Page 21

The next morning is like waking into a dream. The soft mattress envelops me. The downy duvet smothers me. I’ve created a warm nest using every pillow, and, for a good minute, I curse the gray light of dawn.

Behind my eyelids, I’m in a different time and place.

Mother gently smooths the hair from my face, planting a kiss on my forehead before she goes to the Descent.

All non-Arcanists in Oricalis must work for five years at one of the harvesting sites to collect resources for the mills.

Unless they pay a regill—a sum of money most never see in their lifetime, save for nobles.

Failure to report is punishable by death.

She’d already paid her time to the crown…

but when the money dried up, she agreed to another stint.

Every subsequent stretch of time earns a regill, if you complete it.

Few things pay better than jobs that put one in mortal peril.

Look after Arina, she whispers, I’ll be home after the sun sets. You both have all my love.

I force open stinging eyes and blink at the bone-pale wall.

The mattress in my old room smelled of the damp hay inside it.

The blankets were woolly. The room was half subterranean and so never got enough light, and the walls wept heavy beads of condensation for much the same reason.

But I felt just as cozy in my family’s home as I do now.

More, even. What I wouldn’t give to go back.

You think you appreciate what you have and then it’s taken from you…and you wonder if you ever treasured it enough.

Emerging from the warm cocoon of the bed and my memories requires a significant amount of effort.

It’s been ages since I last slept comfortably, and I could probably spend an entire day just in bed.

But I’m not going to have a late start to my first day.

Swinging my feet off, I pause as I lay eyes on my roommate.

Alor is a soft silhouette beneath the rolls of the duvet. Her platinum hair, silver in the gray morning light, is a halo around her tranquil expression. Even in slumber, she possesses an almost unnatural grace.

I’d heard her come in last night. It was at some ungodly hour, but I couldn’t fall into any kind of deep sleep until I knew she was in the room and wasn’t about to stab me in my sleep.

Perhaps she shares that sentiment and the slumber is nothing more than a facade she’s putting on for me.

As I stand, I catch a glint of silver—the hilt of a dagger peeking out from the top of the duvet, her fist curled around it.

A bitter smirk crosses my lips. My worries were founded.

Walking barefoot across the plush carpet and then cool stone, I open my wardrobe.

Using the massive door like a changing screen, I tuck myself inside and quickly dress for the day.

The sense of vulnerability that comes with being naked is overwhelming.

Halazar might have been squalid, but at least the cell offered generally somewhat private squalor.

I select a pair of stiff, high-waisted cotton trousers in midnight, and a silvery silken shirt with billowing sleeves.

A holster affixes to the wide leather belt that I fasten around my waist and is held in place with a strap that circles my thigh.

Slinging a satchel across my body, I return to the desk, where I collect an array of basic supplies and the short stack of cards I inked last night.

The former are in the satchel, the latter in the holster.

I’m not supposed to have half the cards I inked, but that’s a tactical risk as I’m not taking another step in this place unarmed.

Before leaving, I cast one more glance at Alor. She has yet to move. Her breathing is like clockwork. I don’t think for a second she’s sleeping. But I say nothing.

The common area for the houses is bustling when I descend. There is no official uniform among the students. They are dressed in as much of an array of finery as the night previous. The only consistent element of their garb is a medallion bearing their house symbol.

Each house’s medallion has been cast in a different metal.

Swords are in a dark, matte metal a shade lighter than iron—reminiscent of the alloy Kaelis’s Oricalis family crest is cast in.

Wands have a rusty hue that swirls with charcoal.

Coins are made of gold. And Cups are almost translucent, done in a glassy crystalline material.

The only outliers are the house royals, who also bear a pin that signifies their status.

The students move in packs, keeping mostly to the other members of the same house.

Initiates are peppered throughout. There wasn’t an overly clear instruction on what we were expected to do this morning—beyond heading to class when the bells toll.

So I assume all the other initiates are, like me, following the lead of the students.

We cast wary glances at one another. Every chest that’s vacant of a medallion might as well be a target.

The grand hall is already bustling as I arrive.

The tables practically groan under the weight of the food spread across them.

