Taní soared through the air as the vile whispers approached the Fadenician reading corner. He crashed behind one of the sofa-long Sacco chairs, his forehead flaring with red-hot agony as he bumped against a shelf of tomes. Tempted though he was to scream, his lips remained sealed. They were just around the corner.
He could tell by the whiff of peppermint in the air.
Taní pressed himself against the Sacco pseudo-sofa despite his profusion of discomfort, drawing in his legs so not a single part of him stuck out. Perfectly hidden. Now to wait…
“Where’s that thin-blooded fry? I swear, the moment I get my hands on him, I’ll let him from his WRISTS.”
“Ah…Canela, please,” came a breathy, anxiety-tinged voice. “Not so loud. Others might hear.”
“Oh, trust me. They’ll hear. EVERYONE will hear once I get my hands on that rotten stray.”
The floorboards shuddered as her thunderous footsteps echoed in his ears. Though she lacked the meat on her bones to make so much force, the near rhythmic tap-tap-tapping of her boots gave the impression of a mire-lurker of legend skulking in its killing fields. And then, a pungent breeze of burning peppermint wormed its way up his delicate nostrils, causing his heart to stutter.
Is now a bad time to curry favor? He wondered in a panic.
Taní held his breath as her footsteps became methodical. And her eyes. He couldn’t see her, but he could feel her glare searing past the seat’s plush material.
“Canela, he isn’t here,” Çzar said. “Let’s go elsewhere.”
“No. You’re only saying that to let him off.”
“So? He’s just a first-year. We all made mistakes as first-years.”
“HE DESTROYED THE GARDEN YOU PLANTED. THE ONE YOU SPENT AN ENTIRE SEMESTER PLANNING. YOU HEAR THAT? YOURS. MY BROTHER’S.” Canela’s voice fell to a spine-chilling murmur. “Oh no…I won’t let him get away with that. For each tear you’ve shed, I’ll drain its worth in his tainted blood. And if he refuses, I’ll wrench it from him. I care not if he’s reduced to a dried husk… No one makes you cry. NO ONE. Not even mother.”
The singing of steel graced the air.
“CANELA, PUT THAT AWAY.”
“Come out, stray. Come out if you know what’s bloody good for you. One cut won’t hurt, I promise!” A low, devious chuckle broke the air. “Oh…I promise one cut won’t be all you’ll receive…”
Tremors racked Taní’s body as her hateful venom caressed his ears. Good blood, she really planned on accosting him, didn’t she? He considered slipping under the edges of the rug to better blend in with his environment, but after several failed attempts, he knew it wouldn’t conceal him. Besides, she’d just wrench out his trembling form like a misbehaving dog.
“YOU.”
Taní shielded his face. He wasn’t prepared to die. Not while his bucket list went on unfulfilled. Who else would ride a horse that actually listened to him, or eat a full, royal Coros breakfast! The extra thick slabs of bacon, the freshly baked muffins dusted with cinnamon, eggs scrambled to perfection, and slices of imported vasavendue from Nimmin with a cup of royals nightsip! Oh…just one sip of that and he’d be fine with dying.
Taní waited for his inevitable demise, but when nothing came, he removed his hands from his face. There was no one there. Curious (and somewhat forgetful), he peeked over the couch and found Canela pointing a sword at a group of students.
“Remove yourself posthaste, and if you so much as breathe a word, I’ll divert your charitable donations to my brother’s beautiful garden.” Canela turned her blade so that the fuller faced the ceiling. “Oh, and depend not on your wit. I’ve ears everywhere, and if I catch so much as a tiny slip, I’ll enlighten our pretentious Lord Vlasalisk just who stole that spare change of clothes from his locker.”
The girls hastily scrambled away, dropping reedprinters and sheets of freshly pressed notes. Freed of her hindrances, Canela turned to her brother with an exquisite flare of her skirt, and spoke in a captivating, if not sickly-sweet voice. Like a spoiled little girl whose parents got her everything. Even if they couldn’t afford it.
“Dearest, mind watching the entrance?”
