by V. St. Clair
“Aleric? Is that you?” a familiar voice interrupted his thoughts as he scanned the area, and Aleric turned in surprise to find Reginald Trout standing near a display of cucumbers, browsing the selection.
“Reg?” Aleric went to join him at the display. “What are you doing here?”
Reginald was ten years his senior, and Aleric only knew him because he had married into the Trout family, a Great House as influential and powerful as his own. Reg came from a minor Great House—a Level-B family according to Adorina Frost’s scale of importance—so the match was a step up for him, which was why he adopted the Trout surname. Despite their age difference, Aleric had always liked Reginald; the man was one of the few people to see through the glossy illusion of the Great Houses and acknowledge the less pleasant aspects of the life.
“The same thing as you,” Reg answered simply, “checking out the local fair. I thought you’d be in school right now.”
Aleric shrugged and said, “I wanted some fresh air. I intend to go back in a couple of hours.” His eyes scanned the crowds, as always, on the lookout for someone new and interesting to talk to…
“Already looking for a pretty girl, I see,” Reg laughed, purchasing a bag full of cucumbers and then walking slowly through the market with him.
“Preferably one who knows nothing about magic or Great Houses,” he confirmed mildly. He had told Kilgore that he’d stop looking around when things became formalized with Susanna, and he meant it, but until then…
“Ah, to be young and single again,” Reg sighed wistfully. “Alas, I’d be right there with you if I didn’t know that Maggie would somehow find out about it and decapitate me as soon as I got home. The next time you’d see me, my head would be mounted on a spike outside our lovely estate.”
Aleric grinned and said, “She is quite forbidding sometimes, isn’t she?”
Reg enthusiastically agreed with him.
“How are things going with Magdalene? Well, I hope?”
“Actually, yes, quite well.” He seemed almost surprised by it. “We’re expecting our second child in a few months, further cementing my place in the Trout family for life. I’m hoping it stops her mother from groaning on about how she married beneath her—even old harpies like grandchildren, right? She adores Oliver, so surely a second one will soften her even further…”
Aleric laughed and said, “Don’t count on it. Georgina Trout is one of the most dour old crones I’ve ever encountered. I remember meeting her for the first time when I was six, and for some reason she got it into her head that I should be old enough and skillful enough to carve the turkey at dinner. She spent the next four years complaining about my poor knife skills that night, because the slices weren’t an even quarter-inch thick all the way through.” He rolled his eyes. “If you’re ever bored at a party with her, bring it up; I’m sure she’d be willing to regale you with the tale even now.”
Reg burst into laughter and said, “It’ll go down in the annals of history: Aleric Frost, ruler of one of the greatest Great Houses of our time, is remembered for his utter failure to carve the turkey at the age of six.”
“You joke,” Aleric rolled his eyes. “I wouldn’t be surprised if the old bat has already asked my mother to have it engraved on my tombstone.”
“That makes me feel mildly better about having to endure her mutters of ‘fortune hunter’ every time I see her,” Reg said cheerfully.
“Is it all fruit and vegetable stands here, or is there anywhere to find something decent to drink?” Aleric changed the subject, glancing around the town square again. Merina was an awkwardly-sized town: too big to be considered an outpost, but too small to be a major thoroughfare. It was hard to tell what sort of amenities they would have available at an event like this without looking.
“There are carnival rides further down that cross-street,” Reg pointed to the right, though visibility of the street was blocked by a bread vendor from their current vantage-point. “Bean-bag tossing, bobbing for apples, the spinning wheel, all your standard festival fare. Along High Street the pubs and restaurants are already open, capitalizing on the extra business from the fair.”
“Then to High Street we go,” Aleric turned in the direction that Reg had pointed and the two of them set off, his friend toting along that large sack of cucumbers with him. “What really brings you out to Merina, by the way?” Aleric asked his companion. “I didn’t think you normally enjoyed this type of thing.”
“Slumming with the locals and the non-magics, you mean?” Reg snorted with sarcasm. Hailing from a minor Great House, he was less arrogant and pretentious about the superiority of blood than most. “Unlike my grandmother-in-law, I’m not worried that being common is contagious,” he rolled his eyes at the thought. “Though you’re right, normally this isn’t really my scene.”
“Well?” Aleric pressed him with interest as they turned onto High Street.
“Truth be told, Maggie’s gotten a little crazy in the last few months…all the stories you hear about pregnant women losing their minds doesn’t cover the half of it.” He groaned.
Surprised, Aleric raised his eyebrows and asked, “Don’t tell me she’s been crying all over the place. I can’t imagine Magdalene losing control of her emotions like that.” It was the truth; Magdalene Trout was one of the most carefully-controlled people Aleric had ever met. The thought of her being weepy and eating boxes of sweet creams was almost funny for that reason alone.
“If only,” Reg intoned wistfully. “Weepy, I could deal with. For some reason the only two emotions she seems capable of feeling are apathy and rage. I dropped my dinner napkin on the floor the other night and she almost tore my head off; she ranted for half an hour about how napkin-dropping was one of the worst offenses a person could ever commit.”
