The note that Magistus had slipped under my door on the day of our date just read “Kayden – Alta Foresto.” I plugged that into the map and found myself wandering through a large, verdant forest.

The trees were high and luxurious, leaving the ground under my feet quite dark, but I knew I wouldn’t get lost. Aside from my excellent sense of direction, there weren’t many walking trails, and Magistus had thoughtfully marked the correct trail with bright red flowers.

The path soon opened into a clearing, the trees adorned with bunches of the red flowers. The ground was coated in smooth stones and gentle moss and, in the very middle, a large picnic blanket containing an overflowing basket of food and an extraordinarily dramatic young man lounging in a position that looked relaxed, but he’d probably spent an hour analysing to best show off his muscles.

It would’ve been an hour wasted, because as soon as Magistus saw me he lost his composure and leapt to his feet, breaking into a nervous grin. “Kayden! Welcome!”

“This is your ‘practical’ date?”

“Well, I had to mark the location somehow. The map doesn’t work out here, and using flowers is environmentally friendly!”

“And the picnic?”

“Time efficiency. We can eat here and we don’t have to cut things short to go and get lunch. Care for a homemade fruit tart?”

I eyed the selection of baked goods and fancy toppings that he was slowly extracting from the basket. “You made all this?”

“No. I mean, I can, obviously. I’m an excellent cook. But this particular feast was provided by my sister. The price of her promising not to gossip about this was the right to cater the event.”

“Oh.” I eyed a particularly tasty-looking cheese scone. “So to comply with such an agreement and avoid gossip, I basically have to eat this. If we don’t stuff ourselves with delicious food, we’re violating our own ‘no politics’ rule by encouraging gossip.”

“Exactly.”

“In that case, you’d better hand me that little basket of cherries as well.” I settled down onto the blanket. “So. How are things?”

“Oh, you know. Too much homework, we’re surrounded by annoying people, I look amazing. The usual. Anything interesting going on in your life?”

“Oh, no. My life is equally boring. Even more boring, since I look even more amazing.”

“Ha! You wish.”

“No need to be jealous, Magistus. Jealousy isn’t attractive.” Before he could react, I leaned forward and pecked him on the lips. He shoved my shoulder, rolling his eyes.

“I don’t need advice on being attractive from somebody I once watched eat eight cocktail sausages off a stick.”

“I knew this picnic was missing something!”

“Just eat your damn cherries.” He lobbed one at me. I tried to catch it in my mouth. It bounced off my nose.

“And now you’re wasting your sister’s lovingly prepared food. Shame on you.”

He threw another one. “Are you still going to be here after the Initiation?”

“Yeah. I’m not going anywhere.”

“It’s dangerous, you know.”

“For you, maybe. You have to pick up a spell in there. I just have to walk in and walk out alive. What kind of spell are you hoping for?”

“We don’t get to pick.”

“I know, but what are you hoping for?”

“Promise not to laugh.”

“I promise no such thing.”

“I want to be a seer.”

“You? Mr. look-at-me? Want a prophecy? I would’ve picked you for something a lot flashier. Although Kylie’s prophecy can be pretty flashy, I guess.”

“No, not something that can tell the future or anything. I’m thinking one of the ones that let you see far away, or detect things. There are some prophecies that let you detect other people’s emotions – they’re very rare, but they exist.”

“You want to be a magical empath? I mean, I see the diplomatic advantages, but I would’ve picked that as more in Magista’s wheelhouse. No, no, I see the appeal; she already knows how to socialise. I can see why you’d need magic to keep up.”

“Stop!” He lobbed another cherry, but I was ready this time. I caught it and tossed it back. He did manage to catch it in his mouth, and winked at me. “What would you want, if you could change yours?”

“Something with rules. Something I could control with a magic word or an action or something, that made sense.”

“So like, a contract spell? Or translocation, maybe. Some of the more complicated change spells – ”

“I don’t care what it does, so long as it obeys me to do it. Having something I can’t cast on purpose but I can cast on accident is kind of the worst of both worlds. When I do have control over it, though, it’s gonna be so much cooler than your dumb prophecy. I’ll be out there making force bridges and making stuff fly around the room and you’ll be like ‘oooh, I sense that Alanna doesn’t like her lunch.’”

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

“I’ll be able to sense when you want to make shit fly around the room, and distract you.”

“Pfft, you couldn’t – ”

I didn’t get to finish, because Magistus had leapt to his feet (as in, literally leapt to his feet, off the damn ground) and was picking me up in his arms. He swung me around a couple of times, then set me on my feet. “Oh, I can’t distract you? Go on, then. Evoke the spell.”

“I don’t have that kind of control over it yet.”

“You’re studying with Miratova, aren’t you? Sounds like someone’s making excuses to cover for being distracted.”

I reached inside myself for the spell, but just when I thought I had it, Magistus tripped me, catching me just before I hit the ground. “Oops. Guess I accidentally distracted you.”

I shoved him away, closed my eyes and reached again. This time, I was interrupted by his lips on mine.

He pulled away. “Oh, sorry. Was that distracting?”

“You’re really not scared of my curse at all, are you?”

“Why would I be? There’s no magic out here for it to fuck up.”

“There wasn’t any magic at home, either.”

“What happened back there?”

“You don’t know?”

“Simon thinks you were in legal trouble. That’s all I know. Do you want to talk about it?”

Yes. “No. Not really.”

Magistus nodded. “You don’t trust me. I get that.”

“It’s not… I mean, I want to trust you, I just…”

“No, no; I get it. There’s a lot at stake. Magistus loves playing her games, Simon hates you, you’re bound to side with Max over me – ”

“No politics, remember?”

“I remember. I’m just saying, I get it, and I don’t blame you for being suspicious.”

