Chapter One
Every year, when a child reaches their thirteenth year, they are tested for Potential. For some, their Potential is plain to see. The test is nothing more than a formality. An official invitation from the Hero Academy as they welcome the new recruit with open arms. The child will be whisked away into the heights of the Theslinet Peaks, where the Academy lies cupped between adjoining passes. They will admire the icepines that reflect sunlight like diamonds, and find their place among the division best suited for them. Ranged Division, for the scouts and marksmen. Magic Division for those who could access the deep wellsprings of magic that soaked into the world. Melee Division, for those who favored classic Hero work. For them, being a Hero is as natural as breathing.
For others, being a Hero was a lot harder than it looked.
“Sword up, val Dieth!” The swordmaster’s voice lashed across the arena.
Gwynhafahr– better known as Gwyn– swallowed her retort and did as he said. Across from her, Rion, top of the class and Academy golden boy. No one told him to keep his sword up. He spun it almost lazily as he mirrored her steps. No, she realized a heartbeat later. Not lazily. Something about the pattern itched in the back of her mind. Her eyes dropped to his feet. Step, step, drag. Step, step, drag. They moved in the same pattern as his blade.
“Eyes up!” the swordmaster barked. Gwyn’s eyes snapped up just before Rion lunged.
His sword met hers with a clang. Before she could catch her breath, before she could blink, he spun. The blunted edge of his practice sword slammed into her ribs. Her breath fled in a pained rush. Before she could counter, he planted his feet and shoved. Gwyn went sprawling. Her own practice sword thumped into the dust next to her.
“Stupid, darking…” she muttered. Everything around her was blurry, even the fuzzy outline of a person bending over her. She fumbled at her glasses. They skewed sideways as she fell in the dirt. The fuzzy blob above her resolved into Rion, bending over her with a smile.
“Good try, Gwyn,” he said. He reached out to her, looking for all the world like a storybook prince. No one would ever doubt he was a Hero. Even now, hair mussed and sweaty, face streaked with dust, he was handsome. Dashing. Carefree. Grinning like a street rogue, saving the day with a flippant wink. He tossed that wink at her as he held out his hand. Good try, he had said, as though Gwyn had ever stood a chance. Behind him, she could see the swordmaster shaking his head. Another match lost. That made five this week alone.
She could already hear the whispers starting in the ring of students watching them.
Anger flared in her chest, white-hot and blinding. Her body moved. No thinking. Just action. She grabbed Rion’s hand, hooked her foot behind his leg and yanked. He went down in a tumble, just as she rolled to her feet.
“Enough!” The swordmaster clapped. “Val Dieth. You lost as soon as you hit the floor. If this were a real fight, you would be dead.”
“If this were a real fight, I wouldn't have someone distracting me,” Gwyn muttered.
The swordmaster cocked his head to the side. “What was that?”
Uh-oh. “Nothing, sir. Just thanking Rion for the match.”
The swordmaster’s eyes narrowed as Rion shot her a puzzled look. The moment stretched into two, then three. Gwyn’s heartbeat kept time as it hammered in her chest. “Very well,” the swordmaster said, just as Gwyn thought she might faint. “I have to take points off for continuing after the match. Especially with that take-down. This isn’t hand-to-hand, val Dieth. You’re here to learn how to use a sword, because that is what people expect from their Heroes. Am I understood?”
The back of Gwyn’s neck burned with shame. She nodded. If she spoke, the words would choke in her throat.
The swordmaster didn’t notice, or he didn't care. “I need a verbal answer, Trainee.”
Gwyn gritted her teeth. It seemed like the entire class was staring at her, waiting for her to reply. “I understand,” she finally ground out.
The swordmaster clapped then. Only once, loud and sharp, making half the trainees jump. “Excellent. We'll wrap this up here. Clean yourselves up and report to the dining hall for breakfast. I'll see most of you later for specialization training.” His dark gaze lingered on Gwyn at the last few words. Of course it did. She was one of the only Trainees to sign up for something other than sword fighting for her specialization.
Without waiting for a dismissal, she turned on her heel and stalked out of the practice arena.
“Hey, val Dieth!” A voice called behind her. She ignored it. Whomever it was could catch up with her. She needed to soak her sore muscles before they cramped up. She could already feel the muscles in her legs burning. Besides, she was pretty sure who it was, and she didn't want to deal with him anymore.
Sure enough, Rion jogged up next to her. “That was a great match,” he said, easily matching her pace.
“No, it wasn't,” Gwyn replied. “But thanks for saying so.”
“Are you kidding?” He skipped a few steps ahead, spinning so he could fix her with one of his trademark carefree smiles. “That last move? I never saw that coming. It was awesome.”
“The ankles are weak and can be used to incapacitate a stronger opponent.” Gwyn's reply was automatic as she reached the sword racks. She peered at the rows of swords, trying to find the space that matched the rune set in the hilt of the one she held.