Çzar fiddled with the edges of his vest. He made a valiant effort to hold her gaze, but his eyes drifted every time. “Canela…it’s fine. Really. Just let it go. The kid’s stupid, he probably—”
A broad, blood-freezing grin split the treasurer’s face. Its murderous intent matched only by the twinkle in her crimson-green eyes. “The entrance is over there, dearest. Not here. Unless…” She dropped the smile for a miserable, heart-wrenching pout. “Unless you truly despise me so…like mother always said…”
Her brother stared as if helplessly caught between colliding wagons. Taní hoped he’d remain supportive, sane, even. Just enough to convince her to stop, but in the end, he wilted. “I…fine. Sorry. I’m—” He swallowed and took her hand in his. “I love you.”
Canela jumped to the tips of her toes and planted a kiss on his cheek. That—apparently—was his sign to leave as he started for the entrance with all immediacy. Before he could vanish from sight, he paused mid-step, his crimson-green eyes darting to Taní.
“Canela?” Çzar said, his voice nearing a whisper.
“We can save the small talk for later, beloved. Right now, you’ve a job to do.”
“Ca— Er, I mean…sweetie?”
Canela perked up, her anger vanishing like a storm cloud after a Greentide’s shower. “Yes, dearest?”
“I heard Vlasalisk has an old crate of ginger cans lying around. Said they’re selling it for double the price. I’ve still got some spare SG on my Brand. Do you want it?”
The treasurer fumbled with her sword as she bolted towards him, her eyes twinkling with the delight of the Desolator’s hide. “Wait, really? Do you really mean it?”
He brushed a tender hand through her hair. “Yeah. You’ve been working hard. Wouldn’t seem fair if I didn’t treat you. Besides, it’s been a while since I’ve last seen you smile. I can’t afford much, but if I’ve to spend every last SG just to see it, then that’s money well spent.”
Canela shrank, her dark cheeks stained a deep burgundy. “But…we’ll be short on SG. Are you sure?”
“I can survive on water. C’mon, let’s go before the others beat us.”
An honest, bright grin touched her features as she (dangerously) drew herself to his side. Her arm intertwined with his. They left the room shortly thereafter, Canela’s bubbly voice warming the air with talk of dates.
A long sigh of relief escaped Taní’s lips. Great. He’d survive another day. With that realization hot on his mind, he collapsed flat on his back.
Good blood…that was close.
He still had fifty minutes to kill before grace ended. Maybe he could steal another wink of sleep before he had to go. The carpet was nowhere near as comfortable as the Joint’s sofas, but it would do. If he slept on the couch, though…well, that would be comfortable. He just ran the risk of being stabbed in his sleep.
Despite being entirely at fault for the garden incident, Taní appreciated Çzar for his measure of mercy. Could they still be friends?
“I gotta thank him later…”
“THERE YOU ARE.”
An all-consuming shriek of terror tore from Taní’s throat as Canela hung over the sofa’s edge. Her manic smile stretched from ear to ear. She thrust an arm down, grabbed him by the collar of his uniform, then yanked him to his feet. Her sword poised as if to strike.
“Thought you were clever as a dragon, didn’t you? Thought you could just hide here and avoid the consequences, huh?” She brought the sword to his neck. “Did you think me daft? Any brain-starved moron knows to hide behind a couch. And fortunately for me, you’ve distinguished yourself among their kind.”
Taní frantically struggled against her grip, but it was solid. Strange…he could almost feel heat emanating from her fingers. Not the natural warmth of life. No, this was something ancient.
Sedd.
“I-Is this about the garden? If it is, I’m sorry! There!” Taní said, doing his best to smile even as the tip of her blade nicked his neck.”
“Oh no. I care not for the garden. My brother’s seen to its repairs.”
“Are you su—”
“YES.” She drew the blade away. “I’m SURE.”
Not wanting to incur her wrath, Taní promptly shut his mouth. He’d only make things worse by speaking. Or worse, death. Satisfied with his silence, Canela dragged him into a sitting position on the couch, then sheathed her blade and glared at him.
“You aren’t going to make things easy for us, are you?” she inquired, her voice cold and flat.
Taní glanced at her, then Çzar. The look in the blonde’s eyes told him he wasn’t supposed to answer that question, so he silently followed his command.
“I swear, it’s always fries like you. They think they can come and do whatever they want, and you know what happens? They ruin everything. Cursed…” Canela spat. “We’re cursed, alright. Cursed with nothing but misfortune. As if the founders hold naught but disdain for us. Every time it’s something different. Last year, a first burned down the reading corner, and the year before that a fry tried to steal the Helm. Do you know what happened to them?”
