Morning sunlight cheerfully shone down through the trees, its warmth incongruous with the sudden chill Saphienne felt as Taerelle stepped toward her.

The senior apprentice’s voice was crisp. “…Give me one good reason not to walk back up there, and tell our master that it really is your blood all over the ground. And it better be a very good reason, Saphienne.”

Success had been so close… but the gap through the enchanted brambles might as well have closed over. Nevertheless, she persisted with her act. “But our master said–”

“You can stop pretending.” Taerelle was no fool. “I compared the blood on the ground to the dried blood on your wrist — the way your blood clots is subtly distinctive. One more denial, and you’re done.”

Saphienne studied her gaze, saw her pupils still aglow from the divination she had cast to inspect the ruin of the stony tree. There was no way to refute her. Exhaling as though she were deflating, she took a moment to speak. “…Would it be presumptive to ask what gave me away?”

“The salt.” Taerelle showed no trace of pity as she answered. “I smelled it in your hair. We’re very far from any ocean, so there’s one reason I can think of why you would scatter it over yourself.”

Hyacinth had told her to brush it away… and Saphienne was in such a rush, she overlooked it. Her jog through the woodland had dislodged the grains from her robes, but not the roots of her hair. She closed her eyes, tiredness catching up. “You’ll have to enlighten me. I don’t know what it was for.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“I really don’t.” She showed her scored wrist. “All I was told was to sprinkle myself with salt, to cut myself as though by accident, avoid the cut being noticed, and get close to the dried blood.” She managed to raise her eyelids, which felt heavier than gold. “You’re correct: it’s my blood up there. I’m guessing that the point was to make it seem like my cut contaminated the sympathetic connection? But I don’t understand any of the principles.”

“Who instructed you?” Taerelle glanced to the briars. “…You had guidance from a spirit. The salt was to cover up recent possession.”

“I wondered.” Saphienne took note of the trick, not that it presently mattered.

“And why were you helping the spirits?”

“Wrong way around: I sought the help of a spirit, and she refused to intervene. All she would do is give me instructions.”

The admission earned a scowl of contempt from Taerelle. “And the calculations of distance, and the method for finding the clearing… all lies.”

“Not lies.” Saphienne looked around herself, saw there was nowhere to seat herself nearby, and so simply sank down on the grassy slope. “I knew where the clearing was from yesterday, but the method to find this place without magic had to be physically possible. My only advantage was knowing the answer I was trying to reach: the rest, I came up with, and tested.”

Her interrogator clenched her fist. “You’re the one who loosed the spirit.”

“With a Rod of Repulsion.” Saphienne’s voice was dry. “You called that part right. But the rest…”

“So you committed a crime,” Taerelle hissed, “and then betrayed your master – betrayed your fellow apprentices – to cover up what you did.” She began to back up the slope, not daring to take her eyes from Saphienne. “Stay right there. Whatever reason you had for doing all of this, there’s no reason to keep this from my master any longer.”

Watching her – seeing her resentment at being lied to – was painful for Saphienne, but not as much as having strived so hard only to fail. Everything she knew about Taerelle whirled around her as she thought through her predicament, honing in on any motive, no matter how tenuous, that could convince her to stay her hand.

There was only one… and it risked consequences far beyond her apprenticeship. That was why Hyacinth had chose to help her, she reflected ruefully.

“There is a reason,” she quietly called after her.

“No.” Taerelle spun away–

“You’ll be usurping the judgement of a High Master of the Luminary Vale.” Saphienne clasped her hands together. “The consequences for the woodlands in general, and your future as a wizard in particular, will be catastrophic.”

The apprentice in black halted on the slope.

She came back to Saphienne with a frigid gaze, standing over her so that she blocked out the sunshine. “Explain.”

“The Luminary Vale already knows exactly what happened.” Saphienne nodded up the slope toward where Almon was at work. “They sent our master in blindly, with as few details as possible, so that he could confirm the account they had received.”

“From you?”

“No.” She forced a superior smile. “From the spirits of the woodlands. They were obliged to tell our elders all that had happened, since they were compelled to imprison the apostate spirit in order to uphold the ancient ways. Given that the Luminary Vale immediately had us investigate, I presume the spirits told one of the High Masters. That’s why none of them would hide my involvement from you: they couldn’t risk interfering with the scene, and giving the High Master a reason to think they were being dishonest.”

“They helped you–”

“To do what?” Saphienne rose, laughing, and finding energy in her laughter. “I didn’t change a single thing

about the scene. All I did was come along, and present myself in a way that changed the context of what you all saw.” She giggled at the absurdity, once more awed by what she understood of Hyacinth. “Brilliant, when you think about it. The spirit who helped me wouldn’t dare tamper with the scene… and she found a way not to.”

