Voice of Dominion (The Spoken Mage Book 3)

by Melanie Cellier

  “Remember, Elena.”

  I looked up sharply, but he said nothing more, merely giving me a significant look. I lowered my eyes, embarrassment mingling with my exhaustion. We might be in a new environment, but that didn’t excuse my forgetting his warning. Here on the front lines of a war, I had more need than ever to guard my energy levels.

  It was almost as if he had foreseen this eventuality, and he had already told me what I must do. Even if it meant deceiving Captain Matthis or the general about my true exhaustion levels, I couldn’t allow myself to be driven to collapse again.

  Over breakfast the next morning, Finnian confirmed my fear that my testing wasn’t over.

  “The general has realized your main limitation.” He shook his head at me. “Almost your only limitation, in truth. Energy. Your strength and control are remarkable, but you cannot store your compositions, so you will always be limited by your energy levels. He’s testing them. And perhaps trying to train them. To work out a way around them, if he can.”

  I imagined for a moment the freedom of being able to access unlimited energy. And then I imagined the feel of a million hearts ceasing to beat at once, and the dream burst into flames. No one should have access to that sort of power, and certainly not the general.

  The following weeks proved that he certainly intended to try, however. Captains Carson and Matthis were my most common instructors, but others came and went. Some had me try different techniques to increase my efficiency, minimizing the power I used to achieve various compositions. More often they simply drove me to the point of exhaustion.

  At least they never questioned my eventual collapse, and after that first day I carefully hoarded my power, collapsing before I truly needed to. I would let them push me so far, but no farther. The exercises were always tiring enough even so, and it was easy to drag my feet and drop my head as I shuffled off to the midday meal.

  On one occasion Matthis led me a short way out of camp and instead of throwing rocks at me, had me throw rocks at a number of small trees until the stones smashed their way through the trunks and sent the trees hurtling to the ground. There was something cathartic about the exercise, and I threw more of myself into it than I should have. True exhaustion made it hard to walk as we made our way back.

  I didn’t have to worry about a repeat, however. Lorcan met us at the edge of camp, his expression dark.

  “I’ve spoken to Griffith,” he said, not bothering with a greeting. “You stay inside the camp in the future.”

  Matthis’s eyes narrowed, but he nodded a begrudging acquiescence. The next day we were back in the training yard, but he had a particularly nasty concoction of compositions for me. He had apparently decided that I was to be tested with each of the elements, in case one came more easily to me than another. And day one consisted of my producing waterfalls from the air to douse the balls of flame he threw at me.

  It was hard to be precise with the amount of water I needed, and the unfamiliar exercise threw me off stride enough that I failed to properly monitor my energy. When a final torrent of liquid doused a steady stream of fire, I collapsed for real and didn’t get back up.

  “Endurance training,” said Finnian grimly, as he carried me to my tent. “They’re just going to keep trying anything they can think of. If they can’t increase your energy levels, they can at least increase the amount of strength you can access. And the worst of it is you’re already improving, Elena.”

  I sighed and rested my head against his chest, too tired to hold it up. He exchanged a look over my head with someone I couldn’t see, his hands tightening around me, but he said nothing.

  When we turned the next corner, my line of sight changed, and I saw Lucas watching us, both hands balled into fists. For a moment our eyes locked, and then a tent came between us.

  He hadn’t said more than two words to me since the general’s comment.

  You seem to have a great deal of interest in her.

  I slept poorly as the weather grew colder, and Coralie even fetched me an extra blanket from the supply tent. But I could tell from the look in her eyes when she handed it to me that she didn’t really expect it to help. She just didn’t know what else to do.

  It wasn’t the cold disrupting my sleep, it was the nightmares. I knew I woke in the night gasping, sweating, and yelling. But not one of the girls in my tent commented or complained about my noise. Most of them had been at the ambush in the gully. Maybe some of them had nightmares of their own.

  Between the nightmares and the general’s training, my friends seemed to have reached an agreement that I needed cheering up. I always had at least one of them with me, and at mealtimes our table rang with laughter.

  Leila joined us sometimes, her bright chatter having returned. But sometimes, when others were talking, she would fall silent for a moment, and I would see it in her eyes. Some things you never forgot. Some things you never fully recovered from. You just learned to live with them, to push them to the back of your mind. The epidemic had been like that, but at least then I had not been directly responsible for any of the deaths.

  I carried the feel of death with me now, and it ate away at me. With each day that passed, I knew that I couldn’t turn my back on the war and go back to living as if it wasn’t happening. But neither could I repeat my performance in the gully. I felt myself caught in the middle, compelled to act, but repulsed by the thought of it at the same time.

  And yet every time I looked at Leila, or thought of the missing Jason, I wondered what they could have achieved for Ardann if their lives hadn’t needed to be squandered here. Could this be the change I needed to make to help the commonborn after all?

  “You know Midwinter is in two days, right?” Coralie asked me as we walked to breakfast one morning.

  I frowned. “Is it? I lose track of the days here.”

  “The general always hosts a party at one of the headquarter buildings in the town, apparently,” said Coralie.

