by Melody Rose
“So, that’s basically what’s high on my list. I want to keep myself as safe from assholes as humanly… or, er, as magically possible.” She paused and touched her chin in thought. “I guess I’ll see which of you sweeps the best since that seems like it would be important in this process.”
I grimaced, embarrassed for her theatrical antics even at a distance, although I suppose I could credit her for putting an earnest effort in this decision. She would have to carry this broom for quite some time, after all.
After Joan “took the brooms for a spin,” in her words, by brushing them against the floor in exaggerated sweeping motions, she started to inspect them more closely. Her odd technique comprised of pinching the individual straws and gliding her fingers up and down them. She also twirled the handles and tested which were the easiest to toss up and capture again. I chuckled as she attempted to straddle one and kick off into enchanted flight. That would not be permissible on school grounds until she had proper training, and so even if she did have any latent levitation abilities, Bouclier’s stringent charms would have disabled them.
I was delighted to watch Joan’s cheek burn as her naïve nature dawned upon her, and she realized she couldn’t simply fly a broom on a whim. I wondered what other tests could remind her of her place at Bouclier and her desperate need for a sensible mentor.
“Well, that’s out of the question.” Joan giggled at herself to try to break the tension. I was glad there was no one else to watch her in this moment of weakness. “I guess there’s only one other way to solve this. The sniff test.”
What in the nine abysses? I had never, in my whole lifetime at Bouclier as the son of the Headmaster, seen a mage judge the merit of a broom by its scent. Come to think of it, though, that wasn’t an altogether inane concept as far as Joan’s other ludicrous notions went. Incense and essences, while deceptively understated when applied well, had their own special hold and were able to represent a number of qualities or intentions.
“Too sour!” Joan wrinkled her nose as she assessed a broom that was doused in orange oil to enhance concentration and creativity. “Too close to cleaning supplies, and I’d like to leave that world far behind. Jasmine and Iris can deal with scrubbing kitchens now! I wonder if I can learn how to tidy up my room with a wave of a wand here?”
She picked up another broom that was rolled into crushed rose petals to assist with magical botany and herbalism. “Too… floral… smells like a bunch of grandmas getting together for a potpourri convention.”
I tapped my foot against the floor impatiently as she attentively judged each broom by smell. At first, I admired her commitment, but this was getting seriously out of hand. I began to wonder if this was a display of cowardice, a way to delay the demands of her courses by being so preoccupied with the selection of a broom that she’d never put to use.
When she had chanced upon a truly eccentric and overlooked broom, Joan actually afforded it a couple of drawn-out sniffs instead of promptly turning her nose up at it. This instrument was rubbed with cinnamon oil and vanilla extract at the hands of Domovoi, creatures of gnomish proportions that were in service of Domania, the patron goddess of the household. Many overlooked this broom because its purpose was so maddeningly ambiguous. Not many mages are drawn to the prospect of defending a home because they seek prestige and grandeur. This broom must have been hanging in this den for centuries by now.
To add to the complexity and central paradox of this broom, the element and the ruling planet of each reagent were a departure from one another. Cinnamon was connected to the passionate heat of fire and the beaming pride of the Sun, whereas vanilla was associated with the serenity of water and the nurturing affection of the Venus. Even with my in-depth studies of alchemy and energetic casting, it was difficult to imagine those dual paths co-existing or to detect the motivation of the individual who would wield such a deceptively intricate tool.
“Smells like cinnamon buns!” Joan exclaimed in unadulterated glee.
I hadn’t the slightest clue what she was referring to, but if I could hazard a guess, I would say that Joan was relishing in the scent of one of her sickeningly sweet lamb’s blood pastries. With firm conviction, she clenched the broomstick and resolutely struck the end of it against the ground so that its upturned bristles reverberated from the excitable impact.
“Not that I have any idea I am doing,” she announced to no one but herself, “but this is the one for me! I’ve got a good feeling from it!”
