The rooms for the new first-rank apprentices were located between the sixth and ninth floors of the Glass Wing, though most of the newly accepted group had been placed on the lowest of those levels.
Elara was walking back alongside Kelira, convinced that once she reached her room, she would finally be able to calmly read through the rulebook and wait for her promised supplies. But the moment she spotted the door marked 604, she slowed to a halt.
Standing in front of her room was Sylvara Vaulrenn.
The futa leaned casually against the entryway, her arms crossed, wearing the exact same smile Elara remembered from the examination table.
Dark cherry hair cascaded over her shoulders, and her reddish-brown eyes tracked the approaching girl with absolute calm - as if the older apprentice had known exactly when she would return and exactly how she would react.
Elara reflexively glanced toward her left shoulder, looking for any movement from the book, but the small object remained shut.
That didn't necessarily mean she was safe, but at least she wasn't staring at another description of her own death. She tightened her grip on her scrolls and stepped closer.
“Were you looking for me, Madam?” she asked, bowing her head just enough so it wouldn't look like a challenge, while keeping Sylvara's hands in her line of sight.
Conversations in the corridor began to die down. The presence of a second-rank apprentice outside a newcomer’s room quickly drew attention.
The other girls stopped at a safe distance, likely remembering what had happened during the trial. Kelira stayed a few steps back, observing the scene with a completely neutral expression.
Sylvara uncrossed her arms and leaned over Elara, bringing her lips close to the top of the girl's head.
“I know how you cheated during the trial.”
Elara raised her eyes, feeling the fingers of her right hand tighten around her parchment. But before she could respond, the older apprentice straightened up again.
“I have no intention of taking your spot, though,” she added casually, crossing her arms once more. “Do you know what happens to people who have strong minds but can't wield magic? They usually die in the worst ways imaginable.”
She laughed, this time loud enough for the onlookers to hear, and Elara instantly caught the first whispers starting up behind her back.
“I’ll gladly listen to how you meet your end,” Sylvara continued. “If your corpse turns out interesting enough, I’ll turn it into a wax figure and put it on display down on the fourth floor. Let the rest of the maids get a good look at it before any of them get the bright idea that they can reach higher, too.”
She delivered the final words slowly, with heavy emphasis. Elara felt a sickening numbness creep down from her neck to her lower back.
She stood completely still, fighting to show nothing beyond the fear that had to already be visible on her face. The futa took a half-step back, studying her expression with deep satisfaction.
“I look forward to our next meeting.”
The smile vanished just as quickly as it had appeared. Sylvara turned on her heel and walked down the corridor.
The apprentices instantly cleared a path for her, pressing their backs against the walls. Not a single one dared to speak until the older girl disappeared around the corner leading to the ramp.
Elara finally let out a breath, feeling the stiffness in her shoulders melt into a dull ache. She didn't want to look at the faces of the gathered girls. Even without looking, she knew they had just heard far more than she ever intended to share about herself.
Great, now everyone knows…
But I’ll still take their whispers over going back to a mop bucket and spending my mornings guessing which door is going to bleed out something that kills me.
She reached for the handle, but before she could open her door, someone else's hand slammed against the wood, forcing it shut.
Deyra Morr stood so close that Elara could see the tension tight around her mouth and the rapid rise and fall of her chest.
The girl glared at her with a fury that had clearly been finding new reasons to fester throughout the entire class.
“My friend died so trash like you could get in?” she demanded, not even trying to lower her voice. “If you have no talent, you have no right to learn magic. Go back to rotting with the servants, that’s where you belong!”
A sudden, searing heat flared under Elara’s sternum, so intense she could hardly draw a full breath.
Just seconds ago, she had been standing helplessly in front of Sylvara, listening to what the older apprentice planned to do with her corpse. Now, yet another person decided it was perfectly fine to block her path and lecture her on where she was supposed to die.
She shot her left hand out before she even had a chance to formulate a reply.
Skeletal fingers clamped around Deyra’s head. When the girl tried to jerk back, Elara held her in place and shoved her downward. The furious rant cut off into a scream. The attacker's hands instantly clawed at Elara's wrist, desperately trying to pry herself free from the grip.
“You’re calling someone who actually survived trash?” Elara hissed, her fingers unyielding. “Maybe you should ask yourself why you aren't screaming at the person who actually left your friend to die.”
Deyra dropped to her knees. Elara lifted her head, noticing the other apprentices backing away. She saw their fear, their sudden silence, but instead of calming down, she felt an even fiercer need to prove that they, at least, were not going to treat her the way Sylvara just had.
A light touch on her forearm finally made her snap her head around.
Kelira was standing right beside her, holding the rulebook in her other hand. She was watching Elara with the exact same matter-of-fact composure she had used when discussing their mentor choices.
“Rule three. Apprentices are forbidden from killing other apprentices, and the penalty for breaking this rule is being flayed alive,” she stated, lifting the booklet right in front of Elara's eyes. “If you genuinely intend to kill her, maybe don't do it in the middle of a hallway with a dozen witnesses.”
She hadn't lowered her voice, meaning Deyra heard every single word just as clearly as Elara did. Her struggles to break free grew even more frantic. Elara looked at the rulebook, then at her own hand, only just realizing how tightly the muscles in her arm were coiled.
She slowly uncurled her fingers.
Deyra scrambled backward on her knees, then bolted upright and disappeared into the crowd of girls, shielding her head with both hands.
“You’re right,” Elara said to Kelira, keeping her eyes on the fleeing girl. “Next time, you might not be quick enough to stop me.”
