“That’s still aggressive, though.” Bryony wrinkled her nose. “I wouldn’t want an ability that predisposed me to a life of subterfuge and warfare. I can see how such a mage might make a valuable part of an intelligencer team, for instance, but what if they don’t want that life?”
Amalia looked disappointed in her. “You should use your tongue less and your ears more, Bryony. I already answered your question. Creativity is needed.”
“And what creative solution did your trainee find?” I asked her. “Or did he embrace a life of violence?”
“He chose a middle path, as so many of us do. He joined the Armed Forces after he graduated, but he is often sent on assignment to the healers. He assists with complicated procedures and recoveries where the patient must be kept asleep.”
“Doesn’t a patient need their energy to heal?” I asked.
“They need some of it certainly. But you have clearly never tried to care for a sick child who refuses to acknowledge they are sick. Sometimes stillness is most important and, in some cases, unconsciousness is needed. His services will certainly do as well as any pain relief composition, if such supplies are scarce.”
“And then their energy returns to them,” I said, remembering the first part of the lesson.
Amalia nodded. “Once the procedure is completed, or the patient has been lulled into a true sleep, he will release their energy back to them. So in the end they have lost none of their own energy. During his time with me, he became an expert on that release. Rather than waiting until the energy was violently wrested from him, springing back to the owner in a rush, he could release it at a controlled rate that would not wake them if he had succeeded in putting them into a natural sleep.”
She looked at Bryony. “Such a thing would not work with a guard who had been rendered unconscious at their post, but the body and mind of an injured or ill patient needs sleep. They long for it, even as they fight it. Once they have been eased into sleep, they will remain there, unless woken by the shock of all their energy returning in a violent rush. With a controlled return of energy, a sleeping patient will wake to find themselves brimming with strength.”
I looked at Amalia with increased respect. She might not have a pleasant manner, but if she had helped her past trainee achieve such control, then she was dedicated to her task of instruction. Had she and her trainee been the ones to discover this use of his ability?
In the mountains, the Tarxi had been without healers as we knew them. They had no doubt made use of the same type of skills employed by our commonborn healing assistants, but there was only so much that could be achieved through herbs and splints and the like. Their only advantage over commonborns had been their ability to gift extra energy to those fighting for life.
And to balance this one advantage, they had been denied the increases in knowledge constantly made by the healing disciplines. Our healers used compositions to further understand the intricacies of the human body, their discoveries recorded and built on by future healers. In the mountains, the energy mages had been cut off from all of that, as we had been cut off from their abilities. Amalia’s old trainee was a perfect example of what we could learn and achieve together, and he might never have found such a use for his abilities without the knowledge and skill of power mage healers.
I carefully refrained from looking at Bryony. Once the energy mages had counted healers of their own among their number. But when our distant ancestors had banded together across both kingdoms and the Empire and expelled the energy mages from their midst, one bloodline had been deemed too valuable to lose. A mage who could heal anything, even to the point of death, was someone a king had reason to keep close.
The Kallorwegian kings had hidden the presence of these energy healers and kept them here in their kingdom. Their identity had been a closely guarded secret, their family kept close to the throne in case of need. Until one day, even the Kallorwegian kings had forgotten their true nature, and only one member of the family remained. Bryony’s father, Declan.
When we were young, Bryony had confided to me that she inherited the abilities of both her parents. But she had sworn me to secrecy, and I had never told a soul. My friend could give her energy in the usual way, a gift she could then replenish, as Amalia had described. But what our instructor didn’t know was that Bryony could also make a permanent gift of part of her energy—forever diminishing her own maximum level of energy and increasing that of the person who received it. Once that portion of energy was bound into her composition, she could never replenish it again. But that energy did far more than bolster the recipient. It could work miraculous feats of healing, beyond even those regular healers could achieve with power compositions.
There was a reason their service had been so highly prized by the Kallorwegian kings of old—but there was also a reason Declan had ended up as the last of his line. They could give the most precious of gifts, but it came at a great price to themselves. Some of his ancestors had lived to old age—although always weaker and more tired than those around them—but some were forced, or tempted through compassion, into giving everything they had. And so Declan had sworn his daughter to the same secrecy he had always employed. The knowledge of their ability would only endanger them.
When I did finally look at Bryony, I could see the shadow of the knowledge in her eyes. She would never follow in the footsteps of Amalia’s last student and work in a healing clinic. The temptation would be too great. And if she gave in to it, intervening with her hidden power rather than just assisting with her open one, she would not live to have a future of her own. It was a heavy burden to bear.
Would I take such a burden in exchange for having an ability—any ability? Even as I asked myself the question, I already knew the answer. I would. To know that I could keep those I loved safe would be worth it. Not to mention my usefulness to the crown.
But how would I feel about passing on that ability to any future child of mine? That was a question less easily answered. After all, in all the experiments my parents had conducted with me after my birthday, testing me for every type of known ability, I had only once seen relief on their faces when I failed.