“I—” Taní gulped. “I dunno.”
“Their hands melted. God-relics require Synthesis to wield. Any less than that will result in one’s utter annihilation. Do you know why? Because they didn’t embody the attributes hewn onto their divine visage.”
“Wait…” Taní said, confused. “I thought you were a second-year. How do you know about the other stuff?”
“If you stay long enough, you hear the stories, and trust me. There’s too many to count,” Canela remarked dryly.
“Then why am I here?”
The treasurer’s mirthless smile reappeared. “That’s an excellent question, fry. You see, SG makes the school go around. The more you have, the more you can afford. The more you can afford, the happier everyone is, and I love when everyone’s happy.”
Çzar rolled his eyes.
“The thing is, no one’s ever happy in Fadénix. Not even the Lady. We’re busy picking up the scraps while everyone’s got the proverbial goods. We can barely afford cans—feasts are always a daydream—our champion is stuck with one crummy relic that won’t listen to him, and we can’t even buy a day off!”
“Well, when you put it like that—” Taní paused, his eyes darting to hers. “Wait, you can buy days off? From like…class?”
Canela nodded. “Priciest thing on the menu, but the whole House has the honors. That means we’re exempt from tests, quizzes, reading, and more. This doesn’t apply to projects or finals, though. We still have to deal with those. As for holidays…well, some Houses purchase an entire week off after them. Just to unwind further.” Her smile faded. “That’s why I was looking forward to an extended Frostfall break with my beloved, but now… I won’t have it.”
Çzar drew his hand through the air as if to say “and there it is.”
Taní inched away, hoping he could escape the treasurer’s clutches. Unfortunately, her ironclad grip kept him rooted to his spot. “Alright…I still don’t see how I fit into any of this.”
“Do you know what a Shade does, fry?” Canela asked.
“Follow you around?”
“No. They’re in charge of overseeing daily operations. One of those being attendance. An uninterrupted week of attendance gains a student ten SG. A week of spotty attendance with an excuse nets them zero, but an unexcused absence? The school takes away two. Per absence. This isn’t for the entire day. No, it’s for EACH class. In the three days you’ve been with us, you’ve cost us over fifty-thousand-and-twelve SG.”
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Taní gaped. Thankfully, his mouth ran without the aid of his brain. “But doesn’t every student get two-hundred SG? Why can’t you just take that from them?”
“Because we aren’t allowed to. A House’s funds—aside from the base allowance granted to us—comes from donations, volunteer work, and school projects. If students donated to Fadénix as often as they were supposed to do, then things’d be fine,” Canela explained, disappointment creeping into her tone.
“But?”
“There’s no point in doing so. We’re cursed, have one measly relic, and are rarely chosen to be the academy’s representatives during the A.N.G. But why complain? We’ve earned it. People don’t want to bet on losers. They’d rather toss their money at people like Vlasalisk or Dragonfang. You know, the faces everyone wants to rally behind.”
Losers like them… Deprived of an opportunity to disprove all the naysayers, destined to stew in the hearsay spouted by those who didn’t care to give them a chance. Just like those unfair squires in the Monasteries. Everyone deserved a chance.
They just didn’t always get it. And so, they had to deal with it. Regardless of how they felt.
“And there’s no rule against that?” Taní pressed.
“No. Students can purchase whatever supplies they want from any House. Foods, weapons, luxuries…” Canela’s head lolled to the side. “They’re usually pricey for outsiders, but because of their reputation, they always have more than us. We’re just stuck with the bare minimum. Even had to mark things up just to get by.” She sighed. “Not like it’s working…”
Çzar inched closer to her, his fingers instinctively threading through her unkempt black strands. Though Canela was frowning, she nuzzled into his touch. The dejected glint in her eyes touched by a spot of warmth.
“I’m sorry,” Taní murmured with a bow of his head, “but I don’t know how I can help.”
Canela’s fury vanished, replaced by complete hopelessness. “My first idea was to string you up and drain your blood, but now, I don’t even care enough to do that. Your blood’s probably not even worth much, anyway.”
Çzar shot her a flat, disapproving stare, but otherwise continued his ministrations.
