Chapter One
Bronwyn
Year 26 of the Third Era
If it had been solely up to me, I never would have allowed something as powerful and dangerous as magic to be so easily accessible.
All one needs to attend the Academy of Magickers is a little bit of magical proficiency—something that three of the four people groups native to Ruskhazar are capable of.
Magic itself is no easy skill to hone, despite how many people are born with it in their blood. Indeed, it takes many years to even become remotely proficient at it. Spells are difficult to memorize and cantankerous like our cook’s poison recipes; the slightest variation from the norm could have disastrous consequences. Most people need magic enhancers such as staffs and wands to aid them in using it. Only the most powerful family bloodlines can wield magic in its raw form.
And yet, anyone can attend the Academy of Magickers where they will have every resource needed to excel at magic practically at their fingertips. Whether they deserve to have it or not.
Perhaps it is my father’s teachings, but power is something that should be sought by few and attained by even fewer.
After all, if everyone is equally powerful then no one is powerful. What is power if not an edge over your enemy?
Now, don’t get me wrong, it isn’t as if I think I’m better than everyone else. Quite the opposite actually, I know that I am one of the many who has no right to learn magic. I am well aware of where I hail from. By blood, I’m nothing more than a farmer’s daughter. I was born to work the ground, not study magic in illustrious halls.
By all rights, I should be a nobody, just like my birth father was.
But that was not what the gods had in store for me and my sister. I don’t know what caused us to catch Elwis the Eel’s eye, but he chose us all the same. He chose to make us a part of his family, to call us daughters, and raise us up to a position above that of a farmer’s daughter.
I don’t remember much about my life before Elwis took us in, but I do remember the fear. And I still have a scar or two from the beatings.
But I’m a farmer’s daughter no longer. Elwis saved me from that life by killing the man I called “father,” and he didn’t abandon me and my twin Natasya. No, he took us in as his own daughters. Through Elwis, perhaps, I am a little more deserving of this academy and the pursuit of magic. After all, my father is wealthy and capable of buying me any magical trinket my heart could desire.
But because of Elwis I can never be a mere magicker. I am the daughter of who might just be the most powerful man in Ruskhazar—not that anyone would realize it.
I glance at the walls around me, stained windows paint a pretty picture but also blot out the natural light of the sun. Thesehallowed and ancient halls offer a welcoming air, promising learning and mastery of magic to all that would seek to attain it.
The Sanctuary of the Seekerreads engraved in letters etched into the stone above the arched door that leads to the spiral staircase that would take me to the second floor.
All who come to the Academy to learn magic are welcome. It’s a foolish policy, one that allows a crime lord’s daughter to just walk through its doors.
I draw to a halt however when I catch sight of a flash of silver hair followed by an annoyingly sultry laugh. I curl my hand into a fist, grinding my teeth together as I take in the young man leaning against the base of the stairwell.
My father controls the mining and farming industries. What land he does not own is owned by his friends. Those in the council of notability seek his advice before they make a stand on issues. From the outside, he is a powerful, influential, and wealthy merchant. He is a good friend to have, and thus, he has many friends.
However, Elwis doesn’t just rule the business and political sphere; under the surface, he is also the head of one of the most powerful assassin guilds there are. He also runs a ring of thieves and has the entire criminal underworld in a chokehold.
Which is why it is so difficult for me to keep my face stoic as I face my first-year tormentor. Wilder Zubkov.
Outwardly, Wilder has it all: family name, wealth, prestige. He is from a powerful magical bloodline; his family requires no magical trinkets to be formidable magickers. Not that his family spares any expense. After all, what is power if it cannot be enhanced?
To top it all off, he is handsome. The sort of handsomeness that allows him to get away with just about anything. When he looks at an unwitting victim with those dark eyes and gives asmall smile, he is capable of melting the heart of even the most stoic professor.
While I hold some sway due to my adopted father’s name, that sort of thing doesn’t matter to someone like Wilder. Bloodline is everything, and unfortunately, my bloodline leads back to an abusive farmer I would rather have nothing to do with.
And so, Wilder has made it his life mission to make certain that I know I’m not welcomed here at the academy. If his mocking words making fun of my heritage and belittling Elwis’s position weren’t enough, he also hides my stuff. Conveniently, snakes find their way into my room. Somehow the professors—colleagues of Wilder’s father—give me poor grades when I know I answered correctly.
It is a good thing that I learned to never look at an outward appearance; otherwise, I would have missed the fact that Wilder Zubkov is a vile, reprehensible toad with a fat ego and an annoying laugh.
I wasn’t prepared for the anger that would course through my veins when I saw him again. Hisanticsmade my last year utterly miserable. I had to spend my entire break convincing myself that I was a better person, and I did not need to have my father assassinate his entire family. It had been difficult, but with all the distance, I was able to fool myself into believing I was a good person.
But here is Wilder standing there again with that arrogant smirk as he looks me over. “It seems that we are just letting anyone in here now. Even Eels.”
Even though Eel is actually my name, since I took the name of the man who raised me, I bristle whenever I hear it come from Wilder.
