potential. Any mage past thirty is not going to consider entry—his stamina will have already begun to decline.”
He paused. “For me, it’s already too late.” His gaze was wistful, but resigned. “Too young for the last Candidacy and too old for the present… But you, Ian, even Ray here… I doubt there will be more than sixty entries for Combat. You three have much better odds than you think.”
I didn’t say a word for the rest of the night. I wanted to best Darren and win, yes, but I had never stopped to consider exactly how many mages I would be going up against. Sixty was certainly better than I had anticipated. I was second rank. That put me at the top half of our faction’s candidates… Of course there were those whose potential had grown post-ascension… but for most their limits will have undoubtedly been reached by the time they received their ranking.
And that’s when I realized it: I really could have a chance.
****
I spoke too soon. That was the first thought that crossed my mind as I curled my knees to my chest, shivering and shaking under the heavy blankets of my cot.
Paige set a bucket on the floor. I cringed at the heavy thud of metal against stone. “Not so loud,” I begged.
“You need to drink some of that tea the healers gave you, my lady.”
My stomach gurgled and heaved and I clutched it with a groan. “Stuff was vile,” was all I could manage.
“Well, you will never get better if you don’t, and tomorrow we set off for the palace even if I have to tie you to the saddle.”
“…Wouldn’t…dare.”
She snorted. “I will, and you know it well.”
I didn’t say anything else. I just clutched the mug and shuddered. Then I downed the contents, refusing to let the bitter, chalky liquid rest on my tongue any longer than it had to. When I was done I fell back against the bed in a heap. My belongings were already packed. I just needed this sickness to end. I’d spent the past three days tossing and turning in a sleepless fit, hot and cold, unable to do anything but writhe in my misery.
The Restoration mages in the infirmary said I had a “mage’s cold.” As one could surmise it was the result of too much magic. I had never experienced it before because Master Byron had been so focused on us learning to exercise what we had with caution. The few times I had been reckless with my magic I had ended up unconscious in the infirmary, so the cold would have just been a small part of my recovery.
“Why,” I moaned, “why didn’t I listen…?”
Paige blotted a cloth against my wet, sticky skin. “Because you are stubborn, my lady. Now drink and rest.”
Gods , I prayed , do not put me through this for another fourteen days.
The gods never heard me.
Chapter Six
“Oh dear, sweet...” I dismounted, running a hand through my frost-strewn hair as I fell to my knees in a broken promise, not caring what I looked like to the guards standing outside the palace gate.
Never, ever would I put myself through that again. I had spent the first week of travel drinking the healers’ vile tea and recovering from my cold only to spend the final leg of our journey caught in an icy snowstorm that rivaled any Jerar had ever seen. I swore the moment I stepped foot in the capital city I would never push myself that hard again.
“My lady.” Paige was working hard to hide her smile. “They are waiting for us.”
I forced myself to stand, brushing off a layer of powder and scrambling to make myself presentable. Not that anyone would be able to recognize me under the layers of fur. I looked like a shaggy snow beast. The kind that terrorized children in cautionary tales told by their parents. Ella would be proud. She hated winter more than anyone else I knew.
Paige walked over to the two soldiers standing at attention. “I am escorting Lady Mage Ryiah of Demsh’aa, Prince Darren’s intended—”
She didn’t even get to finish. The palace gates swung open and one of the men
He paused. “For me, it’s already too late.” His gaze was wistful, but resigned. “Too young for the last Candidacy and too old for the present… But you, Ian, even Ray here… I doubt there will be more than sixty entries for Combat. You three have much better odds than you think.”
I didn’t say a word for the rest of the night. I wanted to best Darren and win, yes, but I had never stopped to consider exactly how many mages I would be going up against. Sixty was certainly better than I had anticipated. I was second rank. That put me at the top half of our faction’s candidates… Of course there were those whose potential had grown post-ascension… but for most their limits will have undoubtedly been reached by the time they received their ranking.
And that’s when I realized it: I really could have a chance.
****
I spoke too soon. That was the first thought that crossed my mind as I curled my knees to my chest, shivering and shaking under the heavy blankets of my cot.
Paige set a bucket on the floor. I cringed at the heavy thud of metal against stone. “Not so loud,” I begged.
“You need to drink some of that tea the healers gave you, my lady.”
My stomach gurgled and heaved and I clutched it with a groan. “Stuff was vile,” was all I could manage.
“Well, you will never get better if you don’t, and tomorrow we set off for the palace even if I have to tie you to the saddle.”
“…Wouldn’t…dare.”
She snorted. “I will, and you know it well.”
I didn’t say anything else. I just clutched the mug and shuddered. Then I downed the contents, refusing to let the bitter, chalky liquid rest on my tongue any longer than it had to. When I was done I fell back against the bed in a heap. My belongings were already packed. I just needed this sickness to end. I’d spent the past three days tossing and turning in a sleepless fit, hot and cold, unable to do anything but writhe in my misery.
The Restoration mages in the infirmary said I had a “mage’s cold.” As one could surmise it was the result of too much magic. I had never experienced it before because Master Byron had been so focused on us learning to exercise what we had with caution. The few times I had been reckless with my magic I had ended up unconscious in the infirmary, so the cold would have just been a small part of my recovery.
“Why,” I moaned, “why didn’t I listen…?”
Paige blotted a cloth against my wet, sticky skin. “Because you are stubborn, my lady. Now drink and rest.”
Gods , I prayed , do not put me through this for another fourteen days.
The gods never heard me.
Chapter Six
“Oh dear, sweet...” I dismounted, running a hand through my frost-strewn hair as I fell to my knees in a broken promise, not caring what I looked like to the guards standing outside the palace gate.
Never, ever would I put myself through that again. I had spent the first week of travel drinking the healers’ vile tea and recovering from my cold only to spend the final leg of our journey caught in an icy snowstorm that rivaled any Jerar had ever seen. I swore the moment I stepped foot in the capital city I would never push myself that hard again.
“My lady.” Paige was working hard to hide her smile. “They are waiting for us.”
I forced myself to stand, brushing off a layer of powder and scrambling to make myself presentable. Not that anyone would be able to recognize me under the layers of fur. I looked like a shaggy snow beast. The kind that terrorized children in cautionary tales told by their parents. Ella would be proud. She hated winter more than anyone else I knew.
Paige walked over to the two soldiers standing at attention. “I am escorting Lady Mage Ryiah of Demsh’aa, Prince Darren’s intended—”
She didn’t even get to finish. The palace gates swung open and one of the men
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