Chapter 31
Talisa
Aurelian Trials, Day Three
When our group arrived at the amphitheater the next morning, I saw that the infirmary tent erected just outside the main entrance had tripled in size overnight.
I counted nine cots through the open flap, and three mage-healers in academy blues moving around the tent’s interior with the brisk efficiency of people expecting casualties.
I stopped walking. Elio, a half-step ahead of me, turned back.
He followed my gaze. For a moment, his confident expression faltered, and I saw the same realization settle behind his amber eyes. Then his hand found mine, warm and solid, and squeezed.
“Today’s going to be rough. We knew that,” he reminded me. “But we’re still in the running. And so are they.” He nodded toward Mira and Juno, who were walking behind us, their heads bent together in an intense, whispered conversation.
Yesterday, against every prediction and expectation, my sisters had survived the Guardian Duel.
They’d taken inspiration from my win and adapted it to their strengths.
While their aristocratic opponents poured everything they had into overwhelming force, Mira and Juno hadn’t responded with brute-force spells.
They’d let the opposing team exhaust themselves against shields that the twins created with Wood and Earth spells working in perfect tandem.
Then, when the opposing team’s flow of magic stuttered, the twins had struck with a synchronized Air spell that shattered both opposing guardians at the joints.
Their move had left their aristocratic opponents standing amongst the rubble of their ruined guardians with expressions of naked shock.
“They’re going to be fine,” Elio said, catching the direction of my thoughts. “So are we.”
I wanted to believe him. The warmth of our shared magic still hummed beneath my skin, a low, persistent current of warmth that hadn’t faded over the past two days.
Then we passed through the amphitheater’s grand entrance arch and climbed the interior staircase to the seats.
Noise hit me like a physical wave as we emerged into the bright morning light.
The amphitheater was packed today. All the lower sections, the seats with the best views of the arena floor, were crowded with men and women dressed in fine wool and silk, sitting on gilt-tasseled leather cushions.
Over in the dignitaries’ box, I spotted a group of aristocrats in formal court dress, their jewels glittering in the winter sunlight.
Behind them sat a row of military officers in dark blue uniforms heavy with medals and braid.
The academy staff hovered around these distinguished guests, offering goblets and trays of refreshments.
“They came up from the city to watch the quarter-finals,” Elio said beside me.
If we lost our challenge today, it would be in front of the capital’s most important citizens and what looked like half the imperial court. Wonderful.
“The ferries must’ve been packed!” I replied, trying to hide my nerves.
He snorted. “Oh, no. Ferries are for the common folk like us,” he said, his tone dry. “Aristocrats prefer the privacy of their carriages. They’ll have come via the Imperial Highway on the other side of campus.”
The commoners’ seating sections were alive with enthusiasm. Strangers rose to their feet and leaned over railings, pointing at us as we made our way down the stairs to the competitors’ section.
Hands reached out for us. Voices called our names. Alara—she must’ve gotten leave from her work/study duties—unfurled a bundle of dark fabric as we passed. I saw it was a banner, painted with CIRCLE OF THE OPEN HAND in sprawling white letters.
I smiled and waved at her and kept walking down to the competitors’ section.
Dante and Mavia had saved us seats. Dante stood when he saw us, his smile wide and genuine. He and Mavia had survived yesterday’s Guardian Duel by the skin of their teeth, marking the first time in the academy’s history that three out of the eight quarter-finalist teams were commoners.
Not only that, but yesterday’s duels had seen most of the upper-division magical powerhouses knocked out of the competition, including fourth-year student Varrix Carbo who’d been so generous with his advice in the weeks leading up to the Aurelian Trials.
For the first time, I truly believed it possible that Elio and I might make it to the finals.
“Look at you,” Dante said, clapping Elio on the shoulder. “The man of the hour. That Water spell yesterday was a work of art.”
“It was desperation dressed up as cleverness,” Elio replied modestly, but he was grinning.
Mavia hugged me. “You and your sisters,” she said into my ear. “Divine Mother. I’ve never seen first-years do so well in the Trials.”
“I hope we all advance to the next round,” I replied. “I want to show everyone what we commoners can do when given a fair chance.”
Her smile was warm and genuine. “I’ll see you in the semi-finals!”
