Apprentice (The Black Mage, #2)(21)

I held my glass up and accepted the toast bitterly. My victory had come at the cost of a friendship. I swore I would never make the same mistake twice.





****





"He always did like her best." The good-humored remark came from Alex to no one in particular as I shrieked, dismounting from my saddle to race across the Academy field to a thirteen-year-old boy with blonde curls and lively blue eyes.

"Derrick!"

"Ry!" My younger brother dropped the shield he had been holding and ran at me - the two of us colliding in a hard embrace. I immediately started crying: I hadn't seen him in months and before that it had been a whole year apart.

"I can't believe you're here!" Derrick wheezed. "This place is so much harder than I thought!" He snapped his finger to show me how he cast and I only cried harder. The last time I had seen him he hadn't even known he had magic.

I blinked. Was it just me, or had Derrick's hands gotten a lot larger? And what about his arms? Was he taller too? "You're huge!" I crowed. "How did you go from looking like me to Alex in a couple months?" It was no secret Alex put on muscle a lot easier than I – even if I was in Combat and trained my body a whole lot harder.

"First-year! What are you doing? You heard Master Barclae: no talking to the apprentices!"

Derrick cringed. "I hate Sir Piers," he muttered, only low enough for me to hear.

I wiped my tears away, laughing. "I'll find you later – meet me by the stables after your dinner?"

My young brother eagerly nodded and I left the field, giving Sir Piers a gallant wave. The commander squinted into the distance and as soon as he recognized me he grinned.

"Welcome back, apprentice!"





****





They showed us to our chambers and I couldn't stop staring. After the end-of-year trials we had departed almost immediately with the apprentices to Ishir Outpost… Now, we had two months to reside at the Academy, only instead of the overcrowded barracks we had paradise.

As an apprentice we were given all the accommodations a lowly first-year lacked. Private rooms with the softest sheets, personal fires, a maid, and even an overhanging balcony with a view of the Sjeka coastline: jagged cliffs and the white, foaming waters below. The bedposts were carved from rich cherry wood and the cold marble floor was covered in silky furs from the white snow cats of the north.

As I wandered about my chambers I found an interconnected alcove with a tub for bathing and a basin for my hands. In each drawer of a well-made cabinet were freshly pressed cloths for drying and additional blankets for cold winter nights. There was already a small shelf with several books for study and a large chaise for lounging.

"Try not to look so lowborn, Ryiah." Priscilla's cutting remark broke through my reverie.

She and one of the fourth-year girls stood in the hallway peering into my quarters and watching me with ill humor. The two of them had been nothing short of miserable the entire ten-day journey here.

"It must really bother you," I snapped, "that I am no longer lowborn."

Priscilla sniffed. "You may be an apprentice but you will never be one of us."

Ella appeared abruptly and shoved her way past the cold-hearted girl and her friend. "You ready to see our new training rooms?" she asked, ignoring the others.

I grinned and slammed my clothes quickly into the trunk at my bed. "You don't have to ask me twice!"





****





"We did not return to the Academy for two months to listen to you romance your factionmates, Apprentice Ian! If you can't pay attention to your studies then you clearly have too much time on your hands. I want you mucking the stables until we depart next month." Master Byron's irritated voice cut through the slow murmur of the rest of our class.

I felt a twinge of satisfaction as the curly-haired third-year returned to his table with Darren at the corner of the room. It had been hard to ignore the way Ian kept touching Lynn's hand, or the way she blushed whenever he did. The two had been carrying on a shy romance for weeks now and since she was my mentor there had been no escape. It was much worse because I kept wondering if that could have been me, and then I spent the rest of the time hating myself.

Each mentor-mentee was supposed to be plotting strategy for the Master of Combat's current problem. We were given thirty minutes each time to trade suggestions and research using the books the Academy servants had provided. Then we presented our findings to the class going around in a circle. Each time Master Byron chose a winning approach, citing a group's merits and weaknesses for desert combat.

Lynn gave me an embarrassed smile. "I'm sorry, Ryiah, I know I shouldn't be talking to him. I just can't help myself!"

The sweet apology should have made me smile, but instead it just sent stabbing pains down my spine. I felt an unnecessary irritation at my mentor and I knew it wasn't sourced by logic. "I understand," I heard myself say coldly. Be nice! I swallowed and forced myself to say with more warmth, "What do you think about a flash flood casting?"

"It's perfect!"

We finished the exercise and then watched as Master Byron tore apart everyone's solution but Darren's. The prince's plan wasn't always the best, but even if it wasn't you would never know from the way the master praised his "insightful thoughts." It was a group effort but it was clear the man had nothing to say about the non-heir's partner.