by Kaylin Lee
The other voice uttered a string of curse words. Two strong, warm hands came under my back and lifted me to a sitting position.
I tried opening my eyes again. This time they fluttered, but I squeezed them shut again against the painful blaze of light.
When I tried to speak, only a small croak came out. Why was my voice so rough? It felt as though I hadn’t spoken in ages. Pain seared the right side of my face. “W-what’s happened?” I forced out.
“Shh,” said the voice. “I’ve got you.” He lifted me into his arms.
I groaned as my head throbbed and the pain on the side of my face burned even hotter. I forced my eyes open, then blinked and stared up in shock. Golden hair, strong jaw, worried gray eyes, mouth flattened in a line as he stared down at me—it was the mage. Weslan? Why was he with me? And where was Zel?
“What are you doing here?” I croaked. “Where are we?”
“You were hurt at school,” he said, his frown growing deeper. “You were knocked unconscious in the blast, and they brought you to the hospital to be healed. Zel sent me here to deal with the healers and to bring you home when they released you.” He stared at me meaningfully. “You know she can’t very well come here to get you herself.”
I knew that. I had just forgotten, for a moment, I supposed. What else had I forgotten?
I grunted—that was the closest to nodding I was going to get. “I want to walk.”
He tightened his lips but set me down without question.
My legs buckled immediately, and he caught me and held me upright while I got them straightened enough to bear my weight. “How long was I unconscious?”
“A week.”
A week? That couldn’t be right. “It took me that long to heal? What happened to me?”
“You had a serious head wound. They sedated you with sopor to give it time to respond to their healing. But they needed your cot for another patient, so they took you off the sedative a few minutes ago.” He darted a glance out the door and swore under his breath.
I looked blearily around the sparse room, realizing for the first time that two other patients lay unconscious in cots next to mine. I recalled now that the first voice had been ordering us out of the room when I woke up. But if I was well enough to go home, why did my face still hurt so much?
“Am I all better?” I didn’t know what else to say.
He hesitated. “You have some … scarring where a piece of a desk hit your head.” He pointed to my temple but didn’t touch my face. “And along the side of your face.” He gestured down to my jaw.
Hesitantly, I touched the side of my face that was burning with pain. I fingered the cloth bandage that covered my skin as a sick feeling welled in the pit of my stomach. “Scarring?”
His eyes met mine. “The wound has not fully healed, but the cost to fully heal the scar is very high. Zel sent them everything she had saved up, but it was only enough to pay for the healing they’ve done so far. They did save your life, after all. The rest, your body will have to heal on its own.”
The words echoed in my throbbing head. What was he saying? I didn’t understand.
Weslan glanced at the door again. “We need to leave. They said we had to be out by the time the healer’s assistant comes to change the bedding for the next patient, and he could be here any minute now.”
I nodded numbly. I noticed I was wearing a thin white gown with no shoes. “I need to change into my dress, and then I can go.” I didn’t know how my legs would support me the whole way home, but all I wanted was to throw myself into Zel’s arms.
Weslan handed me a folded work dress and a pair of worn leather shoes. The shoes were the ones I’d stopped wearing last year because of the widening holes at the place where the sole met the leather. “Your school uniform was ruined in the blast,” he said. “But Zel gave me these. I’ll block the door while you get dressed.”
I took them and put them on while he waited outside the room. I probably should have cared that I was changing in a room with two unconscious strangers. The healer’s assistant could come and push past Weslan at any moment, but I was too overwhelmed to worry. I would be scarred forever. What had happened? Who had done this to me? My brain felt like it was in a fog.
I slipped my feet into the unlaced shoes and tapped Weslan on the shoulder. “Ready.” My body shook, my face throbbed, and I couldn’t think straight. “Just get me home, please.”
“Come on then.” He took my arm, and I leaned on him as we shuffled down the hall. We passed a series of cramped rooms filled with patients. Every bed was occupied, and we wove between harried-looking healers who glared at us. At the end of the hallway, we reached a small, noisy waiting room packed with families. No one took notice of us except a young secretary who frowned and nodded his head at the door as if to hurry us along.
