I closed my eyes, but it was hard to relax. People were breathing, someone was going to the bathroom ... I had never shared a room with anyone, not since I was weaned. The near-complete darkness only made it worse. Anything - or anyone - could be lurking out there, coming towards me. It was easy to imagine Isabella sneaking towards me, warily watching for traps that weren't there ...
Somehow, I slept. I still don't know how.
Chapter Seven
When I awoke, I was still human.
I’d half-expected to wake up a frog or a toad - or worse. Turning someone into a slug or a snail was technically frowned upon - Alana had been grounded for a month after she’d done that to Bella - but Sandy hadn't punished Amber for doing it to Clarian. I really didn't like the implications of that, not at all. But no one had bothered to push back the drapes and hex me in my sleep. I was torn between relief and suspicion. What else did they have in mind?
“Wake up,” Sandy called. She’d woken me, I realised dully. “Anyone not down for breakfast will regret it.”
There was a loud bang as she walked through the door, leaving us alone. I sighed, thinking words I had never dared say out loud. Sandy had made it clear that she resented having to take care of us - and really, I didn't blame her. Isabella and I alone were a political nightmare, even without counting some of the other girls. I pushed the thought aside as I swung my legs off the bed and stood up. A glance at the clock told me that it was half past seven. We had an hour and a half until classes were due to begin.
I knew I should go to breakfast, that I would get in trouble for missing breakfast, but I didn't feel like eating. What would be the point? But Sandy would make me write lines if I didn't go ... I sighed out loud, then bent down to open the drawer under my bed. The moment I touched the wood, there was a brilliant flare of light. I tried to jump back, too late. My limbs locked up. I couldn't move a muscle. I was trapped in this embarrassing and helpless position.
Someone opened the drape, but I still couldn't move. “You were right,” Isabella’s voice said. I could hear her, right behind me. “She did fall for it.”
I would have cringed, if I could have moved. The trap spell she’d used, I was sure, was one of the easiest to cast ... and avoid, if one had the slightest sensitivity to magic. Alana or Bella would have sensed the spell a long time before they touched it. They certainly wouldn't have had any trouble removing it - or escaping, if they accidentally triggered the spell. Me? I was stuck until the spell wore off. And if Isabella had overpowered the cantrip, which was possible, I might wind up being late for class.
“She could free herself, in a second, if she wanted,” Isabella added, snidely. She was right. A simple cantrip, one every magician learned in her first lessons, would free me. But I couldn't cast it. “She’s trapped.”
“You can’t leave her there forever,” another voice said. I thought it was Ayesha McDonald, but I wasn't certain. Ayesha and her twin sounded very alike. “You’ll get the blame, even if she doesn't tattle.”
“The banshee will free her,” Isabella said, dispassionately. It took me a moment to realise she meant Sandy. I felt someone poking my back, sharply. I could do nothing, but burn with helpless rage. “She’ll have time to get dressed and snatch some toast before class.”
I heard her footsteps as she walked away, pulling the drapes closed behind her. Someone giggled ... were they laughing at me? I felt a surge of pure hatred, mixed with bitter helplessness as I heard the dorm emptying. If my rage had powered my magic, the entire school would have been reduced to rubble. But nothing happened. I just stood there, utterly unable to move.
Centre, I told myself. It was the most basic exercise, one taught to every child born to a magical family. Reach out and touch the magic.
I tried. I really tried. But nothing happened. The spell remained firmly in place, holding me utterly frozen. I couldn't help wondering if she’d turned me into stone, although my body still felt human. An odd calm fell over me as I waited. Dad had been wrong. Exposure to so much magic would not free power I didn't have. And it was only a matter of time until I was killed ...
The spell broke. I fell forward, barely managing to throw out an arm before I cracked my skull into the bedside. My entire body twitched violently ... I forced myself to stand, running through a series of exercises to get the blood flowing. Cramping up on my first day would be a miserable experience. My body ached as I opened the drawer and removed my clothes, then dressed hastily. It was eight-twenty and I really didn't want to be caught missing breakfast. I’d been frozen for far too long.
I heard the croaking as soon as I pushed the drapes aside. It was a plaintive sound, coming from the redhead’s bed. Her drapes lay open, just wide enough for someone to peer inside. I would have known something was wrong, even without the noise. All the other drapes were closed and probably booby-trapped. I slipped forward, wondering if I was about to be hexed again and peered through the drapes. A frog was sitting on the bed, croaking noisily. It’s big eyes - her big eyes, I realised dully - looked rather more hopeful when they saw me.
And yet, there was something wrong. She wasn't making any of the signs Dad had drilled into us when we’d started our lessons, the signs everyone knew to indicate that they were transformed humans, rather than real animals. I’d learned them religiously, just like everyone else in Shallot. The city has more magicians than anywhere else in Tintagel and a good third of them think that zapping passers-by into small animals is the height of humour. No one wants to be mistaken for a real animal and wind up in the stew pot. And yet, she wasn't making any of those signs.
I tried to remember her name, but I drew a blank.