  I raised both eyebrows. “And we’re invited? That surprises me. Surely that will be Natalya’s affair.”

  “Maybe it’s her way of saying thank you? For the gully?” Coralie glanced at me sideways. “She invited the whole year during composition yesterday afternoon. I think you must have dozed off mid class.”

  I groaned. “I go straight to bed after the evening meal. Some days I’m sure I do nothing but sleep. I cannot be blamed for my constant state of exhaustion. Natalya probably picked her moment on purpose. Maybe she doesn’t want my commonborn self polluting her event.”

  “Actually she specifically mentioned to me to make sure you’d heard the invitation.”

  I snorted. “Of course she did, since she couldn’t possibly repeat the invitation to me herself. It’s not as if we sleep in the same tent, eat our meals in the same place, have the occasional class—”

  “Well, I guess she’s not that thankful,” said Coralie, glancing at me again before we burst into giggles.

  “It’s nice to see you both so cheerful this morning,” said Finnian from the entrance to the mess tent. He grinned at us both, but I noticed his eyes lingered on Coralie.

  “We were just discussing this Midwinter party we’re all invited to,” I said.

  “Ah,” he said, assuming a knowing tone. “Nothing like a party to get the girls giggling.”

  “Well, actually it was Natalya…never mind.” I rolled my eyes and pushed past him, my nose twitching at the smell and my stomach grumbling. Captain Matthis had pushed me particularly hard the day before, and I had slept through dinner.

  “You know,” I said, as we sat down, my mouth already full of roll, “I thought the food here would be worse. But it’s actually quite nice. Except for the porridge. Or is it just that I’m always hungry?”

  “It all depends on who’s posted to the kitchens,” said Leila with an air of experienced wisdom. She slid in beside me on the bench seat. “But it’s true we’re kept well supplied with food stuffs.”

  “Least the rest of t
he kingdom can do, if you ask me,” said Tobias.

  “Ignore him,” said Leila. “He was on night patrol.”

  I didn’t like Tobias, but I still winced. It had rained for more than half the night.

  “So are you going to those fancy festivities up at headquarters?” asked Leila. “It’s almost a pity because us regular soldiers throw a little celebration of our own down here.” She winked at me.

  “Some poor souls will be on patrol, of course.” She grinned. “But not me, thank goodness. We hear about Midwinter and Midsummer at the front all the way back at the training barracks. Nothing like certain danger to put everyone in the mood to kick up a storm.”

  One of Leila’s friends whose name I could never recall joined in.

  “They have giant bonfires scattered around, and any soldier who can play an instrument brings it out so there’s playing and dancing everywhere. No one eats in the mess, of course, so the whole tent is set up with a full feast and plates we can take back to the bonfires.”

  “Probably not as much fun as your event, though,” said Leila quickly. “I used to dream about attending a ball when I was little.”

  “Actually, I much prefer the sound of your celebrations,” I said. “It doesn’t matter how nicely everyone is dressed if they don’t really want you there.”

  Leila stared at me. “Not want you?” She shook her head and laughed. “You’re joking, of course. You’re the Spoken Mage. I’m sure everyone wants you at their parties.”

  I glanced sideways at Coralie who just shrugged. I didn’t quite know how to explain the reality of my situation to Leila.

  The soldiers had taken to coming past my training sessions, hanging around to watch until the officers moved them along. Everywhere I walked now, soldiers stepped aside for me, nodding their heads and murmuring, “Spoken Mage,” respectfully.

  And then to each other, after I had passed:

  “Have you seen her training? I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  “I heard she took out a hundred soldiers in that gully. With one composition.”

  “And five mages, don’t forget them.”

  And then the worst of all:

  “Just you wait until she graduates. We’re finally going to see an end to this war. Show those Kallorwegians what we’re made of.”

  Followed by the wet slap of their spit hitting the ground as everyone present gave the traditional commonborn Ardannian response to the mention of our enemies.

  It would be impossible to explain to these soldiers how the mageborn saw me. An oddity. An opportunity. A threat. And—worst of all—a commonborn.

  No, they didn’t fall over themselves to host me at their parties. And yet, an inner voice said, Natalya of all people just invited you to hers.

  Chapter 16

  I certainly hadn’t packed any ballgowns, and I couldn’t imagine my year mates had done so either. But my assumption that the day would proceed much like any other and the ball would be a simple affair where we would wear our robes was shattered when Coralie pounced on me Midwinter morning.

  “Finnian says you’re not to touch your presents until we’re all together. He says he’ll be desolate if we leave him to open gifts with no better company than Calix and Weston.” She rolled her eyes.

  “He has Clarence,” I muttered, pulling my pillow over my head.

  “Elena! It’s Midwinter. Get up!”

  Grumbling, still half asleep, I hauled myself out of bed. The sight of the small pile of presents Coralie had dumped on my bed quickly woke me, however.

  “Those aren’t for me, are they?” I asked.

  “Yes, of course they are.”

  “Oh no. No, no, no.”

  “Elena! They’re presents not poisonous snakes. What is wrong with you?”

