The following day, I watched the nine remaining first-years of Restoration live out eight hours that were, if possible, worse than the previous days’ castings. Alex, James, and the others had drawn from the same marble statuettes that Ella and I would be using to decide the pairings for our faction’s trial. The first-year that did not have a matching figurine was given Master Cedric as a partner, which was a good thing because the man would not be participating and, therefore, not need to cure his associate’s ailments.
Alex had warned us what would happen if you were paired with the best, and unfortunately, my brother appeared to be living his worst nightmare out there on the field. He’d done well during his turn casting. He’d cured increasingly difficult maladies, ranging from swelling to deep, gashing wounds that were horrific to watch. He’d stumbled a bit, during the healing of black frost burn, and his session had ended with his performance putting him on par with the three pairs of students that had come before.
His partner, a quiet boy of dark, black braids and almond eyes, proved to be my brother’s undoing. Alex had been good, but the boy was better—much better. The boy’s turn had barely begun, and within twenty minutes Alex had already suffered severe cuts, blackening frost, intense burns, a concussion, and a heightened state of paralysis. His partner continued to cure as fast as the ailments were cast by the judges. The dark-haired boy never faltered, and he was cut off at the end of his forty-five minutes without so much as a blunder the entire act. Certainly, the boy looked as out of breath and exhausted as the students that had gone prior, but he had also doubled the outcome of everyone else’s casting.
Half the audience stood after Alex’s partner had finished, and the air was found with enthusiastic shouts and the thundering of clapping. “Ronan!” The audience kept repeating the dark-haired boy’s name.
Poor Alex looked miserable beside the new champion of Restoration. While I pitied my twin, I silently acknowledged that Alex was lucky still. He had a one in two chance that he would make his faction’s cut.
The final pair to present was James and Master Cedric. Sadly, Ella’s shy admirer did not fare so well. While he was clearly trying, James could not cure beyond the fourth ailment. It was a surprise the boy had lasted as long as he had, and I wondered how much of that had to do with my dark-skinned friend. If he hadn’t been so infatuated with Ella, would James—who was clearly not cut out for a lifetime of hardship—would he really have stayed the course?
The Restoration trials ended. Same as the day before, the retiring first-years looked incredibly ill as they followed Master Cedric off the field to the Academy.
“Tomorrow is you, right?” Derrick asked me, staring after our brother.
“Yes.” My stomach curdled at the prospect. I felt faint and dizzy, and apprehension was in every breath that I took.
Ella and I said farewell to our families shortly after, and when we returned to our barracks, we both glanced at each other wordlessly.
We had done everything we could to prepare ourselves for what lie ahead. It was a hard truth to admit, but there was nothing more we could do.
“Good luck, Ryiah,” Ella said, eyes unusually bright.
I swallowed. “You too.”
“It’ll all be over soon,” she promised, voice catching.
I nodded, and then lay down in bed, preparing for a night of restless sleep.
All twenty-two of us stood in the grand atrium of the Academy. Each of us held in our hands the small marble figurine that would be deciding our fate. Master Barclae and the Three Colored Robes were explaining which statuette would indicate first, and which would end the final round of our tourney. We made eleven pairs.
I glanced around the room, wondering if anyone else had gotten any sleep. All of our families, the king and his visiting court, and even the realm’s mages were waiting outside to watch us duel for the chance at an apprenticeship.
In the palm of my hand was the tiny carving of a fox.
Master Barclae called each token’s name forward, starting with the rabbit and ending with the wolf. Ella and Jake were both first, having each selected a rabbit. Eve and William were next, the serpent. Ray, the talented lowborn boy from Darren’s following, and I had the fox. Next went the fish, the lion, the bird—Priscilla and one of her friends, Jade, a tall girl with dark blue eyes and endless lashes—the boar, the dog, the buck, the horse, and, finally, the wolf: Darren and Clayton.
We lined up in pairs and followed Master Barclae and the rest of his panel down the long corridors and beaten path that led onto the Academy field. As we took our place at the far end of the grass, Master Barclae came forward, leading Jake and Ella to the center of the field so that the audience could see with whom the first match would take place.
The crowd began to chant. “COMBAT! COMBAT!” And then shrieks and hollers filled the air. This was what everyone had been waiting for: the most prestigious faction, the mages of the black robe.
I watched, helplessly, as my best friend twisted and dodged a giant, spinning whirlwind of flame.