First Year

by Rachel E. Carter

  With the help of the his assistants, Cedric had us divide into several small groups and take turns healing one another from the maladies we had studied earlier while the rest of the group watched. We were given two tasks, name the remedy and then cast out your magic using the projection of that cure to heal your patient. If you failed, the next person in your group would start his or her own attempt.

  I did well enough during the first half of the lesson. Both Alex’s and my background in the family apothecary helped with remedy. But when it came time to cast the cures for our patients, I was useless.

  “What do you think you are doing, first-year?”

  I whirled around to find Master Cedric frowning. I glanced at the small hand knife in my palm. It was my turn to cast.

  “She can’t cast without injury, sir,” my twin quickly said. “She’s tried, but for some reason—”

  “Is this true?” Master Cedric stared hard at me.

  I reddened. “Yes.”

  “Perhaps next time you will think twice before falling asleep in my class.” The master walked away without a second glance while Alex and Ella gawked after him.

  “Did he really just say that?”

  “He’s not even going to try to help you!”

  I tossed the blade to the ground, furious. What good was my magic here if the masters refused to help me?

  “Don’t let him get to you, Ryiah,” Alex said softly, aware of the attention Master Cedric’s presence had brought to our circle.

  I stared at the girl across from me. Master Cedric’s assistant had given her the slightest bit of frostbite. She was waiting for me to heal her.

  I tried to remember what Master Cedric has said at the beginning of class.

  Use all your senses. Shut out everything. Focus solely on the projection in your mind…Once you have a strong hold of what you need to do, project your will onto it, and if you have done so correctly, your magic should come through. I kept repeating the instructions over and over, willing my magic to take effect.

  But it never did.

  At one point I caught Darren watching me from the corner of his eye. When I whirled around to catch him, he gave me a wink before casting a healing of his own.

  I felt like screaming.

  “Maybe next time.” Alex gave my shoulder an awkward pat.

  The assistant returned to heal my partner, and I looked down to avoid any more sympathetic glances from the rest of our group. No one else had failed this exercise.

  “I’m sure once Master Cedric sees how hard you are trying, he will change his mind,” Ella offered. Like Alex, she had no idea why my magic wasn’t casting. None of her suggestions had worked either.

  I sighed. Judging from the mild-mannered master’s response, my month of dozing off in his class was irreparable.

  Alex, on the other hand, did even better than expected. He grasped Master Cedric’s lesson almost immediately. Even though I’d only seen him cast the most basic of spells back home, he was very apt at putting the new castings to work. When it was his turn, it took only minutes for my brother to heal his patient of sunburn.

  It was hard to contain my jealousy.

  I tried to tell myself that it was just Restoration, that my castings didn’t matter here, but it was hard to evade the truth. If I couldn’t cast now, how would my week of Combat be any different?

  That evening after dinner, Ella did not come with me to the field to continue our nightly conditioning. She needed to spend the extra time studying now that we had moved on from the basics. The rest of our group went with her, including Alex.

  When I arrived at the armory, I could see I was not alone. Granted, there were less students now that we had started the first faction’s orientation, but there were still no fewer than twenty first-years drilling when I arrived.

  Someone had brought out a pile of staffs and blunt training swords. Glancing at the two weapons, I considered trying the blade. It would be the perfect distraction to my dismal day thus far, but without Ella for proper instruction, I knew the best thing to do would be continue working on my practiced routine with the pole instead.

  Whimsy, however, got the best of me.

  “Do you even know what you are doing?” a familiar voice jeered.

  I jumped and then turned to find myself face-to-face with Priscilla. She was watching me awkwardly clutch the sword handle while Darren and the rest of his following stood only a couple feet away.

  She had picked the wrong day to bully me.

  “Don’t you tire of playing the witch?” I shot back.

  One of the two husky brothers snickered, and I was almost certain I saw Darren smile.

  Priscilla, however, was less than amused.

  “Go on all you like, lowborn. It will not save you from your pathetic casting. The only good use for that sword is if it ends your own paltry existence.”

  “Oh no,” I snapped, “I think it would do wonders for your own. Besides,” I added shortly, “like Sir Piers said, it’s the ones that need to learn you should be worrying about.”

  “The only thing I worry about is being stuck in the same quarters as a common wench!” she cried.

  “What in the name of the gods are you talking about?”

  Priscilla looked me up and down. “Tell me where you sneak off to every night. Explain why Sir Piers had suddenly started to take an interest in the same halfwit he was so keen on condemning a week ago? Seems to me you must have found a way to earn his praise through your skirts—”

  All I saw was red. I felt that same rage from the night before crackling and sputtering its way to the surface. “I would never!”

  “Then tell me where you go,” she countered. Behind her, the rest of our audience had fallen silent. There was a malicious smile on her lips, and it took all my self-control to stop from lunging.

  “Unless you’ve got something to hide,” she added with a smirk.

  I took a deep breath. Ignore her, I commanded.

  I loosened my grip on the sword’s hilt and cast a glance at Darren. The non-heir had an amused expression on his face and did not appear the least bit interested in defending me. Apparently, he was perfectly content to let Priscilla think the worst of me, so long as it didn’t sully his reputation.

