Crown of Secrets (The Hidden Mage Book 1)

by Melanie Cellier

  Wardell just laughed. “Would you rather go accidentally bumbling into Old Francis’s lair, Ashlyn? At least I don’t skin people alive.”

  The girl, Ashlyn apparently, rolled her eyes and turned to whisper to another girl beside her.

  “Ignore him,” Bryony told me, pulling me further down the table to a stretch of empty seating. “The duke may be stiff and rather rigid in his ways, but he has a reputation for being fair.” She gave me a significant look. “And neutral. Father would never have sent me here otherwise. He says he sacrificed enough years of his life to the machinations of the court, and he has no interest in our family getting involved now.”

  “What are you doing here?” I asked. “I thought you were all still living in the Empire. No one said anything about you being here.”

  She grinned at me, bouncing in her seat. “It all happened quite at the last minute. Mother and Father had mentioned the idea a few times, in their usual vague way, and I thought it sounded interesting, but then the news finally filtered through to us that you were going to be here. As soon as I heard that, I insisted they send me, although there was barely time left for us to scramble down here before the start of the year. It’s a good thing they’re so desperate for energy mages that they were happy to accept me no matter how late I enrolled.”

  “I couldn’t be more glad to see you,” I said. “Truly.”

  “Mother and Father both brought me, and Father delighted in showing me all around the grounds, but they’ve already left. They were disappointed to miss you, though.”

  “I would have loved to see them,” I said. “But I’m more than content to find even one familiar face.”

  There was no blood connection between Bryony and me, but strange twinings of unusual power connected her father, Declan, and my mother, and the two had always claimed a kinship. Although she had never lived at the Ardannian court, Bryony and I had been raised to regard each other as cousins, and it was impossible not to love the irrepressible Sekali girl.

  Bryony’s father, Declan, was an energy mage. He had once been the only energy mage in the kingdoms, his existence a closely held secret, and even now few knew of his true status. When it had been revealed that my mother could use her power to access the energy of others, it had rocked the world of the mages. But it had been nothing to the rediscovery of energy mages.

  Power mages—the only kind of mage our people had known existed for generations—could shape power to complete almost any task. But they could not use it to affect energy—not their own, nor that of others. It was their greatest limitation. They could not store up their own energy for later use nor pool energy to fuel more complex compositions. And a person whose energy was utterly depleted could not be healed.

  But it turned out that many generations ago, power mages had lived alongside energy mages. This second type of mage also passed down their abilities through their bloodlines, and they claimed they had once held almost equal status with power mages. But while the cause of the change was lost to history, something had turned the power mages against them. They had banished their energy mage cousins, driving them into exile in the inhospitable Grayback Mountains.

  Energy mages were like me—their access to power naturally sealed at birth—but unlike me, their energy was more than just fuel. They could write compositions that made direct use of it. The feats such compositions could perform were severely limited compared to the use of power, able only to complete tasks directly related to energy. And, on top of that, each energy mage had limited abilities, determined by their bloodline. But thankfully the most common ability was also the one most valued by power mages—the crucial capacity to give energy to others.

  This one ability was most likely the reason they had been welcomed back down from the mountains when their existence was rediscovered. One such energy mage could allow a power mage to complete a composition twice as powerful as any that could be done in the past. It was a valuable ability and had won their whole people a place among the mages.

  “I wasn’t aware you know our resident energy mage,” Dellion said from behind me.

  I turned, having forgotten all about her in my excitement at seeing Bryony. She was watching the two of us with an expression I couldn’t read.

  “We’re family,” I said. “In a way. But I didn’t realize she was going to be here.”

  “What a delightful surprise,” Dellion drawled. “It looks like you won’t have need of me, then.”

  She strolled away without waiting for any sort of acknowledgment, heading toward the obnoxious boy, Wardell, and his table companion.

  “I hope you know your way around better than me,” I said to Bryony. “Because I think I just lost my guide.”

  Bryony just laughed. “Good riddance, I say. Us foreigners can stick together.”

  I smiled back at her, but inside I felt less sanguine. Bryony had been welcomed as a foreigner because of her great value. I had been accepted because there was no politically acceptable way to refuse me. So far Dellion and Royce had combined to show me that the Kallorwegians didn’t view me as an appealing addition to their year. And if my initial impressions were true, and they followed the political leanings of their parents, their attitudes didn’t bode well for Kallorway’s current or future interest in securing a closer relationship with Ardann.

  I suppressed a sigh and reminded myself I had four years to work on them. For now I was just going to be grateful that Bryony was here. Thanks to my mother, the energy mages at least viewed me as a welcome connection, if not truly one of them.

  My mother wasn’t a true energy mage—she accessed energy through the use of power, not directly, the way an energy mage did—but her history was bound up with them. And while I might be a disappointment in terms of my ability, I had at least proven the unpredictability of my mother’s bloodline, so no one was surprised to discover my younger brother, Stellan, was an energy mage despite our older brother being a power mage. I knew for a while my parents had hoped I might still turn out to be like him, but I had proven as unable to make direct use of my energy as I was unable to access power.

