Elana held onto that goal every time he brought her back. Unless he really was an irredeemable sadist, which Elana had yet to rule out—but was trying not to consider—there was a point to this. 

He’d told her to hurry up and grasp the lesson, but a lesson in what, exactly? How to drown? She could think of only one option that made sense. An archaic and barbaric, albeit effective practice to awaken a mage’s hidden potential. There were cases of people with low to no magical ability suddenly manifesting abilities after undergoing intense stress. But if that was what he was after, he was going to be doing this until the end of time. 

Elana clenched her jaw, trying to hold on to that thought, and save enough breath to get this out. She needed to time this right, to maintain consciousness and spit the words out before he shoved her under again. She felt his arm tense against the back of her neck and squeezed her eyes shut, fighting the urge to inhale the second he pulled her up from the water. 

“I don’t have any—” she sputtered, trying to get the words out before she gasped for breath—because the second she took a deep breath, Antoine was going to shove her back under. It worked. He paused. “—any mana—to awaken!”

Antoine looked down at her, his yellow eyes—the same unsettling color as Gerard’s, and hers—narrowing. But she’d bought herself some time, because he hadn’t shoved her under just yet. He hadn’t released his grip, but he was listening.

“It’s no use,” Elana coughed, holding her throat as she alternated between hacking up water and gasping for air. She shook her head, eyes still watering as her throat burned. “It won’t happen.”

There was more commotion on the sidelines, but she registered it only distantly. Her eyes were fixed on Antoine’s expression, searching it for a hint, for a clue as to what he was thinking. 

“I'd figured that out already, but at least you're putting your mind to work,” he said, lowering himself to meet her gaze. “If you don't have mana and you want to survive at the Academy,” he began, calm and matter of fact, “you need to do better than this.” 

His eyes were hard, even as he released his grip. “You need to be able to maintain your composure and think critically under pressure,” he continued, squatting down to follow as she collapsed to all fours. He made no effort to help her up. “And you need to be desperate. You need both, without compromise. That's a lesson you need to grasp. You gave up so quickly that, if I weren't your brother, you would have died thrice over today." Antoine shook his head. "I'm disappointed. If this was a real class, you'd have failed."

What a paradoxical load of shit. 

Bitter didn’t begin to describe how she felt, but his words still had the sting of truth in them. He was a lead instructor and former valedictorian of the Royal Magic Academy. If this was a lesson that he deemed important, it was. 

With the shrill ringing in her ears, it took Elana some time to register that all of the commotion going on in the background was made up of familiar voices. Soren’s voice was distinct enough that she recognized it, even if he was speaking in a deep growl she’d never heard from him before. “What the fuck, Antoine de Vanquise?”

The other voice she only vaguely recognized, but was cussing him out tenfold more for daring to raise his voice to her liege. 

Elana turned her head, cheek still pressed to the stone as she struggled to catch her breath, to see Soren on the ground. Valkyrie’s knee was planted in the center of his back, her sword buried in the ground inches from his neck. His eyes were darker than she’d ever seen them, his cheeks stained with equal color from his straining. 

Next to both of them, stone-faced and still, stood Marlena and Gerard. She hadn’t expected either of them to intervene, but knowing they had not only stood by but watched brought a bitter taste to her mouth. Neither of them spoke, but Elana was conscious of the weight of their gaze and judgment. They had to be disappointed in her. 

The world around her was starting to get hazy. The voices were getting progressively farther away, but she could see Soren’s lips moving and his expression becoming more and more desperate. 

What’s wrong with him? It bothered her—but not enough for her to stay awake. Elana closed her eyes, exhausted and deaf to the sound of her name being frantically called. 

When Elana next opened her eyes, it was to the familiar sight of her own room. Her throat felt raw and stripped, but she didn't feel as battered as she'd anticipated. She was conscious of a presence at her bedside, but didn’t check to see which of the household servants it was.

“Water,” she requested. It was a mistake not to check who was there first, because the voice that accompanied the glass being pressed into her hand was the last she wanted to hear.

“How are you feeling?” Antoine asked. His expression gave nothing away. 

“Well enough,” Elana said stiffly, pushing herself upright. “Is there a reason you’re in my quarters?”

Antoine set a velvet jewelry box on the bed. “Take it.”

Elana did, turning it over in her hands. Its size and weight told her nothing about its contents. She recognized it from the first time he’d brandished it, but she was more wary of it now. Or, more accurately, wary of him. “What is it?” she asked.

Antoine gestured for her to open it. 

Elana braced herself for an unpleasant surprise. She instinctively flinched back as she opened the lid, earning an unimpressed noise from Antoine, but nothing sprang out to attack. Instead, inside was a delicate chain bracelet linked to two rings, each joined by a fine gold chain. There were several hollow inlays where jewels should have been, but the bands were currently unadorned. Elana looked up at Antoine in silent question.

“It’s a magic accessory,” he explained. “Put it on.”

Elana did. It was surprisingly light and comfortable, but that was it. It felt like normal jewelry. “You do remember that I don’t have mana to use a magic accessory?”

Antoine gave her a look and opened his hand, revealing three gemstones—each perfectly sized to fit the hollows. “You won’t have to. These are processed mana stones.” 

Antoine gestured for her to hold her hand out, popping the mana stones into place on the delicate artifact. Each of them resembled polished gemstones, mimicking the deep shades of onyx, emerald, and garnet—enhancing the first-glance impression that the magic artifact was no more than a piece of pretty jewelry. The very definition of hidden in plain sight.  

“Each contains a set spell and number of uses,” he explained. “Once I activate the artifact, you’ll be able to see a mana interface. It will help you get acquainted with the function of each spell, and track the remaining uses.”

“You made this?” Elana asked, glancing from the intricate, delicate chain work—each link no larger than an ant leg—to Antoine. He’d claimed to be a representative of the Magic Tower, not the Jeweler’s Union.

“I did,” Antoine said, curtly. “Only use the interface in private. No one else will be able to see it, but they’ll know something is going on if every time you use magic you're staring at it. It needs to be seamless.”

Elana ran her fingers over each of the mana stones, each one cool and unresponsive beneath her fingers—just like actual gemstones. If he was giving this to her now, but planning on staying another two days… “You're here to put me through my paces,” Elana inferred.

“Yes, but I also have other matters to attend to,” Antoine said, glancing at the door. “One of which is revisiting this one’s training to make sure he’s up to par.” He raised his voice. “Stop hovering and enter, if that’s your intention.”

Elana’s next question was interrupted by two soft raps, followed by someone opening the door. The face on the other side was the second-to-last that she wanted to see—Antoine’s being first. 

“Soren.” There was enough bitterness in her tone to draw a curious look from Antoine, which she ignored. Just how much of her humiliation had Soren seen if he felt the need to slink around her door? 

“My lady,” Soren said, bowing his head. “Please excuse my intrusion.” 

“You’re just in time,” Antoine said, beckoning Soren over. “Let’s see how effective your basic heal is these days.”

Elana stiffened, turning to Antoine. “Excuse me?”

“Is there a problem?” Antoine asked, daring her to disagree.

Elana swallowed the impulse to rise to the bait and instead asked, "Why him?"

"Why?" Antoine's voice was chilly, but there was a ghosting smile on his lips. "Is there a reason it shouldn't be?"