Chapter VIII. Ellery
VIII
ELLERY
SUMMER
Ellery arrived at the waiting room outside Valmordion’s vigil chamber exactly on time.
Tapestries of illustrious wands throughout Order history hung upon the rough-hewn stone walls.
Unlike their frayed brethren stranded elsewhere on campus, these were meticulously enchanted to move like images on-screen.
Magicians coaxed crops from arid ground, healed the sick, constructed Gallamere.
Students bustled everywhere, looking for their seats among the rows of wooden chairs. A nervous excitement hovered in the room, buoyed by whispers that increased the moment Ellery stepped inside.
“I heard she didn’t even have a scratch on her after the winterghast attack.”
“I don’t get why she’s not going first.”
“I don’t buy that Barrow helped. Who wants to bet he doesn’t even show up?”
Although Ellery outwardly ignored them, internally, she was coiled tight as a spring. She reached into her pocket and clutched the alban pit.
It was the last day of Summer.
By the time Winter fell at dusk, Alderland would have its hero. Candidates would take their turn at bonding with Valmordion based on age and grade level. Ellery was among the first fifty. If all of them failed, another fifty would be brought forth—until Valmordion finally Chose a wielder.
A ray of warmth brushed her cheek, like sun streaming through a window. Ellery turned as a lanky form ducked through the door. He scanned the room as if assessing a battleground.
Their eyes locked.
Since Mercester Square, Ellery assumed she’d exaggerated the intensity of Barrow’s stare in her memories. Now she realized she’d diminished it.
Before she could overthink it, she strode toward him. The surrounding whispers crescendoed.
“Barrow.” She was surprised by how calm she sounded.
“Caldwell,” he said cautiously, leaning in close so as not to be overheard.
Over the last week, Ellery had been besieged by unwanted attention while he lay low. She’d considered trying to contact him, but given his absence from class, she’d suspected he didn’t want to hear from her. And now, although she’d approached him, she didn’t know what to say.
“How are you feeling?” It was a pointless question—of course they both felt terrible.
“Out of my fucking mind,” he said flatly. “This is why I’ve been avoiding this place. Because they all just look at us like…”
“Like they expect something.”
“Yeah, that you’ll spare them all this nightmare, and that I’ll—I don’t know—collapse. Something dramatic.” He shoved his hands into his pockets, slouching as if vainly trying to make himself small. “Let’s hope we both disappoint them, then.”
Ellery let out a surprised snort. Surprised he could joke during such a serious moment. Surprised by how good it felt to laugh. Surprised that not only had he remembered she didn’t want this, he hadn’t questioned her choice.
“I’ve never wanted to be a disappointment before,” she drawled.
He grinned. “Ah, a first timer. Care if I offer you some advice?”
“Only if it’s good advice.”
“Well, contrary to popular opinion, disappointing doesn’t hurt so much the first time. But the third time? The tenth? However long it takes that they come to expect it?” His smile widened even as it dimmed. “That’s the one that stings.”
As Ellery grasped for a response that didn’t sound like a platitude, he blurted, “I should find my seat before, you know, the swooning sets in. I’ll see you, then?”
“Uh, yeah. Good luck?”
Barrow hurried off, leaving Ellery to stare awkwardly after him.
Then she sighted Demelza and Julian among the magicians shamelessly gawking.
She joined them by her assigned seat. Ellery was slotted eighth—directly behind Julian, in the midst of the Order favorites.
She suspected she wasn’t ahead of him because of her tearful conversation with Glynn, although the rumor mill had run wild with their own explanations.
Barrow, by contrast, was the final magician in their class.
Ellery sank into her chair. Demelza, a grade year behind, was seated several rows back, but hovered beside her and Julian anyway. Since the announcement of the vigil, the three of them had agreed not to discuss Valmordion. But she knew they both wanted it, especially Julian.
“Well, now I get it,” Demelza murmured to her.
“Get what?”
“Why so many people think you and Barrow were on a date before you fought the winterghast.”
“We’re at Valmordion’s wand vigil,” Ellery hissed, “and you want to talk about my love life?”
“Only if there’s something to talk about.”
“There isn’t.”
“Of course there isn’t,” Julian said pointedly. “Ellery’s sworn off dating.”
“But you were at the movies at the same time,” Demelza said.
“Alone,” Ellery countered. “It was a coincidence.”
A loaded word—Alderland didn’t believe in coincidences. Neither did Ellery’s friends.
“Look, we all know you don’t kiss and tell,” Demelza said. “But if you did … I’m just curious: did he live up to his reputation?”
