CHAPTER 1
Ihurried along the side street toward home. I had lingered in the study hall longer than intended, and the day was drawing toward its close, despite the summer light that still lingered in the air. If I didn’t hurry, I would be late for the evening meal, and no excuse would pacify my mother if I was late for my own birthday celebration.
Eighteen. The number lingered in my mind, a sour note on what should have been a joyful day. Most people rejoiced at turning eighteen and entering full adulthood. But for me, the age loomed over me like a storm cloud.
At thirteen years old, when they announced the opening of advanced schools for commonborns, eighteen had seemed unimaginably far away. I had already finished ordinary schooling at age ten, but my apprenticeship in my parents’ small business hadn’t interested me the way it did my older brothers. I wanted more schooling, and the initial euphoric rush of sealing ceremonies, followed by the announcement of advanced schools, had promised to make my wildest dreams into reality.
I had rushed to attend the testing that would allow already graduated youth to return to school and extend their schooling as far as eighteen. But I had been certain I would be chosenfor sealing long before then. So many sealing ceremonies had already been held to give the chosen commonborn access to written words, and I knew I would be part of a ceremony soon. I wouldn’t be in school for another five years.
And yet eighteen had arrived, and I was still in the advanced school—the oldest remaining student.
Not that all those who started with me in the initial rush of excitement had been sealed, of course. After the first wave, the number of sealing ceremonies dwindled drastically. Among mages, only criminals and those who failed the Mage Academy had their access to power sealed—along with the fortunate commonborns who joined them inside their sealing ceremony, thus ensuring they could safely write without releasing uncontrolled power. Once the prisons were emptied, the number of ceremonies were few and far between. I should have foreseen it, of course, but I was too caught up in the new possibilities for my future.
With so few opportunities for advanced students to be sealed, most of my peers had dropped away, entering apprenticeships or taking up jobs as they lost hope of ever being selected. And those who had been chosen had also left—bound for the teaching college or the Royal University and the prestigious positions that would come after.
In my time at school, two older students, once sealed, had chosen the college and a future as a teacher in one of the kingdom’s many commonborn schools. The rest had joined the commonborn class at the Royal University for a future as an official or academic. Not that sealing required you to take either option. A Robart boy two years below me, who often boasted of soon being selected, intended to take up a position with his wealthy commonborn merchant family where he would be trained extensively on the job.
My choice was the Royal University, and I had been dreaming of it for five years. Eighteen and still at school because I couldn’t let go of my hope.
You’re too stubborn, Aria.I could hear my mother’s exasperated voice in my head, and for the first time, the words cracked a fault line in my optimism.
In a single short week, I would officially finish my schooling. My opportunities for selection had narrowed to one last desperate possibility.
I gritted my teeth and increased my speed. There was still hope. Our final test was only three days away, and I would keep studying hard until the last moment. Rumors claimed that the crop of graduating mages this year was strong, but there was still the chance one of them would fail the Mage Academy. And with just one failure would come my chance for a future—mine and so many other commonborns.
And that was why I had remained in the study hall so late, even on my birthday. If there was a chance for commonborns to be included in the sealing ceremony of a failed mage trainee, only the top student from our school would be sent. And this year I wasn’t allowing anything to come between myself and first place.
My steps faltered as a noise caught my ears. I turned toward a side alley, my mind struggling to identify the sound that had tripped my steps. I usually tuned out the noise of the city. Corrin, capital of Ardann, was a large and bustling place full of any number of sounds, both day and night.
And yet my ear caught on this one, my body halting in response. Glancing around, I realized I was alone on the street. A chill crept across my scalp. My eyes flicked again toward the dark alley as I willed my feet to resume moving, carrying me toward home. My body remained stationary, however, my natural curiosity warring with my instinctive fear.
My thoughts had caught up with my subconscious and identified the sound I had heard—the edge of a blade drawn along stone. It was a chilling sound, which was why it was the sound effect of choice for every child telling the tale of the Shrouded Mage. The unknown mage, who had stalked the backstreets of Corrin for almost a year looking for commonborn prey, was a favorite topic among those looking to scare their younger siblings and friends.
But the murderer currently being hunted by the entire law enforcement discipline wouldn’t actually go around dulling his blade for no reason. I wasn’t even sure he used a knife at all. Just because stories of him always included that sound didn’t mean it signified his presence.
You’re going to get yourself murdered! Running around the city at all hours of the day and night!My mother’s voice sounded in my head again.
But despite the taut bowstring of my nerves, I didn’t believe her words any more now than I had at the time. Statistically speaking, the chance of my ending up as the Shrouded Mage’s next victim was vanishingly small—especially given all his (or her) victims so far had been men.
My nerves hummed anyway.
My straining ears caught on new sounds, almost hidden beneath the noise of the city. But the thump of flesh striking flesh was unmistakable, along with the gasps and pants that indicated a desperate struggle.
A new thought flashed into my mind. What if it was, indeed, the Shrouded Mage, and he was in the middle of attacking his next target?
I knew what my mother would say. She would tell me to use the killer’s distraction to escape. But my feet were already carrying me toward the alley’s entrance.
A pile of crates stood a few feet back from the street, blocking my view into the alley beyond. I peered cautiously around them and gasped.
Rather than a single attacker, his face masked and obscured by a hood, and a single victim, four figures struggled back and forth. A splatter of blood already colored one of the stone walls. I wasn’t witness to the next Shrouded Mage killing, but I had stumbled on three ruffians assaulting a lone young man.
A sword rested against one wall of the alley where it must have been kicked during the conflict—presumably the source of the sound that had first caught my ears. One of the attackers hung back, one hand clutching his shoulder, red welling between his fingers. But he remained on his feet, calling encouragement to the other two who fought their opponent hand to hand, their blows and blocks falling so fast I could barely follow them.
My mother’s shouts to flee rang as loudly in my ears as if she’d actually spoken them, but the victim’s eyes caught on mine for the briefest second, and the expression on his face compelled me to act. Despite being alone against three attackers, he fought with desperation and skill, grim determination underlined by unexpected hopelessness, as if he had no expectation of assistance or rescue.
I launched myself into the pile of empty crates with a battle cry. It was a fearsome sound, if I said so myself, honed from years of mock battles with my four brothers.
The teetering pile exploded away from me, crates crashing in all directions and consuming the four figures inside the alley. The sound of battle broke off, replaced with mingled shouts of surprise and pain.
