Voice of Command (The Spoken Mage Book 2)

by Melanie Cellier

  And on reflection, they still seemed the most practical two for me to continue with. After all, I could be facing the front lines much sooner than my year mates.

  Like me, Saffron declared her intention to start with those two, and I was again surprised to see her speaking out so decisively. I had expected her to wait and follow whatever choice Finnian ended up making.

  In the end, it went the other way. After a great deal of debate, both Finnian and Coralie decided to stick with Saffron and me. And when we arrived in the library for our introductory lecture on discipline studies, we discovered that most of our year level thought the same way.

  Walden beamed around at us all as he explained how the studies worked, and then invited us to sign up for the two disciplines of our choice. My year mates all filed up and filled in their names on two of the eight sheets which already held lists of third and fourth year students. I lingered until last, wanting a private word with Walden.

  His eyes held extra warmth when I finally approached, and he smiled broadly at me.

  “Ah, Elena! I’ve been wondering where you were hiding yourself away.”

  I smiled apologetically. “Just easing in slowly.” I had practically lived at the library last year, so I could understand his confusion. But I was hardly going to admit I’d been avoiding Lucas.

  I asked him to add my name to the healing and armed forces discipline lists for me and noticed as he did so that the healing list held all twelve second year names, and the armed forces list held over half. It seemed that most of the class wanted to get the required studies over and done with. Although some apparently would do them one at a time. No doubt these were the students who wished to follow another discipline all the way through.

  Walden noticed my interest.

  “We usually get a high uptake in healing from the second years, but the whole lot of you is somewhat unusual. Mayhap it’s because you’re a smaller year.”

  I smiled back at him. I had spent a lot of time with the friendly librarian when he had given me private tuition as a first year, helping me to unlock and then hone my capability for verbal compositions. And now, with the final day of the week already looming in my mind, I was hoping he might be willing to do it again.

  “Walden,” I started, and then paused, aware I was asking a great deal.

  His face immediately fell. “I’m afraid we can’t resume our practice sessions, if that’s what you were going to ask, Elena. While I would be most interested, of course—an opportunity to study and develop your powers is once in a lifetime for us all—it just isn’t possible. Jocasta has yet to return for the year, and with the full load of supervising the discipline studies, I’m afraid I just don’t have the time.”

  He looked genuinely disappointed, so I tried to swallow my own chagrin.

  “Oh, well, in that case…” I shrugged, forced a smile and turned to leave. But I paused before I’d gone far. “Where’s Jocasta?”

  The assistant librarian didn’t have the same friendly attitude as Walden, but she had helped me at the beginning when I was still learning to read—and had received a less than desirable reward for it when I subsequently lost control. I hoped I hadn’t chased her away from the Academy.

  “She was needed at home, I believe,” he replied. “But I’m sure she’ll be back among us soon enough, never you fear.”

  I nodded and hurried away, already wondering what I was going to do without Walden’s assistance. I didn’t know if I could work out how to fight in the arena on my own.

  We wouldn’t start proper studies until the next day, but Coralie, Finnian, and Saffron had found a small table tucked into a corner of the library and were already discussing their thoughts on our new disciplines. I slipped in beside them, but didn’t really listen to what they were saying.

  “Coralie,” I said when a lull came up. “You’re from the same family as Jocasta, right?”

  “She’s not from my immediate family, or anything,” she replied. “But she’s a Cygnet like me.”

  I remembered her telling me about the connection with pride when I first started at the Academy. Positions here were prestigious, it seemed, and it was an honor for a member of such a minor family to be selected.

  “Is she also from Abalene?” I asked.

  “A smaller town just south of us, I think,” said Coralie. “Why?”

  I shrugged. “She isn’t here, that’s all. She hasn’t returned for the year yet. I just wondered if you might know why.”

  Finnian leaned in slightly, lowering his voice.

  “South of Abalene did you say?” For once none of his usual joking good-humor showed in his eyes.

  Coralie nodded, and he frowned.

  “I overheard something about trouble down that way. Just before Saffron and I returned to the Academy. The king came for an evening reception at the general’s mansion, and he and my father were off in a corner talking about it.”

  “Trouble?” Coralie’s mouth twisted. “Near Abalene? How near? And what kind of trouble?”

  “If the king was talking to the Head of the Healers about it, then I don’t imagine it was the good kind.”

  We all exchanged unhappy looks. Just the faintest hint of the threat of an epidemic had always terrified me. I had to remind myself several times that Clementine had been healed now. My family was in no more danger than anyone else’s.

  “I’m sure if both Uncle and the royal family are overseeing the situation, she’ll be back at the Academy in no time,” said Saffron quietly, and we could only hope that she was right.

  Chapter 8

  When my next bout was against Calix and the one after against Lavinia, I found it hard to believe it could be a coincidence. The only good thing to be said about either confrontation was that they had listened to Thornton’s warning, and no longer unleashed quite such deadly compositions.

  I still ended up with a broken arm after the first one, however. And when I limped out of the arena after the second, a long gash on my arm bleeding sluggishly, I couldn’t bear to look in the direction of my year mates. I didn’t want to see the satisfaction on the faces of Lavinia’s friends. So far I had done nothing but prove all their low opinions of me.

