I had time after the therapy session, and little reason to delay, so I enacted my plan.

I sought to leave a letter in Eleanor’s room, only to find it empty. Asking around, I discovered she’d been moved, now sharing with Lauren Clarke, from class-A. I had to draft a new, less conspicuous note, deciding on a reference to our midnight chat some weeks prior. Back then, I’d promised Eleanor raspberry sweets in return for talking to me, and the letter was predicated on repaying my debt.

Our meeting place was to be behind the athletics centre and gymnasium, in a meagre inner courtyard. Time, an hour before curfew.

I went there with two buckets, multiple water bottles, and a collection of graphite tips chipped from my pencils over the years. I also brought a book called The Trial, to keep me occupied. My eyes skimmed the paragraphs and finished a page, only to whip back and restart. I read the words not the sentences, lost in isolation.

As it got darker, I made preparations. I filled the buckets with water and poured in the graphite tips. I planned to use the Intuitive Constellation Self-Mapping test, the ICSM. Basically, if a mage touched a small body of water with particles for a period of time, the particles would shift to form their constellation. I’d seen Eleanor at the Auroch, but I needed to confirm what she’d done, what she was. A bit unethical, but unique circumstances called for it.

I hoped Eleanor wouldn’t know about the test, but I brought something to keep her distracted. Hopefully.

Our meeting time came and went. I paced the courtyard; I leaned out of the archways and listened for footsteps. Finally, twenty-minutes late, Eleanor jogged toward me.

‘I gotta to talk to you,’ she said.

‘Me, too.’

‘It’s about what happened at the Auroch.’

I fought to calm my heart, sat on a stone bench adjoining the wall, and placed my hand in a bucket. ‘Wanna join me?’

Eleanor stiffened, a heavy glower darkening her face. ‘I don’t care what reputation your family has, I’m not joining.’

I stifled a laugh, and indicated the buckets. ‘It’s a therapeutic technique I learned. Wanna join me?’

Eleanor’s eyes narrowed, but she sat beside me. Except, she put her hand into my bucket. ‘Use that one,’ I said.

‘Aren’t you supposed to go from cold water to hot?’

‘They’re both cold.’

‘Then, what’s the point of having two?’ She kept her hand in my bucket. Her knuckles scraped against mine. I didn’t know if the test worked with two people, so I took my hand out and placed it in the second. Eleanor gave me a suspicious look.

‘I’m here for two reasons, actually,’ she said. ‘First, Sergio Nicodemo.’

‘Murdered by the Cult of the Pale Maiden.’

She gained a crazed look. ‘Sure. Yes. But why?’

‘Cult stuff?’ I replied.

‘I’ve heard they kidnap, not randomly kill in the middle of the city. So, why?’

‘They’re a cult. They don’t make sense.’

‘I don’t think they’re responsible. But, we’ll shelve that for now,’ Eleanor grumbled. ‘I’m also here because of what happened at the Auroch. What are you going to do?’

‘I’m not going to do anything.’

Surprised, she stammered for a bit. ‘You’re keeping quiet?’

‘I saw some things, but I don’t know enough. I know the video of you is circulating, but I don’t know exactly what you did, so I can’t act on it.’

‘…You promise?’

‘I promise.’

Eleanor gave a long, slow exhale through pursed lips, emptying her lungs so her next words came out gasping:

‘This could’ve gotten messy.’

I laughed at her ignorance. ‘Were you going to fight my whole family?’

‘Not exactly.’

‘I could be lying.’

Her scowl returned, as if she legitimately hadn’t considered I’d break a promise. Her naivety might’ve been endearing, in different circumstances.

‘You promised…’ Eleanor trailed off and looked down. The graphite particles had moved into distinct points, with scarcer pieces connecting them.

I’d studied constellations since my childhood. I knew them well, even ones without a related type of magic. ‘The Scutum constellation,’ I murmured. ‘The shield.’

Eleanor yanked her hand from the water and splashed us and in her haste to jump from the bench kicked both buckets over. My socks and sneakers got soaked.

‘What the hell was that?’ she raged, chest rising and falling.

‘The Intuitive Constellation Self-Mapping test. It reveals the name of a mage’s constellation. In your case, Scutum, first of its kind.’

I may or may not have looked smug. I was about to outline my thoughts, but Eleanor grabbed my collar and shoved me against the brickwork. ‘What happened to not doing anything?’ she snarled.