Chapter 11
We had a rest day once a week, but unlike Ardann’s Academy in Corrin, we were too remote here to make excursions appealing. Bryony informed me the local village had grown since her father’s day, but it still wasn’t large. Trade came through now, from Ardann, and it was no longer dangerously near a border war, but there were bigger towns and cities to attract the majority of the travelers.
Wardell and Armand sometimes liked to go hiking in the surrounding countryside, and I had been surprised to see Dellion join them on a couple of occasions. Whenever I saw the three of them together, it reinforced the impression that my fellow trainees followed the political leanings of their families. There was certainly no natural liking on Dellion’s side to draw her to either of the two boys, their shared allegiance being the only explanation for their association.
Tyron had indicated an interest in seeing more of the area, and Wardell had invited him along as well at the next opportunity. But Bryony refused to join her fellow energy mage, despite my assurances that she didn’t need to stay behind on my account.
“Loyalty has nothing to do with it.” She scrunched her nose. “Would you want to spend an entire day with Wardell and Armand?”
I chuckled. “I can’t say that I would, when you put it like that. Although it might be nice to get out from behind these walls occasionally.”
I gave a slightly longing look at the distant sky, but I knew such activity was barred to me. Captain Vincent had sought me out on the first rest day to inform me that I was to consider myself Academy-bound.
“The duke has given his personal assurances about your safety to your family,” he had said, “and it is my duty to carry out his promise. But I cannot guarantee your safety if you’re wandering around unaccompanied, and neither can I spare sufficient guards to escort you.”
&n
bsp; It had been easier to accept the stricture when I realized the Kallorwegian princes appeared equally bound by it. And I couldn’t blame the captain for wanting to keep us all under his eye.
So, instead of hiking, Bryony dragged me out to the empty training yards every rest day for our own training session. I complained the whole way, but it never deterred her. The girl was quicksilver with a sword and loved her time spent with the blade in her hand.
I practiced the craft more out of duty than love, but I was willing to support Bryony in her passion. Without her, my days at the Academy would have been too lonely to contemplate.
But while I enjoyed my time with Bryony, it wasn’t moving my true goal any closer to reality. Royce avoided me like I was death-touched, Dellion looked down her haughty nose in my direction, despite her lack of true rank, and most of the others simply avoided me. Sometimes I thought almost longingly of the unexpected message in my room on my first day. At least then someone had seemed to care I was here.
And most distant of all was Darius. He was the one who mattered most, but no amount of staring at it had made my tapestry flutter again with any movement of the door behind it.
I still hadn’t fought with anyone outside of Bryony, Tyron, and Jareth in combat, but I had taken a few moments to observe everyone. Obviously all the Kallorwegian trainees had known something of what to expect at the Academy because they all clearly possessed some prior training. And it was increasingly obvious they found our undirected bouts unsatisfying.
Increasingly I heard mentions of the arena spoken in tones of discontent. Lucien had come home from the Academy over the summer full of stories about the battles he had won, but he had already finished second year. My heart sank at the idea that we might start in the arena in first year here. Combat was the one class where I wasn’t an oddity and could participate as an equal. But once training moved to the arena—the vast shielded dome where trainees fought each other with a combination of compositions and swords—I would once again be relegated to the role of observer.
When I caught a reference to it in a conversation between Frida and Ashlyn during combat class, I turned to join them, catching them both by surprise.
“Do you know when we’re to start in the arena?” I asked them. “I know the higher year levels have already been taking turns in there.”
The two girls exchanged a look before Frida replied in a friendlier tone than I was expecting.
“No, we don’t, that’s what we were just discussing. Surely it will be soon! What’s the point of being sixteen and at the Academy if they just keep us sparring like we’ve all been doing at home for years?”
“You wouldn’t prefer to gain more proficiency at composing first?” I asked, trying to sound nonchalant.
Ashlyn shrugged. “Arena battles will help us improve.”
“There’s no motivation quite as potent as knowing your arena day is coming up,” Frida said. “We’ll have to start simply, of course, but that doesn’t matter. We’ll all be in the same situation.”
Ashlyn grimaced. “Well, most of us. Honestly, my only hesitation is that they might call me to bout against Prince Darius.”
Frida hissed at her, her eyes widening significantly, and Ashlyn gave a startled glance over my shoulder. Whatever she saw there made her mumble something unintelligible and pull Frida away.
I closed my eyes for a moment and took a deep breath before turning around.
“Darius,” I said, “what a pleasant surprise.” I eyed the naked sword in his hand. “Don’t tell me you’ve come for a bout?”
He shrugged. “If you wish.”
“It is the purpose of the class, is it not?”
He moved to take up a position opposite me, looking suddenly taller than I remembered. “So you’re interested in combat in the arena? Does that mean you intend to participate?”
Anger flashed through me. “Of course not. My family didn’t provide me with enough compositions to use them in training.”
A caustic look came over his face, but he replied only by raising his blade and calling a beginning to the match. His first attack came swift and sure, and I barely managed to block it.
