Apprentice (The Black Mage, #2)(75)

Now she had latrine duty for a week.

Needless to say the two were at an uncomfortable impasse.

Still, I had to think animosity was better than guilt. Ella could at least channel her frustration into her castings. With my fifth-year mentor I had already made a fool of myself holding back in a misguided attempt to spare him. Two times during the morning's non-magic sparring I had received a stiff reprimand from Byron and an unpleasant bruise where my new partner's blows had landed.

I vowed not to let pity affect my actions for the rest of the afternoon. The last thing I needed was for the Master of Combat to assume I'd gone soft.

Taking a deep breath, I took my place beside Ella, shifting my feet into a comfortable stance as I faced off against the sandy-haired fifth-year fifteen feet across from me.

Ian met my eyes without expression. He hadn't said a word to me since our unfortunate pairing. Not that I could blame him. The last time we'd exchanged a full sentence I had broken his heart and subsequently ended our friendship.

Not unlike what Darren did to me.

I shoved the thought away as soon as it came. I wouldn't, couldn't think about the non-heir now. Not unless I wanted to spend the rest of the day fighting back tears. And I was done crying. I'd had three weeks of that during our travel from the palace to the Academy and then back again. If anything, that experience taught me exactly how heartless I had been to Ian.

I deserved the fifth-year's silence.

But it made things extremely awkward. Mentors and mentees were supposed to trade advice and feedback. Suggestions. It wasn't exactly possible if you weren't speaking to one another.

"And begin. Mentors: ice!"

I barely had time to throw up my defense. In the blink of an eye Ian had cast out an onslaught of icicles. Sharp, spinning torrents of water tore into the metal shield I had cast. An unfortunate choice. Within seconds the casting had frozen the metal and sent a chilling burn down my arm.

Ian released his casting just as I dropped my shield to the floor. My whole arm stung. Stupid, stupid, stupid. I knew better than to cast iron against ice. My guilt was going to ruin my training if I kept forgetting to think. Ian could handle himself – any feelings of ill will were buried behind a stone wall of silence.

It was me that needed to focus.

Massaging my arm I forced myself to straighten back up and take in the rest of the class around me. I was relieved to see I wasn't the only one who had cast metal… but then it came to my attention that the only mentees foolish enough were second-years. The rest of my year had used fire.

I nodded to Ian for him to start again and then cast out a barrier of flames. At that exact moment Byron called out "Wind!"

I barely had time to fall back before a huge gust of fire came sweeping toward me. Ian ceased his attack immediately but it was too late for my pride. I could hear Priscilla's tittering laughter a couple spots down.

I turned my head to glare at the girl and immediately regretted it when I noticed the non-heir watching me.

My pulse stopped.

I couldn't breath.

I couldn't think.

I couldn't move.

"Keep drilling, apprentices, I didn't tell you to gawk!"

What was wrong with me? I swallowed the bitter taste in my mouth and made myself block out everything but the green-eyed fifth-year directly across from me. My mentor's blank expression gave no hint to his feelings. If he was secretly pleased I was making a fool of myself in today's lessons, he gave no sign of it.

"Fire!"

At least this time I was ready. Before the flames had even traveled half the distance between us I had a spiraling tunnel of sand chasing across the field to squelch them. There was the sizzling hiss as sand collided with fire and then a loud clap as the flames died.

The remains of sand sprayed across Ian and the mentors closest.

Several of them – including Bryce - shouted insults. They stopped their own castings to brush sand off their clothes and skin, glowering. Master Byron issued the command to stop and then came barreling down the field to rest directly in front of me.

"Have you lost all common sense, apprentice? I told you to defend yourself – not show off in front of the entire faction! You are supposed to conserve your castings! Conserve!" He took a deep, exaggerated huff. "Your little display just cost you an unnecessary amount of magic. Flashy casting doesn't win a war – the mages fool enough to use it will be long dead while the rest of the enemy mages are left standing!"

Why me? If I had been anyone else Byron would have seen fit to offer a short rebuke and move on. But never with me.

"Yes, sir."

"If you can't control your castings then you don't belong in Combat."

I stayed silent.

With a satisfied grunt the master retired to his post near the second-years and called out his next command. Byron remained there for the rest of the exercise. Not once did his hawk eyes leave my face.





****





By the time our drills had ended I was ready to collapse. As soon as we were dismissed Ian brushed past me in a hurry to spend as little time together as possible. Ella joined me in my slow march to the commons. My friend knew better than to say anything. Instead, she linked elbows and sighed loudly.

Students hurried past us, eager to beat the others to the evening meal. Ella and I took our time. This year was different and neither of us had been prepared for how much.