Chapter Six

Vincen

Vincen sat in the overstuffed seat of his family’s private rail car watching the farmland that dominated southern Selise slip past. He smiled as he caught a glimpse of a spirit light floating through a field. The sight of one of the little lights in such a remote location momentarily distracted him from his thoughts of the previous night’s events. It was rare to see a spirit light out in the country. It was far more common to see them in the cities and townships where populations were higher. Vincen wondered what the local farmers would think if they had seen it. Would they take it as a good luck sign or an ill-omen? The superstitions surrounding the lights were as varied as the people who made up the Empire. Kelso kept a list of the various beliefs categorized according to each region of the Empire and even subdivided into each community, detailing the minute differences in each group’s stories. Kelso was fascinated by such things, but Vincen didn’t see what the fuss was all about. The world was full of interesting and unexplainable things. He’d heard reports that in the frozen north the sky would light up each night in a rainbow of swirling and dancing colors, and in the vast, unexplored continents to the west, the trees were said to be so massive that they touched the clouds. These were no different. All too quickly the little light was gone as the train sped onward and his thoughts returned to more pressing matters.

It had taken some doing, but Prince Aarmond managed to convince Nahuel to let Vincen and the others go. Nahuel reluctantly conceded that he had not detected any malicious intent in any of them and ordered the halberdiers to let them free. The party was essentially over after that. None of the guests were much inclined to linger about and everyone had quickly gone their separate ways, making sure they stayed well clear of Vincen.

Kelso returned to the student’s quarters to finalize cleaning out Vincen’s chambers while his father began talking with Prince Aarmond and Marquess Lequette, trying to smooth things over. Alba was furious, of course, and neither she nor her parents so much as looked at him again that night, though Ona kept glaring at him from across the room. He found he preferred Alba’s cold shoulder over the constant feeling of Ona’s grey eyes digging into his back. Ferran and Miquell at least bade him an awkward goodbye before quickly slipping out the doors with their parents, the two of them being some of the lucky few who managed to be assigned to their own hometown. He was glad when he and Lady Caterina were able to leave for their family’s private rail car.

His father had ignored him, which didn’t surprise him all that much.

Kelso approached and broke him out of his brooding thoughts. He was dressed in the livery of a valet, with the Canto family crest embroidered on the left breast of his jacket. His silver mereologist's medallion hung around his neck. It looked good on him. Vincen absently fingered his own golden medallion, still not used to the weight of it.

“Pardon me, my Lord,” Kelso said. At least he was still talking to him, Vincen thought. “Your father wishes to see you in his study.”

Vincen sighed heavily. It was time to face the music. He stood up and straightened the traveling jacket he was wearing. His top hat and walking stick he left on the seat next to him. He found both accessories ridiculous, despite their popularity. “Have you heard how Alba’s doing this morning?”

“I have not, my Lord. I do know that your father spent the better part of the night talking with Marquess Lequette. What came of those discussions I do not know.”

Vincen felt sick at the realization that he may have ruined his engagement with Alba. The agreement between Vincen’s father and the Marquess had been the Lequette’s only hope of avoiding the financial ruin that so many other noble houses were facing these days. The thought that his actions could hasten the fall of such a prestigious house terrified him. Besides that, he truly liked Alba – even loved her to a degree. Marrying her was not a distasteful idea in the least, though he wished it could have been Ona as the original plan had been. Now, it might be neither.

Vincen took a deep breath in and let it out slowly, then gestured for Kelso to lead on. They walked the length of the car and passed Lady Caterina near the midpoint. She gently grabbed Vincen’s arm, looking at him with a mixture of love and pity.

“Remember that he loves you, dear. If he didn’t none of this would matter.” Vincen nodded and swallowed before continuing. He wondered just how much trouble he was in.

They stopped in front of the door to Prince Andreu’s study, which was about as large as a regular passenger booth in the commoner’s cars. “Thank you, Kelso, I can take it from here,” he said, swallowing a lump in his throat.

