If Ellery repeated it enough times, she could almost believe it.
“But before we begin, I’d like to remind you of our security rules.” Glynn opened his jacket and pulled out a small bouquet of training wands. “Each of these were confiscated from a student before they entered this room, all of whom conveniently ‘forgot’ that training wands are expressly forbidden from vigils.”
Training wands weren’t allowed in vigils to prevent sabotage. Decades ago, before widespread reform, it wasn’t unheard of forstudents to attack fellow classmates to reduce competition for prestigious Living Wands.
“Inside the vigil chamber,” Glynn continued, “are some of the most important people in Alderland. Right now, you are all potential Chosen Ones and you will behave accordingly. You will remain quiet and undisruptive until it is your turn. If your attempt to bond with Valmordion ends unsuccessfully, you will peacefully depart the premises. There will be no second chances, no loitering, and no complaints. Understood?”
Some of the crowd responded with eager assent, while others stared at their laps or worried at their cuticles. Their anticipation was its own kind of magic, a promise that something momentous was about to happen. Something extraordinary. Something that would one day merit its own piece of Citadel artwork.
“Excellent,” said Glynn. “Now, if the first candidate would follow me?”
The academy’s oldest magician rose warily to his feet. As soon as the vigil chamber’s ornate wooden door shut behind him and Glynn, the whispers resumed.
Again, Ellery clutched the alban pit in her pocket.
After what could’ve been seconds or minutes, the door opened again, and Glynn returned, face impassive.
“Tej Kumar?” he called.
The second magician disappeared into the vigil chamber. Five remained between Ellery and Valmordion.
Despite already being seated next to her, Julian leaned closer until their shoulders brushed. “Are you nervous, El?”
“Aren’t you?” Ellery muttered. “Everyone else is.”
“Actually, they’re not. Because everyone in this room thinks it’s you.”
Ellery shifted away. “We agreed we wouldn’t talk about this.”
The room silenced while Glynn escorted candidate three off to the vigil. But as soon as they left, Julian rounded on her again.
“I know what we agreed,” he said. “And I tried, but I can’tstop wondering… Why am I testing for Valmordion before you are?”
“It’s not like you to question your accomplishments.” Ellery attempted to sound teasing, but her words came out stilted.
“Oh, I know I’m qualified. But you’re the name in the headlines. You have the grades. The history. You should be going for that wand before me. Hell, you should be going before everyone.”
Ellery’s chest clenched. “Julian—”
They paused again as Glynn fetched candidate number four.
“The only thing I can think of,” Julian hissed, “is that you don’t want it. And I can’t figure out why.”
“Why I wouldn’t want to be single-handedly responsible for the fate of the country? Or a wand that burned its last wielder alive?”
“Those are good reasons, but they’re notyourreasons,” he countered. “Not all of them, anyway.”
Ellery winced. “Don’t push me. Not right now.”
“I try not to. I’ve tried for years. I know you’re private. But we’re supposed to be best friends. You know everything about me, good, bad, embarrassing. And lately, I…” His voice dropped even lower. “I feel like I don’t know you anymore.”
Ellery could admit that things had frayed between her and Julian since she’d broken up with him. But she still wasn’t prepared for him to force the subject. Especially here. Especially now.
“But… but you know me better than anyone. And this is the worst possible time to ask me about—”
“Is it?” He caught her gaze, his expression imploring. “Whenever I try, you deflect. You deny. And I just wish we could go back to how it was. Before we ever—”
“That’s what I’m trying to do!”
