I shook my head. “You know it’s not that simple. I’m not just doing this for my aunt. I do it for my whole family, and for my kingdom. And for myself.” My voice turned plaintive. “Is it so wrong to want to be useful?”
Bryony flung both arms around my neck and gave me a tight squeeze. “Of course it’s not. It’s admirable.” She pulled back and flashed me a smile. “Perhaps I’m just jealous because you’ve always been far more selfless than me.”
I rolled my eyes, giving her a light shove. “You’re ridiculous.”
“But lovable,” she said with a twinkle.
I chuckled. “But lovable.”
I didn’t feel like laughing when I walked into the arena the next morning, however. I had my usual protective compositions with me, as I always did, but they were to be used in dire need only. If I meant to go through with my plan and volunteer for a bout, then I would have to take whatever my opponent threw at me without running for the safety of a shield.
At least most of my year mates still lacked the capability for compositions of any strength or complexity. They were still mastering the basics and were far from even building up their stamina, let alone crafting serious workings.
As I had predicted, Raelynn was there. She sat alone a short distance around the curved arena seating from where our year was gathering. When she waved at me with a cheery smile, I waved back, hoping she couldn’t see my nerves.
“You don’t have to do this,” Bryony whispered as we sat down. “Mitchell may not even let you.”
That was definitely a possibility I’d considered. There was little advantage to him in letting me onto the arena floor when I would never be able to hold my own there. It would have been one thing if I was just a weaker trainee, in need of guidance and practice, but no amount of experience would ever enable me to match anyone here. And my royal status only further complicated the situation. In Ardann, my brother was expected to take his beatings—if fairly earned—just like anyone else. But the rules might be different for foreign royals who carried the risk of creating a diplomatic incident.
Darius eyed me coolly as he passed me on the stairs, climbing to a higher row of seating. His face was impassive, but I thought I could read a challenge in his eyes. I straightened my back. I would find a way to convince Mitchell to give me a chance.
But to my surprise, after the expected lecture about refraining from any lethal compositions, no names were called for a bout. Instead, Mitchell instructed us to break into our disciplines.
Tyron climbed up from two rows down to join Bryony and me, shrugging in response to our bemused expressions.
“Don’t ask me what’s going on,” he said. “No one mentioned anything about arena battles in the days before classes started.”
No one else looked confused, however. Instead, a buzz of excitement rippled through the group as they broke into small clumps.
Frida and Ashlyn stood together, having both chosen to study as growers. I had discovered Ashlyn was the one whose mother was Head of the Wind Workers and had felt a momentary spark of interest at her choice of discipline. Did it represent a divergence from the choices and opinions of her parents? But then wind workers and growers often worked closely together, overseeing the kingdom’s crops, so perhaps it was an approved choice.
Isabelle, Dellion’s desk mate, stood alone, the sole first year to be studying wind working. But with such a small year, she wasn’t the only one who did so. Royce was alone in having chosen the Armed Forces, and Darius was the only one studying law enforcement. It seemed his ploy of waiting to nominate his discipline until last had successfully prevented anyone from using his choice as guidance.
Dellion and Jareth stood together, however, Dellion looking happy with her discipline mate. And Wardell and Armand remained clumped together as they usually were. It turned out the uncle who was Head of the Creators was a shared one between the two cousins, so their mutual choice made sense.
Mitchell surveyed the groupings with an even more critical eye, frowning at each of the trainees who stood alone.
“Royce, you must work with Prince Darius in the arena. The armed forces and law enforcement disciplines share enough similarities that the two of you should manage to find common ground. As for you, Isabelle…” He narrowed his eyes, considering.
“I would rather remain alone,” she said quickly, flashing him a smile. “It will give me room to work.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Very well, you may attempt it. However, I may have to make future adjustments.”
Dellion had made a comment on our first day connecting our discipline studies with combat in the arena, but I still didn’t understand what was happening. The pairs of trainees around us, however, already had their heads together, whispering to each other in what looked like strategy sessions.
“For the first battle,” Mitchell said, “it will be the Royal Guard against the growers and wind worker. Creators and law enforcement alliance, you will observe and be ready with a critique of both teams’ performance.”
My eyes widened. So we were to skip individual bouts and go straight to team battles. And the teams were formed based on disciplines. Dellion’s earlier bemusement now made sense.
“What of us?” I called down to Mitchell. “Are we to observe as well, or do you mean to let us participate?”
For the first time I saw a gleam of true interest in Mitchell’s eye. “Would you like to enter the arena, Your Highness?”
“Certainly,” I replied. “I am a trainee.”
“In that case, Princess Verene, you may work with the Royal Guard, and Bryony and Tyron, you may work with the growers and wind worker.”
Bryony let out a wordless whoop of excitement and clambered down the tiered seating. I followed at a more sedate pace, although I couldn’t keep the grin from my face. I didn’t know what was about to happen, but I suspected it would be a great deal more interesting than the two options I had been contemplating when I walked into the arena.
I expected Dellion to greet me with distaste, but she was all business, fully focused on our bout. When I saw Bryony and Tyron being welcomed by our opponents, I grinned at my two companions.