“Very good, my Lord,” Kelso said with a small bow. “I told you it was a bad idea,” he said under his breath as he left – a little too quickly, Vincen felt. Vincen took another shaky breath and knocked softly on the door.

“Enter,” said his father. Vincen slid the door open and stepped into the study. It was small but did not feel cramped even though four adults would have a hard time squeezing in. His father’s desk sat in the middle of the floor with one end under the window and the other near the door, so that Vincen had to step around it as he came in. Two chairs sat on the opposite side of the desk, facing the prince. “Close the door and sit,” said his father without looking up from the letter he was writing. He still wore the same outfit he had the night before and stubble was showing on his face. Vincen did as he was told. Andreu finished his writing and folded the letter into an envelope which he sealed with wax and pressed with a stamp before setting it down and looking at Vincen.

“Kelso is not stupid,” he said, looking Vincen square in the eyes. It was a few moments before Vincen realized he was expecting a reply.

Vincen swallowed. “No, Father,” he tried to sound confident, but it came out in a whisper anyway.

“No, he is not. I know because I had him thoroughly investigated years ago and would not have allowed him to be your valet had he been otherwise. Those boys, Ferran and Miquel? Despite their timidness, they are not stupid either, are they?”

“No, Father.”

“Lady Alba, your fiancé, is not stupid either.”

“Far from it, Father,” anger rose up inside him at the mere implication.

“Then that leaves only one possibility, does it not?”

The moment of anger subsided and Vincen wished he could sink into the chair. “Yes, it does.”

Andreu regarded him for a long while. Vincen felt like he was shrinking under his father’s glare until he was no larger than a speck of dust. Eventually, he spoke. “You are a leader, Vincen, whether you want to be or not. Stupid leaders get other people killed. Last night that was a very real possibility, did you even consider that?”

Vincen shook his head. “Kelso questioned the wisdom of my plan. Ferran and Miquel did too.” Even Ona had told him it was a bad idea, but he didn’t think his father needed to know that. Non-mages were often uncomfortable when shades were mentioned. “Alba wanted no part of it, but I forced her into it.”

Andreu shook his head and sighed. “Proving my point about their intelligence even further. Did you even notice when the guards went on alert? You are supposed to be a mage, surely you know what a shield looks like? Was that not enough to make you stop and think?”

Vincen had no reply. He had been so focused on his plan that he plowed ahead recklessly. Thinking back on it he could clearly remember the exact moment his father was referring to. Andreu sighed and sat back.

“I should have fought harder to keep you away from that school. Nobles should attend the King’s Academy, whether they are twins or not. Mages have entirely different outlooks on life. Part of this failure goes to me for not ensuring you were prepared properly.”

Vincen sat up at that. “But I am a mage, Father! I never would have learned to control my power properly at the King’s Academy.”

“Yes, and look where that got you. A halberdier’s dagger at your throat and your fiancé and retainers restrained at spearpoint. If that demonstration of yours is what the Academy considers ‘control’ then it is truly in a worse state than we had feared.” Andreu leaned forward and looked Vincen in the eyes. “Oriol has spent the last ten years proclaiming how glorious it is that the Royal Family has a mage in its ranks again. How do you think this is going to look? How embarrassing is it for the Throne that their first mage in a hundred years hasn't the wit to realize that shooting a bunch of arrows at the Prince and half the nobility of Selise is a bad idea? It would have been better if you weren’t a mage, then this nonsense would have never been an issue.” Andreu sighed and sat back in his seat again.

“But I am a mage, Father,” Vincen repeated, the heat rising within him again. All his frustration at his father came boiling up. “Why can’t you see that? Alba is too. And Ona was. This power is a part of us. We have to use it.”

