Fifteen years ago…

I wait nervously in the school courtyard for Cristian and Diana as Sebastian taps his foot impatiently, eager to get home. My relationship with Cristian is still a secret I’ve kept from everyone, especially from my parents and Elena. My parents will tell me not to date; my father because he doesn’t trust anyone, and my mother because she thinks I should remain focused on my studies and taking over the family legacy. The only person who might know is Antonio, who caught the two of us holding hands. I’ve not made that mistake again, but the damage has been done. I don’t even know what Antonio was doing in the potions room in the first place the day he caught us. Papí said he was there to intern for one of the profesores. Whatever the reason, it was embarrassing when he laughed seeing us both. My heart was beating so fast, I thought I was going to die on the spot. I wanted to throw one of the mortars at him, but Cristian said I was too young to commit murder. I’m afraid that if he tells Elena, the whole town will know, and then I’ll never see Cristian again, because I’ll have died from embarrassment, or my mother will have killed me.

“Hola, Clarita,” Cristian greets me, shyly, glancing around to make sure no one else is around before he takes my hand. “How are you?”

“I’m fine,” I say, watching from the corner of my eye as Diana waves to Sebastian, and takes her place next to him as we all leave the courtyard together to walk home. “I think I’m almost done with my paper for historia. I just have to go to the library tomorrow to get at least one more book.”

“I don’t even know where to start. I just have random paragraphs I have to mush together. Diana says she has own paper she’s writing for historia, and it sounded more difficult than mine.”

“It is,” agrees Sebastian. “I don’t know why Profesora Avilés makes us write papers. It’s not like we’re going to do anything with the research.”

“What are you researching?” I ask.

“El Primer Familiar,” replies Diana.

“Sebastian didn’t tell me he was working on a history paper,” I tease. “He just always tells me he’s busy, and never comes out of his room.”

“It’s not like you can write it for me,” he huffs, kicking a rock along the path.

“No, pero I can still help.”

“I don’t need help,” he says, pridefully. “I can write it myself.”

I roll my eyes, then exchange a glance with Cristian. He immediately smiles, and it makes my heart skip a beat. Diana giggles, and Sebastian scoffs.

“So gross,” grumbles Sebastian.

“I guess the two of you haven’t figured out how to keep each other out of the other’s head?” asks Diana.

“All day she’s like this,” whines Sebastian, raising his hands up in front of him to emphasize the word ‘this’. “Always thinking of Cristian. Always dreaming of Cristian. ‘I wonder what Cristian is doing right now.’ ‘I wonder what Cristian had for lunch.’ ‘I wonder if Cristian did well on his test.’ It’s going to make me insane. I don’t know how she gets any work done.”

My cheeks burn, and for a moment I think of swatting Sebastian. He stops in his tracks, falling behind, looking surprised.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, catching up a few moments later. “Pretend you didn’t hear that.”

“I already did. You can’t take it back,” says Cristian, feigning disappointment.

“Cristian is the same way,” says Diana, with a giggle. “Always ‘Clara this’ y ‘Clara that.’ Trust me, nothing motivates you more when you’re training, than witnessing your Mystic having a crush on somebody. I was desperate to sever our constant connection.”

“Diana,” cries Cristian, eyes wide. “Why?”

“What? She clearly likes you too, so what does it matter?”

“Ugh,” he scoffs, lowering his head. “I’m sorry, Clara. Our familiares have no manners.”

“No, it’s endearing,” I reassure him. “I’m glad you think of me, too.”

“I’m going to vomit,” grumbles Sebastian.

“Yo tambien,” replies Diana.

We reach the fork in the road where Cristian and I are forced to go our separate ways. Cristian lives in the poorer parts of the village, while my family has an entire estate, and enough land to house a whole neighborhood. It took much convincing to let them let me walk to and from the academy, instead of riding on a horse or in a carriage. In the end, I reassured them that walking was good for me. I squeeze Cristian’s hand lightly before letting it go, then wave goodbye to him and Diana. Diana waves a cheery goodbye, and I elbow Sebastian’s side when he just stares down the road. Reluctantly he waves, then turns immediately around to continue walking down the path. Once Cristian is out of sight, I sprint after Sebastian.

