First Year (31 page)

“You are probably wondering why I went through the trouble.”

Yes.
 

“I’ve asked myself the same question many times,” the prince continued, “and I have come to the conclusion that somewhere along the lines of this year I went mad.” He gave me a wry smile. “Luckily for me, it seems to only pertain to things that involve you.”

“But.” I couldn’t think, and my heart was beating impossibly fast. I wanted to believe him, wanted to believe that my irrational feelings were justified but there was still something missing, something pressing at the back of my mind that I was forgetting. Something important that could void all the explanations he had just put forward.

Darren was looking down at me, waiting for my response to his long-awaited explanation. Were we friends, or enemies? After all he had done, it would seem the former.

Friends? But what about Ella?
 

Immediately I remembered what I had been forgetting. “What about Ella and your brother?” I burst out. “What was your excuse then?” I was thankful not all sense had left me.

Darren stopped smiling.
“What
in the name of the gods are you talking about, Ryiah?”

“When she was twelve, you left her all alone with your brother. You saw what he was doing and just left—”

Darren’s expression darkened. “Is that what she’s been thinking all these years?” He glowered. “Why don’t you try asking your friend if she’s sure it was
her
magic that saved her?”

“But she said—”

Darren made a frustrated sound and started to push past me.

“Darren, wait!” I didn’t know what to think, but I did know that I didn’t want him to leave again, not with all these unanswered questions between us. If it was true and he had been helping me all this time, if he had helped Ella too…

Darren turned to face me. His eyes were clouded and unreadable. “You need to decide whether I am the evil tyrant in your head, or a friend, Ryiah. I cannot make that decision for you, and I am done trying to earn your trust.”

I looked away. Trust and Darren? The two were opposite ends of a spectrum.

The bell tolled loudly, and I jumped as I realized I was now late to my second trial.

I felt myself go numb.
What did trust matter? I would not be around long enough to find out anyway…I
reached out for Darren’s arm before he could start his descent.

Immediately a heady rush of hot and cold was met with an overwhelming sense of home. I felt my breath catch. I had been prepared for the fire, but not the startling refuge that came with it. It took a moment for me to settle my emotions enough to speak.

“If we were friends.” I hesitated. “What would you say to me right now?”

Darren’s eyes met mine. “I would tell you that you could still win this, Ryiah.”

“Thank you.” I released his arm and took a step back.

Something odd flashed across the non-heir’s face. “Good luck, Ryiah.”

I felt the corners of my lips twitch, and for the first time I realized I was smiling. I gave Darren the barest of nods, and then proceeded up the stairs. Even though I would probably never earn my robes, there was a startling elation that came from thinking that maybe
he
thought I could.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

“First-year, you are late.”

I reddened and bowed my head quickly, peeking out from under my bangs at the panel of disgruntled judges before me.

There, just as in my dream, sat Master Barclae and the Three Colored Robes. This was the first time I was really able to get a good look at the three mages who ruled the Council of Magic. Each of them looked almost unearthly in their magnificent robes. The gold trim seemed to shimmer brilliantly against the rays of the fading sun.

The Black Mage of Combat had been the one to address me. His head was shaved, and there were two golden hoops dangling from his right ear. He had dark skin and piercing green eyes, the kind that seemed as though they could see straight through to your soul. He was younger than I had expected, no more than thirty-five years at most.

“What is your name, child?”

The second person to speak was the wearer of the red robe, a beautiful blonde woman with violet eyes and full red lips. She was older than the Black Mage, but not by much.

“Ryiah.”

“Ryiah,” said the third, a formidable older man, with long brown locks and startling yellow eyes. The Green Mage of Alchemy. “You are the one who has given all those fancy highborns a reason to talk. Never in the history of the first-year trials has a student caused so much grief—or damage—to our sacred Academy.”

I swallowed uncomfortably.

“What do you have to say for yourself?” Master Barclae asked, watching me carefully.

All eyes narrowed, and I willed myself to speak, despite the wave of nausea that was fast approaching. This would be my one chance to explain, in my own words.