Taerelle was unimpressed. “My master still needs to know what you–”

“Then the Luminary Vale will tell him.” She tilted her head. “But isn’t it strange, that they warned him to take countermeasures against the spirits, and forgot to mention that his own apprentices were involved?”

The senior apprentice’s eyes widened. “Apprentices? You had help?”

“My fellow unproven apprentices were all involved.” Inwardly, Saphienne took a deep breath. “Iolas, and Celaena… whose father, I understand, is someone important at the Luminary Vale.”

Now Taerelle was unsure of herself. “…If the Luminary Vale know you did this, then why would you insist on your name…”

Saphienne saw the conclusion she was reaching, and just kept smiling at her.

The senior apprentice blanched, and took a step back, looking Saphienne up and down, glimpsing the woman the girl would become, dizzied by what she perceived. “…You want them to know you covered it up from Al– from our master.” She shook her head, amazed by Saphienne’s hubris. “You want them to see what you can do. And you’ve only been studying magic for…”

The reminder made Saphienne wilt. “Honestly, Taerelle? Sod these last few days. Everything has been completely fucking awful.”

“But you…” Taerelle clutched at her head, shaking it so hard her braid flipped over her shoulder. “…You can’t be allowed to continue as an apprentice. Your crime–”

“There was no crime.” She could feel her expression darkening. “And despite that, I’ve already been punished. I didn’t know what I was doing — I was spiritually manipulated, and put in an impossible position. The spirits of the woodlands accepted that, eventually, but when they first arrived…”

Finally, the older girl’s antipathy toward her cracked. “…That was a lot of blood.”

“Collapsed lung,” Saphienne recounted, holding up her fingers, “broken neck, torn muscles in my back, thigh, calf, wrist–”

“Stop.” Taerelle was sickened; there were hints of tears in her eyes, though as they glittered her expression twisted in anger. “How can I trust a word you’re saying? You just– the scale of your deception strains belief!”

That, Saphienne had to admit, was a very fair question. She was silent for a time as she gave it due consideration. “I suppose,” she finally said, seeing a path out, “I could tell you that there’s no way to know that I’m telling the truth, and that you’d just have to trust me… but there is a way to tell. The only problem,” she conceded, “is that the answer won’t be immediate.”

Sceptical, conflicted, her fellow student crossed her arms. “That isn’t good enough. I’m not giving you time to scheme your way out of this.”

“No schemes,” Saphienne said, meaning the words, and yet self-aware enough to know that she was probably lying. “And you’ll want to wait. If you tell our master, and expose the fact that a spirit aided me in deceiving him, what do you think he’ll do? What will our even-tempered master do – as an exemplar of restraint – when he realises he’s been tricked?”

“You should have thought of that–”

“Not to me.” She grinned, slightly manic as she spun out the consequences. “I told you: what it means for the woodland will be dire. This all comes down to trust in the ancient ways — between elf and spirit. What will result, if our master makes it known that his apprentice was used, harmed, and forced to betray him to cover up what had happened… all by woodland spirits?”

Taerelle was silent.

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“Do you trust our master to show discretion? And if you do, are you sure your judgement is better than the Luminary Vale’s?”

“What,” she quietly asked, “do you propose as proof?”

Saphienne calmed. She had contained the fire: all that was left to do was douse it. “Let our master write to the Luminary Vale, and ask to read his letter before his sends it. Make sure it says I attended the clearing with him. And most importantly — note who the letter is being sent to.” She gave a shallow bow. “Then? You could just wait for a reply and see what happens…”

Saphienne stepped closer.

“…Or you could write all of this down, in a letter of your own, and send it in secret. You could let the High Master know that you – not our master – were the one who caught me, and that you had the good judgement to think before acting, and to seek his counsel on how best to proceed.” She stared up into Taerelle’s pale blue gaze, her emerald eyes flashing. “I think that would benefit your application — wouldn’t it?”

Breathing very shallowly, Taerelle shivered. Her lips moved, but no words emerged. In the moment that stretched, the spell in her eyes finally faded, and Saphienne could read her more clearly — reading the same emotions she had first beheld from Filaurel, recognising the amazement, the uncertainty, and the overriding fear

.

“…You’re dangerous.” Taerelle swallowed. “How are you able to do this?”

Saphienne shrugged, thinking of Filaurel, and Gaeleath, and Almon, and Hyacinth, and all the others from whom she had learned. “I have good teachers. All of them are very… educational.”

Swaying, Taerelle quickly sat down.

* * *

Of course, there was a cost. Once the shock faded, Taerelle recovered enough to dispense with courtesy, and demanded a price for her silence.

“You owe me a full account of what happened,” she insisted. “And from this point on, until our apprenticeships are concluded? Anything I need from you, I get. Once you wear black, you’ll be helping me with whatever research I’m engaged in, and I won’t accept any complaints or excuses.”

