by Laurie McKay
Jasan started to pace back and forth again, and the floorboards groaned like wounded banshees. “Make me a copy, in a language I can read when I’m not magicked.” He tapped the notebook. “This might be useful.”
“Might?” Tito said. “Dude, that’s got everything we know in it. I even summarized the teacher contract.”
Jasan cocked his head and studied Tito. Under the intense scrutiny, Tito sank back onto the headboard. One thing Tito didn’t like was rapt attention. “Then well done, Tito.”
“Sir Tito,” Caden corrected. When no one acknowledged Caden, he felt the need to explain. “I knighted him.”
Jasan raised a brow. “You knighted him?”
“With a broom,” Tito said. “I wouldn’t worry too much about it.”
“My sword was taken.” Caden crossed his arms. “And at the time, I was the highest-ranking Razzonian royal in Asheville.” Then, like he’d fallen in a snow blow, Caden realized that he’d forgotten something, and it was something important. Jane—noble ally, enchantress, and Elite Paladin-in-training—hadn’t been knighted. Wasn’t she as deserving as Tito?
Caden stood tall and kept his voice firm. “Jasan, you must knight Jane. You’re the highest-ranking Razzonian royal in Asheville now. It’s your duty.”
Jasan seemed less than receptive. He gestured to Jane. “You want me to knight your little friend?”
“Caden,” Jane said, sounding uncomfortable, “I don’t need to be knighted.”
“But you deserve to be knighted,” Caden said.
Sometimes Brynne was indeed a good ally, for she said, “I agree.” Then she added, “That is, if you want to be knighted, Jane.”
Who wouldn’t want to be knighted? Well, Brynne, but she was a sorceress of questionable morals. Certainly, Jane wanted to be knighted. She trained with Caden and Tito. How could she not? Jasan, however, looked bothered; he looked like he needed to be convinced.
Caden turned to his brother. “I want you to knight the enchantress who has mastered fighting forms four and five, who has bravely stood against evil, and who enchanted the paper clips around your wrist.”
Jasan sighed.
The sparring broom had been burned in battle, but Caden grabbed the sparring mop from the attic’s corner and held it out to his brother. Jasan didn’t reach for it.
“She saved your life, Jasan,” Caden said.
With an irritated snort, Jasan said, “As you wish, then,” but he didn’t take the mop. Instead, he reached behind his back. He pulled a small, short sword from beneath the buttoned shirt—one that had seemingly been strapped to his back. The hilt was ruby-encrusted; the blade was sleek and sharp. It was a Razzonian sword. Before Caden had a chance to ask where Jasan found it or examine it closely, Jasan pointed it at Jane. “Kneel, Jane Chan.”
Jane’s cheeks went a bit rosy when Jasan said her name. She knelt. Then she stared at the floor as if embarrassed.
Jasan flicked the sword from her left shoulder to her right. His movements were so fast, they were hard to follow. “With what remains of the honor of the Razzonian royal family,” Jasan said, “I dub you Lady Jane, protector of Asheville and the Greater Realm.”
Her eyes became misty.
Truly, Caden should’ve done this earlier. Jane deserved the honor, and it seemed she appreciated it, too, no matter what she said.
“Thank you, Mr. Prince,” she said.
Jasan brought the sword to his side and Caden examined it further. As he looked, he realized the sword was very familiar. It was the same one the police had taken from Caden when he’d first arrived in Asheville. Why did Jasan have it? Had Officer Levine given it to him when he refused to return it to Caden? Caden wanted to complain. But it was best not to argue with Jasan right now. Jasan’s foul mood had only begun to lift.
“Serve your people well, Lady Jane,” Jasan said.
Tito reached out to give her a hand up. “I didn’t kneel,” he said. He sounded proud of that. “I refused.”
Jasan slid his gaze from Jane to Tito. And if Caden wasn’t mistaken, somewhere in Jasan’s irritated expression there was a bit of mischief. With a cool smile, he pointed the sword at Tito. Then he pointed at the ground. “A proper knighting isn’t done by a child with a broom.”
Caden should have been offended by that. He wasn’t a child. And he should’ve demanded Jasan give that sword to him. But Jasan had knighted Jane and seemed happy for a moment. Caden couldn’t help but grin. Still, he should say something. Staying silent for so long was never a good thing. He grinned at Tito. “I agree that a proper knighting should be with sword and steel. When possible.”