“I never meant to destroy that building,” I said, eyes on the ground. “I had only been trying to disarm Ray, the other student that I was up against… Someone once told me that I could use pain to call on my magic. He’d warned me that it was unstable, and I wouldn’t be able to control it if I tried.”

I forced myself to continue: “But I had nothing left. No stamina, no magic,
nothing.
If I didn’t try, I would have had to admit defeat and…and I couldn’t do that knowing there was still something I could use. I knew the armory was off-limits, and I know it went terribly wrong, but I had to try.” I glanced at the Colored Robes, desperation in my eyes. “If you want something as badly as I do, you can’t give up. I’m sure each of you had a moment like that, where you had to make a choice, and you chose your robe, no matter the consequences—”

“You impaled yourself on a sword,” Master Barclae said dryly.

“I would do it again, a thousand times over if I thought it would help.” I couldn’t help feeling less confident than my words. “It was the only way I could access my magic.” I thought of Darren’s warning so many months before. “Better to lose a limb than a battle.”

“You are a fool,” the Red Mage told me shortly. “It wasn’t a limb you almost lost. It was your life, and the life of that boy you were with. All for a trial.”

“A
powerful
fool,” the Black Mage corrected, smiling behind the palm of his hand. “She could rival the prince in that outburst.”

The Green Mage chuckled, “Until she kills herself in the process.”

“True,” the Black Mage acknowledged.

The Three glanced to Master Barclae, and he cleared his throat. “We shall now begin the second portion of your trials, Ryiah. You will have twenty minutes to address three questions, all concerning the art of strategy in Combat…”

I returned to my barracks much later that evening feeling confident, confused, half sick and half mad. The trial had only lasted a half hour, but the questions the judges had asked left me reeling in self-doubt. 
Had my answers been good enough?
I thought they had. I’d cited several battles for each scenario they had given me. I’d weighed the resources, the weather, the landscape, and the politics of each situation to the one approach I thought would best suit their needs. I’d considered all the right questions: Was it a full-scale invasion, or was it better just to send a small regiment to conduct the mission? Was it on our homeland, or in a neighboring country?

For each question they had asked, I’d had a million queries of my own. I’d been desperate to show the product of my endless nights in the library, and even more frantic to prove I was more than the reckless first-year they had seen during the first half of my trials.

You could still win this.
 

Could I?

The next two days were the longest of my life. I spent the time in restless wonder, following my friends around the small town of Sjeka and trying not to think about what lie ahead.

“It’s in the hands of the gods now,” Alex declared, as Ella and I followed him into the town’s bakery. Ella bought us each a sticky bun, and we exited the fragrant shop licking the honeyed sugar off our fingers.

We had five more hours before the naming ceremony. All of us were trying to pretend the trepidation did not bother us as much as it did.

“I’m surprised your adoring fans haven’t stolen you away from us today,” Ella told my brother. She’d intended for her comment to come off lightly, but the slight resentment in her tone had destroyed any pretense of indifference.

“I told them to find a new hero,” he said easily. “It was off-putting to have so many beautiful ladies returning my favor.”

Ella scowled. “Well, I hope you don’t regret that later, when you are alone with your jokes and no one to listen—”

“Oh, I won’t be alone,” he said, winking at me.

I rolled my eyes and walked ahead, letting the two of them return to their silly banter. I wasn’t sure how I would feel if Alex started to court my best friend, but I had finally decided the decided it wasn’t my decision to make.

Entering the town’s apothecary I found my parents discussing the merits of witch hazel with the frazzled shop owner while my younger brother raced over to greet me.

“Ryiah!” Derrick’s eyes were as big as saucers. “We didn’t see you at all yesterday! Ella said you locked yourself in the barracks!”

I gave a small smile. “I was wallowing in self-pity, but I am done now.”

He beamed. “Good. Because today you are going to get a black robe!”

I raised a brow. “Apprentices don’t get robes until they graduate.”

“Ah-ha, so you do think you’ll be apprenticed!”