At least she was honest about the remark, and though she had no expressed strategy other than hazy guesses and the unusual approach she deemed “the sniff test,” I felt a grudging smile creep upon my lips.
I decided that she deserved some small reward for concocting her own tactics without a shred of assistance.
I ordered the mirror to shift its focus to Yavo and Irk, who chatted nervously about how their wayward yet-to-be-a-witch charge had fared with selecting her broom on her lonesome.
“Bouclier has too many rituals and formalities,” Irk complained, his arms crossed as he shifted from foot to foot. “I don’t know why it would’ve hurt for us to just keep her company in there.”
Yavo patted Irk’s shoulder in consolation. “These conventions are not designed to hold back the mage,” he calmly advised, “but rather to support growth. Joan must tap into herself to find the answer, in this case.”
I stared at the two creatures in deep concentration as I sharpened my will.
“Apportez-moi ces deux,” I commanded. “Bring the two to me.”
Now that these two peculiar creatures had endeared themselves to Joan, though I couldn’t imagine how exactly they won her over, I decided that they would be ideal to consult with. And by that, I meant that I would compel them to tell me the secrets to acquiring her trust, and then I would deal out directions for them to heed.
The mirror glittered with understanding, honing its focus upon my intended marks. I watched as the goblin and troll were reduced to two small green orbs before they were completely swallowed by the ether and then spat out onto my carpet. I was rather in a rush, so I didn’t spare the time for a more merciful teleportation spell. I desired their presence immediately.
“You never just ask when you need us!” Irk cried out with irritation and clutched his head from dizziness. “Everyone just has to deal with you on your schedule, huh?!”
Yavo glanced sideways to avoid confrontation. “How can we be of assistance, Monsieur?” he asked with reverence. I was slightly more fond of the troll because he erred on the side of diplomacy.
“I would like to ensure that the lamb’s blood does not drown in her own confusion and receives some proper guidance,” I revealed. “While you two cannot compare with my breadth of knowledge about how to succeed here, she seems glad for your company.”
“What are ya on about?” the goblin challenged. “We heard about you dragging her to the circle of eternal death and then dumping her like a sack of potatoes on the front steps.” He glared up at me and reeked of resentment. “Real warm welcome.”
“We are happy to have chanced upon her,” Yavo gripped Irk’s shoulder as a light warning, “and will continue to look out for her best interest. While I am pleased to hear that you’ve had a change of heart, what has brought it about?”
Irk was unimpressed and shrugged Yavo’s hand off him. “If you have another trick up your sleeve,” he hissed with menace, “and are up to another one of your wicked tricks, you’re on your own. What’s more, if you terrorize her, I’ll make sure you regret it.”
I raised an eyebrow and tried to imagine how a goblin who came up to my knee and had only a fraction of my power could make me regret anything.
“That is not what I have in mind for tonight,” I reassured him with a neutral tone of voice. “While I don’t feel that I need to apologize to her since I was merely introducing her to the realities of Lemuria, I would like to ensure that she settles in well for the evening.”
Yavo fidd
led with his thumbs before speaking up. “Beg your pardon,” he ventured gently, “but you’ve never inquired about the well being of any other prospect your father has asked you to contact. You usually have everyone fend for themselves, so why have you set your sights on Joan?”
“Maybe you’re actually willing to listen to your father for once?” Irk might have posed the question, but his expression told me that he remained unconvinced. “Even when she was uninitiated and hadn’t received her robe and broom, she was able to befriend the two of us and connect to a Cavallian pup,” he defended what he perceived as Joan’s virtues, “so Abelard’s hunch that she possesses unique powers could be right.”
I rolled my eyes at the possibility of deferring to my father’s questionable visions.
“No,” I curtly replied, “that isn’t the case. I watched Joan’s attempt to find a broom, and she was as clumsy as an untamed chupacabra. Since she’s a lamb’s blood out of her element, I thought it would be appropriate to try to ensure that her first day here is relatively peaceful and comes to a satisfactory conclusion.”