  I ground my teeth as Acacia tended to me with a number of weary sighs. Out in the real world, I could save myself. I’d proved that. But I’d done it through brute force every time. And Thornton was right, though I hated to admit it. If I was going to serve at the front lines—in constant danger of my life—I needed to learn finesse. Otherwise I would end up burning out at some inopportune moment only to end up with my head chopped off.

  But I hadn’t worked out how to distract or disable my opponent quickly or effectively enough to give me time to actually complete a working. I kept trying, and the backlash from my disrupted attempts only made my collective injuries worse. I had started to let myself believe I was a mage—someone special in fact—but now I had weekly evidence that while my powers might be strong in some ways, I couldn’t hold my own against true mages.

  I felt eyes on me as I sat to one side with Acacia, and my head turned despite myself. But it wasn’t one of the Stantorn or Devoras trainees watching me. It was Lucas.

  He had seen me save myself more than once and was one of the few who knew the truth about my strength. It stung more than I liked to admit that he was now seeing the truth about my weakness, too. No doubt it merely confirmed his perception of how inept I was, how unfitted for his world and a position among the mages.

  My chin came up, and I glared at him, unwilling to look away first. His expression didn’t change, and I had to admit it looked coolly thoughtful rather than mocking. Was he mentally composing his report for his parents?

  Despite early promise, the Spoken Mage is now consistently demonstrating considerable disadvantage against a regular mage.

  Eventually he blinked and looked away, and I let my own gaze fall. I had to think of something because despite his contempt at the idea, it couldn’t be more clear t
hat the Stantorn and Devoras families still had a vendetta against me. Even our Devoras instructor was assisting them since there was no way I was randomly being allocated to bout only those with a desire to hurt me.

  Later that evening, when my friends had already withdrawn to their rooms, I slipped into the library in search of a book. I had fallen behind on our latest healing assignment—too busy worrying about the combat bouts.

  When I saw a lone familiar light at the back of the library, I briefly considered walking straight back out again. But instead my feet carried me forward, along the well-worn track I had taken so many evenings during first year. Back when I studied most evenings in the circle of that light.

  But when I stood in front of the only occupied desk, staring at the lone trainee, no words came.

  Lucas looked up at me, and something crossed his face that I couldn’t interpret. “I was wondering if you were going to come back this year.”

  His words unleashed my own, and suddenly I was talking without thinking, as I all too often did.

  “Do you still think there’s no way that the Stantorn mages could wish me harm despite the council’s ruling? And the Devoras ones too. Have you been watching those bouts? Do you really think it’s coincidence that our Devoras instructor keeps assigning me to duel them?”

  I stopped to take a shallow breath, and he sighed.

  “There’s a difference between abduction and attempted murder and disliking someone.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “That first bout sure felt like attempted murder to me.”

  His lips tightened into a thin line. “That got out of hand. Thornton should have stepped in earlier. But Natalya has always been on the vindictive side. That doesn’t mean her father—or anyone else—put her up to it.”

  He paused. “The truth is that a lot of mages don’t like you, Elena.”

  I raised an eyebrow, and he actually looked faintly apologetic.

  “What I mean is that they don’t like the thought of you. A commonborn who can wield power they can’t? It seems dangerous to them. They want to bring you down, if they can. Prove to themselves they have nothing to be afraid of.”

  I deflated, sinking into a chair as all my righteous indignation seeped away. It was all I could do to keep the tears out of my eyes.

  “Well, it seems they’re right. Clearly they don’t.”

  Lucas leaned across the desk, a fire in his eyes that made me draw back a little. I’d been burned by that fire before.

  “No. You’re wrong, Elena. I’ve seen you in action. I’ve seen what you’re capable of.”

  “Reckless power, the kind that’s going to kill me one day? Yes, I can do that. But I can’t keep doing it forever.”

  He sat back in his chair, his eyes growing distant and thoughtful.

  “You have the power,” he said. “Your problem is time. You don’t have the time. Your opponents might have spent an hour on the actual composing, but you only get seconds.”

  “Thank you for that. I didn’t realize.” I gave him a flat look, but he ignored me.

  “So you need to be better than them. Much better.”

  “If this is supposed to be an encouraging speech, you’re terrible at them.”

  He ignored me again.

  “You passed your composition exam at a second year level, as you well know. You’re already ahead of most of our year mates. They’re building up their stamina and energy levels, but you’ve never needed that. You need to start working on the next level. Shortening your compositions.”

  I regarded him dubiously. “Not all mages are even capable of that.”

  “Elena.” He shook his head. “No one can do what you can. No one. Twice now you’ve produced a controlled working with only two words—and effectively shielded yourself with them.”

  “You heard Thornton. Controlled might be stretching it,” I muttered, suddenly uncomfortable.

  He shrugged. “Maybe, but the shields did what you needed them to. And they didn’t blow up in your face.”

  I winced. “Mostly.”

  He gave a tiny smile. “They were controlled enough. I just don’t think you realize how rare that is.” He watched me in silence for a moment. “Thornton told you no more compositions without restrictions, and he’s right. But that doesn’t mean they can’t be short. You just need to learn the necessary finesse.”