His father slapped the desk, making Vincen jump. “You are nobility first!” he said with the first hint of true anger Vincen had seen in ages. “At least Lady Alba had the good sense to remember that and kept herself respectable until you forced her to act. These ‘skills’ of yours are nothing but trouble for people of our status. They got Lady Ona killed and humiliated both of our houses. Your actions last night were reckless and dangerous. I wish you had not been born a twin. No matter what Oriol says, I don’t think it was good for Albaron.”

Vincen stared at his father’s hand where it had slapped the desk, his anger boiling inside him. He wanted to shout back, but no words came. What could he say that didn’t sound petty and childish? His father was right, he had been reckless and had put his friends in danger. Alba, his fiancé and the sweetest girl he had ever known, was restrained like a common criminal in front of hundreds of people because of him. His anger melted away as fast as it had risen and was replaced by shame. What would his mother think if she could have seen him? Or his brother, had he survived? He hadn’t thought about his stillborn brother in ages, but his father’s words brought it to the front of his mind.

“Did he look like me?” he asked after a while. “My brother?” This was probably not the best time to bring up the subject, but his father had been the one to mention it first.

“All babies look alike when they are first born,” his father said, almost dismissively, then paused before continuing with a sigh. His anger seemed to have subsided as well. “I do not know, I never got to see him. He was dead before he was born and the midwives whisked him away immediately. Then Sofia wouldn’t stop bleeding…” His father trailed off and Vincen felt a pang of guilt over bringing up the subject. They rarely spoke of his mother. “You are changing the subject,” Andreu suddenly said with a wave. “What we need to discuss now is how to clean up this mess you made.”

“Is Alba ok?”

“She is shaken, understandably, and humiliated, but unharmed. Anton is furious. It took me all night to calm him down.”

“Are we still…?”

“Yes, the engagement stands. If only because he can’t afford to pull out now. His financial future depends on the gas industry and I’m his only way into that.”

“So, if it wasn’t for that…?”

“The engagement would be off, no question about it,” said his father. “You don’t fully understand the consequences of your actions last night. We will do what we can to downplay and minimize it, but in all likelihood, this will follow you for the rest of your life, and Lady Alba as well.” Vincen’s insides churned at those words. He had tarnished her reputation, and a woman’s reputation was the only thing she had that was truly her own. It wasn’t fair, but that was the way of the world. Would she ever forgive him? “How it will affect you,” his father continued, “and the family, depends a great deal on how we handle it right now.”

“What do you suggest, Father?” Vincen felt like a small child who had been caught stealing food from the kitchen.

“Obviously for one, you will do nothing without consulting me first, and you will draft formal apologies to the King, Prince Aarmond, and both Marquess Lequette and Lady Alba.” Somehow, Vincen felt the letters to Alba and her father would be much harder for him to write than the others. “Beyond that, I must think on it some more. For now, I am tired and need rest. I expect to see your letters by this evening. That is all.”

Vincen stood. “Yes, Father.” He stopped at the door and turned. “I truly am sorry.”

“I know, son,” Andreu said, his face softening up a little. “I’m afraid that may not be enough. Noble life is perilous, and no mistake ever goes unexploited. I only wish I had been able to teach you that sooner.”

Vincen nodded and slid the door shut as he left. His stepmother was sitting on the sofa in the common area. She wore a simple yet well-tailored white dress and was keeping busy at some needlepoint. He turned to Kelso, who was waiting nearby, polishing some of Vincen’s shoes. His stepmother’s lady's maid was tending to some mending next to him. “I need to write some letters,” he said, “please prepare some stationary for me.”

“Right away, my Lord,” Kelso said with a bow. He set down the shoes and disappeared into a nearby closet.

Vincen sat down on the sofa next to Lady Caterina with a sigh.

“Was it that bad?” she asked as she set the needlepoint on her lap. Vincen noted that it was an elaborate depiction of the twin lines of the mages. He wondered what it was for.

“No,” he said as he closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. “It wasn’t great, but I think he was more disappointed than mad. In a way, that's worse. I made a real mess of things, didn’t I?”

“Yes, you did,” she said matter-of-factly.

