CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Autumn
My parents were home, and there was no faking illness with the shrewd eyes of my mother tuned to any pattern she didn’t believe colds could muster. A cold that miraculously healed in time for work the previous weekend only to return exactly a week later was not a believable cold; that was why I was up with the bright break of the next day and in school just as the caretakers were unlocking the doors.
The sun had not yet risen high enough to warm the bench I sat down on, so I stretched the tips of my toes beyond the shade and let my legs bask in the growing heat as the light worked its way up toward my skirt. I slid a little lower, letting my head rest on the back of the bench.
I closed my eyes. He wouldn’t be here for another twenty minutes at least, and it would be half an hour before the buses arrived.
Why did he bring that up yesterday? It made me uncomfortable; more than uncomfortable. I was admitting a stranger into the innermost workings of my mind; and as much as he obviously thought to the contrary, we were strangers. Playing as children to pass the long hours at balls did not make us friends. I didn’t even properly remember the visits before I was twelve, and I had not been the only child of high birth to move in such circles at that time. There were dozens of us. Yet in just two weeks he was privy to things I had not divulged to a single human at Kable. How does that work?
I summoned a globule of water, about the size of a pea, into my hand and let it skate across my palm, perfectly intact, and down to the base of my wrist. It was soothing—a trick my grandmother had used to get me to sleep when I first went to live with her.
I felt the clouds close over the sun and reluctantly opened my eyes, thinking it must be time to find somewhere to hide out until homeroom. I blinked a few times, before the globule burst and I scrambled to my feet.
Leaning against a nearby bench was the prince. The remnants of a small smile on his lips disintegrated as our eyes met and he began the stuttered apologies of someone caught red-handed.
I dropped into a low, cautious curtsy, unsure of how else to react.
“Don’t,” he muttered. “Just don’t.”
Instead of standing back up, I sank onto the bench.
He sat down beside me. “Tell me you wouldn’t do it?” he asked in a near-whisper.
I shrugged my shoulders.
“Have you seen someone about this? Had therapy?”
“Right after she died. It didn’t help.”
“But it’s got to be better than this. Look what happened yesterday!”
I said nothing for a while, resting my forearms on my thighs and leaning forward; that way I couldn’t see him. “Have you heard of something called coping ugly?” His silence answered me. “Sometimes things—and emotions—that might otherwise be bad are the only way we can cope.”
I briefly glanced back to find him shaking his head.
“But how can you still let it affect you? Why not start looking forward instead of back?”
“It’s not just her.”
“Then what else is it?”
I remained mute. He sighed before I heard the bench creaking in protest as he leaned forward; out of the corner of my eye, I could see his arms, clad in the thin wool of his jumper, just inches from my own, bare.
“You have a job.” It was a statement, not a question. “Runs in the family, huh?” He let out a chuckle then stopped abruptly. “St. Sapphire’s was lucky to have your grandmother as a teacher. She was one of the best.”
“Yes.”
The dark blue jumper disappeared from my view. “Does it not bother you that your parents work in the city? The banks have a lot to answer for these days.”
I shrugged.
“Listen, I was wondering if you would agree to a fight this lunchtime? Only to retirement, not first blood. I’ll run it past Sylaeia in homeroom . . . if-if you want to, that is.”
I sat quietly for a few minutes. I heard him shift.
“The Extermino could come back and attack here anytime. We should keep ourselves ready.”
I scoffed. “We wouldn’t stand a chance against them. But yes. I would like that.” I rose to my feet, hearing the rising chorus of voices from the parking lot as a busload of students arrived.
“I have a few useful tricks up my sleeve to use against them. Oh, wait, you’re going?” he questioned, scrambling to his feet.
“Your entourage has arrived, Your Highness.” I bowed my head in the direction of the entrance and curtsied as he narrowed his eyes at the oncoming crowd.
“My what?” he said, but I had already turned and retreated, hearing his title, and mine, rise on the wind as he was swamped once again.
“I will not go! You cannot make me!”
The child fastened the ribbons of her straw hat beneath her bun, a few stray hairs covering the clumsy knot. Usually, she would tie a neat bow, but she could not do that while walking, especially so fast, with careful emphasis on every step to make sure that it echoed. She climbed the staircase, intending to lose herself within the pre-lesson crowds of the dining hall, but her grandmother followed close behind. Her footsteps were the echo of an echo, and they were relentless in their pursuit.
“Child, it is your tenth birthday! You cannot turn your back this time.”
The girl was careful to keep her back to the older woman, weaving between the crowds toward the top end of the middle table.
“Why not?”
“Because already you ignore your parents when they travel to the city on business.”
The girl smiled the smile of someone much older, revealing a gap in her bottom row of teeth, partly closed by an adult tooth.
“As do you, Grandmother.”
“Sylaeia was fine with it, he said we should practice defensive magic, just in case.” The prince hoisted his bag higher, marching across the field with me at his side. “But the headmaster was a pain. I don’t know why he’s so against it? Does he want Extermino knocking on his door?”
“Kurt Holden,” I muttered.