I gripped Weslan’s arm a little tighter and angled my head away from the secretary, hoping I didn’t fall over before we escaped from this place.
We exited to the bustling street, and I shut my eyes against the flood of sunlight with a moan of pain. I nearly sat down then and there. When I opened my eyes, the world spun around me. People bustled every which way, jostling us as we stood there in the middle of the footpath. I closed my eyes for another long moment and took a deep breath. I could do this. All I needed to do was get home.
Gripping Weslan’s arm like my life depended on it, I let him lead us down the street, away from the hospital. Ten steps later, I stopped short, taking note of my surroundings for the first time. “Why are we in the River Quarter? We’re only a few blocks from the Royal Academy. How are we going to get back to the bakery?”
Weslan gave me a grim look. “We’re walking. No money left for a hired coach, and you’re in no shape to make it onto the trolley.”
I bit my lip. As much as I didn’t want this mage around, I had to admit none of this was his fault. “Let’s get out of here.”.
We’d been creeping along for several minutes at a snail’s pace when my legs began to shake like jelly. What had that healer been thinking, sending us out into the city minutes after waking me from sopor-induced sleep?
A fomecoach burst around the corner, taking the turn too narrowly and veering onto the footpath. Weslan threw us out of its way, pulling me with him and twisting as he landed on the ground so that his body cushioned my fall. The Procus driver swerved back into the street without a word of apology, ignoring a chorus of boos and insults from the commoners on the footpath.
Weslan helped me to my feet, but my legs gave out as soon as I straightened them. I collapsed against him, landing heavily as his arms went around me for support. My body was done. I rested my forehead on his chest as I tried to collect myself, my breath coming in gasps. I was too exhausted to feel embarrassed. No doubt that would come later.
“This is ridiculous,” he muttered.
I craned my head to peer up at his face. He clenched his jaw and stared behind me in the direction we’d come.
“I’m sorry.” I hated this feeling of helplessness. Why wouldn’t my legs move? I tried to push away from him and stand on my own again, but he tightened his arms and held me still. I wished I was too tired to notice the heat from his hands burning through my dress.
“It’s not your fault.” I found an odd comfort in the rumbling of his chest as he spoke. “You, of all people … I just don’t get it. None of this should be happening.”
I leaned against him, my thoughts whirling. Why did it feel so good to be held by him? He was a mage. I barely knew him. What was I doing?
He looked down and raised an eyebrow at me, and I felt my cheeks heat up. Had he guessed what I was thinking?
“I don’t think you can walk any further,” he said. “If I bend down, can you reach around my neck and ride on my back?”
Apparently he hadn’t.
“I can try.” There was no point in fighting for dignity now. He turned his back to me and bent low. I reached for his shoulders and pulled as hard as I co
uld. My arms were so weak, I barely got off the ground.
“Sorry,” he said.
“What?” The next thing I knew, he reached his arms around behind him, placed his hands firmly under the backs of my thighs, and hoisted me smoothly to his back. I sputtered in protest.
“Can you hold on now?” His voice sounded suspiciously like he was smiling. Rude!
“Yes,” I managed, injecting as much spite as I could into my voice. I’d gone from intrigued to humiliated in about two seconds. I wrapped my arms around his neck and scowled. “Let’s go.”
Weslan wove through the busy street traffic, dodging coaches, cart vendors, and beggars that lined the River Quarter’s narrow streets. Then he cut through the Royal Precinct, where mages in gold armbands roamed the streets alongside bureaucrats and apprentices.