  “That’s easy to say. But how exactly am I to do it? You may not have noticed, but the instructors here aren’t exactly falling over themselves to actually instruct me.” I looked down into my lap, trying to keep the bitterness out of my voice. “Apparently I’m the sort of curiosity that’s supposed to be observed only, not trained.”

  Lucas sighed. “It’s not that simple. I thought you knew that. You still have enemies, Elena, even if they’re being held in check for now. Lorcan is the Academy Head, and what he does is closely watched. If he was seen spending his time building your strength—turning you into a weapon, even—well, that would have consequences. Devoras and Stantorn don’t like the idea of you as a rogue commonborn wielding untold power. But they also don’t like the idea of you in the hands of Kallorway. How do you think we convinced them you needed mage guards during your break? And on top of all that, they don’t like the idea of you as a Callinos pet all that much more. Lorcan is keeping the distance he needs to keep and hoping for the best.”

  I snorted. “Am I supposed to be grateful? Walden didn’t seem to feel the same restraints.”

  Lucas narrowed his eyes. “Yes, well, he’s an Ellington. No one tends to worry as much about them. And he’s also only a librarian. He doesn’t have nearly so many eyes on him.” Something in his voice told me he was uncomfortable with this idea. As if he didn’t like the idea of anyone not being sufficiently watched.

  After a moment of silence, he spoke again. “And even he’s not volunteering to help you now, is he?”

  My head shot up, and I stared at him.

  “Jocasta is away. He can’t afford the time.”

  Lucas just watched me in silence, knowing he had made his point. No one thought it safe to help me.

  After a moment I threw up my hands.

  “So I need to outstrip all my year mates and learn advanced composition. But at the same time, I need to accept that none of my instructors are going to help me in that task. So what, exactly, are you suggesting, oh Wise One?”

  He actually grinned at my mockery, and I felt a sudden urge to punch him in his too-perfect face. Just once I would like to see the dark, almost black, waves of his hair disordered, or the brilliant green of his eyes dimmed. Although no doubt a black eye would only bring out their color.

  “I don’t think I like you looking at me like that,” he said. “I feel like I’m going to have to defend myself at any moment.”

  I rolled my eyes, trying to hide my embarrassment at being so easily read. “You’re a prince of Ardann, Lucas. I’m not going to attack you.”

  “Well, that might be your only option.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You need someone to train you, don’t you?”

  My mouth fell open. “You? You’re offering to train me?”

  “Don’t sound so shocked.”

  “And why not?” I challenged him, scrambling for time to process his words. “You’re only a second year like me. Why would you be able to train me?”

  He raised both eyebrows. “Didn’t you just say it? I’m a prince of Ardann. And I turned sixteen nearly two years ago. I’m not just naturally strong, you know. Although I am that too.” He gave me an infuriating smirk. “I’ve been receiving private tuition since my sixteenth birthday.”

  “I knew it,” I muttered. Such a practice was frowned on from what I’d heard—unless you were royalty, and then the rules didn’t apply.

  “Anyway, Walden may have helped you focus. Provided some guidance, even. But you were the one to work out how to unlock your power. And you were the one who worked so hard to hone and control it.”

&
nbsp; I looked at him in surprise. Had it all been me?

  “Well, weren’t you?”

  I thought back over my lessons with Walden. “Yes…I suppose I was. But that doesn’t mean I could have done it on my own.”

  He leaned back in his chair and spread his arms wide. “And here I am. Ready for you to hurl combat compositions at all night long.”

  “All night?”

  The grin fell off his face. “If I’m going to help you, Elena, then it has to be a secret.”

  My eyes narrowed. Ah. Now we came to it.

  “First of all, as you so rightly said, I’m a prince. And there are a great many people who will not like the idea of you repeatedly attacking me without supervision.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “You don’t seem worried.”

  He gave me his smuggest grin yet. “Don’t flatter yourself, Elena. I said you’re ahead of most of your year mates. You might have raw power, but I’m not worried.”

  “Ugh. Of course you’re not.”

  He laughed. “Don’t take it personally. There’s a reason there are laws about who royalty can marry. Other royalty or a member of one of the great families only. We’ve been carefully cultivating our line, breeding strength and control for generations. It’s why you won’t find a weak royal.”

  “Ugh,” I said again. “You make it sound like you’re a herd of cattle.”

  He shrugged, the laugh dropping from his eyes. “I’ve told you before that being royalty doesn’t give me any more choice in my life than you.”

  I looked away, discomfited by the reminder.

  “So you’re proposing secret nighttime training sessions. For me to learn to shorten my compositions.”

  “I guess it’s up to you.” He shrugged. “Do you want to keep getting destroyed in the combat bouts?”

  I stood up. “Of course I don’t. And I’m up for training any time. Just name it.”

  My eyes challenged him, but his challenged me straight back.

  “Tomorrow night. An hour from now. In the arena.”

  “The arena?”

  “Officially speaking, we’re not really even supposed to be in here at this time of evening. So we push the boundaries a little further.”