“What?” Rion's tone made her glance back at him. His eyebrows crinkled together as he tried to figure out what she said.
She shook her head. “It's nothing. Healer talk.”
“Right.” He hung up his sword in the space next to hers. “I keep meaning to sign up for those classes. Maybe I'll join you sometime.” The words came accompanied by another blinding grin. Out of the corner of Gwyn’s eye, she could see a few of the other trainees giggling and eyeing Rion. Of course they were. Half the darking Academy was in love with him.
“I don't attend those classes either,” Gwyn said. Rion's smile vanished faster than the sun behind a thunderhead. After a moment, it came back. It was strained, though, like he had pasted it on for looks without really meaning it.
“That's all right. Maybe we could hang out instead. You could teach me that move.” He kept following her. Why was he following her?
“You already saw me do it. You can probably figure it out yourself.” Oh, stars. He was trying to ask her out, wasn't he? Gwyn paused. They turned to face him, pushing their glasses further up their nose. Sure enough, he was smiling down at them, black eyes crinkled up in an inviting way. But there was something else there too. “You don't want to ask me out,” she said. “Not really. What do you want?”
There it was. A quick flicker of something darting across his face. He managed to hold her gaze for a few moments more. She didn't move. She didn't even blink. “Stars, that's unnerving,” he muttered, finally breaking. He swept his hair back, the gesture calculatedly careless. “I need someone to trade chores with me. I can't stand stable-work, and I heard you love it. So. Trade?”
Gwyn hesitated. She did love the stables. The smell of horses and clean hay in the air, the warm atmosphere… it was the closest a building could get to a proper hug. But she had kitchen duty this week, and with delegates arriving from all over Phaesyla, Cookie would need someone to taste test everything. As far as Gwyn knew, she was the only one from her region at the Academy. That made her the only one that could tell Cook if the honeycakes were stuffed with the right combinations of nuts, or if the glaze on the meat had the right amount of smokespice. It would be a diplomatic tragedy if they got Ayusta wrong when every other region was correct. Besides, she never got to eat food from home.
“Why do you want to trade?” She peered at his face, waiting. Rion was many things, but a good liar was not one of them. Sure enough, the side of his face twitched. Gwyn didn’t say anything. She just waited, eyebrows up.
Finally, he broke. “I ran into some trouble with one of the grooms. He caught me… um…”
“Canoodling?” Gwyn supplied. He winced, and she allowed herself a little spark of pleasure. Stars, this was fun.
He nodded anyway. “Yes. Canoodling. Normally, it wouldn’t be a problem, but I had a date scheduled with him later.”
“To canoodle?”
“Will you stop saying that?” Rion’s eyes darted around in case anyone was listening in. “For stars’ sake. Yes. I’m trying to avoid the stables for the next few weeks. You’d be doing me a big favor if you swapped with me.”
Gwyn suppressed a sigh. There was no avoiding it, then. If she told Rion no, she would never hear the end of it from his legions of fans. A small knot of them were creeping closer with every passing second. They were a few steps to being within earshot. “Fine.” She crossed her arms across her chest. “But the next time I want to switch chores, you can’t say no.”
It was almost funny how quickly he relaxed. “You’re a lifesaver, Gwyn. Thank you.”
As he turned to leave, Gwyn found herself automatically dipping into a bow. She stopped herself just before it became visible. Stupid Ayustan manners. Even after three years away from home, she still bowed instead of waving. Which would be fine, if the mostly Northern population of Hero Trainees didn’t regularly make fun of her for it. Unfortunately, she could already hear the snickering building around her. Rather than reply, she shoved her hands in her pockets and stalked off towards the dorms.
The chill air nipped at her lungs as soon as she stepped outside. This high in the mountains, it didn't matter what season it was. It always felt like winter to Gwyn. She tucked her chin down to stop the shivers from erupting and scurried across the commons towards the Academy proper. It towered above her, cupped between two mountains like the hands of a giant. A great stone castle, like something out of a storybook, complete with towers and crenellations. Morning light winked off of its glass windows. It scattered across the pebbled ground, like someone had emptied their pockets of sunlight and left it strewn about.
A building of newer stone perched next to the main castle. The dormitories, added after the Academy realized they had more Trainees than space. It was only four floors high- one for each Trainee year- but somehow it seemed larger than the Academy. Though, it was likely just more familiar. The castle was never quite real to Gwyn. Never something attainable, or touchable. The dorms, on the other hand… Gwyn headed straight for the small set of doors that squatted in the middle.
