I groaned. “And meanwhile, I managed to take both of us out of the fight. And who knows who else? I can’t even bring myself to look.”
Bryony cast a glance back over her shoulder and grimaced. “Maybe better not to.”
I groaned again. “I didn’t expect it to be so hard. My mind knew it was a training exercise, but my body felt like it was in danger, and it wanted to act.”
A gasping moan interrupted me, and Bryony and I both spun around. Someone else had been “killed” and was slowly departing the field of battle. But unlike us, Isabelle moved slowly, carefully holding one arm still across her chest.
Bryony rushed forward to support her under her good shoulder, but I stayed frozen in place, my eyes glued on the raw burn that marred the full length of her forearm. Isabelle saw me looking and managed a weak smile.
“I don’t know what Dellion was thinking with such an uncontrolled working, but it was certainly effective in the end.”
I knew I should step forward and help her, like Bryony was doing, but I couldn’t make myself move.
“Raelynn?” I managed to ask, finally thinking to look around the arena for the healer.
“Those fireballs took out Frida as well,” Isabelle said, “but she only lost a little bit of hair. Mitchell put out the flames before they could do any damage and then sent her to fetch Raelynn. Unfortunately she was sitting all the way over there.” She tried to point to the far side of the arena but winced at the movement.
“Here, sit down.” Bryony guided her onto the lowest tier of seating. “I’m sure she’ll be here any moment.”
“Oh, poor dear!” called a familiar voice, puffing a little. “Just sit tight for a minute.” Raelynn appeared, her healing case slung over one shoulder.
As soon as she reached us, she put it down on the seating and began rummaging inside. Before long, Isabelle had been treated with a pain relief composition followed by a burn treatment.
She gave a long sigh of relief as she examined the healthy skin of her arm. “Thank you,” she said with feeling.
“My pleasure.” Raelynn beamed at her. “I was disappointed no one in your year chose healing. It’s such a satisfying thing to see the pain leave someone’s face. And no one is ever sorry to see you arrive.” She chuckled before turning to Bryony and me. “And what about the two of you? Any injuries?”
I shook my head. “Only to my pride. I managed to take us both out of the battle without sustaining a single scratch.”
She chuckled again. “An achievement indeed. You can count yourself fortunate if you ask me.”
Frida approached, having circumnavigated the arena floor at a slower pace than the healer.
“It’s too bad you can’t heal my hair.” She plucked at the burned strands disconsolately.
“Never mind, dear.” Raelynn patted her arm. “We can chop it shorter, and no one will even notice.”
“But I don’t want it shorter.” Frida’s heart wasn’t in the complaint, though. She already knew she would have to get it cut.
I climbed higher up the seats, choosing one positioned some distance from my year mates and the healer. Bryony slowly joined me.
“It was an accident, Verene,” she whispered. “And Raelynn is always on hand for arena battles. They know trainees have accidents.”
“I can’t compete in the arena,” I said, feeling the weight of the words, but knowing they were true. “I just proved exactly why my ability isn’t safe to use in a situation like this. And I also proved that I can’t stop myself from using it. It’s too dangerous.”
Bryony chewed on her lip, looking worried. “But you can’t just choose not to participate in combat class. You don’t mean you’re going to go home?”
I shook my head. “I’m not going home. But I’ll find a way. I just need to think on it.”
Bryony still looked doubtful, but she didn’t say anything. I finally forced myself to look toward the remaining battle, just in time for Mitchell to declare Jareth and Dellion’s team the victors. I groaned again.
The rest of my team were already straggling back toward the seats. Darius came from the rear, stalking through their midst to take the lead. I swallowed. He looked thunderous.
When he reached the seating, however, he stopped to talk to both Isabelle and Raelynn in a quiet voice. As soon as he was satisfied that his team member had been successfully healed, however, he strode up the steps toward Bryony and me.
I stared at him in confusion, my overloaded brain trying to understand what was happening. Darius never approached me and never spoke to me unless forced to do so.
“What was that?” he snapped.
I stared at him, scrambling to think of an answer. How did he know what had happened? How could he possibly know?
“I—”
“There are many ways to avoid a fireball,” he said in a freezing tone. “All of them are preferable to tripping over your own feet and taking down one of your best teammates with you. With both of you plus Isabelle gone, and Jareth and Dellion freed to come against the rest of us, we didn’t stand a chance.”
I gaped up at him. Normally I would have responded sharply to such an attack, but I was too conscious of my own overwhelming guilt to do anything but stare at him.
“What? Nothing to say, Princess?” His voice taunted me, more hurtful than a slap.
I saw the rest of our year, along with our instructor, staring up at us in shock and steeled myself. I might not have it in me to defend myself, but I wouldn’t let them see my pain either.
When I continued to say nothing, Darius turned and strode back down the stairs.
“Verene,” Bryony whispered, horrified.
I shook my head, not meeting her eyes. “No, don’t say anything. I deserved that, even if it wasn’t for the reasons he thought. I injured Isabelle, and it could have been far worse.”
“That doesn’t make what he did all right,” Bryony muttered, always the rebel.
But as if to underscore my words, Mitchell had begun a public reprimand of a mortified-looking Dellion. Apparently none of us were to be using anything as dangerous as fireballs until we were sure we could control our own compositions.
Every word he said hit home, further convincing me I couldn’t risk returning to the arena. I just had to find a way to convince Mitchell to allow me to withdraw without failing second year.
Chapter 11
I stumbled through classes for the rest of the day, not meeting anyone’s eyes and keeping my ability locked tightly inside. I had let myself grow overconfident, and Isabelle had paid the price. Along with poor Frida’s hair and Dellion’s pride.
But by the time I had paced up and down my sitting room fifty times, my emotions had subsided somewhat. I was still determined to find a way out of arena combat, but I could also see the truth of Bryony’s words. Trainees spent four years at the Academy precisely because they were not expected to be instant masters of their skills. And we fought in a shielded arena with a skilled healer on hand because we were expected to make mistakes.
Just because no one else knew of my training, didn’t mean I wasn’t training just like the rest of them. And I had to let myself make mistakes.