  I grimaced and ran a hand through my hair. “You know I didn’t get anything for anyone, right? I’ve been too tired to think at all. I didn’t even realize it was Midwinter until two days ago.” I didn’t mention that unlike my mageborn friends I also had no money with which to purchase gifts. Usually I relied on having the time and opportunity to make something.

  “Relax.” Coralie laughed. “Your friends will still love you with or without a present. Although I’m disappointed you didn’t compose one for me.”

  “Very funny.” I shot her an unimpressed morning face glare, and she started laughing again.

  Coralie knew that any physical item composed from nothing would last only as long as power continued to pour into it. But she thought it hilarious to tease me about how under the general’s tutelage, I would soon be enjoying limitless power.

  The day was crisp but clear, so we all took our breakfast out to a small patch of grass that had somehow survived between the two trainee tents and opened our gifts there.

  Coralie repeated her joke, and they all had an excellent time laughing at me and making more and more extravagant requests as to what they would each like for their gift. I responded by throwing lumps of grass at them and muttering darkly that I no longer felt sorry for not getting them a gift.

  “The only thing I feel sorry about is that I ever got any of you a gift in past years,” I said. But in truth, I didn’t mind. I knew they were only trying to make me feel at ease in an otherwise awkward situation.

  I couldn’t joke when I opened Finnian’s present, though.

  “Finnian!” I breathed, my mouth falling open.

  He shrugged, a falsely modest expression on his face. “It was nothing.”

  “Whatever this is, it’s not nothing,” I replied.

  He grinned. “Well, you know me. I can’t stand to be outdone. And all this talk of the Spoken Mage…I had to remind myself I have a few things to offer too. You know, other than my charm and rugged manliness.” He winked at me.

  I shook my head and glanced over at Coralie.

  She had also just opened her present from Finnian, and the contents seemed to have robbed her of words.

  “Wow! Coralie, that’s…” She looked up at me. “Perfect for you,” I finished while she nodded in silent agreement.

  I glanced over at Finnian who was now accepting thanks from Saffron and Araminta without even the pretense of modesty. He had outdone himself, somehow procuring four beautiful ballgowns. But Coralie’s gown…

  It wasn’t so much that it was more expensive than any of the others. Or even more beautiful. It was just so exactly fitted to her. Her face, her figure, even her style. I had never seen a material that matched the shade of her eyes so perfectly.

  But it was more than that, too. The soft layers evoked a sweetness that reflected her essence as much as it did her looks, but when she turned it over—holding it up to show me the other side—I saw that it plunged into a daring v, coming to a point only at the small of her back. For all its soft sweetness, the dress had a daring edge to it.

  It had never quite struck me before, but Coralie did have the hint of the rebel around her. Of all my year mates, she had been the only one to approach me when I arrived at the Academy. The only one not to care what anyone else thought.

  I couldn’t help but think that Finnian might have tipped his hand more than he realized. Or perhaps, he had revealed exactly what he wanted to reveal.

  The same thought gripped me when I saw Coralie in the floating tulle that evening. It shimmered when she moved, changing color in the flash of firelight. Not that I envied her the dress—my own surpassed anything I could have imagined wearing in the circumstances.

  The red dress fitted tightly in the bodice, with the softest, fullest skirt I had ever worn and long sleeves tapering into points over my wrists. The wide dip of the neckline showed off the smooth skin of my neck and collarbones. I’d been self-conscious about having no jewelry to wear until Coralie produced a small mirror from somewhere. As I gazed at my reflection, I realized that the simplicity only enhanced the effect. Something stirred inside me.

  I had caught Finnian alone for a moment as we all dispersed after the gift exchange.<
br />
  “Really, Finnian? Red?” The color of blood, the color of royalty.

  He had looked down at me, something more serious than his usual joking manner lurking in his eyes. “You’re the Spoken Mage, Elena. It’s time to be bold.”

  And standing here in the middle of a battle camp, looking at myself in a striking, blood-red gown, I felt bold. It hadn’t been by chance that red had been chosen as a royal color. And it wasn’t by chance I wore it now. Some battles weren’t fought with compositions, and in the world of politics, some weapons were more powerful than words.

  So, no, I didn’t envy Coralie her gown. But a small, foolish part of me envied her something else. I had received no Midwinter gift from Lucas. I always felt him near me these days, and yet so much distance separated us. An impossible distance of watching eyes, expectation, history, family, and differing views.

  You seem to have a great deal of interest in her.

  My family has a great deal of interest in the Spoken Mage, General.

  If only I could untangle the horrible knot of his family’s interests and his own feelings for me. Because the longer I spent among these soldiers the more my certainty grew that I could not turn my back on them. Not on the hope and expectation that I saw in their eyes, nor the quiet grief I saw in Leila’s.

  You’ll see that I’m right, Elena, Lucas had promised. And now that we were here, part of me did.

  But the other part woke up screaming and sweating at the feeling of thirty-nine hearts ceasing to beat. I could not be General Griffith’s weapon, and I could not be Lucas’s either. No matter how much our kingdom needed one.

  No fancy carriages carried us through the tents to the town, but I enjoyed the walk and the glimpse of the soldiers’ celebration that it afforded us. Already the bonfires had been lit, and the first of the musicians had begun.