“The library.” I shrug, not meeting his eyes as I say, “There are supposed to be some rare books hidden away in there that she wants to read. Owls like knowledge.”
Rory pouts and nods. I move the conversation on before he has a chance to think about it too hard. “So, what class do we have first?” I ask as I glance around; it’s Dane who answers.
“History and then Magical Applications, then you and I have Advanced Combat, followed by First Aid.” His eyes twinkle, the irony not lost on me.
“Cool, so we get to beat the shit out of each other and then learn to heal ourselves? Mighty thoughtful of them to do it that way.” I grin as we follow a stream of students up a set of stairs.
Dane chuckles, shooting me a smile that sends tingles across my skin. “Remind me to stay away from you.”
I smile in return as we enter a packed classroom. A sea of chairs fills the center, all facing a blackboard, and rows of books and objects in glass cases are scattered along the walls.
“Is anyone else with us?” I ask as I take the last seat in the row next to Dane. He shoots me an apologetic look when I look down to see his bulky frame takes up most of my desk space.
“We’re all doing Advanced Combat,” he replies, motioning for me to stand up, and I do. He moves back into the aisle and gestures for me to take his space. Sighing, he sits in my old spot and stretches his legs out into the aisle, angling to give us both more room. Then he finally continues, “But only you and I are in First Aid. The others have Political Navigation, Advanced Enchantments, and Bladesmithing.”
I can guess who will be studying Political Navigation, but Bladesmithing?
My eyes fall on Paxton by my side, who grins, his eyes brighter than I’ve seen so far. I guess it’s something special for him—or is it based on his hidden ability?
“Good morning, class!” a musical voice calls out, and we fall silent as the most enchanting woman I’ve ever seen enters the room wearing an emerald-green robe covered in golden scripture and swirls, her gray hair flowing around her as if caught in a permanent breeze. I’m instantly awed by her aura. “I am Professor Illya, and I will be teaching you all about the wonders contained in our history.”
She smiles as she looks over the classroom. When her eyes land on me, she shows no semblance of surprise, which, ironically, surprises me.
She continues, “In order to understand ourselves now, we need to understand how we were in the past. And in order to make good decisions, we need to learn about the bad ones. In this class, there will be no Light and Dark. We will be learning of our history as it was, remaining impartial and factual.”
Professor Illya nods to me before turning back to the board to write a series of dates, and I breathe a sigh of relief. “Knowledge of our history is essential for progress. Currently, we are in the midst of great change for both Light and Dark. The Alliance seeks to solidify the shaky peace between our factions that was developed millennia ago.”
When Illya turns back, her eyes fall on me. My stomach drops as I expect her to single me out, label me as evidence of that progress. But to my relief—for the second time—she moves on.
“Who can tell me when the Alliance was founded?”
Declan’s hand shoots right up. “1066.”
“Correct, thank you, Declan.” Professor Illya says. “And can someone tell me the motto of the Alliance? How about you?”
“Wha… I…” I stutter under the professor’s stare. “Me?”
She nods, as if her request is quite simple. Although, to be fair, it is.
“Er…” I swallow. Is this karma? Divine retribution to play on my guilt for being here? “The Alliance serves to maintain the equilibrium of our world; to mend the past, to nurture the present, and to protect the future.”
She holds my gaze. “Exactly.”
I dip my head, blending back into the monotony of the class for the next half hour, jotting down notes when others do, but not especially paying attention. Until I hear two simple words.
“Godly objects which are kept safely in the academy’s own vaults,” Professor Illya says with her back to the class.
“What?” I sit up straight, taking my hand away from my face. Declan squints down at me, and I shrug. “Sorry, zoned out.”
He rolls his eyes and slides his notes toward me. I copy them down eagerly.
Rory hands me a tray as we wait in the lunch line. Students bustle around us, the noise almost deafening as they laugh and chatter. A frown contorts my face when I don’t spot a single unhappy expression, argument, or table on fire. What the hell is wrong with these people?
I shake my head and adjust the straps of my bag, the damn thing weighing a ton.
“How is it that it’s the first day and there’re already assignments and homework?” I ask. “And you guys think I’m evil.”
Declan chuckles behind me, and we shuffle forward. “I’m guessing you didn’t get assignments on the first day?”
I pause as we shuffle forward, and I don’t say a word. Our assignments were more… practical… in nature. Instead of paper assignments, we were made to test poisons out on each other. Instead of theory classes, we were locked in warehouses, forced to survive tournaments and trials—but sometimes just surviving wasn’t enough.
A hand touches my shoulder, and I jump, my heart in my throat and my fingers itching to strike, but a wave of peace washes over me and my entire body melts. I glance over my shoulder, and Dane nods for me to choose my lunch.
Everything looks so colorful and inviting, but I have no idea what any of these dishes are. Scooping up some leafy green salads and what I’m hoping are steamed vegetables, I hover