“Nah, no thanks,” Tito said. “It’s okay, really.”
Jasan was enjoying himself now. He loomed over Tito. “It isn’t ‘okay.’”
Jane’s smile was sweet, but her eyes glinted. “I think you should be knighted with a sword, Tito.”
When it came to Tito, Jane’s power of persuasion was even greater than Caden’s. Tito looked like a cornered firefox. “Fine,” he said. “Whatever.”
The spectacle of Jasan re-knighting Tito was so distracting, Caden didn’t notice the footfalls on the attic stairs until he heard the third step creak. The door opened a moment later. That’s how Rosa found Jasan in the attic, sword in hand, and Tito on his knees with Jasan’s blade at his collar.
Rosa looked from Jasan to Tito to the sword near Tito’s neck. She stepped into the room cautiously, slowly, and when she spoke, her voice was elvish forged steel. “What’s going on here?”
Frantically, Tito jumped to his feet. “It’s not what it looks like!” He motioned to Jasan, who looked surly. “He was, um, Mr. Prince was knighting me?” Tito said.
“And me,” Jane said.
“Lady Jane is correct,” Caden said. “You should be proud, Rosa.”
Rosa reached over and pulled Tito behind her. She didn’t seem proud; nor did she seem happy to see Jasan. Matter of point, there was fury in her voice when she spoke. “How did you get in here?” She glanced back at Tito. “Who let you back inside?”
Tito raised up his palms. “No one, I swear.” He pointed to the open window. “He climbed in the freaking window. Scared the crap out of me, too.”
That seemed to anger Rosa more. “You came into my house without permission, brought a weapon, and scared my child?”
Jasan fastened the sword back under his shirt. When he spoke, his tone was cold. “I came to speak to Caden.”
Truly, Caden didn’t know what to think. Brynne had said Jasan and Rosa had argued, but Caden hadn’t expected them to act like this. Why were two of his dearest people arguing?
“I didn’t give you permission to talk to Caden,” Rosa said. “Nor the others.”
“I’ll talk to Caden when I like,” Jasan said. “He’s my brother.”
“I’m waiting on the DNA test to confirm that,” Rosa said.
Jasan scowled at her. He stood tall and sure. “It will.”
Rosa showed no fear. “Caden is in my care. I’ll do what I believe is best for him.”
What was happening? Jasan and Rosa were both good people, both soldiers even. They should be friendly. Caden felt his mouth fall open.
“Maybe my brother should be in my care, as you misplaced him today.”
That seemed to hit Rosa like a punch, but she didn’t back down. “Leave my house now, or I’m calling the police.”
There was little chance that Jasan feared the police. Still, Jasan stepped back toward the window and nodded to Caden. “We’ll talk later.” With a slight smirk, he put his hand on the frame, then jumped out, no doubt sliding down the side of the house to the ground.
Rosa widened her eyes. She, Jane, and Tito all rushed to the window.
“He’s gifted in speed and a skilled Elite Paladin,” Caden said. “Exiting from this height is no problem for him.”
Rosa stared out a moment longer. Apparently convinced Jasan was not dead in the yard among her copper flowers, she ushered J
ane and Tito away, and shut and locked the window. “Oh good grief!” she said. Her cheek twitched, and she was quiet for a moment. “He isn’t allowed here without permission. Do you understand?”
“Not really,” Caden said. “My brother is a noble person.”
Rosa peered at him. “Don’t let him inside without permission.” Her gaze shifted to Brynne, then Tito, then Jane. “Do I make myself clear?” The three of them nodded. “Caden?”
Caden considered. “You do.”
“Good.” Then she turned to Brynne and Jane. “Girls, go to bed.”
The girls hurried from the room, but when Rosa wasn’t looking, Brynne held up her phone. She’d text them later. Once the girls were gone, Rosa focused on Caden and Tito. “You two go to bed, too.” She took a deep breath. “And, Caden?”
“Yes, Rosa?”
She rubbed at her temple and spoke firmly. “Promise me you won’t jump out the window.”