He opened one eye and looked at her. “Thanks. Though I guess I deserve that.”

She fixed her eyes on him. “So, what are you going to do about it?”

He closed his eyes and leaned back again. Partly from fatigue but mostly to avoid her gaze. “Besides writing some apology letters, nothing at the moment. I’ve been forbidden from existing without Father’s permission first.”

“That sounds a bit dramatic,” said Caterina.

“He said he wished I wasn’t a mage, Mother. He doesn’t understand me at all.”

“All boys your age feel that way about their fathers. He’s under tremendous pressure right now too, you know. It’s not easy being the King’s brother.”

Vincen sat up and looked his stepmother in the eyes. “What was my mother like? My birth mother, I mean. You were friends, right?”

Caterina blinked at Vincen a few times, her mouth partly open. “I wouldn’t say we were good friends,” she began slowly. “We knew each other, of course, but not well. There are only so many women eligible to marry a man such as your Father, after all. We weren’t rivals, political or otherwise, which I suppose means… yes, we were friends.” She looked away and placed a hand over her mouth. “I haven't thought about Sofia in years. She was perfect for your Father. She had a strength about her that I can never hope to match. I couldn’t have handled the move to Selise the way she did. Uprooting her entire house and moving away from her family like that would have broken me. And she was pregnant with twins at the time. I still don’t know how she did it.”

This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

Vincen wondered if the move had weakened her. Had that been what caused his brother to die in the womb and eventually killed her too? The thoughts bounced around in his mind and got jumbled up with everything else until he felt like his head was going to burst. He stood up. “I need some air, let Kelso know I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“Of course, dear,” said Caterina gently as she picked up her needlework again.

Vincen walked to the front of the car and stepped out onto the balcony. The Canto’s private coach was the second-to-last car on the train, between the royal coaches at the end and the Lequette’s just in front. The rest of the cars held the common passengers, including many of the new mages who were on their way to Albaron City to begin their assignments. Vincen froze as he stepped out and saw Alba standing on her balcony, seemingly lost in her own thoughts. She had left her hair down and was wearing a traveling dress that still managed to make her look beautiful despite its simple utility. It was made from a rugged material dyed a soft orange color, like autumn leaves. Her mage’s brooch was pinned over her left breast and was the only ornament she wore. The skirt was full-length and bulky and was blown about by the wind between the cars. He was struck by how beautiful she looked as the wind whipped her hair and clothing about and for a moment she looked exactly like Ona. His heart skipped a beat, but the moment was gone as Alba looked up and he realized how much older than Ona she was. Ona still looked fourteen – and always would.

A sudden longing to hold Ona’s hand and laugh with her over the silliness of their problems came over him and his heart ached. He could still talk to her and laugh with her, but he would never again feel the warmth of her skin or smell the sweetness of her hair. He would never feel her breath against his ear as she whispered secrets to him during lunch.

“Oh, sorry,” he said. “I’ll just…” he turned to go back inside.

“No, it’s ok,” Alba said and he turned to look at her again. She pushed her windswept hair out of her face and studied him for a moment before looking down. “I can go.” She started for the door.

“Alba, wait,” Vincen said and she stopped, still not looking at him. He couldn’t leave things like this between them. Letter or no letter, he had to say something. “I’m sorry. I was really stupid. I should have listened to everyone. Kelso, Ferran and Miquel, even Ona all told me it was a bad idea. Now I’ve messed things up and embarrassed you in front of everyone. I understand if you hate me now, I just wanted to say that I’m sorry.”

“I don’t hate you, Vincen,” she said, looking up at him. The wind blew her hair into her face again and she brushed it aside. “I just don’t understand why you didn’t listen.”

“I don’t know,” he said. “I wish I did know, then this might be easier. At first, I just wanted to show off for Aarmond and have some fun. Then, at the end, when your part came up, something inside me wanted you to have the chance to show off too. All night long everything had been all about Ona, no one seemed to remember that you were even still around. It made me mad.” He shook his head. “I don’t know, maybe that’s not why I did it. I’m sorry. It was stupid.”

