by Marisa Mills
“Be careful,” I said. I realized we were still holding hands and pulled away suddenly.
Alexander waved a dismissive hand. “Thank you for…” he trailed off. “Thank you for getting us out.” He pulled out the stack of papers and returned them to me. “I hope these were worth it.”
“It was nothing,” I said.
Nothing? Lucian asked, sounding vaguely offended.
“It—” Alexander cut off abruptly, and his face twisted into a scowl, as if he suddenly realized he was being too nice to me. “Well, good luck.”
Without another word, he spun and walked the other way.
What a charmer, Lucian drawled.
No kidding. But still…
He was awfully handsome, and maybe that mattered a little more than it should.
I left the ballroom and turned down a corridor, back to the dormitories. Once I reached them, I slipped inside. For a few seconds, I waited, worried that the creaking door might have given me away. When none of the other girls stirred, I sighed softly and tip-toed back to my bed. I slipped the papers into the trunk at the foot of my bed and then climbed beneath the covers. Come the weekend, I’d take Dorian these letters to buy some more time. It had to be enough, for now. Maybe I’d even try to drop something for Briar and Sterling. Then, I’d have to work towards finding that journal, which meant revisiting the archives and hoping it was there somewhere. Unfortunately, if I was going to stick around longer, that meant I might actually have to start doing my homework.
Eighteen
DELACROIX’S SWORDSMANSHIP CLASS TOOK PLACE outside. Past the sprawling gardens, there were fields of flat, grassy plains as far as I could see. It was a nice day, sunlit and breezy. I stood awkwardly around, rocking back on my heels and looking over my classmates, who were chatting together in small clusters. This might be the one class I could actually do well in. Swordsmanship wasn’t a solely magical pursuit, and while I’d never learned proper fencing, I wasn’t nervous around bladed weapons. I’d used knives and daggers before. I was even good with throwing them and hitting targets, something which had saved my skin a few times.
I like swordplay, Lucian said.
“It’s too bad you didn’t wait for Alexander or someone,” I replied. “You might have—”
I, for one, am quite happy I wasn’t chosen by Alexander, Lucian said. Even as mages go, he’s exceptionally intolerable.
“He’s not that bad,” I muttered. “He explained the archives to me, and he sort of helped me find my way back to my room.”
You saved him, if I recall, Lucian argued. And he’s only being nice because it’s convenient for him. You can’t trust him.
“Funny, he said the same about you,” I smiled.
I knew Lucian was right, I had no business hanging around a prince. Which was frustrating, because I couldn’t get him out of my mind.
“Did you…how did you end up in this sword?” I asked awkwardly, changing the subject and hoping Lucian would drop Alexander entirely.
Lucian said nothing, but I felt him shifting and thinking. The way most demons find themselves imprisoned, I suppose, he said. We fight a mage or two. Sometimes, it ends well for us. Sometimes, it doesn’t.
“Did you get to show off your swordplay, at least?”
Most definitely, Lucian said, but he didn’t elaborate.
“So can you all make fire?” I whispered.
Or was Lucian even making fire? Maybe he was manipulating the device somehow.
No, Lucian said. That device of yours doesn’t make actual fire. It can only cast illusions and create light.
I knew that. Sure, there had been the time at my testing when the drapes caught fire, but that had likely been Dorian’s doing.
Lucian seemed to grow still in my mind.
Have you ever seen him use fire?
“No, but I’m sure he probably can. He’s made ice, after all.”
I think you should ask. But your device uses an entirely different branch of magic from elemental powers. And we all have different abilities. But I can only create fire because I’m recently captured. The longer demons exist in objects, the weaker we become.
“Weaker?” I asked.
We lose our magic and our wills, ourselves, Lucian said. It’s really a terrible fate, Wynter. Some of us, after we’ve been imprisoned for so long, can accomplish only weak, little magics. Imprisonment can take the strongest of us and reduce them to cleaning floors and windows. And eventually, you slowly lose things. Memories usually fade first, and after that, it’s just…so terrible.
