The two women spent the rest of their day in the market they visited dress shops and spent hours talking about the various trinkets they passed throughout the stalls, they spoke of their differences, the herbs they grew up with, and the various ailments they treated. Upon returning to the castle, they were both exhausted and ready for a rest. As they parted ways at the castle entrance, Lorren pulled Isolde in for a quick hug. "I'll meet you at the old well tomorrow night, midnight sharp. Don't be late." With that, she disappeared into the castle, leaving Isolde alone with her thoughts.
The evening sun cast long shadows across the courtyard as Isolde made her way to her chambers, her mind buzzing. She recalled Jasper and the cryptic words he spoke she decided not to pay them any mind after all, it was none of her concern. She walked slowly, her feet still aching from the number of steps she had taken today. She didn't expect to make a new friend so soon, she had spoken to Lorren before in smaller settings, but she didn't have the impression of mischievousness, she was more reserved with others but perhaps it was just a ploy. Isolde laughed to herself what an interesting woman Lorren was, so different from anyone she had met at the castle. She reached her chambers and opened the door, the familiar creak of the hinges a comforting sound. She lit a few candles, their warm glow casting dancing shadows on the walls. As she settled into her chair, she thought about the day's events. The market had been overwhelming, with its bustling crowds and dazzling array of goods.
A sly smile crept across Isolde's face as she recalled the mage's words about delving into the forbidden arts. Her grandmother would scold her if she had an inkling of what she was doing but how could she not? trouble seemed to follow her everywhere now should she embrace it? Isolde's mind raced with the possibilities as she drifted off to sleep, the soft glow of the candles casting a warm, inviting light across her chambers. Tomorrow night, she would meet Lorren at the old well, and together they would embark on a clandestine journey into the unknown. The thought sent a thrill of excitement coursing through her veins, mingled with a healthy dose of apprehension. She knew the risks, the potential consequences of dabbling in forbidden magic.
*****
The next morning, she woke up late, she was running through the halls, trying her best not to run into the staff, she nearly caused one to trip, "Sorry!" she gasped, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. The servant, a middle-aged woman with kind eyes, simply chuckled and shook her head. "No harm done, miss."
Isolde nodded gratefully, her heart still racing as she hurried towards the classroom, she was already ten minutes late she didn't want to make it fifteen. She burst into the classroom, breathless and flushed, only to find Head Mage Esmeralda already at the front, her piercing gaze fixed intently on her. The class of initiates was silent, all eyes turning to her as she skidded to a halt just inside the door.
"Ah, Mage Isolde," Esmeralda's voice carried a sharp edge, "So kind of you to join us." Isolde hurried to her desk, "I was just going on about Mage Natalia's time off. I will be substituting the next few days until she returns." Esmeralda's piercing gaze followed Isolde as she scurried to her desk.
The classroom was deathly quiet, all eyes fixed on the flustered young mage. She could feel her face burning with embarrassment as she fumbled with her robes, trying to appear composed despite her disheveled state. She knew she was going to dread these next few days Mage Esmeralda was not afraid of making her sentiments known. Isolde settled into her seat, her heart still pounding from her late arrival. The rest of the class seemed to collectively release a breath, the silence broken by the rustling of parchment and the soft scrape of quills against paper. Esmeralda's piercing gaze lingered on Isolde for a moment longer before she turned back to the front of the class, her voice cutting through the air like a blade.
"Now that we're all here." Isolde's hands trembled slightly as she took out her notes, her mind still reeling from the embarrassment of her late arrival. Around her, the other students were already deep in concentration, quills scratching against parchment as they took down Esmeralda's lecture.