“It was stupid,” she agreed, but not unkindly. His heart still sank. Just once he would have liked it if someone would contradict him on the matter. “But I understand a little, I think.” Vincen tilted his head, surprised. “Ona would have done the same sort of thing, you know? If she could have she would have been up there with you, flying around and shocking all the ladies by showing off her petticoats. She wouldn’t have thought it was a good idea, but she would have been there anyway because it was what you needed.”

Vincen smiled at the thought of Ona flying around the assembly hall. The professors had never been fond of Ona’s flying ability. It wasn’t proper behavior for a Lady, they always said. But there was no way for them to keep her on the ground. Flying was in her blood.

“But she’s gone, Vincen,” Alba continued. “It has to be you and me now, and I’m not like that. I don’t need the attention. I need you here, making me feel like it can work between us, and right now it doesn’t. That scares me. Our family needs you.” She paused and looked down, the wind whipping her hair back into her face. “I need you.”

“I’m here for you, Alba,” said Vincen, feeling how hollow those words sounded. He knew it wasn’t true, and so did she.

She smiled at him, but it was a smile filled with regret. “You’ve always had eyes only for Ona, Vincen. When she was alive you barely ever looked at me, and now when you do I can tell that you’re wishing I was her – comparing me to her – and you know what?” she said before he could say a word in protest. “That’s ok. You love her, you should miss her. I love her and miss her too. But we can’t get her back, not in the way either of us wants.” She turned and walked back into the coach, leaving Vincen staring at the door, speechless.

It was no secret that he had loved Ona. They were engaged after all. In the noble world that didn’t necessarily mean love, but he and Ona were one of the rare couples that truly did love each other, and everyone knew it. No one expected him and Alba to love each other in the same way, but he truly did care for her, even if they were more like friends than anything else. Was his love for Ona causing her more trouble than he realized? Did she feel like she needed to compete with Ona for his attention? The last thing he wanted was to come between the two sisters. They had been through enough already.

Ona’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts. “You idiot,” she said. “What did you do to make her cry?” She flew down from the roof of her family’s carriage and stopped in front of him. Her hair and dress were unnaturally still, despite the constant wind blowing around them. It was a stark contrast to how the wind had been buffeting Alba just minutes ago. Flashes of sunlight shone through her translucent body as the train passed in and out of shadow.

“I don’t know,” he said, blinking and shaking his head to bring his thoughts back into focus. “We’re just trying to figure things out.”

“Well you’re not doing a very good job of it.”

Vincen scoffed. “Just one more thing on the list of stuff I’m no good at.”

“Rough day?” she asked.

“You could say that,” Vincen replied, looking at the door Alba had disappeared through.

“I’ll go talk to her,” Ona said. “You really put her through the wringer yesterday, you know.” She started drifting towards her family’s carriage.

“Hey, Ona?” Vincen called out. She stopped and turned back to him. “Would you have helped me, even if you knew it would turn out like this?”

“Of course,” she said without hesitation. “But it’s not like you asked me, is it?”

“But you…” he started to say.

“… Can’t,” she interrupted. “I can’t. Because I’m just a shade. I know. But you still could have asked.” She floated through the wall and left Vincen staring at an empty wall once again.

“I was going to say you never gave me a chance,” he mumbled to himself. He shook his head in irritation then turned and went back into his own carriage.

Kelso had prepared a desk near the sofa for him and he sat down to try and write out the apology letters, but his mind kept wandering back to what Alba had said. She had always been quiet and unassuming, even when they were little children. He was forced to admit that he had paid more attention to Ona over the years, but it hadn’t been on purpose – at least not at first. Ona just demanded more attention. She was always the one ready to fly off and cause some sort of trouble, yet somehow never managed to get punished. She had a way with people that instantly made them like her and forget that she had just hung their robes from the highest point of the Academy’s roof or gotten them called out for passing notes in class.

