with a displeased expression.
I expected Coralie to launch in on a wordy explanation, but she said nothing.
“Three laps,” he said. “And it will be six if you repeat the insult tomorrow.”
“Yes, sir,” said Coralie, her tone undaunted. She took off running around the inside of the fence.
When I hesitated, the man raised a single eyebrow at me, and I immediately leaped into motion, scrambling to catch up with Coralie. As we rounded the far side of the yard, Coralie spoke out of the side of her mouth.
“Only three! He must be feeling generous since it’s your first day.”
I gulped. He hadn’t looked generous or sympathetic in any way.
“He’s Instructor Thornton,” she said, clearly able to hold a conversation while running at a decent pace, despite her claim to dislike the physical half of our training. “The combat instructor. He oversees all the years, but always dedicates the first few weeks to the first years. Everyone says he’s the toughest, but Redmond scares me more. He’s a Stantorn, and they’ve always terrified me. I swear that entire family is born dour.”
She fell silent as we circled around to run past the instructor and other first years. I pondered her words. Kingslee was too small to have any resident mage families, and even a passing visit like the one that had sparked all the trouble was rare. But even we knew that Stantorn was one of the four great mage families. Queen Verena herself had been a Stantorn before she married King Stellan. Which made Prince Lucas half Stantorn, I supposed.
I stopped myself from turning to look at him. I had been aware enough of his presence ever since our arrival and had been careful to keep my path away from where he stood. He certainly looked dour and haughty enough to be a Stantorn.
I risked a glance at the instructor, at least. Thornton, Coralie had called him. Did the instructors give special treatment to students from their own families? I shrugged off the thought. Whether they did or not, no one would be giving special treatment to me, that was for sure.
As we once again circled the far part of the yard, Coralie picked up where she had left off.
“Weston and Lavinia are both Stantorns as well. You should steer clear of them. I do. Especially Weston. I swear he views the entire world as his enemy. You’d think he could save that for the Kallorwegians.” She said the name like a curse, and I reflexively spat on the ground. When Coralie jerked away in response, I regretted it, though.
From her tone, the mages had no greater love for our aggressive western neighbors than us common folk did. But I doubt they spat whenever the kingdom of Kallorway was mentioned. But then they weren’t the ones being conscripted to fight and die along our western border. After thirty years of constant war, there probably wasn’t a family in our entire kingdom of Ardann who didn’t hate Kallorway. But I made a mental note to refrain from spitting in the future.
“They’re cousins,” Coralie continued, and it took me a moment to remember she must be talking about Weston and Lavinia—whoever they were. Other first years, presumably.
“And very proud of their distant connection to Lucas.” Coralie rolled her eyes, and I tried not to look as confused as I felt.
When we circled the yard for the third and final time, she looked over at me sympathetically. “It must be a lot to take in. But don’t worry, you’ll get them all straight eventually. Just stick close to me for a bit.” She glanced back over her shoulder at the rest of the class. “It probably worked out well we have to run since they’ve already all paired up. Now we’ll have to pair with each other.”
“Why are you being so nice to me? I’m not one of you.” I blurted out the words before thinking them through. But the tension was starting to get to me. I kept waiting for her to drop the facade and reveal her true intent.
She just grinned at me. “I’m naturally curious. I can’t help myself.” She lowered her voice. “And I guarantee you the rest of them are dying from curiosity, too. A non-blood who can control power? With a spoken word? It’s unheard of. Impossible. Incredible.” Her smile broadened. “Exciting.”
I shook my head. She’d left out a few adjectives. Like confusing and terrifying.
She spoke quickly as we rounded the far side of the yard and approached the group again. “The rest of them are holding back because they haven’t decided if assuaging their curiosity is worth any potential loss in status. Plus they’re probably waiting to see what official position their families take on the matter of you.”
I stared at her in horror. The matter of me? Was she serious about the great mage families taking positions on the subject?
She didn’t seem to notice the effect of her words. “But I don’t have to worry about that. I don’t really have much status to lose.” Her smile remained in place, her cheerfulness undaunted by the revelation. “I’m only a Cygnet.”
I opened my mouth, and she cut me off.
