"Hi, Hans." I shoot him a smile, ignoring his concern.
Green eyes, dark curls falling over his thick brows, and bronze skin with a natural glow that makes anyone envious. That's Hans. He is dressed in simple black clothes, and he hasn't let go of the small hoop earrings or the silver pendant necklace he's always worn.
Hans has been my neighbor since we were kids, and our parents have been friends since I can remember. We used to play around together whenever our families met, and eventually became good friends.
"Do your parents know you're here?" There's no judgment or threat in his hushed tone, and I know I can trust him. He would never sell me out to my parents.
I shake my head. "No, and I intend to keep it this way. At least until I know if I got accepted or not."
"Are you crazy? They will never let you go," Hans insists, but I ignore him, turning to look at the front stage where Governor Braham is still babbling about the Academy.
Hans is right, that guy never shuts up. I wish he could speed things up so this line starts moving, and I can put an end to all the anxiety that is threatening to eat me alive.
"Now, each line will be interviewed by a member of our committee, where you will provide your personal information and intention to enroll in the Academy. From this moment forward, everyone is being evaluated," he explains, and I feel the mood and atmosphere of my line change.
Most of us seemed confident enough until a moment ago—I'm not including myself, obviously. But now, even those who had their chests puffed up seem a little nervous by his words.
However, everyone here has their families supporting and encouraging them.
But not me.
I feel completely out of place.
Why couldn't my parents be as supportive as everyone else's?
"Are you sure about this?" Hans asks behind me when the line starts moving slowly, the first ones being interviewed by the members of the king's committee.
"Yes. Now, can you please drop it?"
He sighs and seems to let it go.
A growing sense of anticipation and fear threatens to overwhelm me when I get closer to the main table. Five humans have already been approved for the second round, and I feel like I'm about to vomit at any time. At least I made the wise choice not to have breakfast this morning.
My mind seems willing to betray me with questions I don't have answers to.
What if I'm not good enough?
What if I am approved but fail the first time I need to prove myself inside the Academy?
Will I be a laughing stock for not having the necessary skills to become a true warrior?
Three more are approved, and I take a deep breath, steadying myself.
But when I see a blonde girl rushing out of line, crying, my heart sinks to my stomach. I recognize her as one of the girls who used to hang out with Hans and me when we were in high school. I mean, he was. I was homeschooled.
She went to school with him and would show up at his house every once in a while to play or study. That's how I got to know her.
"Is that…" I trail off, watching as she tosses herself in her father's arms and sinks her head on his shoulder, sobbing. The man holds her close and exchanges a worried look with his wife.
"Ardella," Hans completes, his voice just as low.
"Shit, why do you think she was rejected?" I turn slightly to look at him over my shoulder.
"I have no idea." He shrugs, his eyes on the scene unfolding in front of us.
It makes no sense that Ardella would be rejected. She is smart, hard-working, and somewhat skilled at physical combat. Once, she kicked a guy's ass who harassed her while we were playing soccer during the holidays.
The magical users' queues are moving twice as fast since they don't need to go through all the questioning we do. They just need to inform their supernatural abilities, magical lineage, and choose which career they want to follow once they graduate.
As for the non-magical, the questions always differ. Humans are never asked the same thing, so it's hard to predict what the interview will be like.
"Next!"
Fuck, it's my time!
The soldier handling the humans is holding a clipboard, impatiently waiting for me to take a step forward. I can almost see him rolling his eyes, clearly wanting to be anywhere else but here. It's a cold morning, so I don't really blame him, but he could be a bit nicer since we're offering ourselves for the good and safety of the kingdom. It's not like they are doing us any favors.
I get closer to the table, doing my best to steady my breathing so he doesn't notice how nervous I am.
"Name?" he asks right away, looking down at the paper in his hands now.
I won't complain about that. Being under his gaze would make me much more uneasy than I already am.
"Hettie Kildare," I answer, my voice coming out lower and less confident than I intended.
It seems he's heard me, though, since he starts filling the form.
"Age?"
"Twenty-one."
Okay, so far, easy questions.
"Any physical limitations, diseases, or recent injuries?" he carries on. His tone is even and bored, and somehow this makes me even more nervous.
"No."
"Have you received any formal education or combat training?" The soldier leans back on the chair and finally looks at me, sizing me up and down as if evaluating if I'm fit to become a warrior.
I will certainly be rejected now if he is considering my skinny and tiny body.
Lying won't help me since I'll have to go through the physical exam next if I'm approved here. Getting classes from my dad, and even Hans sometimes, when I was younger, probably doesn't count as formal combat training.
I'm super fucked if this is a requirement.
"Not really. I was homeschooled. And I know how to fight, but I never got special training." It's not a lie, and I can throw a punch or kick someone in the balls if they piss me off too much, but I never really had a lot of opportunities to do that and check if I'm good enough.
The man seems to consider my answer, then writes something down on my form.
"What career are you aiming for in the Academy?"
Becoming a royal warrior is number one on my list, but I feel like that could change once I'm at the Academy. There are so many things I can be.
I want to be someone whom others can count on. I want to be helpful, to make a difference, to leave my mark in the world.
The guard clears his throat to catch my attention, and I blink away my internal questioning.
"I want to be a warrior in the king's army," I tell him, hoping my answer will be enough.
The man holds my gaze for a few seconds, and I can only hope he can't hear how loudly my heart is beating right now.