“Sit still,” I said, knowing it wouldn't be easy. I’d been a frog often enough to know their bodies liked to jump around. “You’re ... you’re her, aren't you?”
The frog nodded. It was more of a bow, really, but I got the idea. And yet, I wasn't sure what I could do. I couldn't free her from the spell, any more than I could free myself. Why hadn’t she freed herself? Surely, any magical family worthy of the name would have taught its daughters basic cantrips. They certainly should have taught her how to draw attention to herself. One of the reasons turning someone into a snail is frowned upon is because it’s much harder to signal if you can barely move.
I sat down next to her, chancing the hexes she should have used to defend her bed. “I want you to focus,” I said. “Close your eyes and clear your mind.”
The frog closed her eyes. I hoped that she had managed to clear her mind, although being trapped in an animal body isn't conductive to meditation. But there wasn't any alternative, unless we waited for Sandy. Isabella was right about one thing, at least. I was no tattletale.
“Remember what it felt like to be human,” I said. The frog quivered. That too was odd. Had she never been transfigured before? “Concentrate on that feeling. Focus on it. Grip that feeling in your mind, then focus on it.”
Dad had said the same, back when we’d been trying to duplicate my escape from Great Aunt Stregheria’s spell. His words had mocked me. No matter how hard I tried, I had never managed to repeat it. But she should be able to escape, surely. She wouldn't be here if she didn't have magic ...
Why not? My thoughts mocked. You don’t have magic.
I told that part of me to shut up. “Focus,” I said. “Remember what it’s like to breathe, to walk, to reach out ...”
There was a brilliant flash of light. I leaned backwards as the redheaded girl appeared in front of me, her face pale and wan. She was sweating so badly that I couldn't help wondering if something had been wrong with the spell. Being caught by surprise and transfigured was embarrassing, sure, but hardly life-threatening. It wasn't as if she couldn't have broken the spell ...
... Except she hadn’t broken the spell until I’d helped her.
“Thank you,” she gasped. “I ... I thought I was stuck that way forever.”
“It wouldn't have lasted,” I assured her. I had no i
dea who’d cast the spell, but it really wouldn't have remained in place indefinitely. “Spells like that tend to wear off very quickly.”
The girl looked at me. “I didn't know ... it was my first time ...”
I blinked. “Really?”
“Yes,” the girl said.
I didn't believe her. Alana had turned Bella and me into dolls when all three of us had been eight. Dad had been both proud and furious. Since then, I’d been all sorts of objects and animals, both so I could learn how to cope with a transfigured body and to try to unlock my magic. I didn't know a single magical child from the Great Houses who hadn't been transfigured, repeatedly. It was part of our training.
And then it struck me. “You’re common-born?”
“Yes,” the girl said. “I’m Rose of Erehwon.”
Her eyes looked fearful. “Is that a problem?”
I stared back at her. Rose of Erehwon ... she didn't have a family name, of course. She wasn't just a commoner, she was a peasant. Her family would have been peasants ever since the empire vanished and the kingdom rose in its place. They’d know a few spells, of course, but a real talent for magic ...? Rose had been incredibly lucky that someone had noticed she did have a talent, that she could work magic on a far greater level than the rest of her family ...
... With the proper training, of course.
My hands clenched into fists. I felt my nails digging into my bare skin. Rose was a commoner, from a low-magic background ... and yet the fates had seen fit to give her the gift they’d denied me. No one would have noticed if she’d lacked magic, no one would have cared ... she would have grown up in the countryside, married someone from the next village and had children, her life utterly unremarkable ... while I, child of magic, was doomed to be a cripple. The entire city would laugh when the rumours finally grew too powerful to be ignored. My father would lose his post, my mother’s papers would be ignored, Alana and Bella would have trouble finding husbands ...
... And Rose, sitting next to me, could just reach out and claim my birthright.
I felt a surge of sheer jealously, so powerful that it almost consumed me. I wanted to hit her, I wanted to hurt her ... how dare she? And yet, I knew it wasn't her fault. She hadn't stolen my power, had she? My thoughts were a bitter muddle. I wanted to throw back my head and scream, cursing the fates with every last word I knew, but wasn't allowed to say. Rose, a girl so ignorant she didn't even know how to signal for help, was my superior. She had power she didn't even know how to use.
Rose reached out. I flinched back automatically, half-expecting a hex. She’d take it out on me, of course. She had the power, while I had none. Of course she would. Magicians, trained magicians, have always believed themselves to be superior, even though it’s more a matter of raw determination and training rather than innate ability. She could relieve her feelings by turning me into a toad or freezing me or compelling me or ...
I stood, turned my back and stalked away. She called out to me, but I didn't hear a word. I was just too angry to care what she said or what she did. My dad would be delighted to meet her, I was sure. Common-born mages made the best apprentices because they had no other ties to the Great Families or Magus Court. Rose, born in a pigsty, had a brighter future than me. The surge of bitter jealously was almost overpowering. Mum had told us, more than once, that anger and hatred led to dark magic and utter madness. Alana had asked her if we weren't already black magicians and wound up cleaning the kitchens by herself, with a toothbrush ...
