Non-Heir (The Black Mage 0.5)(16)

It was the only explanation that made sense. Eve’s instinct, her need for self-preservation against Darren’s winning blow, had called on a latent pool of magic from somewhere within.

It wasn’t unheard of. Magic only emerged during adolescence, and both Eve and Darren were of the right age. It was one of the many reasons the realm’s three war schools—the School of Knighthood, the Cavalry for Soldiers, and the Academy of Magic—recruited as early as age twelve and as late as seventeen.

Darren simply hadn’t considered his friend a candidate. Magic was rare. The two had always shared a laugh over the countless courtiers’ children wasting away in the library, pouring over magical instruction with stuffy tutors when their time would be better spent investing in something more practical, like battle formation and sparring. If their magic never emerged, and most of theirs never did, then they were ill-prepared for anything else. And then, instead of earning the high prestige of knighthood, they would have to settle for the life of a soldier.

The Cavalry had the easiest acceptance of all. Three of every four applicants passed their trial year. In the School, only four of every ten were allowed to become squires. And at the Academy, only one of every ten was accepted as an apprentice mage… The odds of succeeding, even if you were one of the lucky few with magic, were minimal at best.

“Eve.” Sir Audric cleared his throat. “Go and see if you can find Mage Marius in the Council of Magic’s chamber. He isn’t supposed to depart for another week. Tell him that we need a recommendation for a tutor here in the palace.”

What? Darren’s eyes shot to the knight master. A mage tutor, but that meant…

“We’re going to need the best we can get. Combat is the most competitive faction, and they only apprentice five students to each study after the first year.”

“But, Father—” Eve swallowed, her hands tucked in at her sides “—I thought you were training me to be a knight.”

“If you fail the Academy’s trial, we will still send you to the School.”

“But I…” Her shoulders fell. “I want to be like you and Darren, Father.”

“And you still can. You would just be an apprentice instead of a squire. You could still serve in the Crown’s Army among your friends when you ascend.” The man’s voice was a bit gruff. “Now, go on, child. Marius is a busy man.”

The girl shot one final look at Darren, a hesitant glance that bespoke her guilt, and then she was gone.

The prince scowled. The one friend, the only person he actually trusted in this place, let alone could bear the company of, was never coming back. Darren had always held onto the belief that they would be leaving the palace for the School together.

That dream was gone.

Later that evening, Darren begged his father to admit him to the School early. There was no point in remaining behind at court. But Lucius refused to grant his request.

“You need to be the best,” the king snarled. “You will apply at sixteen when you are sure to stand out. I won’t have you dishonor the Crown by letting another perform better, and Sir Audric reports you still have much to learn.”

Darren had a few choice words for what he thought of the knight master now that he had stolen his one friend away from his training. He had even more when he arrived at the training field the next morning and found someone else who was not Eve waiting in his old friend’s place.

He would recognize those sharp violet eyes anywhere. He was familiar with the way her body curved and how those long beautiful tendrils of dark auburn hair curved along her face. He’d become aware of that two years before.

Priscilla was beautiful, and she knew it. That was never the problem. Darren admired confidence. His issue was with the implication of her presence.

Priscilla was Baron Langli’s daughter, a man well-known for his temper and braggart nature in court. The king put up with the baron because the Langlis had more wealth than most of Jerar’s noble families combined.

If Priscilla was here now, it could mean only one thing, and it was the same reason Darren had avoided the girl’s presence for so long.

A forced friendship and, if the baron had his way, betrothal. That was something the prince wanted to avoid at all costs.

Blayne was free of the intrigues of court. Lucius was already working on an alliance between heirs with the Borean emperor. The crown prince didn’t have to deal with plotting courtiers and the countless daughters that followed—all of which would lie through their teeth, save Eve.

“Priscilla is to be your new sparring partner. The two of you will train together from here on out. She also plans to enter the School.”

“Does she?” Darren’s smirk was cruel. He looked the girl up and down. She was just like the others who pretended to share his same interests in hopes of ensnaring a prince. She might have been beautiful, but she was a flower. And a flower belonged in a glass, not in his training court.

The prince wondered if his father had sold the role of his new training partner to the highest bidder. Baron Langli certainly had the most coin, and the court liked games.

The girl gave him a demure smile, blatantly ignoring his tone. “How nice that we share the same interests.”

He would see about that when their practice began.

Darren looked to the knight master. Priscilla was already outfitted for sparring, so he would prefer to end this charade before it began. Once Sir Audric saw how ill-equipped his partner was, surely he would petition the king to allow one of the others to take her place—someone who knew how to wield a sword instead of counting jewels. King Lucius would not want his son’s education to suffer, no matter how pretty the price might have been.