“Why can’t you be nice,” I huff, catching up. “They’re both really nice, and they care about you.”

“I don’t really care,” he says, staring down at the road towards his feet. “I think they only care about you.”

“Are you going to be in such a bad mood during Diego’s party?” I feel a small shock coarse through me as Sebastian flinches, then stares at me wide-eyed. “You forgot about the party, didn’t you?”

“No,” he lies. Fear creeps up my spine.

“Sebastian! Did you at least get a cravat?”

“Sí,” he lies, flinching away from me when I move my hand to readjust the bag on my shoulder.

“Sebastian!” I scold him.

“Maybe Antonio has one I can borrow? He’s probably got like five of them. Or your dad?”

“We’re not asking my dad. He already dislikes you enough. Do you need me to do your hair? I’ve gotten really good at braiding.”

He gives me a doubtful look. “I’d rather your aunt did it for me. She’s better at it.”

I pout, then stomp on ahead of him. “Fine.”

“Did you want to do my ha-”

“Forget it,” I grumble. “Let’s go. Hopefully we can catch Antonio at home.”

I knock at Antonio’s bedroom window, whispering his name, hoping not to disturb anyone else, as everyone is already bustling around making preparations for Diego’s party. When he pushes aside the curtain, and appears at the window, he looks disheveled, his hair pointing every which way, his collared shirt crooked and wrinkled, his cheeks flushed, and his forehead slightly damp with sweat.

“¿Estás bien, Antonio?” I ask him, looking him over several times, mildly concerned. “Are you sick?” I move away from him, covering my face with a handkerchief.

He runs a hand through his hair to flatten it, then readjusts his shirt. “¿Qué haces aquí? Tía was looking for you. She stopped by earlier.”

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“I took the long way home,” I say, my cheeks burning.

“¿Con Cristian? What do you want?”

“Do you have a cravat you can loan to Sebastian? He didn’t get one for the party.”

Antonio looks Sebastian up and down, looking irritated. Sebastian rolls his eyes, but I can feel his embarrassment as his cheeks go dark.

“Sure,” Antonio scoffs. He disappears, then returns with a satin cravat a deep shade of purple. “Keep it. I never wear it. It’s not my color.”

“Didn’t Tía Gloria give this to you?”

“Do you need one or not?” he huffs. “Don’t be a choosy beggar.”

“Sorry. Thank you.”

“Hurry home. Your mom looked upset.”

“Isn’t she always?”

He breathes out a laugh. “Go. I’ll see you at the party.”

“I’ll see you later.”

“¡Hasta luego!”

I rush out of my bedroom in my dark blue dress with green embroidery on the skirt, and a green shawl to match draped over my shoulders. Placing the last pin in my hair, I walk down the steps, nearly falling down when I see Sebastian at the bottom, waiting with both of my parents. He looks so different in a pair of black trousers, crisp white shirt beneath an embroidered purple vest, dark suit jacket, black coat, and Antonio’s purple cravat. His hair, half-braided, is neatly pulled back into a ponytail, decorated with silver beads. He looks almost ashamed to be looking so handsome.

“Clara!” exclaims my mother, wearing her best dress and jewels. “You look beautiful. Tell her, amor!”

“You look beautiful, Clara,” says my father, dressed in his best suit and tie.

“Thank you,” I say, carefully making my way down the stairs, unable to take my eyes off Sebastian.

Mother fixes my hair when I reach the foot of the stairs as I continue to stare, unable to pull my gaze away from Sebastian.

“He looks great, doesn’t he? Muy guapo,” says Mother.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so well dressed,” I say, looking at him from head to toe and back.

He rolls his eyes, but I see a hint of a smile on his face, and there’s a feeling of pride hidden somewhere beneath his embarrassment. “You look okay, too, I guess.”