They opened immediately onto the staircase, letting higher-level Trainees bypass the packed first year dorms. They always had two, sometimes three, squeezed into a room. By the second year, though, the herd had thinned considerably. Potential was reassessed. Trainees were reassigned. Any Trainee that made the cut got the joy of their own private room. Granted, it was barely larger than a stall in the stables, but Gwyn still remembered the relief of passing her exam, dropping her bag on the floor of her new room, and finally, finally being able to breathe.
The transition from second year to third year was barely noticeable. The rooms were a bit bigger. The washrooms were nicer. You could make it all the way down the hall without knocking into someone. But like anything else at the Academy, the privileges came with a price.
Gwyn eyed the price as she crested the third floor landing. A board of class rankings, showing exactly where each Trainee succeeded, and where they failed. Rion, of course, was near the top. High marks in all categories, save for magical talent. An all-rounder type of Hero, they might say about him. What a Hero should be.
Gwyn's own name glared at her from near the bottom. Average marks in everything, and dead last in magic. She wasn't surprised about that last one. She had about as much magical talent as a rock on the ground. Actually, probably less. At least a rock had contact with one of the magical wellsprings that overflowed and soaked magic into the world. No, Gwyn was simply average in a place where people were meant to be extraordinary.
A soft chime made her look up. The crystalline hands of the clock over the ranking board showed half of her washing time already gone. Gwyn let out a yelp, and scrambled off to her room.
She didn’t have time to fully wash up anymore. She barely had time to splash water on her face and change her clothes. The old wood of her wardrobe rattled as she yanked a clean shirt out. Her training clothes went into the laundry basket in a heap. Pulling on clean leggings took a few seconds of hopping and cursing as she tried not to fall over. Then it was clean chest wrap, clean shirt, shove her glasses back up her nose, and– She paused in the midst of lacing up her sleeves.
Her name tag. Where was her name tag?
After a few heartbeats of frantic searching, she spotted it on her desk, half-hidden by crumpled up parchment. She grabbed it, ready to shove it on her chest and continue on. Something snagged at the edge of her vision. Paper, half-crumpled, half finished, staring at her from the corner of her desk. Dark lines of ink criss-crossed their way across, obscuring the words underneath. But of course, Gwyn knew what it said. Those words sat in a knot in her stomach, weighing heavier and heavier with each passing week.
Maybe one day, she would be able to send that letter, and the weight would be gone.
She shoved the thought out of her mind, and dashed out of her room.
She made it to the dining hall with barely a few moments to spare. Most of the hot breakfast was gone, but a few flaky pastries still steamed on the table. She grabbed a pair of them– one that was covered with candied nuts, and another stuffed with some sort of red mystery berry. She still didn’t know all of the plants that could grow here. There was a rumor that the cooks tended a greenhouse, warmed by the fire at the heart of the mountain, that could grow fruits and vegetables from all over Phaesyla. Unfortunately, most of the Trainees were from the northern regions, which meant that Ayustan food was never served.
It probably would have made their heads explode from the heat anyway.
Gwyn bit into the fruit pastry first. The semi-sweet taste of spiceberry bloomed in her mouth, making her sigh. Good. Most of the northern berries were too sticky-sweet. Spiceberry was just the right mix of sweet and tart, with a hint of heat that warmed her all the way to her toes. She scanned the room as she chewed. At last, she spotted Cookie. The massive chef ruled the kitchens at the Academy, and personally oversaw all of the meals served, from the daily Trainee meals to the fancier food sent up to Council members. They were also one of Gwyn’s favorite people at the Academy.
They caught sight of her across the crowd. It wasn’t hard, given that they were at least a head taller than everyone there. A huge grin split their face, only growing as Gwyn made her way over.
“My favorite Trainee!” Their voice was the rumble of thunder across the ocean. “Hello, duckie. Are you ready to make sure your city’s food is up to par? I’ve been working hard on it all week.”
The small bubble of happiness in Gwyn’s chest deflated. “I’m sorry, Cookie. I traded my chore slot for today.”
“What?” The thunderclap of a word made Gwyn wince. “Why would you do that?”
“Rion asked me to switch with him. It was either say yes, or face the wrath of his adoring public.” Gwyn shook her head. “I didn’t want to deal with that.”
Cookie rumbled out a sigh, clapping a giant hand on Gwyn’s shoulder. “You are every bit the Hero he is, you know. Probably more.”
“My instructors don’t think so,” Gwyn said through a mouthful of candied nuts. “I’m pretty sure they know what they’re talking about, since they have at least a hundred years of experience altogether.”
“They could have the experience of a mountain and still learn from a raindrop.”
Gwyn blinked at them around another mouthful. “I have no idea what that means,” she said, the words muffled by the nuts.
Cookie clapped her on the shoulder again. “Think about it on your way to class.” They spun her, pointing at the giant crystalline clock with their free hand. “You’re late.”
Gwyn yelped and scrambled off, trying not to choke on her last few mouthfuls of pastry.
Another day at the Academy had begun.
