Several weeks later, and Órlaith was bored.

She shouldn’t be – it felt ungrateful, honestly, given everything the City had given her. Food, a place to stay, education. But the food was bland and repetitive, she’d discovered that the curfew and her class times effectively prevented her from ever leaving her rooms at the Academy, and as for the Peak Academy itself...

Anwen had said that the testing was meant to ensure she and Leolin ended up with the most appropriate education for them. If this was the best the City had to offer Órlaith, well...

Maybe it was just that she’d never had formal education like this before, regimented and strict with timetables and topics. She was used to being able to follow her interests and indulge her curiosity, used to being able to experiment with magic as she liked, work out new ways of doing things. Here, it was frowned upon to divert from the assigned topic in class, and it was outright banned to use magic outside of lessons. Within lessons, she was taught how to use her magic – except she was taught, every time, that there was one way to do something. Rarely, there were two or three. If it had only been things new to Órlaith, then she might have accepted it – but she was being retaught skills she had learnt as a child, and told that the ways she had learnt to do them were wrong. It was frustrating, to say the least.

It wasn’t just the boredom, though. Órlaith had to admit it; she was lonely.

None of the other students seemed to want anything to do with her – or with each other, really. During classes, people worked together as assigned, then went back to their own rooms afterwards. Any attempt Órlaith had made at friendliness had been politely but firmly rebuffed. The teachers didn’t interact with any of them beyond the necessities, either. And with the curfew meaning that Órlaith never had time to leave the school grounds...

Once or twice, Fiona had visited, but she had her own duties and lessons. Leolin hadn’t visited even once, and even if Órlaith had time, she didn’t know where to find him. All she had was secondhand information, things she had overheard in passing. That confirmed that he’d been taken as an apprentice by Anwen, just as Fiona had said, but not much more.

For all that she had been pleased for him when Fiona first mentioned it, Órlaith couldn’t help a faint pang of envy now. Leolin probably wasn’t stuck in a room learning magic by rote, or being told he was doing magic wrong no matter what. Leolin was probably learning far more interesting things as Anwen’s apprentice.

Still, that was probably keeping him busy enough that he couldn’t visit. Just as Órlaith’s own workload was keeping her too busy to leave before curfew.

Of course, she could always try to sneak out after curfew.

The thought had crossed her mind more than once. The only thing that had stopped her so far was the suspicion that there might be some kind of magic enforcing the curfew, whether by stopping her from leaving, by summoning guards, or by something far more dangerous.

But Órlaith had learned something from the classes, even if she wasn’t convinced by a lot of it. Just the other day, they had learnt how to detect magic, and how to work out what a spell on something actually did. Órlaith had taken easily to it, and she was confident that she’d be able to figure out what the spellwork on the Academy walls – if there even was any – actually did.

It was easy to sneak down through the Academy buildings – technically there wasn’t a curfew within the grounds of the Academy itself, since plenty of students and teachers alike studied in the evenings. The curfew only applied to the City itself, and Órlaith still hadn’t worked out why, given that she hadn’t heard of anyone being robbed or murdered here.

Still, it would be better not to be spotted – if she did set off some kind of alarm, the more plausible deniability she had the better. So Órlaith kept to the shadows – she wasn’t as good at sneaking around as she remembered Leolin being, that night in Leyfield, but she wasn’t terrible at it either. Especially when nobody was really expecting her to be sneaking around. She was a student of the Peak Academy, after all. Why would she need or want to sneak anywhere?

Órlaith made it down to the outer walls without any incident. She tucked herself away somewhere inconspicuous, closed her eyes – and hesitated.

She had been taught how to do this. But she’d been taught the Academy way, rigid and inflexible. Maybe they were right – maybe that was the best way to feel out the magic on something. But maybe it wasn’t.

Órlaith didn’t know how to do it at all, though, without that as a starting point. So she did it as she had been taught – take the magic that bubbled just below her skin these days. Control it, like a paring knife, and skate it thinly across the top of – no. Órlaith shuddered. That felt just as wrong as it had when she’d learnt it in class – worse, even. She shouldn’t be carving at magic like that, not even to sample it, as they’d described it. What right did she have to cut away at something just to learn more about it, when there were other ways?

Órlaith shook her head, and let the magic go. Then she reached out, just as she would if she were trying to draw energy from something. Gently, carefully, that was the way to do it – not damaging things for the sake of her own knowledge.

