She frowned and shook the thought away. Frivolity was a luxury she couldn’t afford.
Erinna continued to survey the docks. Soldiers patrolled the lines of visitors awaiting approval. Fourth-year academy students ushered visiting mages aside to pass out regulatory badges.
Performing magic on the island without clearance from the academy or crown was met with strict fines atbest. Those small regulatory cards would be a lifeline to any visiting person with a drop of Talent to spare.
A few students waved at visiting friends or family. Talent was uncommon but not geographically restricted. There were mages all over Sumora, on all the Great Continents. Tarth was, simply, the only nation with a formal institution dedicated to learning and honing the craft. It was also the most accepting of Talents, so long as they weren’t aberrant in nature.
Mages from all over came to Tarth in hopes of enrolling in the Academy of the Arcanum, or stayed for the freedom of using their Talent in a kingdom that preferred to keep as many people with such gifts as possible. At least, they wanted those with gifts that were blessed as worthy by the Synod of the Everdawn.
Erinna scoffed at the idea of Tarth being the most openly accepting of Talents in the realm. They were still very,veryfar from ideal.
A flash of dark blonde hair and deep blue robes caught her attention. Erinna couldn’t help but smile as her friend approached.
Damien graced her with a lopsided grin, arms outstretched for a welcome embrace. Erinna didn’t think twice before wrapping her arms around his waist in return. She was consumed by the scent of pine and warm cloves, the warmth of his body seeping into her own, chasing away the early autumn chill. It was over far too soon.
Damien took a step back, arms dropping to his sides, nearly hidden in the folds of his robe.
“Been a while, Eri,” he murmured in that deep voice that still made her heart flutter.
“It has only been a week, Dame.” Erinna rolled her eyes but had to admit that their meetings were becoming less frequent than they used to.
Of course he wouldn’t have time to visit her. Damien was a fourth-year mage, likely preparing for his initiation rite that winter. Erinna didn’t know much about the study of arcanum,but she knew that fourth-year mages were always stressed before their initiation rite. It was the final assessment that determined a mage’s role in the kingdom. This would set Damien up for the rest of his life. Erinna could understand the pressure—but that didn’t mean she didn’t feel his absence.
“Too long, though. Don’t ya think?” His expression softened in a way that made her worry melt away.
Heat rose to her cheeks. “Far too long.”
Damien leaned toward her, his rich hazel eyes caught hers. Her heart fluttered as she took a half step closer. For a moment, there was nothing but the two of them—like it used to be before he joined the Academy.
Damien was comfort—always had been when they were young. He was the one who tended the scrapes on her knees and the blisters on her hand. In return, Erinna helped him study for his entrance exam by bringing him discarded materials to practice on.
A loud whistle pierced through the air, followed by a demanding cry from a sailor. Erinna didn’t need to look to know what it meant. A new boat had arrived, and they needed help securing the visiting vessel.
Damien cleared his throat and finally shifted, turning toward the crowd gathered near the docks. A few new visitors disembarked a weathered frigate. The ship had certainly seen better days. The hull was splintered, and a large chunk of railing was missing from its port side. A strip of loose fabric hung from the boom. If Erinna had to guess, the ship had experienced a nasty run-in with pirates.
“Must be good for business, huh?” Damien nudged her shoulder playfully.
She smiled, turned her palms upright in mock deference, and bowed. “Even in slumber, he still provides for the kingdom.”
As if she willed it, another gong rang from the Chancellor’s tower.
Damien’s square jaw set in tension. His gaze snapped to a group of guards and academy students. Erinna followed his stare and stiffened. The humor had all but run dry.
A member of the Reformed stood at the head of the line. The man looked to be in his mid-thirties, but hardened edges added years. An iron circlet adorned his close-shaven head; an eye was etched expertly in the center. The man was undoubtedly claimed early in life for the crown. An aberrant caught and reconfigured—Reformed—by the Synod of the Everdawn.
Beside him was a petite woman in pristine white and blue robes, a pendant carved with the Rays of the Everdawn hung low around her neck, and her plastered smile was more unnerving than kind.
There were three major powers in Tarth, and the Synod of the Everdawn was one of them. Just below the royal court and the academy.
The Reformation of aberrants had been the Synod’s grand design—a process meant to absolve them from their corruption. Their tainted Talents.
Another gong rang from the Chancellor’s tower.
“A mentalist?” Erinna whispered and instinctively took a step back. King Mycelar had a number of Reformed in his employ but was known to prefer the mind readers and, above all, his diviners.
“Yes, but not a reader. He can sense intentions.” He gestured to the mark that rested right above the man’s heart, sewn in black against the light gray robes. It was an odd, seven-pointed star with a bright red center. Erinna couldn’t stop the fear that formed heavy at her feet.
Damien placed his hand against the small of her back and provided a small nudge to move her away. Erinna could feelhis own discomfort in his touch. Damien was regarded as a particularly powerful abjuror in his own right, but no mage with half a tankard of sense would want to face the ire of an Everdawn priestess and her Reformed.