“HA!” Aleric let out a laugh before he could stop himself, which elicited a grin from Reg as well.
“Ridiculous, right? What can I do in the face of her anger other than agree wholeheartedly that the breach of etiquette could have cost us the entire Great House and then flee to the nearest town fair to buy produce?”
Aleric hadn’t laughed so hard in weeks, and Reg didn’t seem to mind that it was coming at his expense.
Wiping tears of mirth from his eyes, Aleric said, “Remind me never to have children.”
“Perish the thought!” Reg said with such a dramatic fake gasp that it startled several nearby patrons of the restaurant they stopped at. Aleric was inclined to go inside, but Reg motioned for them to take a seat at one of the outdoor patio tables in the sunlight, where they had a commanding view of High Street and the many people walking along it.
“Why do you say that?”
“If you don’t reproduce more superior Frostlings, who will continue the legacy of pomp and conceit when you’re dead and gone?”
Aleric rolled his eyes and said, “Fair point. In that case, remind me to ask you where I can find all the good festivals when I need to escape the clutches of whatever madwoman ends up bearing my children.”
He didn’t mention Susanna or the informal engagement, because until things were official it would be a hideous breach in etiquette to make the news public, even amongst friends. In truth, he shouldn’t even have told Asher as much as he had about the entire thing, though if he couldn’t trust his best friend with his secrets, who could he trust?
Reg ordered them drinks while Aleric turned his attention to the other patrons of the restaurant—he hadn’t even looked at the sign to see what it was called. Most of the other diners were at least twice his age, though there was a promising-looking pair of girls sitting together at a table nearby. Both were pretty, though he was more drawn to the one with brown hair—
“You haven’t heard a word I just said, have you?” Reg interrupted his thoughts, looking amused.
“What? Sorry,” Aleric snapped his attention back to his companion abruptly, just as one of the girls was turning to look at him.
“Already on the prowl for mo
re entertaining company?” he asked with a knowing smile.
“More attractive, at least,” Aleric smiled. “Whether they’re more entertaining is yet to be seen.”
“Well then, we’d better get their attention before someone else snaps them up.” Reg raised his hand to hail the pair without further ado, signaling them to come over to their table.
The two girls blushed, glanced between Reg and Aleric, and exchanged a giggle before rising from their table to come join them.
“Ha!” Reg vented a breath of satisfaction. “I could never have pulled that off if I wasn’t sitting with you. All bow to the Frosts and their damnable good looks…” he muttered as the two girls joined them.
Aleric simply smiled and introduced himself to the duo, thankful that he had thought to come to Merina this morning.
7
Arena Masters
Asher’s success in the challenge arena made him even more popular than usual, and he hated to acknowledge that he was enjoying the extra attention—especially from Maralynn. He had never minded being second-best to Aleric in most respects, but where she was concerned, he would do anything to come in first.
Which was why he had spent the last hour helping with her Wands homework, explaining and re-explaining splintering and melding, two concepts she had always had particular difficulty with. He privately suspected that she would give up her pursuit of Wands after this year was finished, because she would probably never be good enough at it to move past the level-four class, but he would never say that to her out loud. Besides, their tutoring sessions were one of the few occasions the two of them were alone together for an extended period of time, and he enjoyed it immensely, even if they were mostly discussing schoolwork.
Maralynn twirled a lock of brown hair around her index finger as she finished taking notes on what he had just told her—for the fourth time tonight—on splintering. He kept searching for different ways to present the information in the hopes that one of them would make sense to her.
“Well, I think I understand splintering and melding enough to pass the test on Gerin, but I’m certainly not going to be top in the class.” Maralynn sighed, setting down her pencil. “Let’s do something else.”
“We could get married,” Asher suggested flippantly, giving her his most dashing smile.
Maralynn laughed, used to his humor, and said, “I was thinking something more along the lines of applied magic. You could help me work on summoning objects.”
“You’d rather work on summoning inanimate objects than marry me?” Asher touched a hand to his heart, feigning dismay. “Tough crowd.”
Though he often presented his feelings for her in a joking manner, he did always harbor some small hope that she would respond seriously to it. So far he’d been disappointed on that front; she seemed to think that this was all part of his naturally comedic personality.
“I don’t want to have to explain to my parents—who are tired of paying for me to come to Mizzenwald every year—why I elected to elope with you instead of learning the spellwork they’re paying for,” she teased.
“We wouldn’t have to elope,” Asher insisted, still with his most dazzling smile. “I’m not opposed to inviting your parents to the wedding.”
Maralynn giggled and said, “Very generous of you. Now stop playing around and tell me what I’m doing wrong with my summoning; the spell always stops working halfway through.”
I’m not playing around…
Asher shook the thought and refocused. No need to push her or her feelings, or he would probably be unpleasantly surprised with the result. She still had that ridiculous crush on Aleric, though she seemed slightly less infatuated with him recently…or maybe he was just seeing what he wanted to see. It was impossible to be certain; he couldn’t be objective where Maralynn was concerned.