I wondered if Weslan had been one of those mages. Perhaps he wasn’t the type to take a Procus family as a patron the way I had assumed. What had happened to get him kicked out of the Mage Division? I hadn’t heard of that happening since before the plague. These days, they needed every mage they could find, and they kept them all confined in the barracks of the Mage Division, a gated area made up of several blocks in the Royal Precinct. The only way out was to take a patron and move into a Procus compound. At least, I thought they kept every mage these days, even the weak ones. But Zel’s actions yesterday—last week, I mentally corrected myself—proved that I didn’t know as much as I thought I did.
I tried to hold tight to his shoulders to keep my weight from becoming too much, but my strength soon gave out. Exhausted and unable to stop thinking about the pain on the side of my face, I rested my head heavily on his shoulder and let him carry me home in silence.
~
Weslan shouldered open the door to the bakery and helped me slide to the floor, keeping one hand on my waist as I swayed. We’d taken at least an hour to reach the bakery. My legs were cramped and aching, and the wound on my face felt like someone had set fire to it.
Weslan looked down at me, his face strangely apologetic, and drew in a breath, but a shriek cut him off. “Ella!”
A series of thumps followed, drawing our attention to the staircase. Bri and Alba raced down at a breakneck pace, huge smiles on their faces. Weslan stepped back as they grabbed me in a bone-crushing hug.
I closed my eyes and leaned into them. My stepsisters. They’d nearly lost me this week. What would have happened to them if I’d perished in the attack? What would have happened to Zel? Everyone depended on me. I clutched them to my chest, burying my face in Alba’s soft hair.
Zel followed behind them, descending the stairs with hasty steps. She reached the bottom as the twins released me, and she ran to wrap me in her arms. Neither of us spoke, and I nearly collapsed with relief. Home. I’d made it home.
Finally, Zel pulled back and supported me to a chair in the kitchen. “Get Ella some water,” she said to the twins, and they jostled one another as they raced to the sink. Weslan stood by the door, like he didn't know what to do with himself now that we were home.
“Zel,” I said, my voice cracking, “What happened?”
Zel took my hand in hers with a sad smile. “Let's just talk about that later. Right now, I just want to be happy that you're home.”
I pulled my hand back and frowned. “Please. I need to know what happened.”
She bit her lip. “Your school was attacked. Trackers found the remains of a suffio bomb afterward, and it wasn’t far from where you were sitting. They said you're lucky to be alive today.”
I leaned back in my chair. Why would anyone attack a classroom, of all places? I shook my head but regretted the motion when my head throbbed and the room swam in front of my eyes. I was forgetting something important. “Attacked? By whom?”
Zel shook her head. “No one knows. But it was most likely the Crimson Blight, even though it doesn’t fit their model. The Quarter Guard seems certain it was the Blight, anyway. Something about the compound used in the bomb—the same mix of suffio as the last few attacks.”
“Was anyone else hurt?”
“Several students were injured, but only you and one other student were hospitalized. Thankfully, no one was killed.”
“Who else was hospitalized?”
“Belle Argentarius.” The worry lines around Zel’s eyes creased as she spoke. “She was the one closest to the bomb when it went off. The last we heard, she was still unconscious, but the healers expect her to make a full recovery. They’re keeping her asleep to give her more time to respond to their healing without pain.”
Huh. I put a hand up to the painful, unhealed wounds on my face, then dropped it to my lap. Jealousy wouldn’t bring me any healing. Belle might not have been kind, but she was smart and hardworking in her own way. I wouldn’t wish this on her. But what if someone had? What if she was the target? Why would anyone want to hurt Belle?
I sipped the water Alba had placed before me. My mouth was dry, but I sipped slowly, not wanting to overdo it.
“So when do I have to retake my final exam?” I looked at Zel expectantly. It hurt to think about taking a test when my wounds weren’t even healed, but perhaps it would help me to move forward if I could get back on track soon.
Zel slid her gaze away from mine, toward Weslan’s. I looked at him and then back at Zel. What was going on?
Weslan cleared his throat and stepped toward the kitchen table, his arms crossed. “The term is over. They … ah … won’t be offering another chance to retake the exam. All the other students retook it last week, while you were in the hospital.”