Jareth still occasionally fought me, and I had plenty of experience against Bryony, but Darius was more skilled than his brother and had a far longer reach than my petite friend. He drove me back with an unceasing onslaught of attacks, and it was all I could do to defend myself. I skipped backward across the yard, but unlike with Royce, it wasn’t a strategic move.
I could sense the fence behind me and knew I needed to make an attack of my own, however desperate. Before I could lunge, however, Darius did so. Backed against the fence, I didn’t have room for a proper defense. Trapping my blade out of the way, the prince pressed against me, body to body.
If the rest of the class were still in the yard, I was no longer aware of them. My entire world had narrowed to the harshness of our mingled breaths, the heat emanating from his taut body, and the deep brown of his eyes. It was only the second time I had been close enough to see their richness, and they had lost none of their captivating power.
“What is your ability, Verene?” he asked, his voice low and intimate despite being rough from his jagged breaths.
I blinked, thrown totally off balance by his unexpected question—as he had no doubt intended. The earlier anger filled me again, and I leaned into him instead of away, raising my face defiantly toward his.
“To do this to you, Darius. To disrupt your ordered world.” My whispered words sent a shudder rippling through his straining muscles. “Is it not enough?”
He pulled away abruptly, letting both our blades drop. For a single moment, he stood still, his eyes locked with mine, and then he turned and strode away.
I watched him go, struggling to get my breathing back under control. There was no doubt who had the greater skill with a blade, and yet I felt I had achieved my first win against the inscrutable prince. I just wished I knew what his next move might be.
“Attention trainees,” Instructor Mitchell called, reminding me that I still stood in the middle of combat class. “Tomorrow we will meet in the arena instead of in this yard. Consider yourselves forewarned, and come prepared.”
My brief moment of strange elation drained away. It was beginning.
Chapter 12
Bryony jumped on me as soon as we left the training yard. “What was that?”
I winced. “So you noticed that?”
“Noticed?” She gave our immediate vicinity a quick sweep with her eyes before leaning close and dropping her voice lower. “Of course I noticed it! Everyone noticed!”
I sighed and tried to imagine how it would have looked to an outsider. I couldn’t imagine it was a scene that would have endeared me to anyone else in our year.
“Well?” Bryony demanded when I didn’t say anything.
I shrugged. “Prince Darius is definitely the most skilled in our class. Hardly surprising, I suppose, given his rank and age advantage. Even you couldn’t beat him, Bree.”
My words nearly achieved their purpose, a competitive gleam sparking in Bryony’s eyes. But a moment later she narrowed them, giving me a fierce look.
“Don’t think you can distract me that easily. I will bout with the prince one day, and we shall see what happens. But somehow I don’t think it will go quite like your fight did.”
I sighed again, also dropping my voice to a whisper. “The lovely crown prince thinks I’m hiding my true abilities. He doesn’t believe I’m as powerless as I claim.”
Bryony’s eyes widened. “What?!” She quickly lowered her voice. “But that’s outrageous!”
“Of course it is. But it doesn’t matter how many times I assure him of the truth, why would he believe me? He doesn’t know how much I wish his suspicions were true.” I rubbed at my temples. “I have to admit I can see his perspective. My parents spent months testing me after my birthday because it seemed so impossible I could really be powerless. Can I blame him for
not taking our word for it?”
Bryony frowned. “Perhaps. But then your situation is so widely known. Would Queen Lucienne really let such a story spread if it wasn’t true? I thought you power mages were all obsessed with strength and all that.”
I crinkled my brow, considering the matter. Would we have allowed such a rumor if it were untrue?
“I think that’s actually the problem,” I said after a moment. “Far too many of us are obsessed with strength and power. That’s how we ended up in a thirty-year war in the first place. And since Darius is a product of that war, he can’t be blamed for thinking we might do anything to extend our control and influence.”
Bryony still looked unconvinced. “But what does he suspect you of doing here?”
I shrugged. “I suppose that would all depend on what my ability is, wouldn’t it? And that, at least, is fairly unpredictable…given my mother’s unique situation.”
I gave Bryony a significant look, and she made a wry face. Our families were the only two who knew the depths of my mother’s strange origins.
“But how do you convince someone that you truly don’t have power?” she asked. “It would be a simple situation in reverse, but…”
“He started by asking if I meant to fight in the arena.” I grimaced. “I suspect allowing myself to be repeatedly pummeled without defense might be the only option open to me.”
Bryony stared at me. “You can’t try to match a power mage in the arena when they’re armed with compositions and you have nothing but a sword.”
“If the gain was worth it, you know I would, Bree. And it’s only combat practice anyway. The trainees won’t be allowed to take it too far. Plus Raelynn told me she is always stationed in the arena during training to patch us up as necessary.”
Bryony looked mutinous. “If your aunt was worth so much sacrifice, then she’d see your value without needing the sacrifice from you in the first place.”
Crown of Secrets (The Hidden Mage Book 1) Page 10