“I’m sorry,” I muttered.
I know you are.
“Is that why the demons are attacking?” I asked.
I don’t know, Lucian replied, his voice careful. I suspect those demons might not be attacking of their own volition.
“Why would you assume that?”
Because if demons were trying to conquer Reverie or something, they wouldn’t target schoolchildren. That wouldn’t be advantageous.
“Maybe it’s an assassination attempt. Alexander and Viviane are both important.”
Maybe.
Alexander walked onto the field, Viviane with them.
Why is he even here? Lucian asked. He already knows how to fight. She probably does, too, and they aren’t even studying battle magic.
“I’m in sigils class,” I pointed out, “And I am studying battle magic. Maybe everyone has to take some of the same classes. Gareth did say we needed a variety.”
I’d be delighted if you fought Alexander and absolutely obliterated him.
“Why?” I asked.
Because I don’t like him, Lucian said bluntly.
“He’s trying to understand you,” I said softly.
And? He can’t even understand girls his own age and of his own race. Do you honestly believe he’ll ever understand my kind?
“Wouldn’t you rather he try, though?”
Lucian made a disgruntled noise.
You’re assuming his interest in demons is noble, and I really doubt that.
“And here you are telling me that I don’t trust people,” I whispered.
Still.
“But if you were going to guess,” I said slowly, “Why would someone want to attack the Academy?”
Not the Academy. Children at the Academy, Lucian corrected, and I don’t know. Maybe this person is after something in the Academy. Maybe they’re trying to ruin the Council’s reputation.
“How would a demon attack achieve that?” I asked.
Aren’t they supposed to be the experts on magical matters?
“From what I can gather.”
It doesn’t look good if… Lucian trailed off, considering… It doesn’t look good if the Council can’t find a cause for both the quakes and the demon attacks, and so far, aristocratic children have been attacked, right?
“Aside from me,” I said, “I think that’s right.”
Hm.
“So,” I said quietly, “you think someone might be trying to make the Council and the aristocracy fight one another?”
It’s a possibility, Lucian said. Divide and conquer.
My head spun, trying to figure it out. I didn’t really understand politics at all. Professor Delacroix arrived, rapier in hand. She was a tall woman, the tallest I’d ever seen. Her hair was short and dark, and she had sharp brown eyes. My first thought was that she looked too young to be a professor. I was terrible at judging ages, but she looked to be in her early thirties. She didn’t introduce herself; she just jumped straight in and demonstrated stances, while we copied them.
You should bend your knees more, Lucian said, as I moved into a fighting stance.
I did, making adjustments. This actually wasn’t so bad. I knew a bit about fighting without swords, and the stances weren’t that different from those.
“Pair up!” Delacroix announced.
I quickly counted my classmates and r
ealized we had an even number; this meant that someone would, inevitably, have to come over and be my opponent. I didn’t know anyone in this class aside from Alexander and Viviane. It was too bad Jessa wasn’t there.
Maybe you should try meeting new people, Lucian said.
“You hate literally everyone here,” I murmured.
It’s different degrees of hate.
“Where do I fall?”
Lucian laughed. You have the dubious honor of being the one person here that I like, he said.
I smiled slightly and rocked back on my heels. To my surprise, Alexander walked over to me, leaving Viviane to pair with someone else. I felt Viviane’s eyes burning into me, even when I turned away. If looks were really able to kill, I’d have been struck by lightning.
“Did you come over here to beat me up?” I asked.
“No,” he said. “I came to…thank you, I suppose. For this morning.”
He sounds like he’s choking on something, Lucian said.
“It was nothing,” I said, “And you already thanked me.”
“I just thought maybe I didn’t thank you enough. That’s all.” He paused, and brushed his hair away from his face. “The way you jumped across the roof like that… you’re not like other girls, are you?”
“The other girls in Reverie you mean? Maybe you need to get out more.”
“Maybe I do.” He smiled, and my insides turned to butter.