It worked. Órlaith couldn’t have described how she knew about the Academy’s defences, but she knew now. And she knew far more than she would have expected – far more than she probably should. Maybe that was why the Academy taught them the more aggressive method – to limit the amount of information a student experimenting with the Academy’s defences could get. It would make sense, given how dangerous it could be for that information to become widespread.

There wasn’t much to enforce the curfew, really. A warning system, but it was more to warn anyone trying to break curfew than to summon guards. No sign of any more aggressive preventative measures – though Órlaith supposed it was possible she just hadn’t picked up on those. Still, from what she could tell she would have no issues whatsoever breaking curfew as long as she was careful about it.

For tonight, though, it had gotten late. And she still wasn’t convinced that nobody would be alerted by her poking and prodding at the walls. So she went back to her rooms, and with the knowledge that she could leave, Órlaith slept better than she had in weeks.

The next night, she went back to the walls, and this time, she went past them. Out onto the empty streets of the City, barely even any magelights to illuminate the place. That seemed strange – even if the curfew meant people didn’t really need good lighting, surely the guards would be patrolling? Maybe they carried their own lights.

In the end, Órlaith didn’t go far from the Academy. There just didn’t seem to be anything there. Even in small towns and villages, Órlaith had always found something of interest – an oddly-built building, or a clandestine meeting down a side-street (she had gotten very good at running away from those before her mother found out and put a stop to it), or even just a stray animal. But in the City, all the buildings seemed to be built in the same way, or close to it. Even the differences were the same, as though all of the buildings, houses and towers alike, had been constructed from one of a handful of patterns. There were no animals anywhere to be seen – in fact, Órlaith hadn’t seen any sign of animals since she entered the City, not even cats as mousers. And there were certainly no people. Órlaith had expected to need to dodge a guard patrol or two, but she hadn’t even had to do that.

So it wasn’t long before Órlaith went back to the Academy, disappointed and just as frustrated as she had been before. It seemed that even with her newfound ability to sneak out past the City’s curfew, she still wasn’t going to find anything to cure her boredom. Or her loneliness.

-----

Two days later, Órlaith found a note on her door, summoning her to meet with the Academy’s reception.

She stared at it for a moment.

Had they found out what she’d done? No, surely they would have confronted her sooner, and it wouldn’t just be the reception staff, it would be someone higher up. But she couldn’t think of any other reason she would be summoned there.

Well, the best way to find out would be to go and see.

Leolin was waiting for her in the grand entrance lobby of the Academy, looking a little awkward as he shifted from foot to foot. His eyes lit up when he saw Órlaith.

The reception staff on duty cleared her throat.

“You’ve been given special permission for the morning off,” she said, tone flat. “Return by the lunch hour, and ensure you keep up with the work you’ve missed.”

Órlaith barely took the time to nod before almost running to Leolin’s side, grinning so hard it felt like her face might crack. He smiled back, a little more tentatively.

“Leolin!” she exclaimed. “It’s been ages, what have you been doing? I heard that you’d been selected by Anwen as her own apprentice – what’s that like?”

“Let’s head outside and then talk,” Leolin suggested, with a quick glance at the reception staff. “I know somewhere quiet. Away from people.”

The City was like a different place during the day. Where the streets had been empty, now they were – well, they still weren’t busy, exactly. Not compared to other cities Órlaith had been to. She’d been in towns busier than this, even.

But there were people, passing them in ones and twos and little groups, and there was a low hum of conversation, even if it was oddly muted. Órlaith kept looking around, taking it all in as much as she could. This was probably going to be her only opportunity to see this, at least for a while.

Leolin seemed to know that Órlaith was distracted – he didn’t try to speak to her, just watching with a faint half-smile. Eventually, he caught her attention outside a non-descript building that looked like every other building they’d passed.

“Food,” he explained, nodding at the building. “I ordered it on the way to the Peak Academy – do you mind waiting whilst I get it?”

Órlaith nodded in agreement, and watched as Leolin slipped into the building.

He seemed... different. That wasn’t really an adequate word for it, but it was the first thing that Órlaith thought. The Leolin she remembered, from only a few weeks ago, had been nervous most of the time. Wary, almost skittish, as though he was always waiting for the other shoe to fall. Now, though... Leolin walked with confidence. He knew the City, that much was clear, and better than Órlaith did. That wasn’t surprising, really. If Anwen was Emyr’s second, she probably spent a lot of time around the City, and must be taking Leolin with her.

