Clayton kept silent, staring at the floor.
“Don’t forget,” Ian said, leaning in to touch my arm as I passed. “You’re lucky now, which means this won’t be the last time we meet.” He paused to chuckle, “Only next time, you’ll be an apprentice of Combat.”
“How…?” I stepped back dumbfounded. I’d never told him my faction.
“My training master is good friends with Narhari. The entire faction was regaled with tales from the mid-year tourney earlier this month.”
I cringed.
“Given that you’re the only first-year girl with red hair and blue eyes, I figured I had a pretty good idea of who I was talking to.”
I stepped outside the Academy doors and slammed them shut behind me. It was still early in the evening, too soon for anyone else to have left the celebrations behind.
At first, I had only intended on stepping out for a minute. But after hearing how my humiliation had been the entertainment for every apprentice mage in Combat, I’d been overcome with the overwhelming desire to run away and never look back. Realizing, however, that it was not a viable option in the dead of winter, I had figured the next best thing would be to get as far away from the residents as I could.
It was ironic, really, how my moods could change so quickly in the course of an evening. It had taken me all of a month and a half to recover from that day, yet only seconds to bring the emotions crumbling back.
As I plodded through the snow, I was barely conscious of how long I had walked until I found myself at the entrance of the armory. The bottoms of my dress and cloak were drenched in ice and mud, and my hair, which had been pinned neatly back for the ball, was now a wet, curling mess. I should have been upset that I had ruined the one valuable article of clothing in my possession, but at that moment I would have gladly burned a dozen of the same if I’d thought it would bring me any peace.
The Academy was an impressive sight I refused to look back as I tried the handle on the armory door.
It was unlocked.
Opening the door slowly, I conjured a bit of light in my left hand and entered the building quietly. All around me shadows danced, and my casting’s flame reflected off the blades lining the armory walls.
Discarding my cloak, I let it fall to the floor as I approached the back of the room. Near the back wall was another door leading to a second room that I had never bothered to inspect before, but now I did. Pushing the wooden frame open, my breath caught as I came face-to-face with my reflection at every angle.
The room’s walls were entirely encased in mirrors. I could see myself everywhere I turned, a wary, red-haired girl with somber gray-blue eyes and a jade green dress.
Going back to the main room, I grabbed a candle and a broadsword off its rack, and returned to the mirrors. Using a sconce to hold my light in place, I turned back to face the glass.
Almost unconsciously, I started the swordsman drills I had practiced so many times in class. One by one, my steps led way to an intricate dance of blades. I slashed and cut in rhythm, never striking the same spot twice, while I watched my form in the mirrors.
It was strangely soothing as I picked up pace and continued the assault. Forward and back, striking left and feigning right, I parried each attack until I became familiar with its replication in the mirrors.
Instinctively, I summoned an opposing blade to deflect my broadsword’s assault. I continued the dance, metal and metal meeting at every turn.
Each time I struck, the casting blocked. It happened again and again with increasing intensity until the second blade began an attack of its own.
I wasn’t sure exactly how it happened, but as the exchange continued, my magic no longer needed me to direct it when and where to go to parry each blow. It was a mind-numbing revelation, but I forced myself to keep on as shadows continued to play out across the room.
“Very good.”
Startled, I dropped my blade, and my casting disappeared. In the mirror, I could see Darren behind me.
The non-heir stood, leaning against the doorway, with the semblance of a smile on his face. He looked particularly disconcerting tonight in a fitted leather vest and dark pants. After seeing him so many days in training breeches and tunics, I had forgotten how morose his attire usually was. Morose, but also easy on the eyes. Possibly too easy.
My pulse quickened.
“What are you doing here?” I wasn’t sure whether to be pleased the prince had given me a compliment, or mad that he had interrupted me. I wanted to be angry, but it was hard when the prince didn’t have the usual condescension that was always written across his face.
Darren took a step forward, ignoring my question. Instead of answering, he motioned for me to pick up my blade.
Clumsily, I reached down to grab the weapon, and by the time I had pulled myself back up, the non-heir was holding a blade of his own.