“Yes, like the bird. And, yes, you’ve probably never heard of us. We’re a small family and not in the least important.” She seemed to swell with pride. “Except for Instructor Jocasta. She’s the assistant head of the library. And the first Cygnet to ever win an instructor position at the Academy. You’ll meet her at some point.”
She lowered her voice to whisper her final words. “Araminta and Clarence are both from minor families, too.
But Clarence is too focused on books to give much thought to anything else. I can’t imagine him striking up a friendship with a new female student.” She shook her head laughingly. “And Araminta is too terrified to think of anyone else, poor thing.” The laugh dropped from her face as she shook her head. “She’s scared she’s going to fail, and I would be too if my control was as poor as hers.”
The cheerful Coralie shivered, and I bit my tongue as we arrived back at the class. What did she mean terrified? What happened if we failed?
Just what I needed. Another worry to add to the load.
But I hardly had time to dwell on it. Thornton had us join the existing line of five pairs, facing each other. He didn’t bother with explanations, just gestured for us to join the rhythm the others had already established. Coralie’s sequenced blows were weak and ineffectual, and I easily blocked them using the corresponding moves.
Thornton regarded us with narrowed eyes for a moment but apparently decided not to comment, moving down the line instead. But none of it fooled me. I had a decent level of conditioning from my frequent forays into the woods and the time I spent helping in my family’s store. Running I could manage. But I had never had much time for combat training.
Some of the Kingslee boys had been dedicated to it, practicing with each other whenever they had the chance. The ones who had already been marked to take up their family’s conscription responsibility. But by the time I realized that role would fall to me, I was too busy helping my parents—with both Clementine and the store—to join their ranks.
I had watched when I could, of course, and Jasper had shown me the simple moves he knew. But he hadn’t devoted time to it, either. He had been focused on a different sort of training.
I had watched the village boys enough to recognize skill level, though, and every trainee here handled the assigned moves as if they were basic and far too easy. Even Coralie was softening her blows on purpose, I could tell. No doubt all these mages had been training since they were children in preparation for attending the Academy.
I had known I would be hopelessly behind on anything to do with reading, writing, and composing, but I hadn’t realized that I would be so hopelessly outmatched in yet another area. This whole situation seemed like more and more of a joke all the time. One in which I was the punchline.
Thornton called for us to break apart and begin a series of endurance exercises. And for an hour, I let my mind relax and pushed myself to my limits, glad to be competent at something.
But then he called for us to reform into pairs. When I looked around for Coralie, she was some distance from me, a short, anxious-looking girl gripping her arm and whispering urgently to her. Coralie glanced my way, clearly torn, and then a tall boy stepped into my line of vision.
“Looks like we’re partners, Kingslee.”
“It’s Elena,” I said without thinking, half my focus still on Coralie.
“I think it’s whatever I say it is.” His tone made me force my focus onto him. He was tall and lean, his expression cold and the lines of his face calculating. I swallowed.
“I’m Weston,” he said, and it only took me a moment to place his name. The trainee from Stantorn who viewed everyone as the enemy. The one person I’d been most expressly warned to stay away from.
I swallowed again, and a slow smile spread across his face. It had nothing of the friendliness in Coralie’s.
Without meaning to, my gaze skipped to the side and met the prince’s. For half a second, I thought he meant to intervene. But then he turned away, and I remembered it was more likely he had put Weston up to it. Whatever it was going to be.
“Let’s spar then, Elena,” Weston said, just as Thornton called out directions. I recognized almost nothing of what the instructor said, and I was still looking frantically at the other pairs, trying to work out what we were supposed to be doing, when the first blow fell.
Chapter 7
“Thornton should have stepped in sooner.” Coralie sounded incensed as she helped me limp through the gardens. “That was a massacre.”
“Thanks,” I said dryly.
She grinned at me apologetically before wincing at the sight of something on my face. I lifted my hand to touch the spot where her eyes lingered and winced as well. That was going to be a large bruise.
“Well you clearly didn’t know what you were doing, and he’s supposed to be instructing us, after all. It’s just because he’s Stantorn,” she muttered. “He thinks we should all be as tough as him and Weston.”
“He was testing me,” I said.
“Who? Thornton or Weston?”
I shrugged and winced again at a pain across my shoulders. I had aches and bruises in places I had never even felt before. “Both.”