“You were spying on her?!” Irk exclaimed with indignation. “You keep saying that you want to hold Bouclier to a high standard, but you won’t even follow the rules,” he lamented. “Broom selection is supposed to be sacred, and you stuck your nose into Joan’s business.”
Yavo sighed and opted for a more generous interpretation. “Though that isn’t strictly aligned with the protocol,” he admitted, “I’m sure you meant the best. I imagine that you must have seen promise in her. I think she’s navigating the academy quite well and will only continue to impress us.”
I pounded my fist against the vanity table as the enchanted mirror it held shook precariously. “That’s just it, Yavo! I think that she’s making a fool of herself, and she doesn’t impress me in the slightest!”
The goblin and the troll exchanged looks but remained silent, which only incensed me even more.
“If you do not comply with what I am asking for, I will cast a transfiguration that will melt your flesh or turn you to stone,” I threatened. “Whichever happens to amuse me more.”
Even Irk, with all of his rebellious bravado, was not inclined to take any chances. He stepped behind Yavo and quivered before finding his voice again.
“Alright, alright!” the goblin frantically yelped. “We’ll do what you want as long as it doesn’t end up in any broken bones or other major issues for Joan.”
Yavo wrung his hands and shivered so fiercely that the gold-plated buttons on his waistcoat rattled. “We are your humble servants,” Irk furrowed his brow at the assertion Yavo made, but the troll continued with an elevated sense of politeness, “and will do our very best to honor your wishes.”
I nodded and stood up as I channeled my will into an intimidation glamour to accentuate my authority over the two. While I puffed out my chest and laced my fingers behind me, I looked out the window as though I were deep in thought. I was already fairly certain about the direction I wanted to take, but I wanted to add some gravity to the moment. At last, I looked down at the two with a stern gaze.
“I would like you to collect Joan and her Cavallian pup, then inform her that I expect her for dinner,” I demanded with a steady and firm voice. “I will ensure that she is well fed and escorted to her quarters by the end of the night, and she must agree to listen to my vision for the academy and heed my advice.”
When Irk twisted his lips dubiously, I didn’t even require telepathy to read his thoughts.
“Don’t even think of coming back empty-handed.”
I didn’t have to ask twice. They knew my fearsome capabilities of the Headmaster’s son and Bouclier’s top mage.
11
Joan
Since I hadn’t been assigned a room yet, I loitered in one of the castle’s drawing rooms and leafed through a book or two. I couldn’t really concentrate much on the reading material because I didn’t know how I was going to get home, and if I decided to stay here, I didn’t know where some poor human would be shoved off to. Finally, Yavo had knocked on the wall since there wasn’t a door to speak of. When I smiled in greeting and waved him in, Irk walked by Yavo’s side and sulked with a guilty expression.
“Mademoiselle, young master Theodore has requested your company for dinner. He would like to ensure you settle in well tonight with a proper meal,” Yavo revealed with a bit of hesitation. When the gentle troll broke the news to me, my shriek jolted Aurelius, and he pounced up anxiously.
“What?!” I blurted out in shock., “I don’t want to have dinner with that entitled asshole! I don’t care whose son he is. He can’t force me to eat with him. I was told attending school here was a no-strings-attached situation!”
I huffed and wrinkled my forehead. “Besides,” I crossed my arms over my chest and rapidly beating heart, “he’ll probably feed me a newt or sneak some foul potion into my meal. I’d honestly rather skip dinner than deal with his bullshit again.”
Aurelius looked up at me with puzzlement as though he thought I was being a bit paranoid. I admired that he was optimistic and believed in handing out second chances, but this wasn’t my first rodeo. Every moment I spent with Theo was pure torture, and he seemed to have serious daddy issues which played out by putting me through sadistic obstacle courses.
I sighed and dropped my arms down in defeat. “Come on, why are you all giving me such a hard time and acting like it’s all in my head?” My voice sounded like a pleading whine I could barely recognize. “You’ve seen what he’s capable of, and it hasn’t even been a full twenty-four hours. No one changes their colors that quickly.”
