3. Chapter Three

Chapter Three

Bronwyn

Ihave no real friends at the Academy. I suppose it would be hard to make friends under these false pretenses. Not that I need friends. If I need someone to complain to about Wilder, I can simply write home to my sister, and if I need company, I have the thousands of books found in libraries scattered across the Academy to provide that.

And so I head to the library. My belongings were sent ahead so I traveled lightly to get here, and I can go to my room to freshen up after I've worked through my muddled, twisted thoughts.

Jetting curse Wilder how does he always managed to have this effect on me? I had convinced myself— foolishly I know— that perhaps after I had some time away, I'd have been able to get all Wilder's twisted words out of my head and be able to focus on my mission.

What does it matter if that boy thinks I'm good enough or not? I do not find my worth in him. I am the daughter of the most powerful crime lord to walk through Ruskhazar now, and perhaps ever. What some aristocrat thinks of me should not matter in the slightest. It shouldn't even make it to a second thought, and yet, his words ring in my head.

I release a frustrated growl as I enter the library. I'm relieved to see that I am alone with just these books. The books at least cannot judge me, that's why I prefer their company to that of my peers.

See, this is my problem. This is why I even have to come back to this school. I should have accomplished my mission in my first year. The gods know that father was expecting me not to come back home empty handed after spending a whole year here. And yet, I'm no closer to my goal than I was when I was entering the city of stone for the first time, gaping wide-eyed at the massive architecture and impressive structure that had been built purely by magic.

If I was fair to myself, I would say that Wilder certainly was an unexpected obstacle. Never in my wildest dreams would I have expected someone like him to make it his life's mission to make someone like me experience a living Skyhold. Still with all that I have been through and who my father is, I should have been able to overcome this issue without any problems. And yet, here I am back at the Academy in my second year and is already starting up again.

However, if I was being truly brutally honest, I would have to admit that Wilder is only a welcome excuse for why I haven't been able to accomplish my mission, and that is simply because I'm not ready to leave the Academy. I love my family; do not get me wrong. I love my sisters. I adore my mother, and I practically worship the ground on which my father walks. But while none of them would ever try to make me feel like I don't belong, it is true that there is a part of me that feels as if I am an outsider.

Everyone in my family is driven to the point of obsession. Father has his empire to run; mother has her inn, Natasya has her dead things to play with, and Coraline spends so much time in solitude that it seems almost as if it is her own pursuit. I have always felt the odd one out with only measured interest in anything. That is until I entered the Academy, and I found these books, learned the spells, and I smell the pure and unfettered magic. It was only then that I found myself wondering if the life of running a crime family alongside my father was the life that I wanted? Or did I perhaps crave something a bit more scholarly?

There would be many limitations as my father's personal Magicker, for one he does not think I should have to graduate for the position like anyone else in the Academy of Magickers. As a sorcerer who practices in secret, he believes in learning for yourself rather than standing on the knowledge of intellectual giants. He only needs someone to read a spellbook, not a person to discover new spells and forge into unheard of fields of magic.

I shake my head. It is a betrayal to my family to even think this. What am I thinking? I belong to a great family with that great comes the responsibility of maintaining that greatness.

I will never regret not growing up as a farmer's daughter, but sometimes I wonder that if I had would the expectation of what I should do be quite so crushing.

Or would I have been able to be free to pursue this niggling ideal, a dream just waiting to be born. A hope waiting with bated breath to see if it can live.

No. I almost laugh at the foolish thought. Of course not. Because if I was a farmer's daughter, I'd be working the ground to pay off a lord, barely scraping by, and certainly not free to do whatever I want.

See that's the thing, isn't it? There's always something taking away your freedom.

Family, expectations, money, station. Whatever it is, those things live to crush dreams. I've allowed that hope to hold its breath, waiting in a place of stasis for a year now.

I'm back at the academy because I didn't steal a book when I could have. All because I wanted to come back. It has nothing to do with Wilder at all.

I'm not sure if Elwis believed my excuses when I returned home on break after my first-year empty handed, but I doubt that even he would have thought of the true reasoning behind my failure. And my father has made a career out of thinking the worst of people. After all, no one can stab you in the back if you never give them your back. He just never thought to do that to his family.

We are his one and true weakness, and I never intend to allow it to be exploited.

No, there shall be no further dallying, no distractions—no matter how tempting these books are— until I get the book that I actually came here for.

The spellbook of Petrov Hansimov, better known as the last lord of the sea. He was the only lord of the sea as far as I know, but for some reason last stuck to his title.

After all, not many magickers are clamoring to learn spells to control the raging waves when we live inland, surrounded by a ring of mountains that completely block us off from a sea that is hundreds of miles away.

Still, if my father wants that spellbook he shall have it. And nothing will stand in my way this year.

Although there is the matter of Wilder now being a vampire, that may warrant a little distraction.

As I stride toward the door, ready to leave the solitude of the library my eye snags on a beautiful spine etched with golden filigree. It's too pretty to just walk past. My hand snags out, pulling it out. Followed by the three books right next to it.

To be fair, I doubt my father's empire would crumble if I read a few books.