Everyone liked Alba too, but with her it was different. She was so kind and sweet that it was impossible not to like her. Her gentle smile and graceful movements made her seem delicate and fragile, even though she could move faster than the eye could see when she wanted to. Ona, on the other hand, had a wildness about her that suited her ability to fly well. She was fun and collected friends as easily as some kids collected rocks. They had all three been good friends from almost their very first day at the Academy. It wasn’t until much later on that he and Ona had somehow become more.

Vincen scowled and crumpled up the fourth draft of his letter to the King. Had he neglected Alba after he realized his feelings for Ona? What about after Ona’s death? Was Alba right? Did he look at her and wish it was Ona who was still solid and breathing?

He sighed and pulled out another sheet of paper. He dipped the pen in the inkwell and was about to begin again when a knock came from the door at the rear of the carriage. Alexander answered and spoke with the messenger for a few moments before closing the door and whispering to Lady Caterina. She looked surprised and glanced in Vincen’s direction before nodding and quietly saying something back to him. He nodded and bowed before returning to the door to give the waiting messenger a reply.

Vincen put down his pen and went over to Lady Caterina. “What was that about, Mother?”

“It seems you have been summoned by Prince Aarmond.”

Vincen sat down next to Caterina, his knees suddenly rather weak. He had never been nervous about meeting with Aarmond before, but right now that was just about the last thing he wanted to do. Between the talks with his father and Alba, his head was already full to bursting. He didn’t need anything else added to it. How had things gotten so complicated so quickly? Only a week ago his biggest concern had been passing the final exams.

Alexander had gone to Prince Andreu’s bed-chamber after talking to the messenger. He came back out and bowed to Caterina before turning to address Vincen. “Your father only had one thing to say, my Lord.”

Vincen waited a moment for his nerves to settle before prompting him to continue. “And what would that be, Alexander?”

Alexander cleared his throat. “Pardon me, my Lord. The Prince was still quite groggy, but his exact words were; ‘Go. Do nothing. Say less.’”

Lady Caterina stifled a chuckle which earned her a glare from Vincen. She placed a hand over her mouth and eyed him apologetically. “Sorry dear,” she said.

Vincen stood and straightened his suit. Kelso moved to join him but Caterina waved him off. “Better for him to go alone Kelso dear, in this instance,” she said.

“Yes, my Lady,” Kelso said with a bow as he backed up. He looked worried, and Vincen found himself wishing that Kelso could go with him. It would be good to have an ally at his side.

Vincen took a deep breath. “Well, better not keep him waiting, I suppose.” He stepped out of their carriage and crossed the gap between the two cars. An attendant was waiting and ushered him into the Royal coach. As the door slid shut behind him all the noise from the train ceased and it was as quiet as if they had been standing still, only the gentle rocking of the coach was evidence to the contrary. Even his family’s coach wasn’t that quiet and he wondered if it was because of construction techniques or special wards carved into the material during construction. Probably both, he decided. The walls were lined with thick, dark cherry wood that made the room feel warm and comfortable and a few well-padded sofas and armchairs were set to accommodate guests. The back half of the coach was closed off behind a door, and Vincen assumed that was where the royal family’s sleeping quarters and servant’s rooms were.

Vincen sensed someone standing behind him and turned to see Nahuel had blocked his way out. He met the large guard’s milky eyes and instantly felt him searching his mind again. Vincen wanted to fight back against the invasion of his privacy. He had met telepaths before, twins who could read his thoughts or send their own to him, but this felt different. With the others he was always given a choice whether to let them in or not but with Nahuel there was no choice, and he dug deeper than just the mind into Vincen’s soul, to the very essence of who he was. The weight of Nahuel’s gaze pressed down on him and threatened to crush him. It was disturbing in the extreme and it took all he had not to break the man’s gaze.