“Blood exchange rate is abysmal here. Only worthwhile way to make SG with it is to sell it by the gallon.” Canela squeezed her eyes shut, her brow twitching with annoyance. “Everyone says they’re too busy, but they don’t care. And after this? I don’t blame them. It took a single day for some new blood to ruin months of planning, and during the second week of school?” She leaned against her brother for support, her face stricken with an exhaustion Taní had only seen from his mother. “We’re through. We might as well say goodbye to our remaining relic. Not like we get much use out of it.”
Taní edged his way off the seat. “So…I’m off?”
“Yeah, I don’t care anymore. Just do whatever.”
“Really?”
“Yes. Things can’t possibly get any worse. We’re already broke,” Canela whispered that last part to herself.
“Oh…” Taní looked away. “Alright. Bye.”
Taní recovered his belongings and quickly made his way to the exit. As he turned the corner, a tight, stringy gasp caught his attention. Curious, he peeked over the edge.
Canela found herself sheltered within the one-armed embrace of her brother, his freehand moving with the grace of an adept swordsman. His strokes were slower than before. More thorough. Almost as if he sought to untangle the thick knots in her hair with a gentle swipe.
The treasurer stood on the tips of her toes, embracing him in return. Her chin to his shoulder. Çzar must’ve been a little over half a foot taller judging by their height difference, and though Taní couldn’t see her face, those low, tight breaths pierced his heart.
Good blood, he really was a jerk. He got off free, but her? She’d have to deal with the fallout. Not that there was anything he could’ve done. He was just one person.
Taní’s gaze fell to her Brand. The miniature storehouse of SG. Wait… He thought. SG…
Summoning his courage, he stepped inside. “Hey.”
Canela pushed her brother away, her hands flying to her eyes as she vigorously wiped at the corners. Her make-up smeared. “What do you want?” she asked with a slight quiver.
Taní mulled over his offer. He really didn’t want to say it. Not when it would leave him destitute.
Then again, if he could do something in return, if he could make something right, then wasn’t that the best thing to do? Tygenna tasked the Juneacão to preserve life. Didn’t that also extend to peace?
“Look, kid,” Çzar said softly, “I don’t think now’s the best time to talk. Why don’t you go and enjoy grace? My sister needs a little time.”
That disapproving look…
It made Taní feel like garbage.
“Is there a standard amount people usually donate?” he asked, ignoring him.
Canela sniffled. “Ten to twenty SG from what I’ve heard. Those that hold prominent positions in their House are obligated to donate thirty percent of their monthly allowance.”
“How much do you guys make in a month?”
“Less than a thousand.”
“Wow, you guys really are broke.”
A veil of shimmering moisture flooded Canela’s eyes as she drew in a sharp, ragged breath. Her brother immediately brought her into his warm embrace, and though they spilled, he wiped them as best he could. Glaring at Taní all the while.
“Oh…sorry about that…” Taní said, flashing them a small, apologetic smile.
“At this rate, we won’t have enough SG to buy cans for the rest of the semester. We won’t get days off, new books, or even a feast…” Canela rested her head against Çzar’s chest. “God, we’ll be the only House without a feast this year.”
Taní resisted the urge to inch away until he was out of sight. To have caused enough trouble to last a year… Their life really did get harder with him in the equation.
“Treasurer Canela.” Taní stepped closer to them, his hand on his Brand. “Would you mind if I donated?”
“Sure…” she sniffled and met him halfway. “Seeing as you’re new, I don’t expect you to have more than the customary fifty they start you off with. Would you like to donate five? Maybe ten?”
“Nah, just take everything on it.”
“As you say. Hold out your Brand.”
Taní did as instructed, uncertain of what to expect. Suddenly, Canela raised her Brand and thrust it into Taní’s. They didn’t splinter. Hers simply phased through his.
Her initials distorted into a series of numbers that increased from several dragon-eyes to an intricate array of lines reminiscent of two moons.
She nonchalantly drew her Brand to her face, but upon glimpsing the sequence of numbers, stared in utter astonishment. “What… How—How did you get over two thousand?”
“Dunno. Sierez said it had something to do with good will, but I don’t know what he meant by that. Two-thousand-and-fifty should be adequate, right?”