Yavo looked down as though he were a guilty kid whose hand was caught in the cookie jar, and Irk kicked at the ground wordlessly. I raised an eyebrow. While I still believed these two were my friends, they were clearly up to something or keeping some important information from me.
“Well, spit it out,” I demanded as I looked from one sheepish face to the other. “What’s going on?”
“Well…” Yavo began with hesitation as he toyed with a button on his waistcoat. “Mademoiselle, you know that we think the world of you already and that we have immense respect for you…”
I cracked a smile. “You’ve been a good sport about everything and a damn good friend, which is why I can’t figure out why you’d even bring up such a clearly bad idea.”
Irk shook his little fists violently, as though he had been dealt an injustice of epic proportions. I could tell that the little guy was worked up and that he was as overprotective of me as ever.
“The entitled bastard foisted this on us!” the goblin explained in agony. “I personally wish you never had to set eyes on Theo again, but he’s convinced himself that you must have dinner with him. And he played real dirty to make that happen.”
That didn’t surprise me. Theo would stoop to anything and stop at nothing to have his way. I was curious, however, about the details for this specific situation.
“What do you mean?” I pressed on with my impromptu interrogation. “What awfulness did Theo whip up this time?”
Yavo’s eyes widened as though he had a premonition of his own death. “You have known him for only a moment of hours, but we have attended to his every wish since he was a child.” He looked at me sadly as he tried to hold back tears. “He has only become more… outspoken over time.”
“You mean he’s grown up to be a damn tyrant!” the offended goblin corrected him.
The generally courteous troll sighed and shook his head. “Mademoiselle, I can’t speak as to why he is so adamant about having you over for dinner, but if you could find it in your heart to entertain his request, we would be eternally grateful.”
“What’s the matter?” I gently teased the real story out of the clearly shaken duo. “What did Theo tell you? Of course, I’ll play along if it means that you two would be okay.”
Aurelius nuzzled my shin to communicate that he too wished to spare our newfound buddies.
<
br /> “He’s real dramatic and gets caught up in his own monologues,” Irk sourly spat out, “but the long and the short of it is that if you don’t dine with him, we’re either gonna melt or turn to stone.”
Goosebumps popped up on my skin, and I felt the sickening coldness of anxiety wash over me. I wasn’t going to let that happen on my watch. I didn’t want to imagine being here at Bouclier without these two.
“As much as I mean hate,” I remarked with fatigued annoyance, “and I really do mean hate this… god-awful scenario, I’ll subject myself to it if it means saving both of your necks.”
Yavo and Irk’s eyes met with intense relief, and then the two of them flung their arms around me and wrapped me in a grateful embrace. Aurelius wagged his tail as he fed off their effervescent energy. I could even feel their bubbliness seep into my system. Realizing that your life would be spared seemed to be quite the rush.
“Oh, don’t fall all over yourselves because of this.” I patted both of their heads with affection. “You’re more than worth it. Besides, it’s just one night, and then I can tell him to take a hike.”
“Would you like us to go with you?” Irk peered up at me attentively. “Make sure it doesn’t go too badly?” Yavo smiled in support of the goblin’s sentiment.
I paused and considered his offer, then sighed with defeat. “As nice as that sounds,” I admitted, “I’m worried about what will happen when he catches sight of you. Based on his temper, I don’t want to take any risks when it comes to you guys.”
I ran my hand over Aurelius’ fluffy back and tried to put on my bravest smiles. “He’ll make sure that this doesn’t get too out of control.”
Yavo and Irk nodded with weak confidence and disentangled their small arms from me.
“Very well, Mademoiselle,” Yavo said gently, showing his respect for my judgment call. “To reach the dining hall, you must leave the supplies passage from whence we came, then proceed down the hall until you see a tapestry emblazoned with a golden goblet.”