“Leave him alone, Nahuel,” said Aarmond from where he was sitting across the room. Nahuel grunted and blinked and the connection was lost. Vincen gasped as he felt the weight lift.

“I’m watching you, boy,” said the halberdier as he retreated back to his corner of the room.

Vincen suppressed a shudder and turned to Aarmond, who had a crooked grin on his face. “He’s good at his job but no fun at parties, as you can imagine,” he said. Aarmond gestured for Vincen to sit. Vincen bowed and sat somewhat uneasily on the sofa across from Aarmond. Just yesterday he had been excited to see his cousin again after so many years, now all he had was a sinking feeling in his gut that wasn’t entirely related to Nahuel’s prodding. Aarmond leaned forward so his arms rested on his knees. “Jeeze, Vince,” he said, shaking his head as if he couldn’t believe what had happened. “When I said I wanted a demonstration I didn’t think you’d create a full-on scandal.”

Vincen’s stomach dropped. “I— I didn’t mean to,” he stammered. “Your Highness,” he added belatedly.

Aarmond laughed and sat back. “Drop the formality, it’s just us here.” A growl rose from Nahuel’s throat that Aarmond either didn’t notice or ignored. Probably ignored. “Anyway, I think those uptight suck-ups need a little shakeup every once in a while,” he continued. “Gives them something to think about besides how to push our family off the throne. I just wish you hadn’t made them talk about you. Or Alba.”

“I know,” said Vincen. The fact that even Aarmond was telling him how stupid he had been made his blood boil. Half the times he had gotten into trouble for using his power when he was younger was because Aarmond had talked him into doing some silly prank of one sort or another. “I thought you’d think it was fun.”

“I did. It was hilarious seeing the looks on some of their faces, and your level of control has improved a lot over the years,” said Aarmond with a half-grin. “But we’re not kids anymore. We have to be careful. You know how things work in our world. The nobility is nothing but a pack of sharks, circling the throne and looking for signs of blood. As soon as they sense any they’ll pounce.”

“No mistake goes unexploited,” mumbled Vincen, remembering his father’s words.

“Exactly,” said Aarmond. “Especially nowadays. Times are changing and everyone knows it. The nobility isn’t what it once was, and the lines between us and the commoners are growing thinner. Every day it seems another noble house is going bankrupt. They’re scared and desperate for whatever power they can keep hold of, whatever the cost.” He leaned back in his chair and casually set his arms on the armrests. “Anyway, I’ll make a formal statement where I absolve you of any wrongdoing and explain that I had requested the demonstration. Hopefully, that’ll take some of the wind out of the gossipmonger’s sails. Father may have to make a few public declarations of his trust in your family and the Lequettes may have a little trouble with their businesses until Alba’s involvement is forgotten. That’s unlikely though. Anton’s a shrewd man, and no one’s interested in his family, not the ones who matter anyway, it's yours and mine they're after. Hopefully, this whole thing will blow over in a few months when someone’s daughter becomes inexplicably pregnant or some other suitably scandalous distraction catches their attention.”

Vincen groaned. “I haven’t even made it home yet and already I’m in the same category as an extramarital affair? Great.” It was no wonder his father was so angry with him.

Aarmond looked at him sympathetically. “I can help lessen the impact, but I can’t make it go away. Sorry, cousin. You made your bed…”

“... Now I gotta lie in it. I know,” he said.

“Enough politics,” said Aarmond suddenly. “What have you been up to lately? Besides trying to murder a prince and half the nobles in the empire, that is.”

“Not much, really. Just trying to make it through my studies.”

“Were they that tough?” Aarmond asked with more interest than Vincen would have thought. “Don’t you just need to, you know…” he waved his hands in front of him in a ridiculous imitation of making something float.