Saphienne knew that the threat was empty; as soon as Taerelle assisted in the deception, they would both have plenty to lose from its exposure. Yet Saphienne pretended she was cowed by her words anyway, both to hasten getting what she wanted, and also because the prospect of studying with Taerelle wasn’t unwelcome. “Does that mean,” she mirthlessly teased, “you’ve reconsidered my chances of catching up?”

Despite her dread, the senior apprentice snorted. “I won’t underestimate you again. And, make no mistake: if it turns out the Luminary Vale doesn’t know–”

“They do,” Saphienne promised. “And if I’m lying, it won’t matter — you’ll have taken steps to tell what you know, while evidencing caution. You’ll still be credited. Just be careful how you explain your reasons for not going to our master, in case your words end up repeated to him.”

“I’m used to his temper.” She glanced up the incline. “If he finds out, he might end your apprenticeship, but he’ll be far more understanding toward me. Not that I’m eager to lose his esteem.” She faced Saphienne. “Speaking of which: I should go back. He’ll be wondering what’s taken me so long.”

Curious, Saphienne asked, “What will you tell him?”

“That I was consoling you — that he frightened you.” Taerelle pursed her lips, unhappy with the lie. “You were scared he would end your apprenticeship, and I had to explain why that wasn’t going to happen. That’s what I’ll say… because you’re not afraid of him personally, are you?”

“No.” Saphienne looked away. “…I don’t know why. I’m not afraid of being hurt, not physically.” She reflected on how she had felt when she saw her blood on the ground for the second time; while she wasn’t afraid of pain, or dying, looking upon it in retrospect–

“I thought not.” Taerelle drew her outer robes tighter about her shoulders. “Are you actually like a child in any way, or is it all an act?”

Saphienne blinked, twice. “…I don’t know how to answer that. What does being like a child really mean?”

“Good enough.” She smiled, thinly. “If I’m making a terrible mistake, do me this small courtesy: keep pretending.”

Although she didn’t quite understand what Taerelle meant, Saphienne couldn’t help but feel slighted as they parted, and she frowned after the senior apprentice as she studied her receding, shadowy silhouette.

* * *

Would Taerelle keep her word? Saphienne was confident she would. Was the situation between the Luminary Vale and Almon as it appeared? Saphienne had to hope that it was. And within that esteemed institution, was there a High Master who would look favourably on both apprentices for their skills in subterfuge and discretion? For that, Saphienne could only pray.

Prayer: that reminded her. Saphienne had just danced her way out of danger by appealing to the necessity of upholding the ancient ways, when in truth, she understood far less about them than was wise. Given that she was nearly killed by their consequences, and that so much of her forthcoming century was certain to be dictated by them, Saphienne needed to learn everything she could about the ancient ways, as quickly as possible. Hyacinth had said the spirits of the woodlands worshipped the same gods as the elves, and that a priest might be able to teach her more…

Emerging from the thicket that concealed the hill, Saphienne took her bearings by the position of the sun. The day was still very early, at least two hours before noon, and as she turned south and began walking along a ley line she couldn’t see – toward a woodland shrine she had never visited – she smiled at the irony of what it had taken, in the end, to finally make her interested in religion.

Perhaps, if her apprenticeship as a wizard was doomed, she could take Laewyn’s advice, and seek redemption for her wrongdoing as a–

“Hail, young apprentice. Why the rush?”

Saphienne stumbled, turned, and started as she realised there were two figures right behind her — a man and a woman, both dressed in green and brown leathers, their cloaks and hoods similarly mottled with growing leaves, their bows and knifes hidden, their faces smeared with muddy green to obscure their features.

Wardens of the Wilds.

The woman who had addressed her grinned as she watched Saphienne recoil a step, and she raised her gloved hand in greeting. “Forgive us shadowing you — it makes for good practice.”

The instant dislike that Saphienne felt for the pair was unusual, especially as she didn’t recognise either of them. As she reclaimed what little composure she could muster, she surmised that her stress was catching up to her. “I’m not in a rush,” she sniffed, “this is just my usual walking speed. I don’t like to waste my time.”

“Or have your time wasted?” The woman laughed at herself, at ease. “Then forgive us for stopping you. I just have to ask: you’re Saphienne, aren’t you?”

Too many possibilities yawned like a chasm before her. “…I am. I can’t say I remember meeting either of you.”

The man was quick to speak. “She recognised you — you know Faylar?”

The relief that Saphienne felt showed, and she recognised that she had revealed it and pivoted to embrace it before she provoked closer scrutiny. “You’re his mother?” she asked the woman, her tone warming. “Why didn’t you say so? I thought you were going to lecture me — Laewyn said you stop her all the time.”