“I hope you’re not too disappointed to have me instead of Bryony and Tyron. You can take it as a compliment to your strength if nothing else.”
It was certainly clear Mitchell considered Jareth and Dellion the stronger team, and I couldn’t blame him. I was too buoyed up by the unexpected turn of events to mind being assigned as a handicap.
“Don’t underrate yourself.” Jareth smiled, the expression just missing his eyes as usual. “I’ve fought you, remember. I daresay you’ll prove yourself useful.”
I grinned back at him. “I certainly intend to try.”
“They won’t have learned much yet,” Dellion said. “But I assume we’ll be contending with some sort of fast-growing vines.”
“And some sort of water. Or wind,” I added. “Isabelle is so quiet I don’t have her measure yet. Is she strong? How long has she been sixteen?”
Jareth frowned in thought. “Dellion, do you remember? I’m fairly sure she turned sixteen last winter. Her family doesn’t spend much time at court.”
Dellion watched the other girl with narrowed eyes. “I’d be willing to bet she’s more competent than she lets on in composition class. So we’d better be prepared. Jareth, I assume you brought some decent shields. Enough for all of us?”
I almost bounced on my toes, full of energy. With allies who came equipped with compositions, this would be similar to the training my parents insisted I undertake with the Royal Guard at home.
“What do you want me to do?” I asked.
Mitchell appeared beside us. “We will begin in one minute. Remember that each trainee is only permitted to work compositions of their own making.”
He moved away to the other team, and I deflated somewhat.
“Sorry,” I told Jareth and Dellion. “That will limit my usefulness.”
“I can still work a shield to cover you.” Jareth led us toward the middle of the arena. “After that, you’ll need to make use of that sword of yours to keep them on their toes.”
I drew my blade, exchanging a conspiratorial grin with the prince. “That I can definitely do.”
There was no more time for discussion as Mitchell called the beginning of the battle. Jareth immediately ripped three separate compositions, flicking his fingers in the direction of Dellion and me. Such profligate use of his compositions spoke volumes about his strength and easily demonstrated why our instructor had made the teams so uneven in size.
Power sprang to life around me, and I felt an edge of tension I hadn’t even recognized melt away. The sensation of being surrounded by power was second nature, the result of a life spent hedged around with other people’s compositions. I hadn’t even noticed how much being without it had left me feeling vulnerable.
I launched across the open arena floor, the dry dirt puffing up at my flying footsteps. I hadn’t had the chance to ask what sort of compositions my teammates had learned so far in their Royal Guard studies, but I would leave that side of things to them. My role was to make it as hard as possible for our opponents to retrieve and tear their own compositions.
I aimed myself at Isabelle, but before I could reach her, Bryony jumped in front of me, her blade raised. I let my momentum carry me forward into an attack, wanting to test what sort of shield she had, if any.
My sword met no resistance, confirming what my senses were already telling me—she was unshielded. She blocked me easily with her blade, however, launching a counterattack that I barely managed to avoid.
I grimaced as I danced out of her reach. Apparently my own shield was only against power, not physical attacks. I was still grateful for its presence, since I didn’t know what I could expect from Bryony’s power mage teammates, but it would do nothing to protect me from the physical blows of an opponent’s sword.
Bryony lunged forward again, and this time I was the one to counterattack. But it had been a feint, and her blade leaped free, skirting mine and driving straight for my heart.
I hadn’t expected such an aggressive move, and I fumbled my defense. Before her sword could actually touch me, however, it encountered an invisible barrier and skitted away. Apparently Jareth had built in some protection against physical attacks after all, but only deadly blows. It was a wise move that would prevent the power in the shield from being drained too fast.
“Bryony!” I gasped. “You could have killed me.”
She just laughed, entirely unconcerned. “Of course I couldn’t have! I saw the prince tear you a shield.”
“But you didn’t know what type of shield!”
She scoffed. “What good would a shield be if it didn’t protect you from a deathblow?”
I wouldn’t have chosen to bet my life on such an assumption, but it did make sense that a royal prince would be schooled in the complexities of shielding before being sent far from home, even to the Academy.
I was about to launch another attack, ready to be reckless now I understood the limitations of my shield, but a rush of power streaked past me. Bryony faltered, her grin turning to a frown before she toppled sideways into the dirt.
“Thanks!” I called without turning to see which of my teammates had launched the attack.
Stepping past Bryony, I tried to locate my other opponents. Tyron had already been felled by what looked like a similar composition to the one used against Bryony. I shook my head. Their teammates had left them unshielded and so had wasted them. I doubted any of the teams would make that mistake again.
A battering of power rushed directly for me, but my shield turned it aside. I didn’t know how many such hits the shield could take, but for now I could still feel it burning around me.
I spotted Isabelle a short distance to one side, her eyes latched on Jareth some way still behind me. She reached for a composition.
I charged, calling a battle cry, but her hands moved too quickly for me to stop her. Her focus had changed, however, and the wind that sprang up around her whooshed in my direction, smashing against me and driving me backward. For a moment it was all I could do to stay on my feet as I lost ground. I just hoped Jareth was making use of the reprieve I had given him.