My heart sank, and I slumped in the chair. So much for that idea. “I’ll just have to retake the year then. That’s fine. My apprenticeship can wait another year.” I didn’t love the idea of spending another year working in the bakery kitchen while going to school, but at least I had already learned all the material.
Zel shook her head. “Honey, I’m so sorry. So very sorry.”
I stared at her. “What are you talking about?” When she stared at me with tearful eyes and shook her head again, I turned to Weslan. “What is she saying? Why is she sorry?”
He unfolded his arms and then folded them again. “I’ve been to every higher academy in the city. There are no more scholarship places left. There’s no place for you to retake the term.”
I stared at him, hating the naked pity on his handsome face. “You’re wrong.” I spat the words at him, shocked by the venom that had suddenly filled me. This couldn’t be happening.
“No, Ella.” He looked at me without flinching, his voice level, his brows furrowed. “I spoke to every government official and school administrator I could find. All the scholarship spots for the final grade have been filled by upcoming students from the lower grades.”
I wanted to slap him. I bolted to my feet and swayed. My head swam dizzily.
Zel was by me in an instant, her arm at my back keeping me from falling over. “Sit down, sweetheart. You need to rest.”
I pushed weakly against her, but she didn’t budge. “But … I’ve worked so hard … I don’t understand! How could they just shut me out?”
“The fact remains that they have.” After her tenderness and concern, the finality in her voice grated against me. “And you need to lie down and rest. You’ve been asleep for a week, Ella. You can deal with this later.” My face burned with pain and the room tilted again. I could not make sense of her words.
“So that's it? I'm just not going to graduate? This is ridiculous!” My chest seemed to be collapsing, like someone was sitting on it. “This isn't happening. I was so close to graduating. What am I going to do? I'll never be able to get a government job. I’ll never get any kind of job at all. I'll never be able to leave this stricken bakery!”
Zel’s hand dropped from my back, and I heard two identical intakes of breath from the twins. Oh. My stepsisters and my stepmother would never be able to leave the bakery either. I pressed my lips together and shook my head in a silent apol
ogy. Then I turned to go and fell.
Weslan rushed forward to lift me into his arms yet again. He carried me to my little bedroom off the kitchen. Neither Zel nor her daughters followed. As he placed me gently atop my bed, I kept my eyes closed to avoid seeing whatever pity or condemnation might be on his face.
As I lay back on my familiar lumpy pillow, the pain on the side of my face became more than I could bear. Throwing pride to the wind, I cracked open my eyes. “Did the healers give me anything for the pain before we left?”
“No.” He frowned down at me. His voice sounded tight. “We spent all the money we had to pay for the healing, remember?”
“Oh. Right.” I rolled to my side so my back was to him, the good side of my face pressed into the pillow while the side covered with bandages and searing pain faced the ceiling. “I guess I’ll just sleep it off, then,” I lied.
I sensed him lingering over me. After a moment, he placed one strong hand on my shoulder, gave it a gentle squeeze, and left the room, shutting the door softly behind him. I was alone.
I pressed my eyes shut as the tears came, drenching my pillow and hair with hot, salty pools. I shook silently in my bed for several minutes. Then, as quickly as they’d come, the tears were gone. I took a few deep breaths and focused on the comforting, familiar feel of my bed. But the pain in my face kept me tense, an inescapable sign that nothing would ever be the same again. I’d lost everything.
How was I supposed to go on? I’d worked five years for this, dreaming of leaving the bakery, getting a stable government job, making a steady income, and not having to rely on rations anymore. I would have been able to provide for Zel, Alba, and Bri, with plenty left to spare. Maybe even one day, I would have saved enough to go to another city, one without so many trackers. Some place where we could live in peace without fear of getting caught.
Now I was eighteen years old without a higher academy certificate much less a Royal Academy diploma. There was no way I'd ever be able to find a decent job outside the bakery. We would be eating cold victus for the rest of our lives. And that would be only if nothing else went wrong.
