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I lost track of what was going on as exams started in earnest. There were no written essays, much to my relief, although the tutors interrogated us thoroughly about why we had cast the spells we had to solve the problems they posed. It was difficult, almost impossible, not to resent the interrogation as they tossed more and more questions at us, each one leading to further questions. I have never been subjected to anything like it in my entire life … and I wasn’t even in trouble! It felt as if I was on the verge of being expelled.

“You have a break tomorrow,” Bernard said, after the interrogation. “Don’t do anything important. Stay in bed, go walking, go down to town … do whatever you like, as long as it isn’t important. You need to rest before the results are announced.”

I nodded, stiffly, and staggered back to the dining hall. The kitchens were working at all hours to ensure we had enough to eat, rather than wait for lunch or dinner. I told myself not to get used to it as I took a plate of food and ate hastily, washing the dinner down with water and juice. It was only for exam season. I wondered, as I took a second plate, just how well I had done. Well enough to pass? Or would I go back to the beginning? I was uneasy aware I might have done well on the practical exams, but I might have flubbed a pair of the verbal questions. I went through it again and again, endlessly revising my answers even though I knew it was too late. There was no helping it now.

A rustle ran through the hall as Cemburu entered. I did my best to look up without making it obvious. I didn’t think he would curse me in the back, not in front of so many eyes, but it was hard to be sure. He had been under a lot of pressure and I knew all too well that such men could easily lash out without thinking of the consequences. And yet … my eyes narrowed. There was a faint, superior, smile on his face as he made his way to the counter, took some stew, and sat down. I met his eyes and tried not to blink in surprise. He looked as if he had got one over me. Ice prickled down my spine. What had he done?

I felt uneasy – and paranoid - as I finished my dinner, put the plate in the pile to be washed, and made by way back to my room. What had he done? I didn’t think Cemburu would dare to break into my room, but I could be wrong. He knew a few tricks, enough – perhaps - to leave a surprise or two on my doorknob or under my sheets. Or … my imagination ran away with me as I tested the door carefully, then pushed it open. There were spells to spy on someone from a distance. Perhaps he had put one in my room, hoping to catch me undressing. It would mean more to him than it did to me. Growing up in a farming village meant almost no privacy.

My unease only deepened as I searched the room from top to bottom. There was nothing, save for the ever-present background magic. It was hard to tell if Cemburu had forced his way inside or if I was just being paranoid. Perhaps the exhaustion was getting to me. I was so tired I could barely force myself to check the bed before I locked the door and went to sleep. But again, there was nothing.

Perhaps he thinks I failed, I thought, as I woke up the following morning. The gods know I wasn’t trained in debate.

The tutors, I decided after breakfast, had found a new way to torture students. The exams were largely over, but there were no hints of who had passed and who had failed. Most of my peers decided to head down to town, to lose themselves in drink and debauchery; I stayed behind, if only because it wasn’t something I felt comfortable doing. I had seen too many men - and a few women - turn into monsters, after drinking themselves silly, for me to risk getting drunk myself. Cemburu didn’t go down to town either. I saw him walk into the forest and vanish into the trees. I was tempted to follow him, but I had better things to do. I went back to the practice chambers and started revising my spells. Even if I failed the exam, I told myself, I had still made incredible progress.

It wasn’t until the following morning that we finally got our results - and I realised why Cemburu had been so pleased with himself. He had passed! More than that, I noted sourly; he had passed with flying colours. The ranking system was simple, very easy to understand. As impossible as it was to believe, Cemburu had done better than me and everyone else in the class. I couldn’t believe it!

I was still goggling at the ranking when I felt a hard swat on my bottom. “I beat you,” Cemburu jeered. “I beat you! I beat everyone!”

My wand was in my hand a second later. “Do you want me to kick your arse in front of everyone again?”

Cemburu’s smile grew wider. “Do you think you can?”

I glared. I knew I had come close to losing the challenge. I would have lost if he hadn’t made a tiny, but fatal, mistake. I had practised more since then, and gone through every last step of the duel with Master Falladine, yet I wasn’t wholly confident of victory. I wanted to knock him down hard, with all the magic I could muster, but … I couldn’t take the thought of becoming the class outcast again. I tried to tell myself that I should be happy for him, that I should be impressed yet done so well, but …

It grew worse, as classes resumed. Cemburu was practically a different person. He jumped ahead by leaps and bounds, putting together spells in ways I hadn’t thought possible. I had no idea how he was doing it. I hadn’t fallen down all the way to the bottom, not again, but Cemburu was catching up. The question nagged at me - how was he doing it? Had he found a tutor? There was no rule against it or he would have cited it when he had realised Master Falladine had been giving me private lessons. Or … or what?

His behaviour didn’t improve either. He made snide remarks to me that brought me to inches of hitting him again, or challenging him to a second duel, all the while being cheeky and disrespectful to the tutors. I wondered if he was insane. The tutors would have no trouble dealing with him if he pushed them too far. I didn’t think anyone would go out of his way to get a thrashing and yet … Cemburu seem to be doing just that. The other boys noticed something was wrong - and boys, in my experience, were incredibly obtuse when it came to such things. Cemburu might be working his way back up to the top, but his former cronies had not gone back to him. The rest of the boys kept their distance too. It was … weird. They had welcomed me as one of them, when I had proved myself, but not Cemburu. I didn’t pretend to understand it.

I kept a wary eye on him as he swanned around the school. His behaviour was bizarre. He would talk to some of the tutors as an equal, all the while pushing the younger students around. He had the right to tell the juniors to fetch and carry for him, as had I, but he took it too far. I didn’t know if they were allowed to complain - I haven’t, when I had been a junior - yet I thought it was just a matter of time before he crossed the line. I couldn’t understand why the staff hadn’t done anything. It was one thing to make the juniors work, but quite another to push them into doing things they really shouldn’t. I wrestled with my conscience. I didn’t want a reputation as a tattletale, or a sneak, but this was going too far. Perhaps I could have a quiet word with Master Falladine, ask him if he had noticed something. Or …