Free Wedding Hells (Schooled in Magic Book 8) by Christopher Nuttall

they walked back to their beds. Lady Barb would have been furious if they’d tried to rush their work, particularly if there was an innocent life at stake. She’d hammered it into their heads, time and time again, that they were to be careful and take their time when they healed a patient. Emily wouldn’t have cared to face her after a patient had died, if her carelessness and haste had caused the death. She’d have been lucky not to be summarily booted from the class.
    The next exam, Subtle Magic, was just as difficult, although she was starting to get used to the pace. Subtle Magic was tricky because of the rune in her chest, which started to burn the moment she stepped into the pre-prepared examination chamber; it wasn’t easy to find and neutralize the runes carved into the room with her chest feeling as if it were going to catch fire at any moment. But it would have been harder still, she suspected, if the subtle magic had been messing with her mind from the start. She removed the final runes, answered the theoretical questions and then headed back to the dormitory, where she discovered she was the first to finish. The others had taken longer to find and remove the runes.
    “Alchemy today,” Alassa said, the next day. “Good luck.”
    Emily shivered. Alchemy had never been her favorite subject, although she had managed to pass the classroom tests by strict attention to detail and extreme care. She wasn’t reassured when she stepped into the examination chamber and discovered that it was surrounded by heavy-duty wards, ready to contain an explosion. The supervisor nodded to a large workbench supporting three caldrons and a small pile of ingredients, and told her to sit down at a smaller desk.
    “There are three practical tests, following your theoretical exam,” he told her. “For the first test, you have to pick a potion from a list and brew it to an acceptable standard. For the second, you have to salvage an alchemical brew that is on the verge of exploding; for the third, you have to analyze a brewed potion and determine both its ingredients and its function.”
    He paused. “Do you have any questions?”
    Emily hesitated. “Do I get told what the second alchemical brew was meant to be?”
    “Clear Sight Potion,” the supervisor said. “You’ll find a list of ingredients and instructions beside the caldron.”
    Emily closed her eyes in pain. She’d tried to brew Clear Sight Potion herself, in class, and it had rarely worked. Stopping an explosion wouldn’t be hard - she’d just have to add something that would nullify the magic - but that would put the potion completely beyond repair. She’d have to work out what had gone wrong very quickly and then apply corrective measures....
    And be ready to dive under the table if it boils out of control , she thought. She’d seen a string of nasty accidents in Alchemy, including at least one student who’d been blinded for a week following an explosion. This could get very bad .
    She took the paper when it was offered and worked her way through the questions. They looked to be reasonably simple, easier than she’d expected, but they weren’t the true meat of the exam. It was the practicals that would determine her final grade. She finished writing out the answers, rose to her feet and walked over to the workbench. The first caldron was empty; the other two were held in stasis. They’d be released the moment she touched them with her fingertip. Gritting her teeth, she picked up the list of recommended potions, selected the easiest and went to work. An hour later, she bottled up the brew and turned her attention to the third caldron. She’d have to leave the second caldron until last, just in case it blew up in her face.
    And I might end up as scarred as Caleb , she thought, as she prepared a handful of diagnostic spells. Would he still be interested in me if my face looked like Emperor Palpatine’s ?
    She pushed the morbid thought aside as she went to