With fate’s favor, Caden’s curse recurred the week between summer school and normal school. He had four weeks until it would hit him again.
He had no desire to go back to the school, though. He wanted to refuse to go; he wanted to stay home, but he couldn’t. Rosa seemed unsettled as well. No matter what happened, she always sent Caden back. She always sent Brynne, Tito, and Jane back, too.
He suspected it had to do with the matriculation paperwork. Just as the villains signed contracts to work at the school, parents and guardians signed forms to enroll the students. At the Primrose Charter School, the paperwork had power.
However, just because he had to go didn’t mean he had to stay. The last day of the summer session, he’d skipped most of the day, after all. What did Tito call that type of thing? Oh yes. A loophole. And Caden had discovered it. He would use it if needed.
Caden wore his magnificent horse T-shirt and his enchanted coat for the first day of eighth grade. The school looked like a fortress set into the mountain. Bright-red roses were planted around the walls, but instead of beauty and life, they made Caden think of spilled blood.
The front hall was crowded. Caden saw many familiar faces. Some he liked: Olivia from science class, Tamera and Phoebe from math; some he didn’t: Derek and his friends Jake and Tyrone. When they saw Caden, they pointed at his coat and snickered.
“Bro,” Tito said. “Did you really have to wear the coat?”
“Yes, I have to wear it. It honors my people and my father,” Caden said. “It’s a challenge to evil and to Rath Dunn. It’s a symbol of Razzon.”
“It looks nice, Caden,” Jane said.
That was also true. “I know,” Caden said.
They followed the crowd toward the rebuilt auditorium for Rath Dunn’s ironically named welcome assembly. Like Rath Dunn’s office, the walls inside were red. The stage was outfitted with slick-looking Ashevillian technology. None of the chairs creaked, and the cushioned seatbacks reclined. The acoustics of the new building were like that of an elvish concert hall. Rich velvet curtains hid the stage.
Tito pulled them toward seats near the back. It wasn’t where royalty belonged, but Tito seemed content, Jane and Brynne looked comfortable, and Caden felt generous. Jasan tapped his shoulder a moment later.
His teacher name tag and bright-yellow physical education whistle hung around his neck. “Move over,” he said. He spoke in Royal Razzon, not English, which meant he hadn’t let Brynne spell him. Once Caden and the others had shifted one seat over, Jasan sat down beside them. Soon almost every seat in the auditorium was filled.
Onstage, Mr. Creedly stood in front of the curtains, hair slicked back, limbs curled to his body like a strange human bug. He hissed into a microphone. “Quiet,” he spat. “He wishes to speak.”
Then the curtains parted, and Rath Dunn stood center stage. “Thanks, Creedly, for the fine introduction.” His suit was red, his tie black. Most teachers, like Jasan, sat in the audience to control the students. Six, however, stood onstage, three flanking each side of Rath Dunn.
On Rath Dunn’s left stood Mr. Bellows, the English teacher. With gray, sallow skin and sunken eyes, he was a necromancer, a reanimator of dead things. The other two Caden didn’t know, but neither looked human. Rath Dunn introduced them as the new drawing teacher, Ms. Levers, and the new music teacher, Mr. Wist.
Caden was fairly certain the music teacher was a Springlands banshee. He had a large mouth, likely full of teeth, and a thick throat and body. Banshees had poisonous bites. Their screams paralyzed both man and beast.
The art teacher was a blood wraith. Her eyes shone red when the auditorium lights caught them. Her movements seemed practiced; her skin looked tough and stretched thick over her frame. Wraiths tended to be ruthless in battle.
Were these two among the twelve banished during the summer? Maybe Ms. Primrose had only devoured ten? Caden thought of Scribe Trevor. Or maybe Rath Dunn only gave her the innocent to gobble up.
“I know Ms. Levers and Mr. Wist will declare war for their arts,” Rath Dunn said.
On Rath Dunn’s right stood stout Mrs. Grady and thin Mr. Faunt. Truly, the math department was particularly wicked. Mr. McDonald, Caden’s literacy teacher, also stood with them. He was ghost pale, and his bright-white hair was the color of a surrender flag. From Caden’s interactions with him, he suspected Mr. McDonald’s only real crime was cowardice.
