Daughter of Moth (The Moth Saga, Book 4) (6 page)

At those last words, the crowd
fell silent. Madori cringed. The headmistress had spoken with good
intentions, but looking around, Madori saw that the applicants
weren't as pleased with the prospect. Some students glanced at one
another; others gaped openly at the group of Elorians who stood
clustered not far from Madori, hidden inside their silken robes.

One applicant, a golden-haired
girl who stood not far from Madori, snickered. "What's next,
letting pigs apply?" she said—too softly for the professors on
the stage to hear, but loud enough for Madori to turn red.

A few of the girl's friends
stifled laughs.

"Truly, Lari, you think
Elorians are pigs?" said a boy, addressing the girl. He grinned.
"Pigs smell better."

Lari tossed back her golden
tresses. "Rotten pig carcasses smell better than Elorians. My
father says they're lower than maggots."

Again the friends laughed.

The headmistress was speaking
again, but Madori was paying no attention. She glared at the group of
snickering youths. There were several of them—Magerians by the looks
of them, all tall, golden of hair, and blue of eyes. They wore fine
clothing of rich, embroidered cotton, and golden jewelry adorned
their wrists and necks. They all wore the Radian sigil upon their
lapels—a sun eclipsing the moon.

Madori ground her teeth.
"Radians," she muttered.

The lead girl—Lari—seemed to
hear her. She turned toward Madori, tilted her head, and narrowed her
eyes.

"And what have we here?"
she asked.

Madori clenched her fists. Lari
was everything Madori was not. She had perfect clothes, perfect hair,
a perfectly beautiful face—the kind to make boys trip over their own
tongues. She was taller than Madori, obviously better bred, and about
a thousand times wealthier. If Madori were a plucky little mutt, here
was a prize racehorse.

"Somebody who'll punch your
perfect little teeth out of your perfect little mouth," Madori
said, raising a fist. "So I suggest you shut that mouth if you
don't want this fist shattering it."

Lari laughed—a beautiful,
trilling sound like rain upon leaves. "Oh my. Oh dear. This
isn't an Elorian, my friends. This is . . ." She gasped and
covered her mouth, feigning surprise. "A
mongrel
."

Her friends grimaced. A few made
gagging noises.

Madori leaped forward. She
barely stood taller than Lari's shoulders, but she didn't care. "A
mongrel who'll bash your—"

"
Applicants!
"

The voice boomed across the
crowd, louder than thunder. Madori froze, her fist inches away from
Lari's face. She spun to see Headmistress Egeria glaring from the
stage. The elderly woman was pointing at Madori. Around the
headmistress, the professors stared at Madori, eyes boring into her.

"Is there a problem,
applicants?" the headmistress said.

Madori forced herself to lower
her fists, though she still fumed. Grinding her teeth, she stared
back at Egeria and shook her head.

At her side, Lari pouted, a
picture of innocence. The girl leaned closer to Madori and whispered,
"Oh sweetness, such temper . . . truly you mongrels are rabid
beasts. Someday we Radians will put you all down."

The headmistress was still
staring at them; so were thousands of curious applicants. Madori
forced herself to take several steps away from Lari and her friends.

We'll
settle this later, Lari,
she thought, her cheeks hot.
You
might be a perfect little lady, but I'm a farm girl, grown up
wrestling boys in the fields, and I can bash you and your friends to
bits.

After clearing her throat, the
headmistress continued speaking to the crowd.

"As I was saying: Teel
University accepts only the very brightest, the very strongest, the
very wisest of all youths to learn the secrets of magic. Every year,
we can admit only two hundred students to our school. Over two
thousand of you have gathered here this turn." The headmistress
raised her chin. "Most you will soon return home."

Grumbles rose across the crowd.
Madori looked from side to side, judging the others' reactions. Some
students seemed confident; Lari and her friends stood smiling, hands
on their hips, sure of their victory. Other students looked worried;
one boy wrung his hands, while another actually whimpered.

Ninety
percent will go home,
Madori thought.
But I
won't. I lived my life an outcast, a misfit, a creature to be scorned
or pitied.
She squared
her jaw.
I will pass
these trials, and I will become a mage. I will become powerful.