  We’ll see about that.

  “You can say what you like, Priscilla,” I said finally, eyes locked on Darren as I spoke. “But there are some things wealth will never afford. And before you go around soiling my good name, you might go and ask your precious prince where it is he goes each night as well.”

  Priscilla blanched and immediately turned on Darren. “What did she mean by that?”

  Darren kept his face perfectly still. “That lowborn doesn’t know what she’s saying, Priscilla,” he said smoothly.

  “Then why did she—”

  “Because she has nothing better to do.” Darren glanced at me, dark eyes flashing. “The girl is trying to upset you, and you are letting her. Honestly Priscilla, I expect more from you.”

  “He’s lying,” I told her.

  Darren glared, and I ignored him.

  Priscilla glanced from me to Darren and back again, unsure whom to believe: the girl she hated or the boy she loved. “Well, I should tell the constable she’s sneaking out—”

  “No!” both Darren and I began at the same time.

  “What I mean, Priscilla, is that you shouldn’t waste your time on someone as insignificant as her,” Darren amended quickly. His eyes dared me to disagree.

  I reluctantly kept silent, knowing better than to say anything foolish again.

  “Come, let’s practice closer to the field,” Darren told the girl, gently leading Priscilla away from where I stood.

  As soon as his following had left, I took a deep breath.

  “What was that about?”

  I glanced up and saw Ella walking toward me.

  “How much did you see?” I asked her.

  “Enough.” She picked up the sword I had dropped
and snatched a second for herself. “It seems I’m not the only one who has a bone to pick with the prince. I was just coming down to check on you when I saw what was taking place. Sword?”

  I shook my head at the offered hilt. “I don’t know how to hold it,” I told her.

  “Well, it’s a good thing I’ve joined you,” she replied easily.

  “Are you done with the assignments already?”

  Ella shrugged. “No…but I figured you needed some cheering up.” She gave me a kind smile. “This week is only Restoration. I’ll manage.”

  An hour later, Ella and I made our way back to the library for the last leg of our study.

  “The prince must really dislike you,” she said as we turned the steps of the corridor. “He usually goes out of his way to ignore people.”

  I laughed loudly.

  “So what did you do?” she asked, pausing to glance at me curiously.

  “I think my very existence offends him.”

  She cocked her head to one side.

  “Well, you’ve made a nice enemy out of Priscilla. If I were you, I’d avoid the both of them.”

  I sighed uncomfortably. “What has changed?”

  She paused, and I almost crashed into her. Ella had a strange look in her eyes.

  “Just be careful,” she said softly. “When people like them notice you, that’s when you should be worried.”

  I stared at my friend, trying to understand the odd intensity to her warning. “What happened when you lived at court?” There was something she wasn’t telling me. “Why did your parents choose to leave?”

  Ella stared at the walls behind us. “Just don’t trust them.” She looked anywhere but my face. “Don’t trust them, and you can’t get hurt.”

  When Darren arrived at the library later that evening, I was waiting for him.

  “What are you—” He set down his books.

  I cut him off: “You can not let Priscilla say those things about me. I don’t care if it gets us both expelled. If you do not defend me next time, I’ll tell everyone the truth. I swear it!”

  He didn’t blink. “What was I supposed to do, Ryiah? Defending you would have only made her hate you more. And you aren’t innocent in all of this. You baited her with all those cheeky retorts and then practically insinuated you were laying with me instead!”

  I blushed. “I didn’t mean for her to interpret it that way.”

  “Well, everyone that was out there with us formed the same impression, so I hope you keep in mind that you have only yourself to thank for your tarnished reputation.”

  “I’m sure they didn’t—”

  “Oh, but they did!” He exhaled loudly. “I set everyone straight, but if the rumor had reached the constable or Master Barclae, you’d have the both of us tossed out of here for misconduct!”

  I stared at the floor. “I had no idea.”

  Darren’s tone fell flat. “Clearly.”

  Neither of us spoke for a minute. Then I remembered what I had been waiting to ask him.

  “What did you mean when you told me I was training the wrong way last night?”

  “Huh?” The non-heir looked at me, thrown by the abrupt change in subject.

  “I’ve tried following Master Cedric’s lessons,” I began again, “but nothing he says makes any sense, and he won’t show me what I’m doing wrong!”

  “You’ve fallen asleep in his class. Twice.” Darren’s expression was unsympathetic. “What did you expect?”

  “I don’t know.” I bit my lip. “But is that really enough to condemn me? I’m trying. You more than anyone can see that!”

  Darren did not reply.

  “No one else can help me,” I pleaded. “Even my twin brother doesn’t know why I can’t cast normally. But you do. I know you do. It’s why you told me I was training wrong.”

  “Even if I did know, why would I help you?”

  “Because it’s the right thing to do.”

  He snorted. “Well, good luck with that.”

  “You can’t just give someone advice and then not show them how to use it!” I seethed. “It’s not advice if it doesn’t help them!”