“Yes, but that was years ago, wasn’t it?”
“Valerie still remembers,” I replied under my breath, extremely conscious of the way the prince’s fan club had swollen in their ranks to include most of the school: the wildfire gossip network had kicked into action once again. Most settled on the banks nearest the school buildings, while a few of the older, bolder sixth-formers continued on with us toward the very end of the field. When we stopped and deposited our bags, they carried on to a sunny patch in between the trees.
“Right, no weapons and the first to retire loses. But don’t push yourself too hard, we need to keep a shield up to protect the students.” He began unbuckling his scabbard from his belt, and my eyes, without seeking my permission, wandered down. “I don’t suppose you’re the type to put a wager on this, are you?”
I blinked a few times and shook my head, hastening to cast my own sword aside, along with my flimsy shoes—they would only get broken.
He began backing away, and as he did, I felt the buzz of a shield erupt from the ground up. It rose above our heads, enclosing us in a dome forty feet high. He continued back, a smile appearing on his face. I recognized that smile: it was the one he wore for the media—a wry grin of quiet confidence.
“I should warn you, duchess: I won’t go easy on you.”
“No, Your Highness,” I responded, adding my own magic to the shield. My muscles tensed and I was shocked by how quickly it was draining me. It was then that I questioned what on earth I was doing. I had as good as admitted to him in the car the week before that I hadn’t used any serious magic for well over a year; in contrast, he had the best education and disciplined training money could buy.
Suddenly, a bolt of what looked like lightning crossed from one side of the shield to the other, accompanied by the same shattered-glass sound my curse had created when it had been absorbed by the prince’s shield the day before. At its source were Christy and Gwen, flat on their backs. The pr
ince laughed as they got up, both girls completely confused until the shield rippled a little and revealed itself. They flushed and hurried around its edge, followed by Tammy and Tee.
I did not share my opponent’s amusement. Beyond my friends were Valerie and her own group, and it was their leering expressions that reignited the anger I had felt the day before. They wanted me to fail.
The prince saw me looking and cleared his throat. I turned my attention back to him and curtsied as he bowed, as was customary.
“What are the three ways of casting?”
I was taken aback by the question. I hadn’t expected a quiz, and it took me a few moments to answer, though it was basic knowledge.
“With the mind, the voice, and the hands.”
“And what is the first way any Sage learns to utilize their magic?”
“With the mind.”
“Why?” Before I had a chance to answer, a deep-orange streak—a hex, I could only assume—appeared from thin air and sped straight toward my chest. It was utterly silent.
I could only trust my mind to react quickly enough, and it did. Without so much as a breath, a shield appeared as a second skin around me, deflecting the hex back toward the prince. He, of course, was ready, and his own small shield appeared as he flicked his hand casually, directing the remnants of the spell toward the larger dome shield, where it crackled and died.
He answered his own question. “Shields.” We both tensed. I knew I should resist, but my eyes flicked toward where the students lined the banks. It was not so much fear in their faces, but shock. Seeing, for the first time, a Sage cast without a single word or movement was quite something—I could remember mirroring their awe as a child.
I half expected him to cast in my moment of misdirected concentration, but he didn’t, and I turned back to him, wondering if he was going to ask another question. Instead I found his face quite blank. More seconds passed and I eventually realized that he was waiting for me to make a move. I was not prepared to do that. Everybody knew the Athenean princes were fast; any aggressive attack on the prince would just make it far too easy for him. Casting when he was concentrating on a spell was my only chance.
I could feel my tights soaking up the water on the slightly damp grass, filtering out the mud, and slowly, cautiously, took a step forward. Like an awakening statue, he came to life, equally as slowly as my step, as though he had only just noticed I was there. Then he rapidly began to cast and I realized I had no chance. His hands moved fast, but more spells appeared than gestures created, and the shield I put up drained me in seconds, as if I had run a marathon. My muscles burned until they were so weak I felt as though the ground itself was moving as I was battered into taking several steps back.
My pride prevented me from casting anything—I only had enough energy to create something weak, which would not so much as split a hair on his revered head. It was unnerving, too, to find that somebody of the same age and training level, more or less, could overwhelm me so easily.
It was at that moment that my mind split into two: one half contemplated retiring, the other at least trying to do something to preserve some dignity. An echo of Valerie’s taunting words sounded in the latter half, and that was all it took for it to engulf the former.
I knew what I could try, but attempting to do it while maintaining a shield was near crazy. Yet it would work if I could keep him at bay long enough. It had never failed me.
I pushed the shield away from my body, peeling the part that protected my back around toward the front to form a misty disc which I ducked down behind, placing one hand flush to the ground with my fingers splayed. There was a momentary pause in the onslaught against my shield. I panicked for a brief second, wondering how quickly he could move around me and how much he was into chivalry.
To my surprise, he continued to cast at my shield, and not above or behind me. I could only presume he thought I had a second shield to protect against his doing exactly that.