Vincen chuckled and pulled a few glasses from a drink tray on the other side of the room over to them, trying to ignore the small wave of euphoria that came with using his skill. Minimizing the effects of the rush had been a major focus of their early training, getting addicted to it was a very real possibility and a good way for a mage to ruin their career. He made sure he did not move his arms, as a counterpoint to Aarmond’s silly hand waving. Nahuel tensed slightly but remained in his corner. Vincen cringed inwardly as he realized he was doing a lot more than the “nothing” his father had ordered him to do. He sighed as Aarmond grabbed his glass from the air with a grin. “It’s a bit more than that,” Vincen said as he grabbed his own glass. Aarmond waved a hand and a servant Vincen hadn’t even known was in the room suddenly appeared with a pitcher of lightly-colored liquid and filled their glasses with it. “There’s a lot more to it than just the politics, butt-kissing, and backstabbing they teach at the King’s Academy,” Vincen said after the servant was finished. Aarmond chuckled at that and sipped his drink. “There’s such a wide variety of skills, and no two are ever exactly alike, so it’s impossible to have a standard baseline of competency, so as long as you keep showing progress in your skill then that’s good enough. The other subjects are where it gets tough. You wouldn't believe how much history and science we need to learn. Then there’s the mereologists, they blow us away academically and spend half their time studying us.”

He smiled at the memory of the countless hours he had spent levitating various objects under various different conditions while Kelso and his colleagues took notes. He realized that his tension was gone and he was beginning to relax. It felt good to talk to someone who actually wanted to hear about what school had been like for him. There was no way he would have been able to talk to his father about any of this, and all his friends had been there with him. That wasn’t exactly fair, he thought. Lady Caterina would probably love to hear his tales, they just hadn’t had much of a chance to talk about things like that yet.

“You still only have one skill?” asked Aarmond. “You didn’t discover another one and are holding out on me, are you?”

Vincen shook his head and took a sip of whatever the servant had poured him. He was shocked to discover that it was wine. He coughed slightly and set it down while Aarmond smiled mischievously. Obviously, alcohol was not served at the Mage’s Academy, and his parents had not allowed him any yet either. He wondered if it came from the Lequette’s vineyards. Vincen shook his head, trying to keep his thoughts focused while ignoring the silly grin on Aarmond’s face. “No, still just telekinesis, although that’s probably enough. It's a pretty powerful skill.”

Aarmond nodded. “Did you know anyone who managed to discover a new skill while you were there? It’s kinda uncommon isn’t it?”

“Not that unusual actually. We start pretty young, so most of the kids take a few years to discover their skills. Lots of us keep trying different things hoping to discover a new one. You never know when someone’s gonna figure something out…” he trailed off as his mind went back, unbidden, to that day in class. He could still see Ona, lying on the floor as her lifeless eyes stared straight up. He remembered the exact moment her shade appeared next to them, confused and scared while he clung to Alba as she begged and pleaded for the Transfer to stop.

Aarmond noticed Vincen’s distress. “Oh man,” he said and set down his glass. “I’m sorry. I totally forgot that’s how Ona died, isn’t it? I heard the report. Were you there?”

Vincen nodded, shaking his head to clear his mind. “I was across the room,” he said. “One of the kids accidentally crushed her heart. Didn’t even know he’d done it at first. We all heard Alba gasp and I turned just in time to see Ona fall from her seat. She was dead before she hit the floor.”

“It must have been horrible,” Aarmond said quietly.

“It was,” agreed Vincen. The worst part had been Alba’s misery. He could still feel her shaking sobs as he held her tight while Ona’s power filled her body, a cruel testament to the fact that Ona was truly dead.

Aarmond watched him for a few moments before speaking again. “You really loved her, didn’t you?”

Vincen nodded and realized there were tears in his eyes. He wiped them away, embarrassed. Aarmond pretended not to notice. “I still do.”

“What about Alba? You’re engaged to her now. Won’t that make things weird between you two?”

Vincen nodded and suddenly he understood why Ona had been upset with him the night before. She was jealous, and he really was an idiot. “You have no idea,” he said and took a long drink from his glass, finally understanding why all the stories had their heroes drowning their sorrows in wine.

END OF CHAPTER SIX