"You've been focusing on defensive magic the first few weeks of your training, today we will learn offensive magic." Esmeralda's piercing gaze swept over the room, her voice cutting through the air like a blade. "Offensive magic is a delicate art, one that requires precision, control, and a keen understanding of the forces at play. It is not to be trifled with lightly." She paused, allowing her words to sink in. "Today, we will begin with the basics. Fire, ice, lightning - the elemental magics that form the foundation of offensive spellcraft." She approached her desk, which was positioned near the front of the class, and gestured towards a small crystal sphere resting atop it. "Observe closely as I demonstrate. This is a containment crystal, designed to hold and amplify elemental energy." The crystal began to glow with an intense, multicolored light as Esmeralda channeled her power through it. The air around it shimmered, and sparks of various elemental energies danced across its surface. The lecture drags on for what feels like an eternity. Isolde struggles to concentrate, her thoughts constantly drifting back and forth to the past few day but she wills herself to focus.
As the lesson finally draws to a close, Isolde rushes out of the classroom as soon as it's acceptable to leave. She breathes a sigh of relief once she's alone in the corridor, the cool stone walls and dim lighting provide a quiet place for to think and hide. She leans against the wall, her shoulders slumping as she lets out a sigh of relief.
"Why are you sighing again?" Isolde turns to find Elias leaning against a pillar, "I didn't see you yesterday, were you out?" Isolde straightened up, smoothing out her robes. "I was, actually. I went to the market with Lorren, one of the other mages." She hesitated for a moment, unsure of how much to reveal. "It was... enlightening."
Elias raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. "Enlightening, huh? Sounds like you two got up to more than just shopping." Isolde rolled her eyes, but couldn't help the small smile that tugged at her lips.
"You're incorrigible, Elias. We did some shopping, yes, but we also talked. About magic, about the castle, about... other things." She paused, her mind drifting back to Lorren's mischievous grin and the promise of forbidden knowledge. "It was nice, to be honest. To talk to someone who understands, who comes from a similar background."
She eyed Elias's face he looked back to his prim and proper self, "How was your hangover?" She asked pushing herself off the wall, he followed in suit Elias chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.
"Ah, you noticed that, did you? I suppose I wasn't as subtle as I thought." He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "It was... an experience. Let's just say I'm not likely to repeat it anytime soon." He grinned, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "I'll say, I nearly collapsed under your weight how is someone so thin so heavy?" Isolde snorted.
"But I had a great time, perhaps I'll accompany you to more parties." Elias's face lit up at the suggestion. "Are you sure you're the same Isolde from just a few weeks ago" he teased, Isolde rolled her eyes as they stepped into the dinning hall. Elias laughed as he followed Isolde into the dining hall, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "You know, I think I'm starting to like this new you. All confident and daring." He winked playfully as they approached the buffet table, the tantalizing aromas of roasted meats and fresh bread filling the air.
Isolde rolled her eyes good-naturedly, a smirk playing at the corners of her mouth. "Well, that might change, especially since Mage Esmeralda is spending the next few days teaching us, she hates me." She groaned, taking a drink of the warm milk Isolde shudders slightly as the warm milk coats her throat, the sudden memory of Esmeralda's piercing gaze still fresh in her mind.
She sets the cup down, the clink of porcelain against stone echoing in the nearly empty dining hall. The once bustling room is now filled with the soft hum of distant conversations and the clatter of utensils against plates. "That's not surprising considering how she has so much influence," Elias stretched his back, "She has Rose's family backing her up, that's how she got her position in the first place." As Elias leans in to ladle some thick, hearty stew onto his plate, "You know, Rose isn't just some pampered noblewoman. Her family has been quietly pulling strings in the castle for generations. Esmeralda is just one of their pawns."
"Yeah, well it's all meaningless if you ask me. Let's just get these next few days over with." As Isolde's voice trails off, she spots a familiar figure approaching their table.
Rose, dressed in a gown of shimmering silk, her hair adorned with intricate jewels, glides towards them, her cold gaze fixed on Isolde. The room seems to grow colder as Rose stops beside their table, her perfume—a heady mix of jasmine and myrrh—filling the air.
Isolde rolled her eyes, "Great."
"Isolde, dear. How delightful to find you here. I was hoping to have a word with you." Her voice is sweet and syrupy, but her eyes remain hard and calculating. Isolde fought back another deep sigh she couldn't exactly say no to her, Rose was well above her station.
"Of course, Rose," Isolde replied, her voice steady despite the churning in her stomach. "What can I do for you?"