Once more, I am in awe of the assortment of offerings and waste no time filling my plate with slabs of honeyed ham and towering biscuits that let out a mouthwatering billow of steam when pried apart.

My stomach is already objecting to the rich food.

But the sooner it gets accustomed to solid and not maggot-infested sustenance, the better.

“Good morning, Clara,” Luren says cheerfully as she sits next to me, oblivious to the dark thoughts I’d been having of my time in Halazar. Consistent as ever, Kel is at her side. Sorza and Dristin are nowhere to be seen, so far.

“Good morning,” I oblige her. Though her tone is somewhat confusing. We’re not friends, I want to say. Judging from the look in Kel’s eyes, she feels similarly. But Luren’s sunshine smile stays both our tongues.

“Did you sleep well?” Luren asks.

“Well enough.” I take a sip of my tea.

“How could you not sleep well in beds like this?” she says dreamily.

“She’s probably accustomed to it, being a noble and all.” Kel’s nails run along the rim of her mug, as if she’s trying to resist balling her hands into fists in frustration.

“Oh, right. I forget how many nobles there are.” Luren’s gaze quickly becomes a touch sad.

“I only uncovered the truth of my lineage recently.” I’m not sure why I’m so drawn to reassure them.

“I suspect our upbringings weren’t so different for most of our lives.

” Despite my intent, their nerves don’t abate.

I decide to shift the topic slightly, hopefully in a direction that will emphasize our sameness. “Where are you two from?”

It’s not Eclipse City, I get that impression based on some of her remarks.

“Grifton,” Luren answers readily, confirming my suspicions.

“You don’t have to answer every question she asks,” Kel murmurs, stirring two sugars into her tea.

“It’s not going to kill us to be friendly.” Luren rolls her eyes.

“It might.” Kel still won’t look my way.

Grifton is a small community within the borders of Clan Lovers situated between the pulping houses that make paper for cards and the main road.

It’s just to the north of Eclipse City, beyond the mountains and hills that encircle the city.

Grifton is off the main road by about a day and isn’t frequented by anyone but merchants and Stellis going to collect paper.

I know it only because I once sent an Arcanist up that way who claimed to have family there.

Usually, I’m adamant that Arcanists make for the border on the far western edge of the desert.

But, they insisted. Grifton is under the oversight of Clan Lovers, the most lax of the clans, keeping it well out of the reach of the enforcers found in cities controlled by the crown.

A place where an Arcanist, if they’re lucky, can slip the Chalice and the Mark and make something resembling a life in peace…

so long as they keep their talents hidden forever.

Despite knowing so much about the town, I ask, “Is Grifton far from here?”

“About a day, maybe two, to Eclipse City.” Luren rolls a sausage around her plate. “Close enough that it seemed like no time at all to come here. Far enough that it might as well be a different world.”

“I know that feeling.” The Barren Mountains make a nearly impenetrable wall.

Few people go in and out of Eclipse City as a result.

Moreover, each region of Oricalis has its own unique quirks.

Each noble clan has their land that they oversee on behalf of the crown and a purpose that corresponds to their house, making the High Lords’ and Ladies’ realms almost like tiny kingdoms. They just can’t think of themselves as such…

or they risk the fate of Clan Hermit. Only Eclipse City and the capital, Fate Hearth, are under direct control of the crown, rather than a noble clan.

“Where are you from?” Luren looks up at me through her long lashes, mid-bite.

“Eclipse City.”

“Lucky you didn’t have to leave your home to get here. Must make it easier to acclimate to these forsake—I mean, prestigious halls,” Kel corrects herself with a murmur. I’m beginning to bet her dislike isn’t personal. Her sour mood is toward this place in general. Which…makes me like her more.

“This is not my home,” I insist. That brings her attention to me outright, for the first time without any kind of skepticism or contempt. “Eclipse City isn’t Arcana Academy. I’m forced to be here as much as you are.”

“Forced?” Luren pauses and nibbles at her breakfast, and I wait for her to get out whatever it is she clearly wants to ask me. Kel gives her friend the same space. “Wouldn’t you be happy to be close to your beloved prince?”