“Why is it that no matter how much I try to stay out of your stupid politics, it keeps infecting every facet of my life?”

“Honestly, this is on you for hanging out with legacy mages. There are hundreds of other people to choose from and you keep hanging around us. Although it’s probably too late to back out now.”

“Yeah. It is.”

“Definitely. After spending so much time in my radiant presence, there’s no way you’d be able to stay away. You’re stuck with us forever, even if you can’t trust me.”

“You just accepting that is making me want to trust you.”

“So you’re falling for my devillish political wiles.” He winked. “The perfect plan.”

“Are you even allowed to date me? Won’t that tick your family off?”

“Who cares what they think? I don’t owe them anything.”

“I thought you did? Isn’t that kind of the deal, with them paying for your magical schooling and all?”

“The Cottinglys paid for one kid to come to the Haven. Mum paid for the other, and while Grandad might have wanted to imply that his gift was payment for a Brandt mage, nothing was stated explicitly; they wouldn’t have gotten away with it otherwise. So, no, I don’t.”

So the twins had decided that Magista would be the Cottingly mage. I filed that away under ‘potentially useful secrets’. “Still. Drama.”

“Now, now, if you’re looking for excuses not to date me, I get it; it must be hard for someone used to looking cute to be seen with someone so unbelievably dashing. You look plain by comparison, and that must be a shock. But don’t worry, my family aren’t arranged marriage weirdos or anything. They don’t get to plan out my romantic life. Unless you secretly belong to a family we have a blood feud with, nobody cares.”

“Are there a lot of families you have a blood feud with?”

“Man, you have no idea. Mages are nuts.”

“I just told you I was staying on to become a mage, and you’re already talking me out of it?”

“Hey, you already know everyone here is nuts. And you’re still here.”

“So you’re telling me I let a crazy man lure me out alone into the forest?”

“I don’t have magic yet. Technically, you’re the crazy man I’m alone with out in the forest.”

“Oh no, I might attack you with magic. You’d better distract me some more. For your own safety.”

Ten minutes later, I walked back into the halls of Skolala Refujeyo with half of an excellent fruit tart in one hand, a small basket of backup tarts in the other, and in a significantly better mood than I’d been in for several weeks. We hadn’t really talked things out, like we’d planned, but that was probably for the best. It would’ve gotten political.

As for the politics, I was pretty sure I trusted him. Well, no; I didn’t trust him. But I was pretty sure that he wasn’t faking interest in me, which was a start.

On the way back to my room, I found myself falling into step between Max and Clara, both with arms full of books, engaged in animated conversation. I caught “ — Bernoli system, but if you look into Miratova’s experiments I think the energy difference better follows the old classification – ” before I tuned out. Of course the ubernerds had found each other to nerd out with. They seemed to be talking about magical theory homework, but only some obscure, super-advanced version that existed only in their heads and was only tangentially related to the basic work that the Fiore had assigned. They didn’t even notice me behind them. Could I balance one of my fruit tarts on Max’s head without him noticing? Maybe.

“Oh, hello, Kayden! What are you doing?”

“Uh… nothing. I was just going to offer you this tart. Want one?”

“No, thanks. We just ate.”

“Wait, wait,” Clara said, “did Magista make those? Max, it’s practically criminal to turn down Magista’s tarts! Do you have any idea how good she is?”

“Clara, did you want a – ”

“Thanks!” She snatched it out of my hand and shoved the entire thing in her mouth, a feat which involved folding it in half first. It was definitely something to watch.

The tarts were good, but I didn’t think they were that special. “You, uh, like tarts, huh?”

“Magista’s, sure. Magistus tried to make these last week and they were the worst thing I’d ever tasted. You can tell who got the cooking talent in that family.”

“Wait, Magistus can’t cook?”

“He can’t boil water without burning it. Literally. He once tried to make tea and set the kettle on fire. Don’t tell him I said this, but I’ve literally had nightmares about his cooking. He boiled eggs once and they exploded, and the next day we found half of one inside the oven and we still don’t know how it got in there.”

“Your secret is safe with me,” I lied, filing all that away under ‘useful ammunition for banter with Magistus’.

“Good to know,” she said, snatching two more tarts out of my little basket. “I gotta go. Thanks for the help, Max.”

“Same to you,” Max said, waving her off.

I watched Max clamber awkwardly over his bed and begin the very important process of alphabetising and shelving his armload of books. So, Max and Clara were studying together. Interesting. Sure, it made sense for each of them to have someone to nerd out about magic with, but also…

Well, if I wanted to talk my way into the Magistae dorm to steal Simon’s ring, wouldn’t becoming homework buddies woth Clara be the most subtle and least suspicious way to do that?

“So you and Clara are studying together, huh? How long has that been going on?”

“Oh, a couple of months, I suppose. Why do you ask? Need homework help?”

“Ha! No. I just thought you guys would be rivals.”

“Rivals?”

“Yeah. Since you’re the guy who beat out all your cousins to become the Nonus, and she kind of upstaged you by breaking all the rules and being the youngest non-witch to get accepted here. I thought you’d be all competitive.”

“Clara is far too young to be here, and letting her enrol was a mistake. I still don’t know why the staff allowed it. But no; you know I don’t care about that kind of competition. Besides, she’s the only person here who I can hold a halfway interesting conversation with for more than five minutes.”

That raised… an interesting question, actually. Hmm. “Hey, Max? How long have you known Clara?”

“Well, you know; we see each other around. Since we were little, I guess?”

“And… this might be rude to ask, but those scars on her face? Do you know where they came from?”

“Um, yeah – that is rude to ask, especially behind her back like that. And no, I don’t. She’s had them for years and doesn’t talk about them.”

“Right. Yeah. Sorry.”

Well, well, well.

It seemed like, on top of everything else, Clara had a secret.