  Darren balked. “Well, I certainly wouldn’t give it to the girl that has tried to get tossed out of this place not once but twice now—oh, and let’s not forget your most inglorious moment, when you tried to light me on fire!”

  “I’ve made some mistakes.” I met the prince’s eyes defiantly. “But you have made just as many, and you wouldn’t have given me advice if you hadn’t been feeling guilty about them in the first place.”

  Darren regarded me grimly. In that moment I was aware of how near we were standing. This close, I could smell some sort of wooded musk emitting from his clothes, a mixture of pine and cloves that reminded me of home.

  Hair had fallen across his forehead and into his eyes, but instead of being distracting, it highlighted the dark garnet-brown of his irises, which oddly didn’t seem quite as opaque as I’d initially assumed, enclosed in those dark, dark lashes. They seemed much less hostile this close, more like liquid shadows playing across flame than embittered stone.

  And right now those shadows were doing strange, flippy things to my insides. I felt as if someone had wrenched the ground right out from under me. I was uncomfortably conscious of how much I was staring, yet I could do nothing to pull away.

  “Are you done berating me?”

  The trance was broken, and I stepped back quickly, flushing. His sudden presence had caught me off guard, and I hoped he hadn’t noticed.

  “I—” I faltered. Darren was looking at me as though I was mad. “See here,” I began again, flustered at my inability to speak.

  “You want my help,” he prompted.

  I reddened. “Yes.” It seemed one-syllable sentences were all I was capable of. I’d had no trouble scolding the prince moments before, but apparently I was no better than a fumbling oaf when he stood close. For the love of the gods, he isn’t even that good-looking!

  …Okay, maybe a little, I conceded, but certainly not enough to make you an inept convent girl! Pull yourself together!

  I straightened and regarded Darren coolly. “I know you have no reason to,” I conceded, “but if you were to show me how to call on my magic, I swear I would never bother you again.”

  He raised one brow. “Well, as tempting as your offer is, I do not have time to help every girl that bats her eyes at me.”

  “I was not!” My speech impairment was gone as fast as it had come. “And if you spent a little less time disparaging me every time we crossed paths, you’d realize how abundant your precious time actually was! If you were really so secure in your own standing here, you wouldn’t think twice about helping someone you believed might constitute a threat.”

  “You really think the way to charm me into helping you is by insult?” Darren was no longer frowning, and I had the distinct impression he was enjoying the debate.

  I glared. “Would you prefer me to lie like every one of your blindsided subjects?”

  He didn’t bother to hide his grin. “It would be a nice change.”

  “Fine.” I put my hands on my hips and said in my most sickly sweet impression of Priscilla: “O, valiant Darren, brave ruler among men, please help this humble first-year learn…”

  Darren raised a brow when I had finished. “I was wrong. Humility does not suit you.”

  I glowered. “Does this mean you’ll help?”

  “I will—if only so I can start realizing ‘the abundance of my precious time.’”

  A couple of minutes later we had cleared a space in the center of the study, and Darren was facing me, a skeptical expression on his face.

  “Do you know how to light a fire… without magic?”

  “Of course.”

  “Have you ever done it with flint?”

  I raised a brow. Who hadn’t?

  “Well, we are going to use it as a metaphor for how to cast. Master Cedric has been saying the same sort of th
ing for weeks, but evidently your naps were more important.”

  I cringed.

  “When you cast your magic out, you need to be picturing what you want to create in your mind. The stronger the idea, the better your casting will be. All the lessons we’ve been learning should have shown you how important the senses are. When you cast, you need to be using those to build the projection. You can’t expect to use your magic to create something real if you don’t even understand what that thing you are trying to cast is… What is something you can describe well?”

  “Fire.” I felt like a fool for not coming up with anything else. But I couldn’t help it. Fire was the one thing I’d been able to successfully conjure repeatedly. At least now I could see what would happen if I tried without self-mutilation. It would be a nice change.

  “How inspired. Now describe it to me.”

  “Um, well, it’s hot…It doesn’t really have a taste. When things get burned, there’s a charred flavor…It’s chalky and bitter. It’s soft like a moth’s wings but scalding at the same time. It looks like—” I froze as a thought crossed my mind: like your eyes.

  I looked away from Darren. “It looks like the fragmented tips of a red and yellow kite billowing in the wind.”

  “You are missing two senses,” Darren said, unperturbed by my haphazard ramblings. “What does it sound like? What do you smell?”

  “It sounds like low clapping. It smells repugnant. Sickly-sweet like spun sugar but tinged with smoke.”

  “Now, what do you want to do with the fire?” he asked. “What type of casting do you want to perform? Keep in mind it should be simple.”

  “What about holding it in my hand? I’ve seen people—”

  “Do you want to burn yourself?”

  I shook my head.

  “Then don’t try to do what you’ve seen others do, their castings are more complicated than they appear. Try lighting a candle instead.”

  “Do I actually need a candle?”

  “You are a beginner, so yes.” He tossed me a taper.

  “How.?” I paused, fully aware that there had been no candle in his hand a second ago.