“Where did you learn such powerful blood magic?” he murmured. “If it was really in a book, I would have found it by now.”
Don’t tell him.
“You’ll never figure it out,” I said. “Maybe there’s more in Argent than you realized.”
Alexander slowly nodded, as if considering the possibility.
“How often do you look in the archives?” I asked, keeping my voice low.
“Why?” Alexander narrowing his eyes. “Do you have plans on looking again?”
Does he know how to give a straight answer, or does mage royal etiquette include being as infuriatingly obtuse as possible? Lucian snapped.
“That isn’t the first time I’ve almost been caught,” he said. It was a warning, to make sure I understood the risk. I nodded quickly. I still wasn’t sure if Lucian’s sigil worked on the doors Alexander had opened, and if sliced myself open each night I wanted to visit the archives, I’d be too exhausted to attend classes and keep up the ruse of being an ordinary student.
“I might consider a partnership,” he said, “With you. Assuming our goals align.”
My heart fluttered a little at the thought of sneaking around with Alexander at night. But I’d have to be careful not to get too close. He was a prince after all, and I was pretty sure Dorian wouldn’t want his schemes shared with the royal family. But before we could finish our conversation, class began.
“Let’s start, everyone!” Delacroix exclaimed. “Remember your form!”
Alexander moved into a fighting stance.
“I have no idea what I’m doing,” I said, “Just so you know.”
He stifled a laugh. “That’s quite apparent,” he said. “Let me help.”
I stood still as he adjusted my arms, lifting them slightly. It didn’t feel like a comfortable position. If Delacroix hadn’t walked by and given us a nod, I’d have assumed Alexander was trying to sabotage me. But warmth tingled through me with the slightest touch from his fingers. I caught myself staring at the way his lower lip rounded in concentration and the way his pale, blonde hair fell into his face, and a flush rose to my cheeks. Maybe he wouldn’t notice, even though his gaze was focused right on me.
“You’re very good at this,” I said.
Alexander stepped back a few steps and tipped his head slightly forward. “Remember that the rapier is a thrusting weapon,” Alexander said, “And give it a try.”
I took a deep breath and thrust, trying to remember everything Delacroix had said about poise and posture. Alexander parried easily. “Was that good?” I asked.
“Terrible,” he said, with a wry grin.
He’s so encouraging, isn’t he?
I frowned and thrust again. Another parry.
“You’re not putting much force behind it,” Alexander said.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” I lied.
Truthfully, I was just really bad at this.
“It’s a rapier,” Alexander said. “It isn’t as if you’re going to take my head off with it. At worst, I’ll need a couple of sigils. That’s assuming, of course, that you even land a blow.”
I tried thrusting again, but Alexander was just too fast. Then, he went onto the offensive. I struggled to parry and tried backing away, but he kept following. Alexander probably could’ve chased me all around the field if he wanted. His blade swept past mine and tapped against the side of my neck, just as I tripped over a rock and tumbled into the grass.
“Looks like you’re dead,” he said.
“This isn’t how I imagined dying, to be honest,” I said.
Alexander raised an eyebrow, smirking. “How did you imagine it?”
So many different ways. People in the Scraps didn’t live very long. If starvation or disease didn’t kill us young, gangs or monsters did. My uncle snapping and killing me in a fit of rage was always an option, too. But I couldn’t tell Alexander any of that.
“I don’t know,” I said, “Just not like this.”
Alexander hummed and lowered his blade.
“Switch partners!” Delacroix announced.
Switch? We had to find someone else?
Alexander held out his hand and pulled me to my feet. He remained close to me, his arm on my elbow. The sunlight caught his eyes, catching the flecks of green and blue.
“Good match,” he said.
He hadn’t dropped my hand. Instead, he lingered. His finger gently swept over the delicate underside of my wrist, caressing the skin above the sleeve of my shirt.
“Consider my offer,” he murmured, his breath hot against my neck. “I think we can probably help one another.”
