The boy broke both legs and spent the rest of the day being treated by the healing mages of the Academy. A day later, he resigned.
Master Barclae interrogated our class, but no one gave up the names of the boy’s tormentors. I had wanted to at first, but Ella hastily pointed out that if we did, we would find ourselves first in line for the next hazing.
“The boy could have come forward himself, if he had wanted justice,” she said. “If you tell, you’ll be considered a snitch. Whether you want to admit it or not, this is just another test. Most people believe the masters already know who did it—they just don’t care. Combat mages don’t ask others to solve their problems. Hazing is just another way for them to tell us that we are not cut out for our faction. Don’t give them a reason, Ry.”
I hated to admit it, but she had a point.
So now we were into our second week, with two more unfortunate incidents under our belts. Another boy in Combat had woken up screaming to a hoard of snakes hiding out in his bed. One of Priscilla’s friends, the girl who had laughed at her expense a week before, found all her belongings drenched in what I could only assume was a slimy mass of fish guts.
One by one, everyone who had ever criticized a member of the prince’s inner circle was becoming victim to the notorious hazing. And while no one had been hurt in a manner past healing, I grew increasingly upset that the nonheir and his counterparts were leading the assault.
Sure, Darren’s friends were reducing the odds, but they were also increasing their own. No one was foolhardy enough to haze his following, and so the group’s actions just promoted their own standing, making it that much harder for others to move up.
I was tired of sleeping with one eye open, and after my encounters with Priscilla and Jake, I knew it was only a matter of time before I was next.
I hadn’t been alone with the prince since that moment in the halls, but I swore that if I had the opportunity, I would give Darren a piece or two of my mind. I wasn’t sure whether I was more upset by the kiss or the hazing, though I told myself it was the latter.
“You know it’s going to be us soon,” Ella said, eyeing Priscilla as we sat down for the evening meal. Two more weeks had passed, and Combat was running out of first-years who had openly feuded with the nonheir’s crowd. Only one of their victims had left, but it didn’t mean the hazings were any more pleasant.
“We’ve only had two hazings in Alchemy,” Ruth pointed out.
“No one has attempted Restoration yet,” shy James admitted, attempting to sit between my brother and Ella until Alex gave him a sharp look.
As soon as James returned to his seat at the edge of our table, my brother spoke up: “It’s probably because we’ve only got ten left, as is.”
Ella sighed. “I wish we had ten. Those are much better odds than the five in thirty-three for Combat.”
I elbowed my friend. “That’s the thinking that brought on the hazing in the first place, Ella!”
My friend swallowed uncomfortably.
“Why do you think you two are next?” Alex asked.
“Because they are. Priscilla hates them,” Ruth said matter-of-factly. She stared at my brother. “How have you not noticed that?”
Alex shrugged his shoulders good-naturedly. “I try to keep out of girlish drama.”
“Well, Ry’s got bad relations with the prince too,” Ella said before I could stop her. “Didn’t Darren go after the two of you during orientation week for Combat?”
“Oh, yeah,” Alex admitted ruefully.
“Right, Ryiah?” Ella pressed.
I stared at my plate, using my fork to stab small indents into a slice of roasted potato.
“Ryiah?”
I glanced up at her. “Right.”
I excused myself, promising to meet up with Ella and Clayton for our nightly practice outside the armory: “I need to stop by the barracks first. I think I left one of my books there.” It was a lie, but I needed to get some space, alone, before I faced my friends again.
The last thing I wanted to do was discuss the prince. Even the mention of his name brought back memories of that night, and the last thing I wanted was to remember it.
Yes, I’d enjoyed that kiss. But so would have any hot-blooded female. It wasn’t a crime, just a lack of judgment on my part.
“Ryiah?”
I almost jumped out of my skin. Standing in the shadows of the hall just beyond was Darren.
My heart began to beat wildly, and blood rushed my face. I tried to appear uncaring as I asked shortly, “What?”
“Can I have a word with you—outside?”
“No.” I was proud of my resolve. I did not bat an eye.
“Ryiah, please.” Darren walked over to where I stood, frozen, and reached down to take my hand.
The second our skin touched, I was hit with a rush of fire and ice, the same tingling sensation as before.
I looked up involuntarily. A flash of recognition—and guilt— flared up in those fathomless eyes. He dropped my wrist immediately.
“You should go back to your friends,” the prince said abruptly, turning.