They scrambled over the rocks and started back. After several minutes hurrying through the forest, they reached the log she had left her box on. Not long after, they arrived at the road and were able to break into a jog.
From time to time she glanced at Dorrien, wondering what he was thinking. Other times she noticed him watching her, and he smiled as she looked up to meet his eyes. He reached out and took her hand. His fingers were warm, and she was disappointed when they came in sight of the Guild and he let his hand fall to his side.
As they approached the Magicians’ Quarters, Rothen strode out of the doors to meet them.
“Your horse is waiting out front, Dorrien.” Rothen looked them both up and down, noting the snow on their shoes and robes with raised eyebrows. “You had better dry yourselves.”
Steam wafted up from Dorrien’s clothes as they started down the path alongside the University. Concentrating, Sonea heated the air around her robes to dry them. A servant met them before the University staircase, holding the reins of Dorrien’s horse.
Dorrien enveloped first Rothen, then Sonea, in a firm hug.
“Take care of each other,” he said.
“Take care of yourself,” Rothen replied. “Don’t push yourself through blizzards just to get home sooner.”
Dorrien swung up onto the saddle. “There’s never been a blizzard that could keep me from home!”
“Then what have you been complaining about for these past four weeks?”
“Me? Complain?”
Laughing, Rothen crossed his arms. “Get out of here, Dorrien.”
Dorrien grinned. “Farewell, Father.”
“Farewell, Dorrien.”
Dorrien’s eyes flickered to Sonea’s. She felt a tentative touch at the edges of her mind.
Then Dorrien’s horse galloped away, racing through the gates and out into the snow-covered streets of the city.
For a few minutes they remained staring at the gates. Rothen sighed and turned to look at Sonea. His eyes narrowed.
“Hmmm,” he said. “Something’s going on here.”
She kept her expression neutral. “Like what?”
“Don’t worry.” He smiled knowingly, and started up the University stairs. “I approve. I don’t think the age difference will matter. It’s only a few years. You do realize you have to stay here until graduation, don’t you?”
Sonea opened her mouth to protest, then closed it again as she saw a movement in the Entrance Hall. She caught Rothen’s arm.
“I don’t mind you speculating, Rothen,” she told him quietly. “But I’d appreciate it if you did so privately.”
He frowned and looked at her in surprise. She kept her attention on the hall. As they stepped inside, the room echoed with the sound of rapid footsteps on the stairway treads. Looking up, Sonea glimpsed a familiar novice hurrying upward.
Her stomach turned. She’d had a clear look at the expression on Regin’s face before he slipped out of sight. She might have gained a begrudging sympathy from the teachers now that Regin had been caught setting her up as a thief, but she doubted she was free of his taunting. Preparations for the First Year tests had kept the boy occupied, but she suspected he was planning a particularly nasty revenge.
“I’ll see you tonight,” she told Rothen.
He nodded solemnly. “Good luck, Sonea. I know you’ll do well.”
She smiled, then started up the staircase. Reaching the top, she cautiously entered the corridor. The University was full of novices, their low voices and tense expressions creating an atmosphere of expectation and dread. Reaching her classroom, she stepped inside.
Regin sat in his usual place, watching her closely. Turning away, she bowed to the two teachers standing at the front of the room, and moved to her seat. She opened her box and took out the history project Lord Skoran had set. Flicking through the pages she was relieved to find them still in order, with no damage done. Though they had been intact when she had sealed the box before leaving her room, she had almost expected to find Regin had got at them somehow.
Skoran nodded approvingly as she handed the pages to him. To her satisfaction, he locked them in a box.
All the time, she was conscious of Regin watching her. Returning to her seat, she ignored the face she could see in the corner of her eye. She watched as the last novices entered the class and gave their work to the teacher. When all were present, Lord Vorel stepped forward and stood before them with his arms crossed.
“Today you will complete your First Year tests in Warrior Skills,” he informed them. “You will be required to fight all other members of the class, and will be marked according to skill, Control and, of course, number of victories. Please follow me.”
Sonea rose with the rest of the class. As the first novices filed out of the room, Regin turned and met her eyes. He smiled sweetly.
She had grown practiced at returning his looks with cold indifference. A chill dread now descended upon her. Though she was still far stronger than the other novices, the restrictions Vorel put on her kept her from using her powers to her advantage. Somehow the inner shield he held around novices to protect them as they fought told him if her strikes were more powerful than he thought appropriate. Regin was still better at Warrior Skills than she, and though the boy no longer had lessons with Lord Balkan, nothing had prevented him from having extra lessons with Lord Garrel.
As she stepped from the classroom, a servant in a messenger’s uniform skidded to a halt beside her.
“Lady Sonea,” the man said. “I have been sent to deliver an urgent request for you to return to Rothen’s rooms immediately.”
Surprised, she looked up at Lord Vorel. The magician frowned.
“We cannot wait for you, Sonea. If you do not return within the hour we will have to arrange a testing early next year.”
Sonea nodded. Thanking the messenger, she started along the corridor.
Why had Rothen sent for her? He would have barely had enough time to reach his rooms since they parted. Perhaps he’d discovered that Regin
She shook her head. Rothen wouldn’t do that. He would attempt to alert Vorel to Regin’s plans rather than call her away from an important test.
Unless he wanted to simply tell her what to expect Regin to do. Perhaps he wanted to suggest a way she could turn whatever it was to her advantage. She could always still slip back to the Arena in time for the bouts.
But if that was so, why hadn’t he simply met her outside the classroom?
And why wasn’t he in
She frowned as she descended to the ground floor of the University. What if there was some other reason for the summons? The messenger hadn’t said that the message had come
The door swung open at her touch. Rothen stood by the window. He turned as she entered the room. She opened her mouth to ask the question hovering on her lips, but caught herself as she saw his warning expression.
She felt the presence first. It was tangible, unhidden. It filled the room like a thick, suffocating smoke. Terror sent her heart racing, but she managed to compose her expression to what she hoped was only surprise and respect.