“Okay, show me what you’ve got.” He looked around the empty classroom they were using for their meeting. “Summon that mop over there.” He pointed to it at random.
Maralynn nodded and withdrew an ash wand, her features narrowing in focus as she concentrated.
She’s beautiful…
She cast silently, though Asher could tell when she did it because of her tendency to wave her wand needlessly when doing magic. It was a tendency that many people shared, since it was natural to move the hands when attempting to channel magic through the Foci; occasionally he even did it himself.
The mop shuddered in place for a moment and then slowly raised up off of the ground, wobbling through the air towards them at a snail’s pace until it eventually gave up and clattered to the floor about halfway across the room.
Wow, that was really terrible.
“That wasn’t too bad,” he said consolingly, because she was frowning and looking ashamed with her poor performance.
“I was wondering if I might be having a problem with splintering in my ash wand, since it happens like that every time I try,” she offered hopefully.
Of course she wanted it to be the Wand’s fault, because the alternative was that she was just not very skillful at this particular spell.
“It’s possible,” he humored her. “Hand me your wand and I’ll try. If it doesn’t work for me either, then your wand is probably to blame.”
She passed it over to him and looked anxious with hope, like she was praying for him to fail. For a moment he considered messing up on purpose to keep that hope alive, but immediately decided against it.
No, I can’t lie to her like that. If she gets another wand and it doesn’t work for her either, she’ll know I did it on purpose and she’ll only be more embarrassed.
He pointed the wand at the mop and cast the summoning spell without any unnecessary flourishing. The mop flew through the air with speed and precision, and he caught it effortlessly in one hand and set it to the side.
Maralynn’s face fell in disappointment, and then her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.
“Guess it’s not my wand,” she sighed. “I’m just not any good at this. Maybe I should give up on Wands now and stop pretending I can make it through the rest of the school year…”
“Don’t get down on yourself just because you’re struggling,” Asher assured her. “It’s a subject that isn’t your major or sub-major, and everyone struggles with tertiary classes. I, for one, admire you for sticking with it and not just quitting like so many others.”
“Really?” Mara asked, looking up at him with those lovely green eyes. “But you must get so tired of trying to explain things to me over and over again…”
“Don’t be silly. I would cheerfully help you study every night of the week if you wanted me to. You’re good at magic, and you shouldn’t let self-doubt get in the way of you doing anything you want to do.”
Mara smiled at him.
“You’re one of the nicest guys I know, Asher. How is it that you’re still single?”
Because you haven’t realized you should be in love with me yet.
“I guess I’ve just never gotten the right girl to go out with me yet,” he answered carefully.
“Well once you find her, she’s going to be very lucky to have you,” Maralynn said sincerely.
Just do it, Asher. You’ll never get a better opening than this…
No, it’s too soon!
Just do it!
“On that subject…” he began nervously, palms becoming instantly sweaty.
Maralynn didn’t seem to hear him over the sound of repacking her bag, because now she stood up and said, “Thanks for all the help tonight, Asher. I’m ready to call it a day, but maybe we can work on this again next week?”
And you missed your chance…
“Sure,” he forced a smile, coming down off of the momentary adrenaline surge that had spiked through him at the prospect of finally telling her how he felt. “Just let me know when you want to get back together.”
“Thanks!” She gave him a cheerful smile and waved as she neared the door. “Have a good night!”
�
��Yeah, you too…”
As soon as he was alone, Asher put his head in his hands and cursed himself for the fool that he was.
He still received several cheers from his peers once the new week started, but most of the immediate hype over his challenge arena success had petered out by now. He began to see why Aleric was never satisfied with his victories, always working towards the next big thing; he hadn’t even gotten three whole days out of his newfound fame, and he had slayed a hundred monsters single-handedly.
He was even more inattentive than usual during Elixirs that morning, contemplating the onslaught of feedback he’d received about his temperament from both Masters and students alike in recent weeks. These days it seemed like everyone felt they were entitled to judge him, and for some reason they all wanted him to know about it.
The Masters think I’m too contrary and arrogant. My peers think I’m witty and brilliant. So how am I supposed to act?
Universal popularity seemed like an unattainable thing, though somehow Aleric managed to pull it off with his usual flair. In the past, Asher had credited it to his friend hailing from a Great House, but now he was forced to accept that that was hardly what made Aleric so likeable. The Masters admired his slavish devotion to their coursework and arenas, and his natural talent and charisma. Throw in good looks and a desire to please, and everyone in Mizzenwald wanted to know or be Aleric Frost.
And then there’s me, Aleric’s lesser sidekick.
He shook the thought and scowled at himself for being so whiny about his situation. He was handsome, if not athletic, and at least equally intelligent to his best friend. Plenty of people thought he was naturally charismatic, and even being dirt-poor and constantly overshadowed by his best friend, he was still one of the most popular, sought-after people in school right now. He needed to pull himself out of the slump he had fallen into after failing to successfully ask Maralynn out and stop questioning himself.