We don’t need his help, Lucian said. Tell him to throw himself off the edge of the kingdom.
“I’ll consider it,” I said, speaking to Alexander rather than Lucian.
“Good,” Alexander said. “I’d make a good ally, Wynter.”
Potentially, Lucian muttered, sounding far from thrilled with the idea.
After he left, on to his next partner, I remained with my hand extended for just an instant. My skin tingled from where he’d touched me. I winced as Viviane stormed over, rapier in hand. But then, my eyes widened. This was the first time I’d seen her up close that day, and she looked awful. Her skin was very pale, noticeable even with her flushed face. Her breathing was hard; maybe her last opponent had given her a good fight.
“Let’s go!” Viviane said, skipping any greeting.
I moved into a fighting stance. She struck first. I parried successfully, but her blows were fierce. Vibrations traveled down my arms. I thrust, but Viviane stepped aside easily. We exchanged blows, none of them landing. Clearly, this wasn’t Viviane’s first lesson in swordplay. She was fast and precise, and I only barely managed to keep parrying. It was too bad we weren’t fighting with knives. I might have had the advantage, then. But swordsmanship was something else entirely.
And yet after a few minutes, Viviane seemed visibly strained. Her breaths came out alarmingly hard. I considered throwing the fight just so she’d stop.
I made a mistake, and Viviane swept in, bringing the blade of her rapier against my neck. She smiled in triumph, baring her teeth.
“Nice win,” I said, extending my hand.
Viviane scrunched up her face, and rather than shaking my hand, she raised hers and brushed a few strands of blonde hair from her eyes. For the first time, I noticed that she had a cut stretching across her bicep, just peeking out from beneath the sleeve of her dress. It was tiny, just an inch or so in length
. I wondered how it had happened. It was an odd place to get a scratch.
“Of course, I won,” Viviane huffed. “I’ve practiced swordplay since I was eight, and my father taught me everything he knows.”
I hesitated. “You don’t look so good,” I said. “Is everything alright?”
“Oh, like you care!” Viviane snapped.
“I do care,” I said carefully. “If you’re sick or—”
Viviane grabbed my arm and pulled me closer. Her green eyes, cat-like and dark, looked me over with a sort of frantic, uneasy energy. “Stay away from Alexander,” Viviane hissed. “I don’t know what he sees in you, but you are not ruining my chances with him.”
“I’m not trying to,” I said.
“Sure, you aren’t,” Viviane snapped.
Delacroix whistled sharply, and all the fights stopped. Viviane slowly dropped my arm and stormed back to Alexander’s side.
“Everyone did an excellent job today,” Delacroix said, her eyes lingering on me, “More or less.”
I winced.
“We’ll continue practicing next week, although I do recommend practicing outside of classes. Swordplay isn’t something that you magically succeed at. It’s something that takes a good deal of time, effort, and dedication, and it’s best that you practice at least every other day, preferably with a partner,” Delacroix said. “You aren’t going to be winning duels or mastering battle magic just by practicing once a week.”
I sheathed the rapier. Hopefully, I’d never have to master battle magic, though I wouldn’t turn down free fencing lessons before returning to the Scraps. I seriously doubted any of my classmates would offer to be my sparring partner. Maybe Alexander would consider making that part of our partnership.
Don’t be ridiculous, Lucian said. I’ll teach you.
“Really?” I asked, as I headed back to the Academy.
Of course. I’m a superior swordsman to Alexander anyway.
I arched an eyebrow, unsure if Lucian was serious or if this was some sort of masculine pride thing. But still, a sparring partner was a sparring partner. I had to maintain my cover until I found the journal, so I couldn’t afford to get kicked out of the Academy, which meant I needed to get good at something. I’d picked swords because it was physical, something I could understand, and manage—but today I’d learned it was much harder than I’d imagined, all control, not wild swinging. And sure, I could practice, but a few weeks’ worth of practice wouldn’t put me anywhere close to people like Viviane and Alexander, who’d practiced all their lives.
