Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 73154 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73154 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
He meets my gaze. He knows I can’t do much against him—his family’s wealth and connections are powerful. I push him away and leap back onto the bank, my heart pounding as I leave the scholars behind.
I slump against a sprawling tree, looking over at Florentius, who is blowing on his chilled fingers. He’s alone, watching the scholars on the canal with a resigned, wistful expression.
“Why did you help me yesterday?” I ask, frustration in my voice.
Florentius scoffs. “I have no respect for cheats.”
I let out a hollow laugh. “So it’s luck that you pointed out the culprit just as I was being shown the door?”
He narrows his eyes. “You shouldn’t have to be forced out by liars. You’ll be eliminated soon enough, but it should be based on merit.”
We exchange a long look, his eyes revealing little. Then a bell chimes, signalling the final announcement. My stomach twists into knots as I follow Florentius to where the judges and redcloaks await.
“If your name is called, come forward with your soldad,” announces the head judge. “Those not called will be escorted off the grounds. Remember, you’ve all come a long way. Better luck next year.”
There will be no next year for me.
“Rufus Galipus.” A silver-cloaked scholar strides confidently forward.
“Florentius Chiron.” He steps up with a nod, looking unruffled.
“Jeremias Wilus.” The smug pink cloak from earlier makes his way to the judges. My heart races.
“Quantaus Bevelis. Zenon Lasites. Arsenios Chomatianos…”
I close my eyes, trying to calm the storm in my chest. Each name called makes my heart pound harder. The judge’s voice seems to echo through the courtyard.
“Caelus Amuletos.”
I almost collapse.
The murmurs and cheers blur into the background as I clutch my soldad. I made it. I’m officially a medius vitalian.
Skriniaris Evander smiles at me with genuine warmth as he stamps my soldad, marking it with three water wyvern symbols—proof of my new status. I press the badge to my chest.
I did it.
Snow drifts gently from the sky, settling on carriages and huddled commoners. Noble parents emerge to celebrate their children’s success. I pull my hood tight and exit the scholar prefecture, trying to shield myself from the cold and the weight of expectation.
Strangers approach me with congratulations and gifts—a bundle of herbs from a young girl, a heartfelt message from a child, an elderly man’s encouragement. Their hopes and dreams press on me, and my heart aches with the burden.
Akilah finds me and pulls me away from the crowd, her concern evident even in her silence. We make our way home, where a special dinner awaits. The dining room, usually reserved for guests, is filled with my family, and the table is laden with my favourite dishes.
My parents look at me with a mix of pride and worry. Father raises his cup, and the room falls silent. “What’s next?” someone asks.
I explain the final exam’s process, and the room buzzes with speculation about what challenges might lie ahead.
“What if you reach first place?”
“That’s very difficult,” I murmur, hearing Quin’s ringing certainty that Florentius will place top.
“But what if?”
“If,” my father says, finally speaking, rendering the table silent, “he’ll move to the palace. Make sure to say your goodbyes. He won’t exit those grounds until he’s a complex vitalian or is carted out in a coffin.”
Mother’s face pales, and her eyes are full of unshed tears. “Maybe . . . maybe don’t go to the final exam?” she suggests. “You can do very well as a medius. We can help you set up your practice.”
Father stands, dropping his napkin with a decisive motion. “Do what you want. Don’t die.”
He leaves, and I find Akilah waiting for me in the courtyard. She’s sitting on a windowsill, gazing at the stars. I join her, pulling her into a hug. She looks at me with a wobbly smile.
I tug her hair gently. “There’s no way I’ll get into the palace.”
“You want to.”
I’m quiet. I clear my throat. “I’ll become a travelling mage. You can assist me. We’ll see the world.”
“Stop.”
I perch next to her on the sill.
She points to a shooting star. “Make a wish with me.”
Quietly, we offer up our silent wishes to the heavens, and then she meets my eyes with a wobbly smile. “Mine better come true tomorrow.”
I tug her into a hug. “Why didn’t you wish something for yourself?”
She laughs and swings her legs down to tuck our arms together. “Your dream is my dream.”
Outside the gates of the scholar prefecture the next morning, I bump into Florentius and, despite the seriousness of the moment, tug his sleeve playfully. “Good luck today.”
He gives me a sidelong glance. “I don’t need luck.”
I horrify him by tugging his sleeve again as he tries to sashay off. I let go, grinning. “I’ll give you a run for it.”
“This is a number trickier than the exams before. The best of the best are often defeated by this.”