“Eres hermosa, Clara. Come on, let’s go,” says Mother. “¡José, vamos!”

José is mother’s familiar. He’s a grumpy black cat, and a moody old man. He has a full home in the basement, and I only ever see him when Mother has to go to work, otherwise, he keeps to himself, and complains about Father’s cooking every chance he gets. Father is so used to it, he doesn’t even get mad anymore, he treats it as a challenge to get better. When Father isn’t home, sometimes I see José and Mother talking in the garden as they tend to the weeds and the plants. She always looks so happy with him, and he always looks happy when he’s with her. For some reason, she also always looks nervous when José and Father are in the same room, and lately, I’ve wondered if Father just doesn’t like familiars. Father grew up in the mainland, where most Mystics frown upon our traditions, calling familiars ‘soul-bonded slaves’. Father never speaks about it, and Mother always changes the subject when I ask.

José gaits up the stairs, then goes into his human form (which unlike Sebastian’s small puff of air, is like the sound of fabric brushing up against itself). He’s wearing the same dark green suit and tie he wears to every Reyes family event, but Mother always compliments him and gushes just the same, as if he were a small child attending his first formal event.

We arrive at Tía Gloria’s house in a horse-drawn carriage, and the footman announces our arrival as he places the stool beneath the carriage door. Mother steps out first, the footman holding her hand as she steps down in her frilly dress, followed by father, myself, José, and finally Sebastian. Tía Gloria greets us at the front door, giving us all kisses, her strong perfume making me dizzy and slightly nauseous. I struggle to keep my expression neutral, until finally getting away when I spot my cousins in the distance. Elena looks pretty in a baby blue dress with dark blue embellishments. Her hair is done up in curls with sparkly pins shaped like leaves holding it in place. Adrian looks handsome in a black suit and dark blue waistcoat. Camilla looks stunning in a pastel green dress, and next to her, Antonio wears a black suit with a waistcoat to match her outfit.

“I wish you weren’t related to him,” grumbles Sebastian.

“Trust me,” I whisper. “If I could marry Camilla, I would.”

He snickers, pulling out my seat for me, then taking a seat next to me at the table. He scoots his chair in, and pushes the back of mine as I try to do the same.

“Hola, Sebastián,” greets Camilla.

His cheeks go bright red. “Hola, Camilla. ¿Cómo estás?”

“I’m fine. You look nice in purple.”

“Ah, this is Antonio’s.” He reaches for the cravat, and runs his thumb across it.

“It looks better on you than it did on him.” She chuckles when Antonio narrows his eyes, and frowns at her. “¿Qué? You want me to lie?”

“You don’t have to lie, pero you don’t have to tell the full truth tampoco,” Antonio says, gesturing with one hand towards Sebastian.

Sebastian’s eyes meet mine, and his lip quirks up into a half grin. “You don’t have to be jealous, Antonio.”

Antonio tuts irritably, and shakes his head. “Where’s your boyfriend, Clara?”

“I don’t have a boyfriend, Antonio.”

Elena’s eyes nearly pop out of her skull at the sound of the word. She leans in so close to me, I’m scared her head is going to collide with mine.

“¿Qué dijo? Who is it?”

“No one. He’s lying,” I groan.

I glare at Antonio across the table, but he doesn’t look at me. He looks nervously at Sebastian instead, slowly leaning away in his seat, until he can’t get much further because his back is pressed against it. Sebastian is furious.

“Nothing. I was lying,” he says, defensively.

Elena looks back and forth between Antonio and I, her lip curled at an odd angle, trying to make one of us break, then gives up when she realizes neither of us is going to say anything.

“Tía Leticia wouldn’t let her date, anyway. She's the future head of the family. She doesn’t have time for boys. Not until she gets married, and then her future husband is just expected to materialize de la nada, perfect y todo.”

“I’m sure mami already has plans for all that. She has plans for my entire life,” I sigh. “So I won’t need to date or anything. I’ll just marry whatever stranger she sets before me.”

