Barclae. Immediately, all exhaustion was forgotten, and I yanked my only clean dress over my head. I ran out after Ella, combing my fingers through my bedraggled hair and wishing I had more time.
The two of us rushed through the courtyard and into the back entrance of the Academy. We made it into the dining hall just as the platters were being taken back to the kitchens. Wonderful.
Ella and I took our seats at the end of a back table. I had just spotted Alex a couple seats down when Master Barclae entered looking stern and impressive in his silks.
“Well, it looks like you are all still here. I will try my best to discourage that.”
I flinched. Master Barclae’s mood was worse than the night before.
“What is he doing here?”
I turned in the direction of Ella’s whisper and saw where she was looking. The prince was seated one row from Alex.
I had forgotten all about him. “Maybe he doesn’t know,” I whispered, knowing my explanation sounded ludicrous even to my own ears.
Master Barclae coughed loudly, and I felt my cheeks burn as I realized his scowl was fixed on Ella and me. “Have I bored you?” he drawled loudly.
We quickly shook our heads, and I lowered my own, shame-faced.
But Master Barclae wasn’t done making his point. “Really, I insist, what is so fascinating that you needed to interrupt my lecture?”
“Nothing,” I said quickly.
“Him.” Ella pointed.
I quickly snuck a look at the prince and saw his garnet eyes fixated on Ella and me. The expression he wore was one of unadulterated loathing.
I swallowed uncomfortably. Ella!
“Ah.” Master Barclae smiled sardonically. “Him. What about this him?”
Ella stood nervously, “The Council’s Treaty states no heir of the kingdom can undertake training as a mage. T-to prevent the Crown from interfering with matters of magic.”
The irritation in the young man’s eyes had turned to daggers. I quickly looked away.
“True,” Master Barclae admitted, “but the doctrine was alluding to first-born children who would be inheriting the throne. Prince Darren is not.”
“But we’ve never had a prince before—”
“You’ve never had one before because nobody was good enough!” Prince Darren spat.
I winced. There was no mistaking the indignation and resentment in his tone.
Master Barclae laughed harshly. “Ah, my dears, you are so young to have already made such an unpleasant impression with a member of the royal family.”
Ella bit her lip. I continued to stare at the ground. I could feel the prince’s angry gaze burning us alive.
“Well, now that these two girls have finished embarrassing themselves, would anyone else like to join them?”
Silence.
“Good. Now, before I send you off to your actual lessons, I want to make a couple of things clear. Each year, students enter my school claiming to have a gift. Please understand that having magic has never been and never will be enough. For most of you the degree of power you possess is nothing short of insignificant.”
The master grunted. “Unfortunately, it takes months of testing to determine. Were it weeks, there would never be such thing as a silly trial year in the first place.”
Someone behind me snickered loudly. Apparently, they weren’t worried, a sentiment I couldn’t help wishing I shared.
“The constable has informed me that we have one hundred and twenty-two new faces this year. I advise you all to think long and hard on those odds. There will only be fifteen apprenticeships. Do you really want to waste an entire year under the guise of hope?” He eyed the audience coldly.
“Ten months of hard labor, course study, and endless repetition. That is what you have to look forward to if you choose to stay.” Master Barclae eyed us speculatively. “Half this class will leave, of their own accord, by midwinter for that very reason—well, that and the realization that their magic is not nearly as powerful as they had presumed…
“In any case, we will have a weeklong trial for those that remain at the year’s end. Which brings me to my final note before you begin your studies, and that is your faction.
“I know that each one of you walked into the Academy doors with a preconceived notion of which magic to train for… and for most of you that faction is Combat.” He eyed his dress, smiling ironically. “The black robes of the warrior class are world-renowned, undoubtedly inspired by the Candidacy.”
An elbow nudged me in the ribs, and I saw that Alex had made his way to where Ella and I stood. My twin gave me a crooked grin, and I shoved him back, knowing exactly what he was thinking. I already knew Combat was a long shot, but it wasn’t going to stop me from trying.
“Still, I implore you to think twice. Consider perhaps the great skill of Alchemy. Or the healer’s touch of Restoration. Both branches commit their service to Jerar’s defense, and yet they are under-praised in light of another’s glory. You have two months before you actually commence the study of your chosen faction. It would be wise to consider those odds.”