Keeping my eyes fixed on his misty outline through my shield, I murmured a few words and felt my hand immediately tingle. My skin warmed in a wave as energy in its rawest form penetrated my flesh and traveled up toward my chest. The moment I felt it pass from beneath my scars and into the center of my chest, I was able to stop gasping for breath, my muscles ceasing to ache. With a brief promise to the trees to restore their energy, I stood up. I knew I would have to use what I had taken quickly—too long and it would refuse to be tamed.
I let my shield drop, and a few spells escaped; to my surprise, one broke the prince’s shield and he stumbled back a few steps. Within seconds, his shield had reappeared and he was casting again. But those precious moments gave me time to act: spells alone would waste the precious magic I was borrowing, and besides, my strengths lay elsewhere.
“Terra,” I muttered, continuing the rest of the summons in my mind, keeping my hands as still as possible. I did not want him to know what I was calling upon.
Beneath my feet I felt the earth stir. It continued for half a second more; as soon as it stilled, I raked my shield back in so it clung not an inch from my skin and released the magic I had manipulated back into the ground.
He had no time to react. He could not even look toward his feet as roots from the very trees I had borrowed the energy from pierced the surface, wrapped their tips around his ankles and waist—a personal shield of the kind he had summoned was no use against physical objects—and propelled themselves toward the larger dome shield. As though made of elastic, they whipped back toward the grass; he, on the other hand, kept going, only stopping as he was thrown into the shield, sliding down until he met the ground.
My heart stopped when he didn’t move. On the wind I heard the trees I had utilized whisper treason with barely disguised glee. Before I knew what I was doing, I was sprinting toward him, half tripping over the ripped soles of my tights. A few feet away from where he lay I fell onto my hands and knees and scrambled to close the distance, feeling my heart start again when I realized he was groaning and clutching at the bottom of his rib cage.
“Are you okay?” I blurted out, crawling even closer to search for any bleeding.
His eyes snapped open and he lifted his head at the sound of my voice before relaxing back into the ground.
“Fine,” he said between gasping breaths. “Just a little winded.”
But even as he spoke, I had spotted deep gouges just above his ankles where the roots had knotted themselves. The skin was knitting itself together as pale-gold sprigs of magic weaved in and out of one another, acting like stitches. By the time I had looked away, all that remained was a thin red line dividing the scars on his leg and foot.
“I’m so sorry,” I continued, glancing at the muddy stains on his jumper.
He choked a little as he chuckled. “Sorry? You won!”
“But I hurt you.”
He slowly propped himself up until he had pulled his knees up to his chest and was sitting. “I thought you weren’t the gambling type. You were bargaining with nature there.”
I rolled back to rest on my knees and heels. The shield around us faded.
“That’s degree-level magic.”, he continued. “Where did you learn it?”
I slumped, feeling my concern ebb away to be replaced with a need to escape. “My grandmother.”
He didn’t say anything but glanced behind him, examining the crowds moving toward us. “Come on, we had better get our things.”
I stood up and offered him my hand, but he managed on his own, climbing to his feet as though not hurt at all. I followed a pace behind him as he strode toward where our swords lay in the grass. Just beyond that, Christy, Gwen, Tee, and Tammy were galloping toward us; Gwen skipped ahead and threw her arms around me, squealing.
“You were so amazing!” She almost instantly drew back, as always, smiling ruefully as though surprised at her own compliment. “So were you, Your Highness,” she added coyly.
The prince let out a wry grin as he fastened his scabbar
d back onto his belt. “Same time Monday? I won’t let you get away with the same trick twice, though.” He smiled, and for the first time I noticed how teasing his expression became when his lips upturned.
I nodded, already finding myself being pulled away by Gwen, who was clearly desperate to gossip.
“Oh, and Autumn?” I heard him call and came to a slow stop, turning. “You would definitely stand a chance.”
The four girls burst into a fit of giggles and I blushed bright red, bowing my head and hurrying off with them to conceal my sheepish smile.
UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE
HarperCollins Publishers
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CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Autumn
The prince stuck to his word. Of the two fights we fitted in before the Wednesday of the next week, he won one, while the other ended with us both flat on our backs. The audience by no means shrank, as the appeal of the dangerous converted into genuine curiosity. For my friends, it was a chance to talk to the prince outside of the classroom.
Nathan did not turn up at work the weekend after that first fight. He had not called in, and I ended up bearing the brunt of my employer’s anger.
By Wednesday, things were settling down. The initial hype that had followed the prince like a shadow was diminishing, though that which surrounded my title never did. Valerie’s jibes became less direct, but she made a point of mocking my wealth. That I could cope with.
What happened on Wednesday night, I couldn’t.
Tick, tock . . .
I was in a forest, but the sounds that played on a loop were not of the trees. The clock that ticked never stopped, and the grunts of the man never ceased. If the woman ever screamed, I didn’t hear her, and if the man ever taunted, I didn’t hear him.
But I did see her hair, brunette, tangled, and her calves, spread beyond his feet, her weight balanced on the tip of a silver shoe on one foot and a muddied sock on the other. Her torso relied on his body to remain upright.