Dreading

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One...two...three...four...I counted with each tap of my forehead into the open book before me. Studying had gotten me nowhere though I could list every herb, its scientific name, effects, combinations, and parts with ease. Perhaps if I beat the book against myself, I could absorb magic physically. Either that, or I would become so concussed that my Testing would be postponed.

I was never any better than before. Never excelling like my classmates. In fact, I could manage only the most basic of tasks, struggling slightly less with those concerning plants or healing.

Thump...thump...thump...eight.

"What in the Bells are you doing?"

Of course he had to appear at that very moment. Raphael, my dearest friend since childhood and the only man I ever had eyes for, leaned in the arched doorway with his arms crossed and one foot over the other. He was the most handsome man at Markhor Academy, the school of magic, with his tall frame and blonde hair that fell around his ears. Eyes like a summer sky were always crinkled with a bright smile that he shared with anyone he met and a straight nose and long eyelashes made it all the better.

Rafi was perfect. His mind, temperament, and skill were as great as anyone could ask for, though I was fairly biased. I was lucky to be his closest friend, earning me glares and resentment from the other women.

There were only two negatives to our friendship. The first was that, while I harbored a very secret infatuation for him, it was one-sided. He trusted me with the details of each relationship and I would offer my sage and honest advice even if it pained me to do so. The second was that his great achievements in the field of magic at the age of twenty made me appear even weaker than I was, outlining why he would never see me as a potential match.

We both had parents of strong lineage and it was thought that we may even have a coveted soul bond prior to our birth as arranged marriages were common among upper class families. However, the soul marks upon our bodies did not match, indicating that we were not meant to be together despite my pining.

There were five main classes of witches and warlocks in the magical kingdom of Gandborin. These included Portalers, Healers, Maganers, Breyers, and Wrights. Each main class had smaller categories or subclasses if the user was less powerful. My father was a true Maganer which meant he had the basic magical ability set and could do minor spells, but his strength was in the powerful manifestation of magic that could be wielded as a weapon or shield. My mother was a true Healer, able to mend and restore anything from broken bones to a shattered mind. More than once I had assisted her while she regrew someone's limb.

With such parents, they had expected me to be something great. Except, I was not.

I turned from the stacks of volumes and piles of parchment to take in the disaster of my living space. The timber frame ceiling was crowded with drying herbs and plants, while living ones cluttered the shelves and windows where there were not sweet-scented candles, books, extra blankets, mortar and pestles, bowls, and wooden practice figures. Messy as usual, but nothing he had not seen before. At least I had done my laundry that morning.

I sighed, staring at Rafi's beautiful face, smiling down at my frame hunched over my desk like I was a gift instead of a disaster. "Despairing," I deadpanned.

"Oh, my dear Clia," he sighed, strolling forward to tower over me. "You worry too much. Let us go have a drink at the tavern, yes?"

With a loud groan, I turned my chair to face him. "You just want to flirt with Dalia again! How much of that must I watch before you leave me behind?"

Rafi grasped my arm and pulled me out of my seat where I preferred to wallow behind stacks of books. His chuckle was my favorite sound in the world aside from the Gate Bells. "If I go alone, she will suspect me," he shrugged.

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