Çzar peered at the distorted initials on Canela’s Brand, rubbed his eyes, then gawked at Taní. “Good blood…you really did have two thousand on you. Not even the Lady makes that much in a month.”
“Guess I was lucky,” Taní mumbled, looking away.
“Screw lucky, what did you even do?”
Taní recounted the events of his first day. From the ship ride to exploring the town. He neglected to detail his wanting to use the restroom, painting his “emergency” as a worthwhile endeavor that just so happened to result in his state of unconsciousness.
Canela and Çzar, engrossed by Taní’s thinly disguised odyssey of toilet-based relief, sat watching his elaborate gestures. Their eyes twinkling with childish amazement. He found their current arrangement amusing, though. In that, Canela blatantly sat on Çzar’s lap like some spoiled little girl.
“You rode in the princess’s cabin?” Canela asked, her hands cradling Çzar’s.
Taní nodded. “Ended up there when all the others threw me out.”
“And your sword tore through the barrier? No lie?” Çzar pressed.
“Almost. Something pushed back at the last second, but I don’t know what.”
Çzar rested his chin on Canela’s shoulder. “And you’re sure it wasn’t Sedd?”
“Yeah. Wasn’t tapping into it.”
“Who’d the sword belong to, anyways?” Canela asked.
“Danza. He’s my Master.” Taní reached for the sword, suddenly remembering he’d thrown it somewhere underneath his bed.
Çzar frowned. “Danza…Danza…”
“Do you know him?” Canela inquired.
“Not particularly. I feel as if I’ve heard the name before. That’s all.”
“Might be one of Master Sierez’s companions. Used to ride with them back during the disputes with Tyrem.”
Çzar gave a small shrug. “Probably. That just leaves one question.”
Taní offered a silent tilt of his head.
“Did Master Sanrevelle really buy you dinner?”
Canela drew away with a fury, her fist crashing upon the backside of her brother’s head like a burning meteorite. Çzar staggered to his knees, his high-pitched yelp devolving into a low, guttural growl. “Good blood, woman! What is the matter with you?”
“Don’t act as if I haven’t seen you ogling her!”
“What? She’s our AP Art teacher. Where else am I supposed to look?”
“Anywhere but her!” Canela hissed.
Çzar groaned, though that seemed to be the full extent of his response. Taní thought Eleanor pretty enough. For her age, at least. She failed to hold a candle to Lavisa’s natural splendor, but he imagined she boasted her fair share of admirers.
As Taní came to learn, Çzar’s curiosity stemmed from Eleanor’s reputation. Being a cold, detached figure, the woman outright refused to entertain simplicity. Taní wasn’t sure how “simple” knocking himself out was, but if being a fool constituted as “simple,” then he was certain he’d earned her ire.
Even then, Taní didn’t think her heartless. A little rude, yes, but who wasn’t around strangers?
“What happens with the SG now?” Taní asked after a moment’s pause.
“I’ll see that it’s stored within the vault.” Canela brushed the hilt of her Brand. “It should get us by for the rest of the month.”
The rest of the month. Only two weeks left. If they played their cards right and received several more donations, maybe it could snowball from there. Even then…
“Hey, kid, don’t worry.” Çzar’s reassuring tone dispelled the ideas forming in Taní’s head. “We’re in good hands.”
He frowned. “But weren’t we doing bad just moments ago?”
“That’s cuz we had nothing to work with, but now? We’ve got this.” Çzar twirled a strand of Canela’s thick black hair around his finger. “Trust me; my sister’s got a handle on this. Believe it or not, she’s as smart as she is pretty.”
Canela giggled. “I suppose we’re lucky in that regard.”
Lucky…
“If you don’t mind me asking…is the one relic true?” Taní asked.
“Yeah, why?” Canela said without the slightest hint of hesitation.
“Curious, really. Every other House has two, so I thought—”
“What? That we were hiding another?”
“Yes? No? I’m not sure.”
Çzar swept a dismissive hand. “Don’t rattle yourself. Lots of first-years think we’re hiding something. Even I did when I started.”
“So that’s it? We just have one?” Taní asked.
Canela stood up from her spot, motioned for her brother to follow, then strode towards the exit. “I suppose you’ve earned the honor of glimpsing our vault during odd hours. Come.”