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Fifteen was too old to cry, but she still did sometimes. She’d bury her face in her pillow at night and feel warm tears seep into the cloth. She could cry silently now; she was perversely proud of that. It had taken her eighteen months to learn, after all.
Sometimes, it was a punishment that still stung her flesh, or something an enchanter or fellow student said, but tonight was even sillier than that. She’d been reading in bed, reviewing the text on runic lore for the next morning, when the wind had blown in, fresh off the sea, and she’d breathed it in at just the right time. The hint of salt had burned in the back of her throat, and suddenly the walls of the tower had seemed so small . Maker, it was so stupid to cry over such a little thing, and that thought made her cry harder. There was a city out there that she loved with all her tiny heart, that she hadn’t seen in months. There was an ocean beyond the city, and lands beyond the ocean, and Maker only knew what was beyond those, and she was here, and she would always be here.
Oh, she knew that sometimes mages got to leave the Circle to carry news or serve the Chantry. She’d watched some of them leave, jealousy clawing in her chest. They worked hard, learned fast, and listened well. They were good. And she was trying, she was trying so hard, but something inside her knew she would never be good enough for that. The shift of new scabs against her shirt told her that much. (Staying in the library past study hours, ten lashes. She’d been deep in the stacks and hadn’t heard the bells. Five more lashes for making excuses.) Maybe, maybe, if she could just be different, be better, be worthy …
The hand on her back was gentle, but she practically leaped out of bed anyway. Thank the Maker she’d managed not to scream, because her eyes landed on one of the senior enchanters. Her brain scrambled, only returning bits and pieces - he was a proper force mage, one of Kirkwall’s specialties, he was taller up close, he taught the very advanced classes, only full mages -
He smiled. “Aylin. Did I wake you?”
It was another ten lashes for being awake after hours, but her mouth wouldn’t form the lies. “No, Senior Enchanter. I couldn’t sleep.” Surely he could see her red eyes. He had to know she’d been crying. What was the number for crying? Why couldn’t she remember?
He relit the candle on her nightstand with a quick gesture, smoothed down the blankets at the foot of her bed, and sat down. “Good, I wanted to talk to you. I’ve been watching you, Aylin.” A chill rushed through her body, locking her muscles in place. She couldn’t move if she wanted to. “Don’t worry, child. You’ve done nothing wrong. Surely you’ve noticed by now that you have a remarkable gift.”
She stared. “I’m sorry, Senior Enchanter?”
“You’re very powerful, Aylin. I know full-grown mages who couldn’t equal your ability. It’s quite impressive.”
Somehow, she found her tongue. “Thank you, Senior Enchanter.”
“It’s only the truth.” He smiled at her again, kindly. “Do you know what I do?”
“Yes, Senior Enchanter. Force magic. Um. School of Spirit.”
“Very good. Would you ever want to learn force magic? I must admit, it’s not quite as flashy as Primal, or as popular as Creation, but it has its own attractions.” He leaned in, and his voice dropped, as though he was sharing a secret. “Imagine manipulating the purest form of magic, energy itself. Imagine moving buildings with merely a thought. Imagine wielding such raw power that the laws of nature are yours to shape at will.” She found herself nodding along with his words, eyes wide. “I can teach you that, Aylin. If you like.”
“Yes,” she breathed, enraptured. “I mean, yes, please, Senior Enchanter. I would like that.”
“Good girl. I would like that too.” He stood and extinguished the candle. “Get some sleep, Aylin. You will need to study very hard before we can work together, and for that, you need your rest. Goodnight.”
She watched him as he left the room, then settled back down in bed. If he thought she could do this - if he thought she was good enough - well. Maybe she could be.
Outside, another breeze skated in off the sea, but she was already asleep.