Page 8 of Lucent Academy: Trinity Awakens
As if in answer to her question, the attendant approached with a tray of pastries and two steaming cups of something that smelled like chocolate. He offered them to us with a bow that seemed excessive for the occasion, and I took my cup with hands that trembled only slightly. The chocolate was rich and sweet, better than anything I had ever tasted, and I found myself wondering if this was what life was like for nobles all the time, if they woke up every morning to drinks like this and airships like this and attendants who bowed to them like they were something special.
"Don't get used to it," said a voice from behind us. "The Academy won't be nearly this comfortable."
I turned to find a girl about our age standing in the aisle, her arms crossed over her chest and her expression somewhere between amused and contemptuous. She was beautiful in the way that expensive things were beautiful, with golden hair arranged in elaborate curls and a dress that probably cost more than my family earned in a year. Her eyes were a pale, cold blue, and they swept over me and Amber with the kind of dismissive assessment that made it clear she had already determined our worth and found it wanting. I recognized her immediately, though we had never spoken: Seraphina Ashworth, the baron's daughter, born on the same day as me in the same town but in circumstances so different we might as well have come from separate worlds.
"Lady Ashworth," I said, inclining my head the way Mother had taught me. "I didn't realize you were Manaborn as well."
"Why would you? It's not as though we move in the same circles." Seraphina settled into the seat across from us,arranging her skirts with practiced grace. "Though I suppose we'll have to get used to each other now. The Academy doesn't segregate by birth, more's the pity."
Amber's jaw tightened, but she said nothing. I could feel the tension radiating off her, the anger she was holding back, and I put a hand on her arm in what I hoped was a calming gesture. Starting a fight with a noble's daughter on our first day seemed like a poor strategy, even if said noble's daughter was being insufferable.
"I'm Leah Wood," I said, keeping my voice pleasant. "And this is Amber Cole. We're from Hartwick as well."
"I know who you are. The gardener's daughter who made the magic apples." Seraphina's lip curled slightly. "The whole town's been talking about nothing else for weeks. You'd think no one had ever awakened before."
"Has anyone ever created magical fruit before?" Amber asked, her tone deceptively mild.
"I wouldn't know. I don't concern myself with agricultural matters." Seraphina turned to look out the window, clearly done with the conversation, but something in her posture suggested she wasn't entirely as indifferent as she pretended. There was tension in her shoulders, a tightness around her eyes that I recognized from my own reflection in the mirror. She was scared, I realized. Beneath all that arrogance and disdain, she was just as frightened as the rest of us.
The airship jolted slightly as it adjusted course, and the attendant announced that we would be making two more stops before heading to the Academy, picking up Manaborn from other towns along the way. I settled back in my seat and watched the clouds drift past, trying to wrap my mind around the factthat I was actually here, actually doing this, actually leaving behind everything I had ever known for a future I couldn't begin to imagine.
"So," Amber said after a while, pitching her voice low enough that Seraphina wouldn't hear, "what kind of mate are you hoping to summon?"
The question caught me off guard. I had been so focused on the leaving, on the loss, that I hadn't really thought about what came next. The summoning was months away, something that would happen after we had learned to control our powers and proven ourselves worthy of a bond, and it had seemed too distant to worry about. But now, with the airship carrying me inexorably toward my new life, it suddenly felt very real and very close.
"I don't know," I admitted. "Someone kind, I suppose. Someone who wouldn't mind that I'm not... you know. Special."
Amber snorted. "You grew magic apples on your birthday. I'd say that's pretty special."
"You know what I mean. I'm not noble, I'm not educated, I'm just a gardener's daughter who got lucky. Or unlucky, depending on how you look at it." I took a sip of my chocolate, which had gone slightly cold. "I'd be happy with anyone who was gentle and patient. A beastkin, maybe. I've heard they can be very sweet. Or a kobold—they're supposed to be loyal and hardworking, and they don't mind simple things."
"A kobold would be nice," Amber agreed. "Someone who understands what it means to work with your hands. I'd want a mate who could appreciate a good forge, you know? Someone who wouldn't look down on me for loving the heat and the metal and the making of things."
"That sounds lovely."
"It does, doesn't it? Just a simple life, doing what we love, with someone who loves us for who we are rather than what we can do." Amber smiled, but there was something wistful in it. "My mother always said that the best marriages are the ones where both people want the same things. I figure the same must be true for bonds."
"Your Mate isn't just your partner, you foolish peasants."
Seraphina's voice cut through our conversation like a knife, sharp and cold and dripping with contempt. She had turned back to face us, and her expression was one of genuine disbelief, as though she couldn't quite fathom what she had just heard.
"It's your road to greatness," she continued. "Your ticket to power and influence and everything that matters in this world. And your determination decides who'll answer your call. The strength of your will, the depth of your ambition—that's what draws a powerful mate to your circle. A kobold?" She laughed, and it wasn't a kind sound. "Why not choose a lowly imp as your mate, then? At least an imp has magic of its own, pathetic as it may be. Such low aspirations. Such small dreams. It's no wonder the common folk never amount to anything."
"There's nothing wrong with wanting a simple life," I said, surprising myself with the steadiness of my voice. "Not everyone needs power and influence to be happy."
"Then not everyone deserves to be Manaborn." Seraphina leaned forward, her blue eyes blazing. "Do you have any idea what this is? What we are? We're the chosen ones, the blessed, the only hope this Empire has against the Void. And you want to waste that on a kobold? On a life of gardening and child-rearing and domestic mediocrity?"
"What do you want, then?" Amber asked. "Since you're so much better than us?"
"I won't settle for anything lower than a phoenix." Seraphina sat back, her chin lifted with pride. "A creature of fire and rebirth, of passion and power. Something worthy of my bloodline and my potential. My family has served the Empire for twelve generations, and I will not be the one who shames them by bonding with some lesser creature."
"Phoenix are platinum rank," I said, remembering what I had read in the town's small library after my awakening. "Only a handful of Manaborn in history have ever summoned one."
"Then I'll be one of the handful. That's the difference between people like me and people like you, gardener's daughter. I know what I'm worth, and I refuse to accept anything less."
She turned away again, ending the conversation with the finality of a slammed door, and Amber and I exchanged a look that said everything words couldn't. We would not be friends with Seraphina Ashworth. We would probably never even be civil with her. But we would be stuck with her for the next three years, and somehow we would have to find a way to coexist.
The airship made its promised stops over the next two days, descending to platforms in towns whose names I didn't recognize to collect more Manaborn. By the time we were done, there were nearly fifty of us crammed into the passenger cabin, a motley assortment of young people from every walk of life: nobles and merchants and farmers and craftsmen, some excited and some terrified and some so numb they barely seemed to register their surroundings. I talked to as many of them as I could, learning their names and their stories and their hopes for the future, and I found that most of them were like me andAmber, ordinary people with ordinary dreams who had been swept up in something extraordinary through no choice of their own. There were a few like Seraphina, of course, ambitious and arrogant and convinced of their own superiority, but they were the minority, and they tended to cluster together in the back of the cabin, speaking in low voices about bloodlines and power rankings and other things that didn't seem to matter much when you were floating through the clouds toward an uncertain future.
