Chapter 11: _ Raice’s Letter

Elira No-One

...

The argument in Room 3B had reached its twenty-minute mark, and I was genuinely considering whether throwing myself out the window onto the cobbles of the West Annex courtyard would be less painful than listening to another second of it.

"For the last time, Bren, a prestigious institution does not grant a ’free day’ to a pack of unvetted initiates," Miriel sneered, smoothing down the front of her embroidered bodice for the fifth time. "In civilised society—which I realize is a foreign concept in Redmere—discipline is established on morning one. We will be lined up, evaluated, and sent directly to the lecture halls."

"And in Redmere, we don’t waste time making up rules just to sound sophisticated. My uncle worked the trade carts near the Dragon Academy’s outer perimeter for six years. I know how this place runs. Today is for getting your bearings and wandering the grounds. There won’t be classes before an Initiation Ball which is tomorrow." Bren fired back from her side of the small room.

She was busy lacing up a pair of heavy leather boots that looked like they could crush a skull with a single strike.

"A ball tomorrow and an entire free day today?" Miriel scoffed, tossing her head back with an incredulous laugh. "Don’t be absurd. Commoners love to invent tales of endless leisure because your idea of a festival is dancing around a bonfire with unwashed turnips. The Rector is not going to let us run wild through the fortress like feral beasts before a single lesson has been taught!"

"And disgraced nobles love to pretend they know everything about a school they were nearly priced out of. I’m telling you, today is a free day!" Bren barked.

"Enough, both of you," I muttered, rubbing the bridge of my nose as I leaned against the headboard of my cot. "If I’m going to be executed by a Fae golden boy before the week is out, I’d prefer not to spend my final hours listening to a debate on academic scheduling."

I opened my mouth, on the verge of telling them about Tobin. I hadn’t made up my mind about him... trusting anyone in Last Bastion felt like handing them a dagger and pointing it at my spine, but before the words could cross my lips, a reverberating pulse hummed through the walls.

It was a voice devoid of warmth that seemed to emanate directly from the floorboards beneath our feet.

"Initiates of the Concorded Realms. By decree of the High Rector and the Council of Headmasters, you are granted leave today to familiarize yourselves with the domain grounds. Formal instruction will not commence until after your rites. The collective Initiation Ball for all five Academies will take place tomorrow evening at the eighth hour in the Lion Academy. Attendance for all first-year initiates is mandatory. Senior cohorts will observe."

The voice dissolved into a static pop, leaving the room in an echoing silence.

Bren slowly turned her head, folding her arms across her chest as a triumphant grin spread across her broad face. She held out her palm toward Miriel.

"Three silver coins. Pay up, wise Lady Tudor. Today is a free day, and the ball is tomorrow."

Miriel’s jaw clicked shut. An embarrassed red flushed her face as she reached into her cloak, pulled out three tarnished silver pieces, and slapped them into Bren’s waiting palm with enough force to bruise a lesser woman.

"It is an utter degradation of proper academic protocol," she huffed, spinning around to adjust her collar. "Granting unsupervised leisure to untamed commoners before testing our aptitude. Barbarians."

"Call it what you want, as long as your money clinks," Bren chuckled, sliding the coins into her pocket. "Though I have to admit, I’m thrilled. A whole day to explore, free food in the common pavilions, and I don’t have to sit through a three-hour lecture on Dragon history until after the ball tomorrow."

Before Miriel could formulate another razor-sharp retort, a sudden draft swept through the cracked windowpane.

A silver-veined leaf floated through the cracked window. It hovered in the air... strange for a single leaf. Then it shot straight toward me.

"Watch out!" Bren grunted, stepping forward.

I caught it.

The instant my fingers closed around the stem, the leaf curled inward, its edges glowing green. A thin sheet of dark parchment unfolded from its center.

"What sort of magic is that?" I asked, staring down at the glowing ink rapidly forming across the surface.

Miriel leaned over my shoulder, her eyes widening. "The silver veins. The way it found you by itself... that’s Fae magic."

My heart gave a sickening thud against my ribs. Raice.

The image of his pale, terrifying face flashed through my mind; his silver-violet eyes, his razor-sharp smile, the quiet threat he’d left hanging between us before he was led out of the Concourse.

I braced myself, expecting a formal summons to my own execution.

"Oh, sweet Mother of Flame," Miriel gasped, covering her mouth with both hands. "It’s him. He’s sent a herald. He’s coming to kill you right now, isn’t he? In our room? Will the blood stain my luggage?"

"Miriel, shut your mouth! You’re not helping!" Bren barked, shoving her back.

"I’m merely stating the obvious!" Miriel protested, dusting off her sleeves. "People who talk back to an Ignis-Dominus do not get love letters, Bren. They get incinerated!"

Incinerated? The same thing I unknowingly said he deserved?

Holy irony.