‘I said I didn’t know what you did, so I couldn’t act on it. Now, I have a general idea.’

The spark in Eleanor’s gaze had the savage gleam of legitimate intent, not like when we’d had a scuffle outside the faculty office. Now she seriously wanted to hurt me. In my panic, I pulled out a packet of raspberry sweets from my pocket, which were meant to distract her before the ICSM finished. ‘I got you these,’ I said. She smacked the packet from my hand, which broke on the ground and scattered chewy sugar droplets.

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

‘Here’s what’s going to happen,’ she said, breath on my cheek. ‘You are going to forget about this new magic. Let people forget the video. We’re all going to pretend like it was a dream. Get me?’

The back of my head scraped against stone. ‘Can I ask you a question first?’

‘Get me?’

‘Why don’t you want people to know? You could pioneer an entirely new field of magic, join the rank of the Erudite, and if you wanted, design a whole curriculum for Vandagriff.’

‘I don’t care.’

‘You’re squandering your potential.’

‘I’m about to squander your brains on this wall if you don’t shut up and agree.’

‘You’re not from the clans, but you’re not from a major group in the city. Nor are you from Sydney, Brisbane, or Adelaide.’ I winced as Eleanor pushed my cheek against the stone, hard enough to break skin. Speaking from the corner of my mouth, I uttered:

‘You plan to face the Fornax family. Is that ignorance or confidence?’

‘I have friends.’

‘Confidence, then. Even so, I doubt they could handle the challenge.’

Eleanor gripped my throat. ‘They can handle anything.’

‘They,’ I echoed, forcing puzzle pieces together. Eleanor’s grip loosened. In my periphery, I watched her resolve falter. ‘You have too many teeth to be a Rail Snake—’

‘Of course I’m not!’

‘—which means you’re part of the Hunter-Yao gang.’

‘…’

Holy shit, I thought. I’d tossed out Hunter-Yao at random, a crazy guess to whittle down options from least likely to most. I assumed Eleanor would be part of the VBB Crew—the major narcotics distributors—or one of many nameless gangs in the city. Plenty of cocky youths tried to go against the Fornax family. But, Hunter-Yao? Holy shit.

‘You’re part of the Hunter-Yao gang?’ I asked.

‘If you don’t keep your mouth shut about my magic, and the gang, things will get messy.’

‘Is your name actually Eleanor Wilson? It can’t be, right? Are you new to the gang? Did they recruit you specifically for this role?’

‘Why would we recruit for one-off jobs?’ she snapped, accidentally revealing that she’d been with the gang for a significant time. I witnessed her internal attempts to recompose herself; I needed to keep up the pressure.

‘Sergio Nicodemo used to be part of the gang, am I correct? He was exonerated by Mayor Carpenter for his efforts in the crisis with Barwon Clan?’

Her grip continued to slacken. ‘They should’ve pardoned most of us for that shit. We had to bribe Carpenter because Sergio wanted to start a family.’

‘That’s why you, and Hunter-Yao, wanted to solve his murder,’ I said. ‘But, why bother being at Vandagriff, unless you thought someone here—unless you thought Wira Kusuma was responsible?’ The pressure against me slackened enough to wriggle free. I got some distance, but Eleanor didn’t try to grab me again. Her shoulders had slumped, and she wore an expression I hadn’t seen before: Forlorn, dejected. She didn’t seem the type to easily cry, but now she appeared to be on the verge.

‘I don’t know why I’m here,’ she replied, before her steely visage returned. ‘All I know is if you tell anyone about me, it’ll mess everything up.’

‘I’m not going to tell anyone.’

She sneered. ‘Don’t bother making another promise.’

‘I won’t, but I also won’t tell anyone,’ I replied. ‘Think of it this way: What could I gain from revealing your secret? Keeping your secret is more beneficial, to me and my family. Did you know Wei Yao is acquainted with my father?’

Eleanor’s eyebrow quirked. ‘How you figure?’

‘They share information, on occasion.’ Like during the charity gala at Foster Hall. ‘Perhaps someday, our respective sides will work together. Your magic, my resources.’

‘Forget about it.’

Feeling I was out of danger, I spread my palms outward in a conciliatory gesture. ‘It wouldn’t hurt to keep the option open.’

She grunted.

