Chapter 22 #2
Yes, I’d had years of training with Mama and Papa.
I knew the practical applications of basic healing and protection charms. But I hadn’t yet learned to cast the complex spells that fourth- and fifth-years spent weeks and months perfecting.
How could I expect to face a sixth-year student in a magical duel and expect to walk away the winner?
Then there was the team issue. The Aurelian Trials required two-person teams. I’d need to find a partner. Someone willing to face the hostility of the entire noble faction. Someone I could trust with my back in the combat trial.
But even if I found the perfect partner—and if by some miracle we advanced beyond the first round—I’d be painting an even bigger target on my back.
Lukhan and his aristocratic friends had spent the entire autumn making my life miserable.
What would they do if I actually advanced beyond Round One in the Trials?
A hand settled on my shoulder, jolting me out of my grim train of thought. I looked up to see Elio reaching around Mira.
“You’re going to enter, aren’t you?” he asked, his amber eyes alight with excitement.
I hesitated. “I’m thinking about it.”
“Of course you should.” His gaze held mine. “You’ll be brilliant.”
“If I’m not knocked out in the first round,” I whispered back.
“Then we just have to make sure that doesn’t happen.” He grinned suddenly. “Dante says he’ll help you prepare.” Then he looked up behind me. “How about you all?” he asked the students who’d been trading sour commentary about the Trials. “Will you help us first-years out?”
I twisted around in my seat to see the fourth-year student sitting behind me give him a startled look. “Yes,” she said. Then she added, more strongly, “Of course we’ll help.”
The third-year sitting next to her said, “It’s an academy tradition that anyone’s who’s competed before helps those who haven’t.”
Chatelaine Lirelle spoke again.
“Students who wish to enter the Trials may sign up immediately following this assembly. The tournament pairings for Round One will be announced after signups close.” She paused. “I expect all of you to represent the academy with the dignity and discipline it deserves.”
She concluded her speech with a few administrative notes about the adjusted schedule of classes to accommodate tournament preparation. Very few of the students paid attention to her.
The noble students were already streaming down the stairs to the amphitheater’s floor to sign up, chattering with barely contained excitement.
I stood, my heart racing.
Maybe the Trials were rigged in the nobles’ favor, like everything else at this academy. But I hadn’t come all this way to accept Assistant Chatelaine Julissa’s expulsion threat without a fight.
“You’re really going to sign up?” Mira asked, rising to stand next to me. Her hand slipped into mine and squeezed.
I squeezed back. “Yes.”
“Good,” Juno said from my other side. She jumped to her feet and took my other hand. “I want to see you teach those aristocrats a lesson about what we islanders can do.”
I nodded. “I’ll do my best.”
“Mama would be so proud of you,” Mira said.
The mention of Mama sent a familiar ache through my chest.
She’d sacrificed everything, even her life, to bring us here. I was going to fight with everything I had to stay and make her proud of me.
I bent to kiss the top of my sister’s head. “She’d probably have some pithy proverb about risks and rewards ready to go.”
“‘A seed that never leaves the pod never becomes a tree,’” Juno quoted with a shaky laugh.
That had been one of Mama’s favorites, trotted out whenever one of us hesitated to try something new. I smiled despite my nerves.
Around us, the members of the Circle of the Open Hand were rising to their feet.
“What’s the plan?” asked Andor, a tall, serious second-year from the southern borderlands near the Dragon Kingdom.
“If you sign up, we’ll sign up too,” declared Mavis, a second-year student with copper hair and a temper to match. “Strength in numbers.”
The others nodded, exchanging determined glances.
“And if we win, we’ll contribute our prize money toward your fine,” added Elio.
“You don’t have to do that,” I protested. “Your families—”
“Our families would want us to help each other,” Dante said firmly. “That’s the whole point of the Circle, isn’t it? We stand together.”
I looked around at their faces. “Thank you,” I said, knowing the words weren’t enough to express how I felt.
“So, are we doing this?” asked Mira. “Because the sign-up lines are getting longer.”
I glanced down at the dais, where Chatelaine Lirelle, the administrators, and the mage-instructors had vanished, leaving behind several academy officials behind desks. The nobles had already formed neat queues. Behind them, the commoner students hung back, watching and waiting.
I made my way down the stone steps, my sisters following close behind.
With each step, my resolve grew stronger. Maybe the tournament was rigged. Maybe the nobles would find some way to eliminate me in the first round. But I had to try.
Halfway down the stairs, I told my sisters, who were still clinging to my hands, “You don’t have to come with me; I can meet you outside when I’m done.”
“We’re entering too,” Mira said, her chin lifting.
“Both of you?” I blinked. “Are you sure?”
“We want to,” Juno said. “We’ll be a team.”
“And if something happens to you, maybe we’ll win some money,” Mira said.
Juno nodded. “Every denarius will help.”
When we reached the arena floor, Elio came running down the stairs after us. He dodged around the twins and flung his arm around my shoulders. “So, are we doing this?”
“We?” I repeated.
“Yes, we.” He pulled me close, his body warm against my side. “We’re going to be partners, right? I mean, I want to be yours because I know you can win this thing.”
My heart gave a sudden, painful lurch.
I gazed up at him, searching his face for some sign that his words meant more than simple friendship.
But his expression was open, friendly, without a hint of the complicated tangle of emotions that had kept me awake at night since Remembrance Day.
“I mean, unless you’ve already got someone in mind,” he added, misinterpreting my silence. “I know I’m not exactly the best at—”
“No,” I blurted. “I’d love to be partners with you.”
His smile was blinding. “Great! We’ll be unstoppable. The Fishwife and the Merchant’s Son, shocking the academy elite with our—what’s wrong?”
I froze as I spotted two tall figures in perfectly tailored black gowns.
Lord Lukhan, his black hair gleaming like a raven’s wing in the winter sunlight, moved with arrogant grace toward the sign-up tables.
His handsome face was set in its usual expression of cold disdain.
Beside him, Damien Corvellan, his posture military-straight, scanned the crowd with practiced alertness.
“Oh,” Elio cursed, “Flame-winged Nemara, take them!”
As if he’d heard Elio speak, Damien’s gaze found ours. For a moment, his expression remained blank—the careful neutrality he showed to everyone except Lukhan. Then his eyes narrowed slightly, his mouth tightening into a hard line.
“Of course they’re entering the Trials,” I muttered in disgust.
Lukhan’s head turned at the exact moment I spoke, as if my voice had somehow carried to him across the crowd separating us.
His green eyes locked with mine, and for an instant, I saw something flash across his face. It wasn’t his familiar expression of hatred, but something that looked almost like surprise.
Then it was gone, replaced by the sneer I expected. He whispered something to Damien, who nodded without taking his eyes off us.
Elio’s arm tightened around my shoulders. “Look at them. They’re clearly worried about us,” he said cockily. “And they’re right. We’ll show them, Talisa.”
I wished I shared his confidence. Because I knew Lukhan would go to any lengths to keep us from winning.