I nodded, hoping that we wouldn’t be matched up against each other today.
We settled into our seats. Elio’s thigh pressed against mine, warm even through the layers of wool. His hand found mine under the fold of my academic gown, and his thumb traced a slow circle on my palm that made it hard to concentrate on anything else.
The amphitheater’s noise rose and fell around us. I caught fragments of bets and conversation drifting over from the nobles’ seats—discussions of odds, of affinities, of which imperial department might recruit from this year’s tournament.
The words imperial scholarship came up more than once, which made me reflect bitterly on the broken promises of our scholarships.
Then Chatelaine Lirelle stepped onto the temporary dais set up in the center of the arena floor. Slowly, the loud chatter of conversation and laughter died away.
Today, the chatelaine’s dark hair was pinned into an elaborate up-do that sparkled with jeweled hairpins. Her pale, oval face was composed in an expression of measured authority.
“Students and staff of the Imperial Academy,” she began, her voice carrying effortlessly to the highest tier, “and esteemed guests. Welcome to the third day of the Aurelian Trials, and to the quarter-final round of this year’s tournament.”
Her gaze swept the amphitheater, lingering on the imperial officials seated in the dignitaries’ box. She acknowledged them by inclining her head.
“Today, you will observe the eight remaining teams compete in challenges designed to identify those students whose talents mark them for exceptional service to the Imperial Dominion of Human Lands.” Her tone was warmer than I had ever heard it.
“The challenges you will witness today require not only magical aptitude but judgment, intelligence, courage, and the capacity to perform under conditions of extreme duress.”
She paused. The silence in the amphitheater was broken only by the flapping of the dark blue banners painted with the academy’s coat of arms, mounted over the dignitaries’ box.
“Competitors.” She turned toward the section where we sat.
“You, the eight remaining teams, represent this year’s most promising magical talent at our academy.
The officials attending the Trials today represent branches of imperial service that have, for generations, drawn their most gifted personnel from the ranks of Aurelian Trials semi-finalists and finalists. ”
Up until now, the most I’d hoped for was to do well enough in the Aurelian Trials to either win enough money to pay my crushing fine, or for Assistant Chatelaine Julissa to relent and waive it in recognition of performing well in the challenges.
But was it foolish of me to hope that doors that had been closed to commoners for centuries might swing open at last if my sisters, Elio, and I did well today?
For a dizzying moment, I let myself imagine it: a fourth-year mage-healer apprenticeship in the Imperial Hospital, followed by an appointment as a mage-healer to the imperial court after graduating from the academy…
It was a dazzling vision of a future where my sisters and I never had to worry about money or status or the thousand small humiliations that came with being common-born in a world built for aristocrats.
Chatelaine Lirelle continued speaking.
“Today’s challenges will test your abilities as combat mages.
They will separate those who excel under pressure from those who can only perform adequately when conditions are favorable.
” She spread her hands. “As always, I expect all competitors to comport themselves with discipline and dignity as befits this venerable academy.” She inclined her head.
“I wish you all the best of luck. Remember, the eyes of the Dominion are upon you today.”
“No pressure,” Elio murmured, his warm breath tickling my ear. “Just the opportunity to fail in front of everyone who matters.”
“What could go wrong?” I asked brightly, trying to push down my nerves. Ignore them. Ignore everyone who’s watching us today. Just concentrate on what you need to do to win.
Elio laughed and squeezed my fingers. “That’s the spirit!”
As the audience applauded, Lirelle stepped down from the dais with the same unhurried grace with which she did everything. She left the arena, emerging moments later to take her seat at the back of the dignitaries’ box.
The Aurelian Trials herald took her place, with an assistant lugging a now-familiar urn at his side. “We will now announce the teams competing in the first duel in our Fracture Arena.”
The imperial officials leaned forward in their seats. I held my breath.
“The first team is,” the herald called, reaching into the urn, “Miss Juno of Bernswick and Miss Mira of Bernswick! You will command the green home base. Wait for us to set up the stations before you take your positions!”
After yesterday, I’d been praying we wouldn’t have to go first again. But having my sisters selected turned out to be worse.
Divine Mother, please don’t make us duel them, I prayed as the herald reached into the urn again with infuriating slowness.