"To weed out the chaff,"
Headmistress Egeria boomed out, "you shall partake in three
trials. A Trial of Wisdom. A Trial of Wit. And finally a Trial of
Will. Only those who pass all three trials shall attend Teel
University. Your names will be called out one by one. When you hear
your name, you will enter Ostrinia Tower." The headmistress
pointed at an archway beyond the stage; it led into the base of a
brick tower that scratched the clouds. "There your trials will
begin."

With that, the headmistress
stepped back. A young mage stepped forth to replace her, unrolling a
scroll that dangled down to his feet. He began to read out names one
by one. As each name was called, an applicant walked toward the
tower.

Madori chewed her lip. She
hadn't registered her name anywhere. How would they know to call her?
She looked around, seeking somebody—perhaps a professor or other
university member—to talk to. She cursed herself; how could she have
missed signing up! As she scanned the crowd, she saw the Elorian
boy—the one with the dragon tattoo and pierced nose—staring at her
again.

Madori froze and narrowed her
eyes, staring back, but the boy wouldn't look away. His eyes seemed
to stare deep into her, his face expressionless, and something about
him unnerved Madori. She had seen many Elorians before—after all,
her mother was Elorian, and Madori spent many turns in Oshy, a
village of the night—but never one like this, one so . . . the only
word she could think of was
intense
.

She took a step closer toward
him, intending to insist he explained his stare or she'd stab his
eyes. Before she could take a second step, however, a hand reached
out and tugged her sleeve.

"Billygoat?"

She spun around, for an instant
sure that her woolhead of a father had stepped into the university
grounds, the only parent here to utterly humiliate his child. But it
wasn't her father who stood there, holding her sleeve. Madori's eyes
widened.

"Tam?" She rubbed her
eyes. "Prince Tamlin Solira?"

It was him. The Prince of Arden
himself, her best—her only—friend in the world, stood before her.

Madori's father had spent the
war fighting alongside the king and queen—his dearest friends.
Madori spent half her summers in the darkness of Eloria, the other
half in Kingswall, the capital city of Arden, spending time with the
king, queen, and twin princes. The adults spent most of their time in
dreadfully dull conversations, telling old war stories and discussing
politics; so did Prince Omry, Tam's twin and heir to Arden.
Meanwhile, Madori and Tam—bored senseless with the court—would
sneak out into the gardens to chase butterflies, explore secret
paths, and pretend to be adventurers.

Of course, they were older now,
almost adults themselves. Tam was seventeen, a year older than her,
and quite a bit taller. Brown, curly hair fell across his brow, and
his smile was bright. Madori had always known him to dress in the
finery of a prince, but here he wore simple woolen garments, clothes
no finer—though perhaps more traditional—than her own.

"Hush!" His voice
dropped to a whisper, and he winked. "Don't say my name here. At
least not my full name. I'm sort of, well . . . undercover."

Madori grumbled. "And don't
you call me Billygoat. You know I hate that stupid name. I am Madori
Billy Greenmoat." She glared at him for a moment, then felt her
eyes sting. She pulled him into an embrace. "What are you doing
here, Tam?"

He grinned and mussed her hair.
"Same thing you are. Trying out for Teel. Remember how we'd talk
about becoming mages someday?"

She tilted her head. "I
also remember talking about slaying dragons, forming a juggling
troupe, and training elephants to play oversized musical
instruments." She punched his chest. "For pity's sake! Why
would you come here? I need to gain some power. You're already
powerful. You're a damn prince and—"

"Billygoat, hush!"
When she punched his chest again, he grimaced. "All right, all
right—
Madori
."
He rubbed his chest, wincing. "Look, my father is worried about
you. There's been talk of . . . enemies. And, well, I couldn't let
you come here alone. So here I am." He gave a little bow. "Your
protector."

She rolled her eyes and snorted.
"Last time we met, I was the one protecting you from the evil
bumblebees."

"Those little buggers were
nasty, and there's worse than bumblebees here." He leaned in
close, whispering. "There's this fellow, a lord, his name is—"

"Serin!" The voice
boomed across the crowd of applicants, interrupting Tam. "Lari
Serin!"