I shook my head. “I don’t want you to get your hopes too high, brother. I lost my first trial, in case you have already forgotten.”

Derrick didn’t bat an eye. “Just because you didn’t win doesn’t mean you’re disqualified.”

I ruffled his hair. “You always were my biggest fan.”

“Ryiah.”

I turned and saw Clayton standing in the middle of the doorway.

He looked nervous. My stomach fell. I had been evading Clay ever since he’d introduced me to his parents.

I didn’t know how to let him down nicely, and so while it was petty, I had figured the best way was to avoid him as much as possible. After all, we only had one more day at the Academy. One day and then we’d never have to have the awkward conversation to begin with.

Too late.
 

My brother snickered. I slammed the ball of my heel into his foot. Derrick yelped and then hopped away to join our parents at the back of the store, shooting me a mean look.

“How are you, Clayton?” I quickly busied myself with one of the charms on the counter.

“Better now.”

I cringed and fiddled with the locket until his big hand closed softly around my own. I looked up to meet Clayton’s gaze., An uncomfortable silence passed between us.

“Ryiah, I like you.”

“Well, isn’t that just precious,” a sneering female voice drawled behind us.

Jumping, I saw Darren and Priscilla standing in the doorway. My pulse stopped.

“Oh, please don’t stop on our account,” the venomous girl continued, one arm wrapped tightly around the prince’s waist. “This will be our last chance to see two lowborns before we go on to our apprenticeship. Darren and I need a good laugh, don’t we, my sweet?”

Darren’s eyes fell to Clayton’s and my interlocked hands. They were unfathomable. “Yes, I believe we do.”

My throat became unbearably dry.

“Just because you don’t know happiness is no reason to spoil ours!” Clayton told Priscilla irritably.

She laughed loudly. “Come, Darren. We’ve got to return to the castle in time for me to dress.” She her hand lightly to his chest and whispered loudly: “I have something
special
to wear. I had it especially picked out for tonight’s occasion.” Her eyes fell to me, and she smiled, saying the next words carefully: “It will be the perfect opportunity to announce our betrothal.”

My eyes flew to Darren. He was a stone, not one emotion flickering across his face as the world came crashing down before mine.

The prince and Priscilla left the store. I stared after the spot they had stood long after they had disappeared.

“Ryiah, is something wrong?”

I felt as if someone had ripped my lungs right out of my chest. I was sad, angry, confused… and I had no right to be.

“I am sorry, Clay.” I swallowed. ” I can’t return your favor.”

Clayton’s face burned red. He dropped my hand with a sneer. “You are a fool if you think Darren will ever notice you!”

The boy didn’t wait for a response. He stalked out of the shop indignantly.

Alex and Ella observed the boy’s dramatic exit from the street and then came running to find out what had happened.

“What did you say to him?” Alex stared after his friend, confused.

“You finally told Clay you didn’t return his sentiment,” Ella said. It wasn’t a question.

Derrick returned from the back of the shop, grinning. “Ryiah said it right after that mean girl told her she was engaged to the prince.”

“What does that halfwit’s engagement have to do with anything?” Alex demanded.

Ella’s eyes shot to my own, and I looked away, unwilling to acknowledge her unspoken question. I’d told her about my tower encounter days before, and while she was not yet convinced Darren’s magic had saved her years ago, she had acknowledged the possibility that the prince was not as horrible as we had initially assumed. While Darren claimed to have helped me in friendship, she knew I had hoped there was more to it.

Clearly there wasn’t.

Much later that evening, Ella and I were standing before our reflection in the looking glass of our barrack’s quarters. She had lent me one of her many dresses for the occasion, a deep blue gown that would “capture the gray-blue of my eyes.” It was even more spectacular than her dress at solstice. I tried to tell her that it didn’t matter what I wore, but she was of a different opinion.

“This is a night to be proud,” Ella declared brazenly, as she helped brush out my scarlet red locks. “Whether our names are called or not, we completed a year where others have failed. That is not something anyone can take away from us.”