Apprentice (The Black Mage, #2)(9)

In the simulation today we were preparing for chariot attacks. Casting just one more arrow on the enemy's front line – undoubtedly made up of "expendable" foot soldiers - was not worth losing consciousness and falling from a moving chariot. The casting wouldn't kill me, but it would leave me an open target to those who could. The point of the exercise was to attack and retreat – not attack-and-then-fall-out-of-your-chariot-and-be-killed-by-an-angry-mob-of-enemy-soldiers.

The rest of the class finished minutes later. As soon as they had Byron launched himself into a full-blown speech praising Darren and insulting the girls at the same time. It always ended the same way.

Women were weak. We were silly, temperamental, and emotional. We should always follow, never lead. We shouldn't try to overreach in our magic. Men would always be able to cast better. It was simply a part of their disposition as warriors; women had never intended to be seen in such jarring roles and would therefore always be "lacking" in Combat.

While the master occasionally gave Priscilla good remarks I was certain they were only for the prince's benefit. Byron didn't even pretend with the rest of us.

I wondered what Eve thought of the master's bias – but the violet-eyed second-year never spoke up, and I suspected she didn't care. I could sometimes sense Priscilla's irritation, but the highborn was smart enough to keep her temper in check. Ella was just as outspoken as Ian and I – but since the master didn't target her quite as much she tended to spend more time pitying me rather than contradicting the man directly. The older female apprentices were few in number – my year had an uncommon ratio, four girls and two boys - but they seemed to maintain the same strategy as Eve. Stay silent, and the master would ignore you. Unless you were me.

"And Ryiah. Stay focused next time. I will not let that arm be an excuse for your casting to suffer."

Today had been my best castings yet. I'd hit the target more times than most of the second-years. And only that one attempt had failed to reach the fence. I had even outperformed Ella's mentor Loren, and that other third-year, Bryce. But, as usual, the master had failed to notice anything other than my faults.

I let the anger slide off me – albeit very slowly - and started my retreat to the dining commons. Our training took place a mile from the main building that housed our barracks and the rest of the amenities. Normally I resented the long walk after a full day of practice but today I was happy to have some time to clear my head.

My apprenticeship is more important than strangling Master Byron. I repeated the motto over and over again. If I said it enough times it would become true, or so I hoped. Each time it was getting harder and harder not to counter the master's critique. I'd lost my temper a couple of times during that first month – and now three months into our training the tyrant was still punishing me for it.

"Oops, so sorry!" A horrible jolt shot across my bad arm as someone came barreling into it. Biting back a yelp I glowered at Priscilla.

"You did that on purpose!" My pain was making me see all sorts of crazy colors, and I no longer cared if the master had rules about casting during non-lessons. The girl needed to be put in her place – and if today's practice was any indication then I had a good chance of beating her.

"You can't prove it."

"Prove it?" I snarled. I hoped Master Byron was too far away to hear us. "I don't need to prove it. Why don't you challenge me directly instead of acting like the coward you are!"

"Ryiah!" Darren's hand closed around my good arm. His voice was stern. "Don't."

"Why are you stopping her?"

"Why are you stopping me?"

Priscilla's and my questions were instantaneous. The non-heir regarded his betrothed and I coldly. "Because if you duel Ryiah this time, you'll lose."

"She cannot beat me," Priscilla scoffed.

Darren kept his iron grip on my arm. "She can. And if you do anything else to taunt her I won't stop Ryiah from trying."

I had the pleasure of seeing the raven-haired beauty turn an unattractive shade of red. "I-I'll tell Byron she attacked me!"

"Priscilla." Darren's patience was growing thin. "If you do I will tell him the truth… We may be betrothed but Ryiah is my friend. I try to stay out of your disagreements, but if you do this I will take her side."

The girl let out a frustrated huff and stormed off. A scattered clapping rose up from the rest of the class – some of my friends even whistled. I blushed uncomfortably and Darren dropped my arm like it had scalded him.

I noticed Master Byron wasn't as far away as I thought, but it was quite obvious he had refrained from interfering since the prince got involved. He stayed silent, watching me with an irritable expression.

I guess there are perks to his bias.

"How's your arm?"

I jumped as I realized Darren was still standing next to me, waiting for an answer. It was the nearest we had been since that day in the Academy towers – only then I had been trying to figure out whether or not to trust him.

"I - I'm fine," I stuttered. I felt unusually light-headed. I wasn't sure if it was from Priscilla's bump or the former pressure of Darren's hand on my arm. I hoped it was the former. "Thanks," I added quickly, "for saying what you did."