Ellery’s mind unhelpfully conjured an image of Barrow’s full lips, slightly parted. She flushed. Julian cracked his knuckles ferociously.
“Here’s the entire sordid story,” she said coolly. “We ran into each other after the film. We had a casual conversation. Then we fought the winterghast, which as you both know is famously an aphrodisiac.”
Demelza coughed to hide a laugh. Even Julian chuckled, his shoulders relaxed. But Ellery still felt the color in her cheeks.
“Attention, everyone,” called Glynn from the doorway. “Good afternoon. Please, take your seats.”
Demelza gave Ellery and Julian quick hugs, mouthed good luck, and hurried off to her own seat.
“I’ll be your proctor for today’s vigil,” Glynn continued. Proctor duty was typically a task for lesser magicians, not Councilors. But of course, this was no lesser wand vigil.
He scanned the room until he found Ellery. His gaze was even more expectant than her classmates’.
If there’s something wrong with my magic, Valmordion won’t Choose me.
If Ellery repeated it enough times, she could almost believe it.
“But before we begin, I’d like to remind you of our security rules.
” Glynn opened his jacket and pulled out a small bouquet of training wands.
“Each of these were confiscated from a student before they entered this room, all of whom conveniently ‘forgot’ that training wands are expressly forbidden from vigils.”
Training wands weren’t allowed in vigils to prevent sabotage. Decades ago, before widespread reform, it wasn’t unheard of for students to attack fellow classmates to reduce competition for prestigious Living Wands.
“Inside the vigil chamber,” Glynn continued, “are some of the most important people in Alderland. Right now, you are all potential Chosen Ones and you will behave accordingly. You will remain quiet and undisruptive until it is your turn. If your attempt to bond with Valmordion ends unsuccessfully, you will peacefully depart the premises. There will be no second chances, no loitering, and no complaints. Understood?”
Some of the crowd responded with eager assent, while others stared at their laps or worried at their cuticles.
Their anticipation was its own kind of magic, a promise that something momentous was about to happen.
Something extraordinary. Something that would one day merit its own piece of Citadel artwork.
“Excellent,” said Glynn. “Now, if the first candidate would follow me?”
The academy’s oldest magician rose warily to his feet. As soon as the vigil chamber’s ornate wooden door shut behind him and Glynn, the whispers resumed.
Again, Ellery clutched the alban pit in her pocket.
After what could’ve been seconds or minutes, the door opened again, and Glynn returned, face impassive.
“Tej Kumar?” he called.
The second magician disappeared into the vigil chamber. Five remained between Ellery and Valmordion.
Despite already being seated next to her, Julian leaned closer until their shoulders brushed. “Are you nervous, El?”
“Aren’t you?” Ellery muttered. “Everyone else is.”
“Actually, they’re not. Because everyone in this room thinks it’s you.”
Ellery shifted away. “We agreed we wouldn’t talk about this.”
The room silenced while Glynn escorted candidate three off to the vigil. But as soon as they left, Julian rounded on her again.
“I know what we agreed,” he said. “And I tried, but I can’t stop wondering … Why am I testing for Valmordion before you are?”
“It’s not like you to question your accomplishments.” Ellery attempted to sound teasing, but her words came out stilted.
“Oh, I know I’m qualified. But you’re the name in the headlines. You have the grades. The history. You should be going for that wand before me. Hell, you should be going before everyone.”
Ellery’s chest clenched. “Julian—”
They paused again as Glynn fetched candidate number four.
“The only thing I can think of,” Julian hissed, “is that you don’t want it. And I can’t figure out why.”
“Why I wouldn’t want to be single-handedly responsible for the fate of the country? Or a wand that burned its last wielder alive?”
“Those are good reasons, but they’re not your reasons,” he countered. “Not all of them, anyway.”
Ellery winced. “Don’t push me. Not right now.”
“I try not to. I’ve tried for years. I know you’re private. But we’re supposed to be best friends. You know everything about me, good, bad, embarrassing. And lately, I…” His voice dropped even lower. “I feel like I don’t know you anymore.”
Ellery could admit that things had frayed between her and Julian since she’d broken up with him. But she still wasn’t prepared for him to force the subject. Especially here. Especially now.
“But … but you know me better than anyone. And this is the worst possible time to ask me about—”
“Is it?” He caught her gaze, his expression imploring. “Whenever I try, you deflect. You deny. And I just wish we could go back to how it was. Before we ever—”
“That’s what I’m trying to do!”