That won a laugh from the man, his smile making Saphienne irrationally seethe. Misreading her expression, he gave her a nod of apology and walked away, still chuckling to himself.

“Laewyn…” Faylar’s mother mused. “…I suppose you know her through Celaena? The two have been spending time together; they’re often out feeding the birds. No,” she chuckled, “you’re not going to get the kind of lecture she gets. And, in our defence, we only lecture her when we confiscate her wine.”

Given space from the man, Saphienne felt herself settle, though her eyes were still tracking him. “You’re in the habit of shadowing people?”

“We’re aware of who comes and goes,” she said, unashamed. “You might not have noticed us before, but whenever we see a child walking alone, we usually follow them — to make sure they’re safe. I remember keeping an eye on you a few times, when you used to go for walks. You were much shorter, then…”

Having been secretly observed disquieted Saphienne. “I’d heard tell that the wardens are stealthy.”

Faylar’s mother shrugged with one arm, the other kept ready by her side. “We try not to make ourselves known without reason — people get self-conscious when they see us. Like you just were.” She suddenly grinned again, faintly blushing, showing her resemblance to her son. “But, listen to me, rudely prattling on! I’m Alavara; it’s a pleasure to finally meet you.” She leant forward to offer her hand.

Clasping her wrist, Saphienne briefly met her gaze as she shook with her. “And you. Faylar mentioned you were in the area.”

“Did he?” Her eyes glinted. “Then, I don’t suppose you know where he is?”

Behind her, the man crouched and pulled a knife from his boot, lifting a fallen branch from the forest floor.

Distracted by him, Saphienne answered without thinking. “Right now? No. He was still half asleep when I left.”

Alavara’s eyes widened and then narrowed, her hand stilling where she held Saphienne’s arm. “…He was at your home?”

“Faylar knocked on my door in the middle of the night,” Saphienne said, watching the man as he whittled the branch. “We talked and had tea, and then he slept over.”

“He slept over.” Her lips pursed.

Saphienne nodded, trying to understand why the other warden made her feel so unsafe. “I had to leave early, so I woke him and told him to help himself to anything he liked from the kitchen–”

“What about your mother?” Alavara released her. “Was she there?”

“She was sleeping when he arrived. I don’t think we woke her.” Saphienne pondered past and present. “No, I don’t know if she even realised he was there. It depends on whether she came downstairs while he was getting ready to leave.”

Faylar’s mother studied her for a long moment. “And what were the two of you talking about?”

“That’s private,” Saphienne answered, reflexively. “You’ll need to ask him. He’d been having trouble sleeping–”

“And he decided to call on you.”

“Well, yes.” Saphienne gave up on the mystery, returning her attention to Alavara. “He knew I wouldn’t mind. I think he just needed someone to listen to him.”

“The two of you are much closer than I realised.”

Belatedly, Saphienne caught the subtext to Alavara’s questions, and she flushed bright crimson as she realised the obvious implication of her answers. “Um, not as close as him and Celaena… she’s his best friend. But we’re friends. Only friends.”

“Good friends, it seems.” Alavara’s chin was tilted up, the warden studying Saphienne down the length of her nose.

“…I hope so, but not like–”

“Only hope? Even though you were alone together, so late into the night?”

“We didn’t talk for very long… we both felt quite tired.” She tried to think of something to say that would pull her out of the hole she had dug. “Maybe an hour or so? Then he was going to go home, but I told him just to sleep on the couch…”

Having been quietly listening to the exchange, the other warden burst out laughing, tossing away the half-carved stick and sheathing his knife as his amusement subsided.

Unfolding her arms, Faylar’s mother slowly smiled. “He slept on your couch?”

“Well, um, yes.” Saphienne’s cheeks were hot. “I’m not Celaena: we don’t have a guest room. And– we’re not–”

“Faylar mentioned that you can be a little, how do I put this, misunderstood in how you come across to people.” Alavara’s smile deepened, and she put her hand on her own shoulder as she stretched her neck. “I see what he meant. You need practice with first impressions.”

There was more truth to those words than the warden realised. “…You’re not wrong.”

“Tell Faylar to invite you over for dinner.” She bowed, once again in high spirits, and turned away. “You’re welcome to join us. And the next time you two decide to talk late into the night — tell him to at least leave me a note.”

“…Thank you.” Despite recently experiencing its grim reality, Saphienne could understand the appeal of a sudden, unexpected death.

The man waved back at her as the pair departed. “Be good, Saphienne.”

She couldn’t bring herself to return his wave. Seconds later, the pair had vanished, gone as though concealed by a fascination.

Saphienne needed a moment to cringe before she resumed walking. She was tempted to go back to bed and write the day off.

But while she yet remained a wizard’s apprentice, there were mysteries to explore.

End of Chapter 43