Caden noticed Ms. Jackson, the lunch witch, was also on the stage, behind and to the left. She reclined in a wooden chair like a cruel queen. Her chef’s uniform was black. Around her upper arm she wore two red bands—vows of vengeance for her lost brother and sister. In her right hand, she held the Aging Ladle of Justice. Enchanted by Jane, it was stuck to her permanently and drained Ms. Jackson’s ill-attained youth. Her hair was streaked with gray, and her brown skin had lost some of its glow, but she remained beautiful. No doubt, she also remained powerful.
Jasan whispered to Caden, “Manglor and I continue to follow Rath Dunn and Ms. Jackson.”
Manglor was a reformed villain, the noble school janitor and the father of Caden’s literacy class friend Ward. Caden spotted Manglor on the other side of the room. He towered above everyone else even sitting down, and his dark-brown skin and long, braided hair made him stand out even more. He was as big as Caden’s second-born brother, Maden, who himself was as big as a small frost giant. The students behind him had to stand to see over his head.
“They have yet to do anything we can act against. But Archer’s day is still some time to come.” Jasan clutched the armrest between them as if to make it suffer. Around the edge of his right sleeve, near where the enchanted chain of paper clips kept Jasan’s hand attached to his body, Caden saw the cuff stained pink.
“Your wrist has bled.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Jasan said. “I’m taking Ashevillian supplements.”
But Caden would worry. Since getting wounded, Jasan had often been pale. He’d seemed more tired than usual. Caden felt his brow crease and his expression drop.
Jasan let out a long breath. “There are even blood transfusions the locals can do.”
Had Jasan been so sick he needed Ashevillian blood? He’d lost a lot when his hand was cut off, even if Caden had reattached it with the clips. “Have you had to have transfusions?”
“I’m taking care of it, Caden,” Jasan said, as if that was the end of it. He leaned to the side so he could also speak to Brynne and the others. “I want you all to gather information from the students. Find out if they’ve seen anything useful. Note any strange behavior from your teachers.”
Tito and Jane didn’t speak Royal Razzon. They exchanged a confused look, so Caden translated for them.
“We can do that,” Jane said.
Jasan seemed to have understood her answer. He had, after all, started to learn the local tongue. “Good.” Then he nodded to the stage, to Mr. McDonald. “Keep an eye on McDonald. Follow him when you can. Sometimes cowards and lackeys know more than expected.”
Mr. McDonald was the least da
ngerous person in the school. Likely the only reason he was onstage was because Rath Dunn found his terror amusing. “And many times they don’t,” Caden said, and scrutinized his brother. “That sounds dull and tedious and made to keep us busy.”
Jasan didn’t deny it. “That’s right,” he said. “But dull, tedious work can uncover information.” He held Caden’s gaze. “And as the seventh-born son, I outrank you.” Perhaps Jasan did know Caden quite well, because he added, “If you want to be an Elite Paladin, and want me to consider you one, I expect you to follow my orders.”
Caden should have been annoyed, but he wasn’t. He felt a bright smile flash across his face. Jasan often gave those training to become Elite Paladins boring assignments. It was his way of testing them. “Everything Mr. McDonald knows,” Caden said, “I will find out for you.”
Jasan looked like he was having second thoughts about assigning Caden any mission. “Stay out of trouble. Contact me if Rath Dunn summons you again. I’ve had words with him about that already.” He surveyed the audience and frowned. “And keep away from Ms. Primrose.”
At the mention of the Elderdragon, Caden scanned the audience, too. The sixth-grade gifted teacher, Mr. Limon, a man with long hair and a prominent brow, noticed him and scowled. As did Mr. Frye, the lanky sixth-grade English instructor. The school nurse, a large, sturdy woman, didn’t look too friendly either. Now that Caden thought about it, there were many teachers, and all were villains.
Then he saw Mrs. Belle, the science teacher. She tapped her bloodred nails against the armrest of her chair and smiled warmly at him. Mrs. Belle had always treated him nicely.
Ms. Primrose was noticeably absent, and he hadn’t seen her since the incident in the office. No matter, he didn’t want to talk to her anymore anyway. “I’ll do my best to avoid her.”
“You’d better,” Jasan said. He motioned to the front. “Now, tell me what the tyrant is blabbering about.”
