"What are you talking about?" I stared at my friend.
Ella did not reply – suddenly too busy chewing to answer. Lynn, meanwhile, seemed unusually upset. My mentor hid it quickly though, masking her discomfort with a bunch of questions about my arm instead. I quickly forgot my own as the girl barraged me for answers. Would I still be able to train with her? Did I think it would affect my castings? Was I sure Byron wouldn't let the Restoration apprentices cast a healing for it?
"Ladies. Loren. I hope you didn't mourn for me while I was away."
Glancing up I saw that Ian had returned, looking no worse for wear than usual.
"Did you even talk to Byron?" I asked suspiciously. The third-year seemed too cheery to have just come from a chat with our training master.
Ian took the seat opposite mine as he slid in next to Loren. "Nah. I decided it was a wasted effort."
Out of the corner of my eye I noticed Ella and Loren exchange meaningful looks.
"So did anyone else notice how Commander Ama keeps avoiding divulging where those tunnels are?" I asked, finally breaking the awkward silence.
Lynn shrugged. "It doesn't matter much. I don't see Jerar going to war anytime soon." She turned to Ian. "What do you think?" she teased. "Are we ready for war?"
Ian's eyes twinkled mischievously. "Why don't we ask our very own royal since it will be his father signing those summons?" He stood up and pretended to scan the row of Combat apprentices for the non-heir who was, as usual, missing from the table. "What a shame, my charming mentee is absent. Again."
Darren hadn't taken a lunch with the rest of our faction since we had started. Instead, he spent the hour drilling with Byron personally in the training grounds. I wasn't sure whose idea it had initially been – the man hero-worshipped the prince - but I understood Ian's irritation. No one else got exclusive training with the master; Byron was grooming Darren for success and leaving the rest of us – particularly the ones he didn't like - to rot.
I had confronted Darren about the injustice a couple weeks back and the prince had just laughed in my face. "What did you expect, Ryiah? Not everyone is going to treat us like equals. You got lucky with the first-year masters at the Academy but you are going to have to learn to accept the injustice now - it's always going to be here. Especially while I'm around."
He'd made a good point – even if I hadn't liked what it meant.
Since Ian was Darren's mentor he took the prince's absence more personally than the rest of us. The third-year didn't trust Darren. I think the prince's aloof nature unsettled him. And Darren's competitive drive only made things worse.
I sympathized. More than anyone else at our table, I understood Ian's plight. I had gone through the same thing the first time I'd met the non-heir - and it had taken me ten long months to stop second-guessing Darren's actions.
Normally, the mentor-mentee relationship was a good thing. It gave two apprentices the opportunity to bond over shared trials and common goals in training. Each pairing lasted a year before the partners were switched. We would have two years leading others and two years following them. The varied approach would give us the chance to be the best and the worst, and the experience was supposed to make us better for it. Ian undoubtedly interpreted Darren's extra training as an affront instead of what it really was: a lifetime of expectation.
I think there were very few who understood why Darren acted the way he did. I wasn't an expert by any means – but the prince had made certain remarks last year that had led me to believe his role was more demanding than people realized. Otherwise, how else could one explain why a prince was more accustomed to injuries than the rest of us? Darren had never once lost control of his magic in training – and as one of the few apprentices that could pain cast that was highly unusual. It led me to two possible conclusions: Darren was perfect, or he had trained in far worse pain than the rest of us.
It was hard to accept the latter, but no one – not even the current Black Mage - had ever had a flawless apprenticeship. I knew firsthand how hard Darren worked. After all, his ambition was the reason we had become friends – though it had taken many misunderstandings to get there.
"I understand wanting to be best, I do," Ian continued. "But there is nothing wrong with a little bit of amity. Would it kill the prince to take a meal with his factionmates?" He directed the attention to me. "I mean, look at Ryiah. She is just as stubborn, but she still manages to have a conversation with the rest of us."
Ella winked at me conspiratorially. "Oh, Darren still has 'conversations' with some people."