A sadness blankets me, and I catch a glimpse of Sebastian’s face before he turns away, rubbing his face with the sleeve of his jacket. I really should figure out this emotion blocking technique, or Sebastian and I will never be happy.

At the end of the night, I watch as Elena and Antonio clink their glasses to Diego’s, and drink to celebrate his fifteen birthday. Sebastian remains at my side, picking at the cuff of his shirt, occasionally taking a bite of food off his plate. Camilla and Adrian make small talk with some of the other familiars belonging to my distant cousins. I wish Sebastian would be more social and talk to them, but he seems determined to not move all evening, seemingly glued to his seat.

“You can go talk to them if you want, Sebastian. You don’t have to remain at my side.”

“I don’t really want to.”

“Why don’t you ask Camilla to dance with you. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind it.”

He curls into himself, pulling his sleeves over his hands, then grumbling something I cannot hear.

“Why don’t-”

“I want to go home. I feel uncomfortable in this suit, this food tastes terrible, and I hate all this noise.”

“We can’t go home,” I mumble. “It’s too far. There’s cake if you like it.”

He’s disappointed, but there’s nothing I can do to help him, and my mind is getting increasingly fuzzy as he sits and stews in his anger. My temperature rises the longer I stare at him, wishing I could just send him home so my evening could be better. The music from the band begins to slow, and several couples go to the open dance floor and begin to sway together. My parents never dance. I wish they would do it at least once during one of these parties, so I would know what they looked like when they were in love.

“Why don’t you go talk to the others? I’m sure-...”

He shakes his head. “Can we just go somewhere quiet, please? Just for a little while?”

Antonio returns to the table, taking a long drink from his glass of water.

“Antonio?” I ask, nodding my head slightly in Sebastian’s direction.

“¿Sí?”

“Sebastian needs to go somewhere quiet for a bit. Do you know where that could be?”

“Uh…” He thinks for a moment, taking a bite out of his bread, and wiping his hands on a napkin. “Puedes ir out the back door. It goes right out to la playa. I don’t think anyone is out there right now. Not while the music is playing.”

“Vamos, Sebastian,” I take Sebastian’s hand, and pause before leaving the table. “If anyone is looking for me, I’m in the powder room.”

“What if they’re looking for Sebastian?”

“No one is ever looking for Sebastian.”

“Okay.”

Sebastian sits at the foot of the stairs leading out towards the beach. The bottom step is half covered in sand. With his feet bare, he buries them into the sand up to the ankles. I lean against the railing, looking out towards the water, watching as the ships pull into the harbor. The light of the moon gleams on the water, the sound of the waves soothes me, and the gentle breeze cools my heated cheeks.

“You can go back inside,” he mumbles. “I’ll be fine out here by myself. I won’t go anywhere.”

I hike up my skirt enough to sit comfortably on the stairs next to him, and look out across the glittering dunes. “It’s fine. Do you feel better?”

I reach out to touch his head. He flinches away, and turns away from me.

“Sebastian, how can I ever know what you’re thinking if you won’t let me in?”

“I let you in,” he grumbles. “I let you in all the time. You’re the one that just won’t listen to me, you just want to sever our connection.”

“I don’t want to sever it. Not completely. I just want to get it under control before our emotions get all tangled up, and we can’t figure out who is who. Could you imagine if we’re both in any kind of battle, and we’re both scared because one of us is scared?”

“Battle?” He looks up at me with wide eyes. “What battle are we fighting, Clara?”

“Mi papá dijo que there are people coming from the mainland to take the familiars.”

“And you think that’s a bad thing?”

“Isn’t it? How are we supposed to use our magic?”

He leans over, and at first, I cannot tell if he’s feeling sick of crying, but after a while, I realize he’s laughing… loudly. “Clara, Clara, Clara. If you only knew, you would understand, but they tell me not to tell you. They told me to keep it secret.”

“To keep what secret?”

“Everything…” He stares off towards the waters, leaning slightly towards me.