Gennady hunched in on himself. There were exams at the end of each year, he’d been told, but the truly important exams would come at the end of his fourth and sixth years in the school. It seemed impossible that he’d pass the exams at the end of this important exams year, let alone the ones in three years. He felt as if he was spinning his wheels, caught—perhaps—in a swamp that grew worse the more he tried to escape it. He couldn’t put his feelings into words. He was sure, all too sure, that Housemaster Fredrick wouldn’t care.
“It’s not fair,” he muttered.
“Life isn’t fair,” Housemaster Fredrick said. “What don’t you want to tell me?”
Gennady found himself answering, in spite of himself. “Charlus is so good,” he said. “And I ... I can’t keep up with him.”
“Don’t worry about keeping up with him—or anyone,” Housemaster Fredrick advised. His face was an emotionless mask. “Concentrate, instead, on mastering the basics before you move ahead. It isn’t a competition.”
“It is,” Gennady insisted. He was dimly aware that he was being ... encouraged... to speak, but he couldn’t stop himself. The words came tumbling out without passing through his brain first. “He keeps moving ahead of me and cursing me and enchanting me and it just isn’t fair.”
“Life isn’t fair,” Housemaster Fredrick repeated. “Charlus was raised in House Ashworth. He has years of education you never had. It isn’t a fair comparison.”
“But ...” Gennady caught himself before he could say anything else. He was already walking far too close to tattling. No one would ever trust him again if he did. It wasn’t fair. It just wasn’t fair. “Sir, I can’t ...”
“He should be ahead of you.” Housemaster Fredrick cut him off. “His family would be more concerned if he wasn’t. But it really isn’t a race. It doesn’t matter who crosses the finish line first, or last, or whenever. All that matters is completing the race.”
He let out a heavy sigh. “Forget Charlus,” Housemaster Fredrick said, curtly. “Like I said, concentrate on the basics. Once you’ve mastered them, you can move ahead.”
“Forget Charlus,” Gennady repeated. “Do you know ... I share a room with him!”
“You won’t share with him next year,” Housemaster Fredrick assured him. “It’s rare to keep the same roommates for more than a year. You only have five months to go.”
“He’ll kill me,” Gennady predicted. He felt his clubfoot start to ache. “Sir ... I don’t know what to do!”
“Forget him,” Housemaster Fredrick said again. “It isn’t a race. Concentrate on mastering the skills you need to move ahead. Charlus ... will no longer be your problem soon enough.”
His voice hardened. “Now, I’m going to do you a favour. I should send you to the Warden—or thrash you myself—for being out of bounds. Instead, I’m just going to send you back to your room. Do try not to be caught on your way back or you’ll get us both in hot water.”
Gennady was too depressed to care. “Yes, sir.”
“Good.” Housemaster Fredrick clapped his shoulder. “Remember what I said. Forget Charlus. Concentrate on learning.”
Gennady forced his legs—they felt leaden—to stand. He knew Housemaster Fredrick had done him a favour ... although, really, what was one more beating? But the man was an idiot. Forget Charlus? Forget the roommate who hated him, who hexed him every hour of every day ... who’d beaten him with a belt, amongst other atrocities? Gennady couldn’t forget Charlus. The bastard was good at making himself noticed, damn him. Housemaster Fredrick was wrong. Gennady had to keep learning.
He stayed as quiet as a mouse as he walked down the stairs and glided along the corridor that led to the dorms. Housemaster Fredrick might not get in trouble if Gennady was caught a second time, but Gennady himself certainly would. And ... if someone noticed Gennady had made it back without being caught, they might ask questions. Or jump to the wrong—or right—conclusions. Or ... Gennady cursed everyone, from Charlus to Housemaster Fredrick, as he finally returned to his empty room. It felt wonderful to have such a space all to himself. But he knew it wouldn’t last. Simon and Charlus would be back soon enough.
Housemaster Fredrick said nothing, the following morning, when Gennady ate a quick breakfast and then hurried back to the library. There were a handful of other early-risers in evidence, but most of them were too old to do more than look down their noses at him disdainfully. It was irritating, yet ... better than being beaten or hexed. He found a pair of books and forced himself to go through them, trying to understand the principles of advanced magic. If he could master a spell to crack Charlus’s wards, just one, he might give the bully the shock of a lifetime. If he turned Charlus into a snail and stepped on him ...
The thought gnawed at his mind. If only ... he saw the words starting to blur together and knew it wasn’t going to be so easy. Charlus was holding him back, deliberately. The bully had no choice. He knew what Gennady would do to him, when—if—Gennady surpassed him. His only hope was to keep Gennady from mastering the basics. And Housemaster Fredrick was helping him. Gennady wasn’t blind to who benefited from the housemaster’s advice. It might have been wrapped in kindness, a hint of sugar to hide the poison, but ... it was poison. They were trying to hold him back. Of course they were. There could be no other answer.
His head pounded as he worked his way through the textbooks, going all the way back to the beginning. There were a lot of little tips and tricks he’d missed along the way, things that made life easier as he progressed ... he understood, now, why he’d remained at the bottom. But ... he cursed Charlus under his breath, once again. The moment the bully returned, Gennady would be denied the library. And that would be the end.
He was still reading the textbooks when Lyndred appeared, wearing a long dress that covered everything below her neckline. She looked ... stunning. Gennady stared, then reminded himself—sharply—about Primrose. Lyndred wasn’t just a girl. She was one of his friends, one of his two friends. He felt his cheeks heat as he looked away. He wasn’t one of the boys who’d made indecent suggestions, damn it. He was ... he was a decent man.
“I’m sorry we didn’t get back earlier,” Lyndred said. “How’ve you been?”
“I’ve discovered we’re being held back,” Gennady grumbled. He fought the urge to put the books back and go outside with her. Charlus was a long way away. There wouldn’t be any ambushes if they walked outside the school. “Where’s Simon?”
Lyndred gave him an unreadable look. “He’s getting changed. Some”—her lips shaped a word she didn’t quite say—“threw eggs at him.”
Gennady winced, feeling a mixture of guilt and relief he hadn’t been there. What could he have done? He couldn’t have fought back, could he? It would have just ended up with them both covered in eggs. He was surprised Lyndred hadn’t been splashed too. Magicians didn’t seem to think women should be honoured and protected. They were to be treated just like men, in all ways.