The wind softened enough for me to regain my balance, but a loud yelp distracted me once again from Isabelle. Spinning, I saw Dellion struggling with a number of thick vines that had sprung up from the dirt at her feet and were winding their way around her legs, torso, and arms. She fought to keep them off, her blade lost at her feet.
Water dripped off her, and the ground around her was more mud than dirt, suggesting the growers had received some help from their wind worker to enable the vines to grow so quickly and effectively. I dove for my teammate, sliding through the mud to land at her feet. Swinging my sword, I used it like a common knife, hacking at the base of the vines where they sprang from the earth.
They gave easily before the edge of my blade, and I yanked at them with my other hand, pulling them off Dellion. She barely glanced at me as she shook her arms free and plunged her hands inside her robe.
“Shield down!” screamed Jareth’s voice somewhere to our side. “Isabelle!”
Dellion didn’t hesitate, ripping one of the parchments she had received and sending the power rushing toward the temporarily unshielded trainee wind worker.
Isabelle’s arms and legs clamped to her side, and she teetered for a moment before crashing sideways into the dirt. I scrambled to my feet, ignoring the mud that now coated my white robe, and looked wildly around for Frida and Ashlyn.
It took me a moment to realize both girls lay on the ground, similarly restrained by invisible bonds.
“Match,” called our instructor’s voice from the side of the arena. “Victory belongs to Team Royal Guard.”
“Woooo!!!” I pumped both arms into the air in triumph, still caught in the overwhelming rush of energy from the fight.
Dellion actually grinned at me, apparently also swept up in the moment.
“Thanks for the rescue, Princess.”
I grinned back at her as Mitchell stepped into the arena. He ripped a parchment, releasing all of our bound opponents. The five of them slowly climbed to their feet, wincing and rubbing at bruised spots from their falls.
I offered a hand to Bryony, who had been lying near me, but she wrinkled her nose at my grubby state and refused the help.
“I’m afraid the vanquished don’t choose the terms,” I said solemnly and swept my arms around her in an enormous hug, laughing as she squealed in protest.
“Now there’s my favorite cousin,” she said, giving in and laughing with me.
When I gave her a quizzical look, she shrugged. “Sometimes you get so caught up in proving to everyone you’re not useless, that I think you forget you’re not.”
I turned up my nose. “Useless? I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not the one on the losing team.”
Bryony chuckled. “My point precisely.”
We joined the end of the small line of trainees trooping back to the seats. Mitchell indicated we should join our year mates, offering no words of congratulations or praise. Not that I had expected any from someone as perpetually sour as he seemed to be. As I walked up the steps between the seats, my eyes caught on Darius. He was watching me, something hard to read in his eyes, and I was suddenly conscious of my dirty state.
“Observers, what weaknesses did you see in the approaches of the two teams?” Mitchell asked. “What would you have done differently? Bear in mind the ability level of the participants.”
Darius spoke first. “Team Growers hadn’t provided themselves with sufficient shields. A lack of strength in a shield can be at least partially balanced by volume of shielding compositions. As it was, not only were they unable to sufficiently protect themselves, but they wasted the extra resource of the energy mages. As evidenced by the contributions of Princess Verene to the oppos
ing team, Bryony and Tyron could have turned the tide of battle if they hadn’t been incapacitated so early.”
I nodded. I had thought the same thing during the conflict. Darius’s eyes flicked to me, and for a moment we were locked in agreement instead of conflict. It was a strange sensation.
The conversation flowed on, with praise given to Ashlyn and Isabelle for working together to unleash the vines on Dellion. They hadn’t threatened her physical safety in any way, and so had evaded her shields. But with her arms occupied, she had been incapacitated as surely as with the power bindings my teammates had used against our opponents.
“The winning team were fortunate to have one of the princes on their side,” Armand said. “He provided a disproportionate amount of power to their team effort.”
Jareth grinned, not in the least abashed. When I looked down the row of seating at him, he actually winked at me, startling out a reluctant laugh. I could understand his attitude, though. As royalty, we weren’t raised to think life was fair—instead we knew from the youngest age that we enjoyed both disproportionate privilege and disproportionate responsibility and pressure. I had many times wished I might exchange my position for that of any unremarkable mage in the kingdom, but I would never apologize for using what power I had been granted.
“It is true that Prince Jareth was a substantial factor in their victory,” Mitchell said. “But that doesn’t mean he could have won on his own. Something that is well-worth bearing in mind.”
He swept a hard look over us all. “And although I weighted the teams to bear in mind his extra strength, you must consider that outside the Academy, life will not be so even-handed. If you ever find your life in danger, you are not guaranteed to be facing an opponent of equal strength. Never let that be an excuse for failure.”
I suppressed a grimace. It was an easy thing to say from a position of strength. But some situations left no possibility of victory for the weaker party, however creatively they approached the situation. The conversation was still fascinating, though, and I listened to all the opinions with interest.
Crown of Secrets (The Hidden Mage Book 1) Page 11