“Well,” a quiet voice said. “Whatever is the matter?”
I looked up. A pair of older girls, both sixth-years, were standing in front of me. One of them was eying me with barely-restrained contempt, while the other seemed more amused at my plight. I forced myself to calm down, despite the powerful urge to shout and scream at them.
“I asked you a question,” the first girl snapped. She held out a hand. “Punishment book!”
I stared mutinously at her. My first day was shaping into an utter disaster ... and I hadn't even had my first class! Sandy had said she - and the other upperclassmen - could sentence us to write lines ... would they expel me if I refused to do them? Or if I tried to run ... I dismissed the thought a second later. They’d just freeze me in place, then hand me over to one of the teachers. Or Sandy. I wasn't sure who I feared more.
The second girl placed a hand on her arm. “She’s a firstie,” she said, gently. “And it’s the first day of school.”
“Hah,” the first girl said.
But she stalked past me without saying another word. The second girl shot me a wink, then hurried past me too. I scowled as I hurried down to the dining hall, feeling my stomach finally start to rumble. If I was lucky, I’d be able to eat something before I had to go to my first class. I really wasn't looking forward to it.
Isabella shot me a nasty look, mixed with surprise, as I stepped into the dining room and made a beeline towards the food. The cooks had piled up plates with everything from fruit and toast to egg, bacon, sausage and tomato. I winked at her - Sandy was still sitting with the other upperclassmen, so it was clear she hadn't freed me - and filled my plate. Mum would probably not have approved of just how much egg and bacon I’d loaded onto my plate, but I was hungry. And I needed the food to think.
Rose entered a moment later, looking downcast. I tried to ignore her - and the guilt gnawing at my heart. It wasn't her fault she had power and talent and I had none. But I didn't want to sit with her or anyone. I just wanted to be alone.
As I ate, I unfolded my timetable and read it again, more carefully. Charms - practical and theoretical. I might be able to do well on theory, but I didn't have a hope of actually making a charm work. And then Protective and Defensive Magic, after lunch. I doubted I’d do well at that either. The only prospect for some relief was Magical Growth, a course that hadn't been covered by my parents. I rather suspected it was intended to help bring out my magic.
A hand fell on my shoulder. I jumped.
“I hear you had some trouble this morning,” Alana whispered, as I turned. She looked far too bright and cheerful for someone who’d woken up at a truly uncivilised hour. “Who helped you to get out of it?”
“No one,” I said.
Alana beamed. Someone who didn't know her very well would have missed the malice behind the smile. “I told everyone you were a great magician,” she said. “Thank you for proving me right.”
I stared at her in stark disbelief. She’d found a way to circumvent the binding, all right - and in a manner I’d never expected. She hadn't told her dorm mates that I couldn't do magic, she’d told them I was great at magic! Of course someone had told Isabella. Chances were there was someone friendly to House Rubén in Cat Dorm. And then Isabella - of course - had decided to test me. Maybe she’d been surprised when I’d freed myself, but it hardly proved great magic. Anyone with a tiny spark could escape that spell.
“You utter ...”
I ran out of words. There was literally nothing in my vocabulary that suited Alana, not at that moment. Even the words I’d learnt from apprentices who’d splashed molten liquid on themselves didn't seem to fit. Alana ... had set me up for utter disaster. It wouldn't take long for Isabella to realise that I wasn't a great magician at all.
Alana winked at me. “Well put,” she said. She held up a timetable. I barely had a chance to glance at it before she yanked it away and refolded it. “And it seems we’re sharing two classes today. Embarrass me and you’ll regret it.”
She skipped away, whistling. I gave her the finger, then turned back to my breakfast. It was cold, but I found it hard to care. All of a sudden, I didn't feel like eating. I cursed her under my breath as I tossed the remainder into the bin, then headed to the door. There were just over ten minutes before I had to be in class.
Rose waved to me as I passed, but I pretended not to see. I just couldn't bear the thought of talking to her, not any longer.
It wasn't her. It was me.
C
hapter Eight
The doors to the classroom were locked and warded when we arrived, so we formed an orderly queue and waited. I was glad to lean against the wall as Isabella and Alana glared at each other, neither one seemingly willing to cast the first spell. Given how both of them had formed a posse of other students, getting into a fight and losing would be disastrous. It was far too early for their reputations to survive taking a beating. The boys seemed to be organising themselves too, although it seemed a little more physical. There was much pushing and shoving, which quieted remarkably quickly as the magisters walked up and opened the door.
“Take a seat,” one ordered. “And be quiet.”
The other strode past him into the classroom. I followed the rest of the students, looking around with interest. The walls were lined with geometric charts and equation tables, each one referring to a different branch of magic. I knew some of them from Dad’s lessons, but others were new. Deciphering the easier ones would take weeks, I suspected. I took a seat near the front of the class and waited. Rose sat next to me a moment later, her face pale. I did my best to ignore her.
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