  My siblings and I were all utterly unique. Lucien was a power mage, but one able to use both written and spoken compositions. I was an oddity, a born sealed mage, utterly useless. And Stellan was a spoken energy mage, as exceptional in his own way as my mother—and as unable to safely write as she was.

  Stellan had a soft heart and would sometimes try to comfort me by reminding me that there was one thing, at least, I could do that he could not. The thought had never brought me much comfort, though. I would gladly give up my ability to write if I could live up to the vast expectation that my birth had shattered.

  Servants quietly served a steaming hot meal, and both Bryony and I ate hungrily, fitting in our questions for each other around full mouthfuls.

  “Are you the only energy mage in our year?” I asked. “I didn’t expect there to be any.”

  She shook her head, pointing down the table to where a boy sat alone, his attention on his plate. I had never seen anyone so pale-skinned—even his hair was so pale blond it looked almost white. He made a stark contrast with Bryony’s warm, golden skin and dark coloring, but she smiled at him fondly as if he were kin.

  “That’s Tyron. He’s an energy mage as well.”

  He must have sensed our gazes, because he looked up and smiled, revealing green eyes, startling in their intensity and depth given his overall lack of coloring.

  “Are you related?” I asked. “I don’t remember you ever mentioning him.”

  “Oh, no, I only just met him when I arrived here,” she said with unabated cheerfulness. “He’s from the far east of the Empire.”

  When they were rediscovered and welcomed back, the energy mages had chosen to settle throughout the Sekali Empire. Over my lifetime, however, a few had gradually found their way south and settled at the Ardannian court in Corrin. They were drawn, I suspected, by the unique energy abilities of my mother and younger bro
ther.

  I didn’t think many had made it to Kallorway, however, so I wasn’t surprised to hear the only energy mages in our year came from the Empire. Bryony’s father, however, had been born Kallorwegian and lived here for much of his life, although his abilities had remained secret, and even he had not known of the existence of energy mages. He had believed his family to be the only ones to possess their unique type of ability, and he was the last of his family’s line.

  According to my mother, he had rejoiced when she brought him the startling news of a full tribe of energy mages in the mountains—the Tarxi, as they called themselves then. As soon as he heard they were settled in the Empire, he had eagerly traveled north to meet his long-lost brethren.

  Welcomed as one of them by the first few he met, he had fallen in love with a Tarxi and started a family in his later years. His ability remained a secret from most, however—too powerful to be safely revealed after he discovered he truly was unique. Which meant few knew that Bryony had inherited it. Thankfully she didn’t need to reveal her father’s status to claim a place at a mage’s Academy.

  Her mother’s more common energy mage blood was enough to ensure her a place in any mage training facility. But it must be her connection with her father that had brought her here to Kallorway. Her mother was Sekali in ancient heritage as well as current residence—the source of Bryony’s black hair and golden skin—but her Kallorwegian father had spent many years of his life as a groundskeeper of sorts here at the Academy. I didn’t know why it had never occurred to me that he might wish to send one or more of his children here to experience this piece of his history.

  “What’s Tyron’s ability?” I asked, watching him curiously out of the side of my eye.

  Despite my family’s strange status, I hadn’t met a great many energy mages. They were too few in number and too far-flung in residence.

  “He can give energy.” She winked at me. “Like me.”

  I gave her a small smile, neither of us acknowledging aloud that her abilities were a little more unique than that. She had inherited from both her mother and her father, something that should have been impossible. But perhaps it was another facet of her father’s unique lineage.

  Another bell sounded, followed immediately by the scraping of many chair legs and the increased sound of voices.

  “Now would be a good time for that missing guide.” I looked around, hoping Dellion might reappear.

  I spotted her as she left the dining hall in company with Jareth and sighed. Clearly she had washed her hands of her responsibility toward me.

  Bryony stood, looking unperturbed. “We start the morning with combat classes outside, so I can get us there, at least. It’s inside where I still get turned around.”

  We hurried after the flow of white robes, all moving out into the entranceway and down the steps into the Academy grounds. Despite our two kingdoms no longer being at war, I knew combat classes were also still part of training at the Ardannian Academy. Lucien loved them and often reported back on his various bouts. But my parents claimed the classes were reduced in scope from what they had been in their day, when every mage was required to spend two years at the front lines directly after graduation. I supposed the same was likely true here in Kallorway.

  Large squares of dirt next to the Academy gardens had been sectioned off into training yards, delineated from the rest of the grounds by short fences that were easily stepped over. Several of them were filled with white robes, but I recognized enough of the first year faces now that it was easy to pick out the one assigned to us.

  A dour-faced man waited for us, his face vaguely familiar from my arrival the day before. He introduced himself as Instructor Mitchell, addressing his comments to the whole group. He didn’t ask for any of our names, although he did bow twice, once toward where Darius and Jareth stood together and once toward me.

  “We will begin with basic exercises to assess your differing capabilities,” he said. “If you didn’t bring a weapon with you to class, you may collect one from over there.” He pointed to where a row of swords lay on a length of leather near one of the fences.

