Page 3 of Ashes of Aether

“It was terrible.”

“Well, it’s not just you. None of us have ever gotten close to beating her.”

I gaze over to where Kaely stood moments ago. Aether dust still swirls there. “She’s so strong,” I say wistfully.

If only I were as strong as Kaely. Then my father would not be ashamed that the only heir to the Ashbourne family was a sorry excuse for an adept. Maybe I would be a better sorceress if I tried harder and spent more time studying, but what’s the point? Kaely will always be far stronger than me. I never understood why she took to hating me when we started at the Arcanium. I should be the one who hates her, since she represents all that I am not.

“Her father is the Archmage of Defense.” I suppose Eliya is trying to reassure me with a reminder of that fact, but it has the opposite effect.

“My father is the Grandmage of Nolderan.” The words taste like ash on my tongue. “And yet look at me.”

“Don’t think like that,” Eliya says, grabbing my hand and squeezing it. “You’ll make a great mage when you graduate from the Arcanium.”

“But not as great as Kaely.”

Eliya presses her lips into a grim line, clearly knowing that nothing she can say will convince me otherwise.

“Please try to smile, Rey-rey,” she says after a pause. “It’s your eighteenth birthday today. You shouldn’t be sad on any birthday, let alone your eighteenth.”

I try to smile, but it must look as forced as it feels since Eliya sighs. My fake smile falters, and I replace it with an expression which matches my sour mood.

I know I would be a better adept if I tried, but even if I pour my heart and soul into studying, it still won’t be enough to defeat Kaely or to make my father proud. I’ve long decided that it’s better by far to hide behind the mask of idleness than to have my lack of talent laid bare for the world to see. I can never meet my father’s expectations, be the prodigy that he was, so I would much rather be a mediocre mage out of choice than because of fate.

At least I can say the reason she defeated me so horribly today is because I don’t work hard enough.

“You can’t let Kaely spoil your eighteenth birthday.” Eliya swings my hand back and forth as she pleads me. “Think how gleeful she would be if she knew you were this upset.”

“I’m not upset. I’m just angry she dared to take the duel so far.”

It’s a lie, and we both know it, but Eliya doesn’t point it out. Her expression continues to silently implore me not to let Kaely ruin my birthday. Eliya is right. I shouldn’t let Kaely make me miserable. Not today.

“Anyway,” I say, “what are you doing tonight? No one’s made any plans with me yet.”

“Not even Arluin?”

Her question strikes a raw nerve. “No,” I grind out, “not even him.” When I saw him last night, he mentioned nothing about my birthday. Not a single thing.

“What about your parents?”

I huff a strand of long, dark hair from my face. “My father has important meetings until late tonight. So, I was thinking the two of us could do something instead? Something that involves getting really, really drunk.”

Eliya shuffles uncomfortably, not looking me in the eye, and focuses on the marble floor. Her guilt is plain to see. “Um, as great as that sounds, I already have plans tonight.”

“You... you already have plans.” I do my best to ensure the words don’t sound as bitter as they taste, but I’m not sure I succeed.

Eliya’s shoulders sink. “I’m meant to be going to my uncle’s house for dinner tonight.”

“And you can’t get out of it?”

She shakes her head, and my heart plummets. “No, I’m sorry. We arranged it weeks ago. I forgot it was your birthday until this morning.”

I can’t believe what I’m hearing. “You forgot it was my birthday.” I turn away from her and squeeze my eyes shut, willing myself not to cry. First, I suffered a horrible defeat at Kaely’s hands, and now it appears my best friend forgot my birthday. And she even has the audacity to tell me I should be happy on my birthday, especially my eighteenth one.

Maybe I’m overreacting, but her betrayal cuts deep.

“Please don’t be mad at me,” Eliya whispers.

“It’s fine,” I force out, waving my hand and trying to keep my words as steady as I can. “I’m not mad. Not mad at all.”

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