Madori craned her neck, peering
around Tam. The professor on the stage was still summoning
applicants; Madori had blocked out most of the names, but this one
sent shivers down her spine.

Lari—the girl who had called
her a mongrel.

Serin—the name of the cruel
lord on the road, her father's cousin.

The two names, in tandem, felt
like mixing poison with flame.

She's
a Serin.
Madori almost
gagged.
She's a
relative.

Her chin raised, the sunlight
gleaming upon her golden hair, Lari Serin strutted through the crowd,
spreading smiles every which way. Other applicants clapped as she
passed by; some even bowed. Obviously the girl was noble among
nobles. Madori's belly soured and she gritted her teeth.

Lari caught her eyes, and the
girl's grin widened. While walking toward Ostrinia
Tower, she made a point of passing by Madori.

"Good luck at the trials,
mongrel," she said and patted Madori's cheek. "Maybe
they'll teach you to sit like a good little dog."

Madori growled, slapped Lari's
hand aside, and leaped forward, intending to give the young lady two
black eyes and a bloody nose. But Tam—damn the boy—grabbed her and
held her back.

"Madori, no!" he said,
dragging her away from Lari. "Let her go."

Lari laughed. "Keep her on
a leash, boy! She's a wild one."

With a wink, Lari left them,
heading across the cloister and into the tower.

Madori struggled and kicked in
Tam's grasp. "Let go of me."

He refused and Madori cursed her
small size; she didn't have the physical strength to free herself
from his grasp, another reason why she had to learn magic, to gain
power.

"Madori, listen to me,"
he hissed into her ear. "Do you know who that is?"

"A pretty little cockroach
I'm about to stomp on."

"A pretty little cockroach
who's the daughter of a very big, powerful cockroach. Her father is
Lord Tirus Serin, the wealthiest man in Mageria—possibly in all
eight sunlit kingdoms of Timandra." Tam sounded grim. "Not
a person you want on your bad side."

Madori grumbled. "I think
it might be a little too late for that."

Her fists were still clenched,
but inside she trembled. The encounter on the road returned to her,
and her eyes burned. She had fled the ignorance of villagers; now she
found the same hatred even among the lords and ladies of sunlight.

Did
I make a mistake leaving home?
she thought, blinking away sudden tears.
Is
there any home for me here—a girl of mixed blood, my Elorian eyes
forever marking me a foreigner?

Tam
released his grip and she turned toward him, still held in his arms.
She looked into his brown eyes and saw the same fear in them.

"What kind of place have we
come to?" she whispered.

Before her friend could answer,
the professor's voice boomed across the cloister again.

"Madori Greenmoat!"

She started. She wasn't sure how
her name had ended up on the list—was magic at work here?—but she
pulled away from Tam's arms.

"Good luck, Billygoat."
A smile broke through the fear on Tam's face like sunlight through
rain.

She nodded. "You too."

Leaving him, she walked through
the crowd, heading toward the tower. As other applicants had walked
this walk, their friends had clapped, cheered, patted them on the
shoulders. As Madori walked, silence fell across the cloister, and
thousands of eyes stared at her. She felt like a freak on show. She
raised her chin high and squared her shoulders, forcing herself to
walk with pride.

My
parents are war heroes,
she thought.
I
am strong, wise, and determined. I am not a creature. I will pass
these trials.

She reached the tower. Jaw
clenched, she stepped through its doorway and into the shadows.

 
 
CHAPTER FIVE:
TRIAL OF WISDOM

Madori stepped into a round
chamber, probably the oddest applicant Teel University had ever seen.

My
clothes are strange and my hair is stranger,
she thought.
My
mixed blood is a curiosity.
She
raised her chin and stared at the professors who sat ahead.
But
I will pass this trial.

They sat at a table upon a
dais—three professors in robes, all staring at her. She could barely
see them in the shadows; they seemed like hulking vultures looming
above prey. A beam of light fell from a window, illuminating a circle
on the floor. Madori stepped into the light, blinked, and stared up
at the professors, feeling like a prisoner at a trial.