Rose's eyes flicked to Elias, who was suddenly very interested in his stew. "Perhaps we should speak in private, dear?" Her gaze returned to Isolde, a thinly veiled threat lurking beneath the surface.
Isolde hesitated, but only for a moment. "Of course, after you." Rose's smile widened, though it never reached her eyes. She turned gracefully, her silken gown swishing as she glided towards The hall, they made their way silently to a new part of the castle, Isolde felt nervous should she be following her alone?
Rose glanced back as if reading her mind, "I'm bringing you my private study, I won't take much of your time I promise." Isolde plastered a smile, "Of course."
After a few moments they arrived at a gilded study adorned with ornate furnishings. The walls were lined with ancient tomes, and the centerpiece was an imposing desk. Rose motioned for Isolde to take a seat across from her as she settled into an high-backed leather chair behind the desk, crossing her arms.
"I will make this short. What were you doing with the Crown Prince." Rose's voice is cool and detached.
Isolde's heart rate quickens, but she forces herself to appear calm she knew that incident would be a topic of contention sooner or later. She leans back in the chair, mirroring Rose's posture.
"I wasn't doing anything with the Crown Prince. I was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time." She meets Rose's piercing gaze, holding it steadily. "I assure you, there's nothing between us."
Rose's lips curl into a smirk, her fingers drumming lightly on the desk. "Is that so?"
"That seems to be your excuse for everything." Rose sneered, "You are right you are in the wrong place; you don't belong here." Rose's eyes narrowed as she leaned forward, her voice dropping to a low hiss.
"You may have fooled the prince with your little act, but I'm not so easily deceived. I know your type, Isolde. You're a climber, a social parasite preying on the kindness of others to elevate your own station."
Isolde felt a flush of anger rising in her cheeks, accusing her of such deeds had their implications, Isolde felt like ice, "Perhaps you shouldn't worry about me and take a look at the other women he surrounds himself with."
Isolde's words hang in the air like a challenge, Isolde regretted them the minute she said them out loud, the room growing colder as the tension escalates. Rose's knuckles turn white as she grips the edge of her desk, her eyes flashing with anger. The silence is deafening, punctuated only by the distant ticking of a clock in the corner.
"How dare you?" Rose hisses, her voice like a whip cracking through the room. Isolde quickly stood from her chair, "If that is all I'll be going." She turned to leave unable to stomach this conversation any longer.
Rose's voice cuts through the air like a knife, stopping Isolde in her tracks. "Sit down, Isolde."
It's not a request, but a command, laced with the unspoken threat of consequences should she disobey. Isolde hesitates, her hand on the doorknob, torn between the desire to flee and the knowledge that defying Rose could have dire repercussions.
"Look, what do you want?" Isolde asked, exasperated, "Just tell me, we can come to an agreement cordially, I don't have any desire for the prince." Isolde folded her arms, still standing she searched for some semblance of a reasonable young woman in Rose's trembling body, but she found none.
Rose's eyes flashed with a mix of anger and jealousy as she slammed her hands on the desk, standing abruptly. "An agreement? You think you can just waltz in here and make demands?" Her voice was shrill, laced with barely contained fury. "I have known the prince since we were children, I have loved him for years, and I will not let some upstart mage from the countryside come in and steal him away from me!"
Isolde stood her ground, her own anger rising to match Rose's. "I've already told you, I'm not trying to 'steal him away'. I didn't even want to be near him in the first place, he's the one who cornered me. And I doubt he'd appreciate being called a 'prize' to be won or lost." Her words were steady, but inside, her stomach churned.
"You know something don't you Isolde? You saw something didn't you?" Isolde face paled, was she referring to that woman in the garden, Isolde shook her head. Rose's eyes narrowed, a cruel smile playing at the corners of her mouth.
"Don't play coy with me, Isolde. I can see it written all over your face. You know something about the Prince's...indiscretions." She leaned forward, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "And I'm willing to bet that whatever it is, it's not pretty."
Isolde swallowed hard, her mind racing. How much did Rose actually know?