She didn't wait for a reaction. She opened her door and stepped inside, desperate to escape everyone's staring eyes. When she turned around to shut the door, Kelira ducked her head and slipped right under her arm, acting as if she had planned to come in all along.
Elara paused for a moment, then slowly pulled the door shut.
***
Kelira paced around the room with her hands clasped behind her back, inspecting the empty shelves and the nearly as barren desks.
“You didn't bring any of your own things?”
Elara set her scrolls and rulebook down without answering. She still felt the lingering tension in her arm from holding Deyra down, even though her left hand itself lacked any sensation. That disjointed feeling irritated her more than she could explain.
Kelira walked back over and looked up at her.
“How did you actually cheat? Did you faint on purpose to skip the crystal ball test?”
Elara turned her head away, but her neighbor sidestepped to plant herself right back in her line of sight.
“So you really do have poor magic aptitude?”
“Apparently,” Elara muttered.
She had absolutely zero desire to discuss this right after a visit from Sylvara, but Kelira was the only one who had stepped in when the situation in the hallway started spiraling out of control.
She wasn't about to repay her by snapping at her just because her questions were poking at exactly the sore spots she wanted to ignore.
“That might make studying difficult. Even a few spells could exhaust you completely,” Kelira noted, tilting her head. “But during the mental strength test, you scored higher than anyone else.”
Elara looked at her more closely, unsure if she was supposed to find that comforting or if it was just another calculated evaluation of her usefulness. Meanwhile, Kelira extended her right hand, straightening her back with a solemnity that looked almost ceremonial.
“Talented individuals should stick together. Kelira Emberlain, highest score in the magic aptitude test.”
Elara stared at the outstretched hand for a moment, feeling the tight clench of her jaw ease just a fraction.
“Elara Veyne,” she finally replied, shaking the girl's right hand and making sure not to squeeze too hard.
***
After Kelira left, Elara sat at her desk and stared at the door for a while, trying to figure out exactly when her eccentric neighbor had decided to become an ally.
The memory of their second introduction brought a fleeting smile to her lips, but one glance at the rulebook was enough to drag the rest of the day’s events back to the forefront of her mind.
Kelira could still introduce herself as the top candidate. Elara, on the other hand, was probably already the subject of rumors about how she had cheated her way into a place she didn't belong.
She couldn't spend her whole day worrying about what the other apprentices thought, not when a far more serious problem had just been standing outside her door, calmly detailing future plans for her corpse.
Only now, entirely alone, could she admit to herself that her outburst at Deyra hadn't just been provoked by the insults.
I was terrified of Sylvara and couldn't do a damn thing about it, so when the next one stepped up, I took it all out on her…
A few more seconds and I would have handed them a perfect excuse to flay me alive.
Fucking brilliant job.
She pulled a blank parchment closer and started writing down names, figuring that this would at least help her separate what she knew from what she only suspected.
First, Brynn Calder. Next to it, a short label: Enemy.
She had tormented her from the start, riled up their roommates, and taken full advantage of the fact that no one monitored how the chores were divided.
However, Gwenna’s tip suggested someone might be pulling her strings. Elara added a question mark next to a note about the summons, unwilling to treat a guess as a confirmed fact just yet.
Below that, she wrote Sylvara Vaulrenn.
She stared at the name for a moment, then wrote: Mortal enemy.
The book had warned she would be killed during the trial, and today’s visit proved that the hostility hadn't ended the moment she walked out of the exam room.
Sylvara might be connected to Brynn's behavior, but it was just as likely that both issues stemmed from something Elara didn't yet understand.
She currently had no way to stand against a second-rank apprentice, but the rulebook at least suggested that, as an accepted student, she couldn't be killed quite as casually as a maid. She wasn't about to mistake that for total immunity, though, especially not after the book's latest warning.
“Vespara Syth,” she read the next name aloud softly, then drew a large question mark next to it.
She was the one who had altered her hands and secured her a spot in the trial, yet she still hadn't explained what she wanted in return.
Her methods were terrifying, her instruction to choose Caldra remained a mystery, and Elara still didn't know if the help was a favor, an investment, or just the first phase of an experiment whose conclusion she hadn't yet seen.
She hovered her quill over Kelira's name, but ultimately left the space blank and moved on to the final name.
Deyra Morr.
Just looking at it was enough to make her feel irritated all over again. After a moment's thought, she began writing a single word next to it.
Idiot…
A knock interrupted her halfway through. She instantly dropped the quill, crumpled the parchment, and shoved it into her pocket. She wasn't about to leave a list of enemies sitting out on her desk before she even figured out who had the right to enter her room.
When she opened the door, she found a young maid standing next to a cart loaded with books, study supplies, and daily necessities.
The stack reached about waist-high, with several bundles strapped down so they wouldn't slide around in transit.
The girl was neatly dressed, sporting a practiced smile that reminded Elara of her own hasty attempts to gauge the moods of important people. She kept both hands on the handle, waiting to be acknowledged.
“Good afternoon, Lady Elara. I’ve brought the books and tools required for your studies. Shall I help bring them inside?”
Elara eyed the stack, then reached for the cart’s handle, trying not to think about how recently she had been pushing identical equipment loaded with a mop bucket and a trash bin.
“I can manage, thank you.”
The maid bowed her head, but she didn't step back immediately.
“Do you require any further assistance, Madam?” she asked, maintaining that exact same polished smile. “I can stay and help you unpack the supplies.”