Still, it was a dramatic change over the course of only weeks. Clearly apprenticing with Anwen had been good for him. Had Órlaith changed, even a little? She wasn’t sure. She didn’t think so, honestly. It wasn’t as if she’d been doing much to change, other than stagnating in the Academy.

Leolin came back out of the building a moment later, a paper bag in his hand. He smiled at her – that was different, too. His smiles before had been shy, nervous, almost as though he’d forgotten how. Now, his smile seemed far easier, more relaxed.

“I know a park nearby where we can eat,” he said, and Órlaith followed him. She was struck again by how familiar he seemed to be with the City – it was almost a reverse of when they’d been travelling. Now, Órlaith was the one unsure of where to go, unsure of what the rules were in this place.

The park was beautiful, in the same way that everything in the City was beautiful. Órlaith didn’t recognise most of the plants they passed as they walked through, and wondered if some – or all – of them might be magically grown, or magically modified. They hadn’t covered anything to do with that at the Peak Academy, either – and there hadn’t seemed to be any books in the library on the flora and fauna of the City or the valley just outside it. It seemed like an oversight to Órlaith, given how she was used to being able to identify every plant she saw with barely a glance, thanks to a childhood of reading identification information obsessively.

They sat down at a bench, and Leolin handed Órlaith her food. They were quiet for a few minutes as they ate – it was surprisingly good, some kind of doughy dumpling that Órlaith wasn’t familiar with, and still piping hot.

“So,” Leolin said eventually. “How have you been? It’s been... a while.”

Órlaith shook her head, not really sure where to start. It felt strangely awkward now, talking to Leolin after so long of being apart. Really, they’d only actually known each other for a week or so. It was just the intensity of that week that made it feel like so much longer.

“I’ve been settling in,” she said, shrugging. “Getting used to the Peak Academy. The timetable is a lot, I haven’t really had a chance to explore the City. It seemed like you know it really well, though?”

Leolin nodded. “It’s been amazing,” he said, smiling again. “Anwen took me on as her apprentice, like you heard. I’ve learnt so much about the City – about its history, about how it’s run now.” His expression darkened. “About its enemies, too. Like Gwydion. But that’s not really conversation for now – what about you, what does the Peak Academy teach? Anwen was an apprentice, too, so she couldn’t really tell me much about what it would be like for you.”

Órlaith grimaced, and tried to think of a polite way to phrase it. She couldn’t.

“It’s boring,” she admitted. “I’m grateful for the chance, obviously! I know it’s prestigious, and that I was lucky to be picked for it, but -” She shook her head. “It seems like we cover the same things over and over again, and we’re told there’s only ever one way to do things, even when I know there’s more. And the curfew means I never get to leave, and nobody there will talk to me outside of class, and-” She broke off, swiping frustrated tears away. Órlaith hadn’t realised quite how intensely she felt about it until then.

Leolin was staring at her, frowning.

“That’s... not good,” he said at last, biting his lip. “That’s... I don’t think the curfew’s meant to keep you at the Academy all the time, is it? They’re not stopping you leaving during the day?”

“No,” Órlaith said. “No, but they might as well be – the timetabling means that there’s never enough time during the day to leave, and it doesn’t finish until after curfew. This is the first time I’ve left the Academy since I was brought there.” Well, not exactly the first. But Órlaith didn’t think that really counted – and it probably wasn’t a good idea to bring it up in a public place anyway, not to mention the awkward position it could put Leolin in as Anwen’s apprentice.

“I’ll talk to Anwen about it,” Leolin said firmly. “If it’s upsetting you this much...”

“The City’s testers put me there,” Órlaith pointed out. “They must have known what they were doing when they did. That’s what Anwen said when we arrived, isn’t it?”

“Maybe,” Leolin said. “But the testers... they do make mistakes, sometimes. Everyone does. And maybe this time they did, and you’d be better off somewhere else. I’ll talk to Anwen,” he repeated, and Órlaith could see that she wasn’t going to convince him otherwise. She didn’t really want to, honestly. If Anwen could do something so that Órlaith had even a little more freedom... Well, she probably couldn’t. Anwen was busy, she’d said as much herself. But it was worth a try.

They talked about lighter things after that, although Leolin dominated the conversation in a way Órlaith wasn’t used to. It was mostly because he just had more to talk about – he told her little stories of things that had happened during his apprenticeship, places in the City he liked to visit, bits and pieces of history. Órlaith had nothing like that. She’d learned nothing new at the Academy, not really – the few things she had picked up weren’t anywhere near as interesting as the stories Leolin had to share.