  I frowned. It hadn’t occurred to me to bring a sword to class on the first day. In Ardann basic exercises meant hand-to-hand sparring that then graduated up to wooden poles and only to bladed weapons once everyone was at a sufficient standard. Apparently in Kallorway, trainees were expected to arrive already experienced in swordplay.

  Royce saw my expression and smirked at me, exaggerating his movements as he drew the elegant weapon at his hip. I turned my back on him and hurried over to the laid-out swords. I grimaced when I got a good look at them. They were serviceable but not of high quality.

  Glancing over my shoulder, I saw that all the Kallorwegians bar one had come with their own weapons. I should have noticed they all had sword belts buckled over their robes.

  Bryony and Tyron had both joined me, however, along with a short boy with brown skin and a focused expression. Wardell, the boy who had so disgusted Ashlyn at breakfast, murmured what sounded like an encouragement to the other boy as he moved toward the fence. From their features, they looked as if they could be related, although everything in this boy’s manner suggested he was as serious as Wardell seemed flippant.

  “You didn’t bring a sword either?” Bryony asked him brightly, earning a startled expression. “Never mind. I’m Bryony, by the way.”

  The boy looked cautiously from her to me before answering. “I’m Armand.”

  “Are you related to Wardell?” Bryony asked, apparently having noticed the same similarities as I had.

  The boy hesitated again before nodding. “We’re cousins.”

  He snatched a weapon from the ground, rushing back to the others before anyone could make any further attempts to engage him in conversation.

  “A friendly lot, these Kallorwegians,” Tyron said with a wry grin. He bowed in my direction. “I’m Tyron, Your Highness. I imagine Bryony has already told you about me. She’s friendly enough to make up for all the rest of them.”

  Bryony grinned unrepentantly while I chuckled.

  “That’s always been her way. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Tyron of the Sekali.”

  “And you, Princess.” He leaned over and chose his weapon, taking more care in his selection than Armand had done.

  I wished I had arrived a few days early as it seemed most of my year had done. It would have been helpful to get the chance to explore the Academy and get to know my year mates before classes started. But commitments had kept me in Corrin until the last possible moment, and I hadn’t wanted to press for an earlier departure when I knew how reluctant my parents were to see me go so far away.

  I forced myself to turn my focus to the weapon options available, choosing the one that looked best balanced. It didn’t fit my hand particularly well and was a little longer than I would have preferred, but it would do well enough for a training day.

  Instructor Mitchell called for us to pair up, and I hadn’t even had the chance to move when Royce appeared in front of me. He gave a mocking bow.

  “Would you do me the honor, Your Highness?”

  Chapter 7

  I had intended to partner with Bryony, but I could see both Darius and Jareth watching me, the younger prince’s expression openly curious, while his older brother remained guarded. I sighed. I might as well get this over with sooner rather than later.

  “Certainly,” I replied, keeping my voice light.

  “You may free bout while I move among you and assess your capabilities,” Instructor Mitchell said. “But I would remind you that this is merely a training exercise. We don’t need any injuries on our first day.”

  He sounded bored by the whole process, and I suppressed an urge to shake him. He showed none of the care an instructor should have for a group of new trainees of unknown and differing skill levels.

  I only had time for a single concerned look at Bryony, however, before swinging my sword into guard position.

/>   As soon as my blade was up, Royce called a start to the bout and went on the attack. I skipped back, neatly parrying his lunge while leaving him room to attack again.

  My lack of counterattack invigorated him, and he pushed forward even harder. I let him attack and then attack again. He ignored the instructor’s direction to moderate himself, weighting his attacks with full force, and striking for vulnerable points.

  His forward momentum drove me halfway across the yard until my back was nearly at the fence. Once I was confident I had his measure, however, I lunged forward in a swift strike.

  Buoyed by his earlier assumptions and my initial passive response, Royce was entirely unprepared for my move. My blade danced along his, twisting his weapon neatly aside. As soon as the tip of my sword hit his neck, I paused, not so much as scratching him, my control perfect.

  “Yield?” I asked, not even out of breath.

  His eyes bulged, but he gasped out, “Yield,” and I lowered my weapon.

  I stepped back with a friendly smile, letting none of my anger show. I couldn’t afford to antagonize him, despite the provocation. He was reasonably skilled with a sword but had demonstrated none of the precise control I had done. If I had been unable to defend his blows, he would not have had the ability to stop without harming me as I had done for him.

  “Thank you,” I said, tinging my voice with unnatural sweetness, “for taking Instructor Mitchell’s words to heart. It has been several days since I have had the opportunity for a true practice.”

  Royce stared at me, a single bead of sweat running down the side of his face.

  “I apologize for my cousin’s enthusiasm,” said a new voice at our side.

  I turned to see Darius regarding Royce with an expression that filled my veins with ice. My opponent’s face whitened.

  “We, too, have had to travel to the Academy,” the prince continued, “and have been some days without serious practice. It is easy to get carried away.” Nothing in his voice or manner suggested he had ever been carried away by anything in his life.