The Wielder Trials. Franca Ogbonnaya

knew why she’d joined this class. Before the bargain, when she’d been sure she was about to die, Britea had realized how vulnerable she was. And she had been reminded of that with her interrogation by the Malaquey Navy and with her run in with Lady Lianne Arkei. She never wanted to be weak again.

      Apparently, some wielders didn’t appreciate what was being offered in Master Caren’s class.

      “Hey! What are you looking at?!”

      Britea was yanked back to the present when the recruit yelled at her, and she realized she was still staring at him.

      “I’m sorry. I wasn’t looking at anything really.”

      His face went red.

      “I mean…I didn’t mean you’re nothing!” Britea hastily explained before continuing, unable to stop herself. “But you are wrong.”

      Henrick raised an eyebrow. The lanky student was shocked into silence.

      “We all heard Instructor Lexar. If this class isn’t for you, you’re free to leave. However, I’m staying because I don’t have the luxury of paid protection or safety.”

      Britea didn’t hang around to discuss it further. She strode angrily away from the group to the bench she had occupied yesterday. To be honest, she was feeling a bit homesick; at times she regretted coming to the college in the first place. But she was here now, and she was going to make the most of it.

      “Mind if I sit with you?”

      She looked up into Henrick’s kind brown eyes. Britea really didn’t feel like talking, but his expression was so earnest she decided not to be cruel.

      “Sure. Sit with the girl determined to make enemies everywhere she goes.”

      Henrick looked at her quizzically. “Why do you say that?”

      “I humiliated Lianne and her group of sycophants in class, remember? And now here I am, annoying my fellow classmates in combat and defense.”

      “Ignore Laris,” said Henrick. “He talks about himself all the time. He thinks he’s important because he’s the first wielder in his family since forever.”

      Britea narrowed her eyes. “You sure know a lot about everybody.”

      Henrick didn’t back down from her gaze. “And you would too, if you watched, listened, and waited for the right moment.”

      “Spoken like a spy,” said Britea after a moment.

      He blinked and peered down at his food as if embarrassed. “You think so?”

      “Hey, hey! How are the two new warriors?” boomed Navos as he planted himself beside Henrick with an overflowing plate of food he attacked with gusto.

      “Wow,” Britea said, watching how fast he could shove the food down as Danai sat down beside her.

      “We’re…uh, fine,” said Henrick weakly as he gaped at the older wielder beside him eating at an inhuman speed.

      Danai laughed softly. “We just finished sparring a bit later than the others. That’s why we’re late.”

      She smiled at Britea. “How did your assessments go this morning?”

      Britea felt a bit insecure as she replied. “I got put in the third-year class for general studies but for wielding…” she paused and Navos slowed down to frown at her expression. “I got put in the first-year class.”

      “Why?” asked a curious Henrick. Britea chose her words with care.

      “Instructor Shelley said it was because of how I wielded.” She sent a silent apology to Kahl for having to hide his tutoring. “When I first wielded, I did so in fear and anger, so even though I’m sixteen, she feels I need to start from the beginning.”

      Henrick nodded. “Makes sense. If you need help, I can tutor you in the wielding tiers. Of course, we’d have to ask the instructors for permission.”

      Britea forced herself to smile as her instincts screamed no . “Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.”

      “Are you in her class, Henrick?” Danai asked, drawing his attention away from Britea.

      “Yes.”

      Navos took a sip of water. “Good to know our Britea has a friend there.”

      “And enemies,” muttered Britea.

      She sighed when Danai and Navos gave her questioning looks. “Lady Lianne Arkei and her two friends are in my class, and I may have…embarrassed her in front of the whole class.”

      Danai muttered something dark under her breath. Then she raised her voice and added. “Pearl Ceres and Valerie Mern. Those are her lackeys. Best stay out of their way.”

      “Why and which is which?” asked Britea.

      “The blond is Valerie, and the other is Pearl,” answered Danai with a weary sigh. “As to why you should stay away from them, just take my word that those two are trouble.”

      Britea frowned. “In what way?”

      Danai wore a pained expression on her face. She glanced at Henrick before she replied.

      “From my experience, they tend to…well, start trouble, then pin it on someone else and manage to look innocent the whole time.”

      Henrick’s eyes widened before he suddenly found great interest in his food.

      Britea was still staring at her roommate. “You mean they lie?”

      Danai was saved from answering when Navos started laughing.

      “Britea, you’re a breath of fresh air. That’s a blunt way of stating the obvious, but it’s a lot more complicated than that.”

      “They like playing games with new or unpopular students,” continued Danai in a hard tone. “The kind of games that can get someone hurt or expelled. So please, don’t play with those girls.”

      Henrick was focusing on his food, but Britea bet he was taking note of everything being said.

      “Five minutes!” The warning rang through the air.

      Navos groaned as he tried to eat faster. “I swear, this class is going to give me heartburn.”

      Britea grinned.

       #

      Dancing and Etiquette Class for Third Years, read the sign on the door. To be honest, Britea had been surprised when she’d realized this was actually part of the curriculum. Then she had been curious. Why was this class part of her education? She studied her fellow female students. She had been puzzled when the boys had split off and gone to a separate class as she had made her way here. Britea heard laughter, and she turned to her right. Lianne and her friends were chatting, clearly looking forward to the dance class.

      Great. She bit her lower lip in frustration. Of course the nobles would know more about dancing then she did. Come to think of it, she hadn’t been keen on dancing even in her own village. Give her a good book any day, and she could forget the world existed.

      “Good day, class,” greeted an attractive, slim female instructor wearing a stylish, cowled jacket over a black flowing skirt with air-white edgings.

      “For those of you new to us, I am Instructor Helene Droye. In this class, you will learn the fine art of communicating with your body. When you graduate, many of you may find employment at the royal court or in noble houses. This class will help you learn how to behave in such surroundings.”

      Britea frowned. Most of the other students were excited at the idea. Only a few seemed to share her lack of enthusiasm.

      “Now, before we get started, can the new students step forward?”

      Britea was the