Eventually, the conversation slowed, and they sat in a comfortable silence for a little while. Then Órlaith remembered something Leolin had mentioned.

“About Gwydion,” she said, and Leolin stiffened. Órlaith forged on. “You said you learnt more about him. Can you tell me? Somewhere else, if here’s too public.” When Leolin looked as if he might refuse, she added, “He came after me as well. Don’t I deserve to know why?”

Leolin sighed. “Alright,” he said, voice quiet – quieter than she’d heard it since they came to the City. “I’ll tell you what I can. But we need somewhere private.”

They went back to Órlaith’s rooms at the Peak Academy in the end. Órlaith cast a last longing look at the City as the Academy doors closed behind her, and wondered when she would next see it.

Once they were both comfortably seated in the study room, Leolin sighed again.

“What I’m going to tell you,” he said, “isn’t – confidential, exactly. Most people in the City know a little bit, at least. But please don’t tell anyone else.”

Órlaith nodded. Who else would she tell, anyway?

“Gwydion was part of the City, before,” Leolin began. “He was powerful – they rescued him from the outside world, when he was much younger than us. Not even adolescent yet. So they thought that he believed in the City, in everything it stood for. He rose up through the City fast. They thought he might end up becoming the next leader of the City, or maybe their second. Anwen was there – she said that he seemed perfect. Powerful, and smart, and loyal to the City.”

“What happened?” Órlaith asked, when Leolin paused.

“He betrayed them,” Leolin said grimly. “I don’t know the details, or really why – Anwen didn’t tell me that. But he nearly killed Anwen. He did kill others – residents of the City who just wanted to protect it, guards who just wanted to protect them. He used magic, and he killed them. Emyr and Anwen were able to chase him out of the City, but they couldn’t kill him. And now...” Leolin drew in a slow breath. “I – Órlaith, I shouldn’t be telling you this. I really shouldn’t. But... I trust you. I trust you not to tell anyone what I’m about to say.”

“I swear it,” Órlaith said, leaning forward in her chair.

“They think he’s trying to build an army.” Leolin’s voice was dark. “An army of spellweavers, to overrun the City and rule it himself.”

“Why?” Órlaith asked. It was the first question that came to mind.

Leolin shook his head. “I don’t know. He’s bitter, they think, about losing his chance at becoming leader. Or he just wants power. Or both. But that’s why he found us. He would have wanted to recruit us – and he would have killed us when we said no. If it weren’t for you.”

Órlaith looked away. “I don’t – it can’t just have been me that stopped him. Not when he came after us again.”

“It was, though,” Leolin insisted. “I spoke to Anwen about it. She believes that your magic made him wary, enough that we were able to escape. It’s because of you that we made it here at all, Órlaith.” He frowned. “Which is why I don’t understand why they put you here, if it’s as bad as you said.”

“I don’t think it’s meant to be,” Órlaith said quickly, not wanting to leave Leolin believing that the Academy was worthless. “I think it just... doesn’t work for me. I’m not used to learning like this. Not with how I grew up.”

Leolin was still frowning, but he nodded slowly. “I’ll still speak to Anwen about it,” he said. “And I’ll try to visit more often. I hadn’t realised...” He looked away. “I assumed you would have made friends here. I thought that my visiting might seem awkward, since – well. Given how we met.”

Órlaith shook her head. “You’re always welcome to visit, Leolin,” she told him. “Even if I had made friends with people here, you would still be welcome. Of course, if you’re busy I understand, you must have a lot to do -”

“No!” Leolin interrupted her, looking stricken. “No, I – sorry.” A faint blush was creeping up his neck. “Yes, I have plenty of duties, but Anwen will let me visit you, like she has today. I’m not – I’ll never be too busy to visit you, Órlaith.”

Now it was Órlaith’s turn to go pink, a little startled at the sheer sincerity in Leolin’s words. She’d thought, after going so long without them seeing each other, that maybe their friendship had only been a brief thing. Something born out of what they’d gone through together. She was more than happy to be able to lay that fear to rest.

“The same for me,” she said, a little awkward in the phrasing but trying to make it sound just as sincere as Leolin had – as sincere as she felt. “I mean – not that I have duties. But with my classes, and studies here – I won’t ever be too busy to see you, Leolin.”

He smiled at her, cheeks still flushed, and she smiled back, letting the warmth of it sit in her chest even long after Leolin had left.