Another bell sounded, and I noticed we were the last ones still outside, our pace slower than everyone else’s. No doubt the others were already in the dining hall. My stomach rumbled at the thought—undeterred by the pain since I had missed breakfast and most of dinner the night before as well.
But when I stumbled going through the main doors, Coralie frowned and pulled me in the opposite direction to food.
“I think I should take you to the healer’s room. We’re allowed to go if we’re in bad enough shape after training.”
My stomach groaned again, but I let her lead me forward. I had never seen a healer before, although I had made my mother describe what their clinic had been like again and again. And now I was to get the chance to see one in action. I wouldn’t complain about a release from all this pain either. I had fallen so many times my bruises must have bruises.
“Goodness,” said a pleasant-looking young woman when Coralie pushed open a door halfway down the corridor and deposited me on a seat inside. “It is only the first week, isn’t it? I thought Thornton was supposed to be easing you first years in gently.”
Coralie put her hands on her hips. “Weston had other ideas.”
The woman hid what looked like a smile at the Cygnet girl’s indignation. “You know what those Stantorns are like, Coralie.”
Coralie sighed and plopped into another seat. “This is Acacia, Elena. She’s an Ellington, but she comes from Abalene, like my family.” She named a large southern city on the River Overon. “She’s good people.”
“Thank you for that glowing testimony, Coralie,” said the woman gravely. She turned her attention to me. “And who might you be? I don’t recognize…” Her voice faded away, and her eyes grew wide as she no doubt put two and two together.
I managed a weak smile. “I’m Elena. From Kingslee.”
“Kingslee.” She whispered the word. “So it’s true.”
“Which means she could really do with all the help you can give her.” Coralie fixed Acacia with a meaningful look, and the healer nodded, although her curious gaze was still on me.
“You’re in luck,” she said. “I’m well stocked this early in the year, so I’ll have you feeling good as new before you know it.”
When she smiled and it actually reached her eyes, I wanted to embrace her. After the treatment from Weston, I had been starting to think that Coralie might be the only mage in the kingdom willing to give me a chance. Well, Coralie and Lorcan, the Academy Head. But I was fairly sure his interest was limited to my use of magic and didn’t extend to me as a person.
Acacia worked quickly, selecting three different strips of rolled parchment, two the length of one of my fingers and a third a half longer again. She ripped them all in quick succession, flicking her fingers in my direction as soon as she had done so.
A cool mist responded to her movement, flowing over to rest against my skin before sinking in deeper. The first wave came with a sharp pain, but the second brought numbing relief. And within minutes, I felt whole and strong again. I held out my arms and examined them. No bruises or marks in sight.
I looked up at the healer. “That was incredible.”
She smiled. “Thank you. Although actually that was quite simple.” She frowned bri
efly down at the scraps of parchment in her hand as if they angered her for some reason. With a quick movement, she tossed them into a small container on the long desk behind her.
“Don’t worry, Acacia.” Coralie clapped her on the back. “If you were stronger, you’d be working at the front instead of relaxing here with us.”
Acacia smiled although a shadow still lurked in her eyes. “I would actually like to be able to help at the front where my services would be most in need, you know. That’s why I wanted to become a healer in the first place.” She shook her head at Coralie. “But I suppose you lot aren’t so bad.”
Coralie laughed. “That’s the spirit.” She looked over at me. “If we hurry, we should still be able to make it to lunch.”
I shot up immediately, and both of the others laughed.
“Healing always makes me hungry, too.” Coralie propelled me out into the corridor and then took off at a fast walk. I followed close behind. “And you missed breakfast as well, didn’t you, poor thing?”
A trickle of trainees already headed in the other direction, but we slid inside and into two seats before the servers reached the first year tables to clear away the platters of food. We both quickly filled a plate and began wolfing it down.
For the first few bites I felt nothing but relief. Then amazement followed. I had never tasted such rich and varied food before. The flavors of the sauces were intricate, and the platters contained three different types of meat. When I bit into the lightest, fluffiest roll I had ever eaten, I almost groaned. Was I really going to be fed like this every day?
But as my stomach filled, I became aware of the room more broadly. Coralie had directed us to a deserted table, whoever had been eating there having already left. But still I could hear whispers around me and feel eyes on my back.
Voice of Power (The Spoken Mage Book 1) Page 6