The evening certainly hadn’t gone according to plan. I had not gained control of Eleanor as I would have liked, but it felt like we understood each other better, with mirrored aspects now between us. We both fought; she simply fought in a more overt manner. We both fought for our people; her connection had to be secret, while mine was known across the city. She still made me uneasy, but I thought I liked her, and perhaps even wanted to know more about her.

‘Whether the Cult killed Sergio or not doesn’t matter anymore,’ I said. ‘Kusuma is our shared enemy, Eleanor.’

She grunted again. The name “Eleanor” suddenly seemed wholly innocuous with her mien. ‘One more thing,’ I said, collecting the buckets and using leftover water to clean blood from my cheek. ‘What’s your name?’

‘Eleanor Wilson.’

‘I think we’re past that,’ I smiled.

She scratched her elbows in a way I found childlike – before smiling back. ‘Amborella Cole.’

#

I needed time to get used to my new dynamic with Amborella Cole. Mentally, I wanted to call her by her real name, but outwardly I had to maintain her illusory identity of Eleanor Wilson. To fail would cause major grief.

I recognised her first name among the list of publically-known members of the Hunter-Yao gang, but there weren’t pictures or physical descriptions in the record. Only the major members had personal wanted posters, like Solomon Beck, Aoide Hendrix, Dimitri Zima—those sorts of people. Amber must’ve been a background member. I imagined her as a cook’s assistant, or general helper. The idea of her doing laundry or delivering messages, scowling all the while, amused me.

She scowled still, after our conversation.

We walked back to the dormitories together, not speaking, both separately processing. I felt a near imperceptible sense of telepathy, as if at times our thoughts synced. In these moments, I’d glance at her, and simultaneously she’d glance at me; we both looked away, she to the ground, I to the evening sky.

As we neared the dormitories, our footsteps slowed, until we stopped outside the entrance to the common room. ‘Amber,’ she murmured.

‘Pardon?’

‘I go by Amber, not Amborella.’

‘Alright.’ The moment felt imbalanced. ‘I prefer Vic to Victoria, and…I apologise for tricking you.’

‘You didn’t trick me.’

I shook my head. ‘Whatever you say.’ Pushing open the doors to the common room, we were hit by a wave of chatter. Seemingly the whole cohort, plus a few from junior-2 and the senior classes, congregated in the common room. I found Elliot in the crowd and asked for an explanation. He looked bored, and said:

‘Something about Harkenfield’s injury.’

‘Yeah, she hit her head when the Auroch crashed,’ I said.

‘No, no. Like, a couple hours ago. Gabriel heard she got stabbed. Police are on the way here, I think.’

Eleanor—Amber reached my side, new urgency in her voice. ‘What do you mean stabbed?’

Elliot had a bemused grin. ‘Like, with a knife. Mugger, probably. She fought him until a couple DetMages nearby intervened. Last I heard, she was on her way to St Vincent’s.’

‘What the hell?’ Amber said.

‘That’s what I said; how’s a transfer student paying for St Vincent’s?’

Amber stormed out of the common room. I followed. We’d made it all the way down the main boulevard before I asked where Amber planned to go.

‘St Vincent’s,’ she replied, speeding up.

‘You’re going to run there?’ She didn’t respond. ‘Do you even know where the hospital is?’

‘It’s…’ She looked around, made a full rotation, and was forced to confront that, no, she didn’t know the way.

‘Let me make a call,’ I said, getting out my phone and dialling our family’s driver. He answered promptly, but he was in the middle of driving Octavia home from the Fornax factory. Nonetheless, he’d come straight afterward, promising to be at the Vandagriff gates in twenty minutes. I relayed this to Amber, who remained surly.

‘Let’s go,’ Amber said, turning away. I reiterated the need to wait, but she wanted to run in the direction of my home and meet the driver halfway. I suppressed a groan, pointed Amber in the correct direction, and jogged after her.

Quiet streets rung with our footfalls as we jogged between circles of lamplight. Around ten minutes passed. ‘I know she’s your friend,’ I panted, ‘but if she’s going to St Vincent’s, why’re you worried?’

‘Why did she get attacked?’ Amber slowed her pace to let me catch up. ‘There’s no way Wira Kusuma is going to ignore how we survived, so I bet he sent someone to deal with Cecilia.’

It’s not impossible, I thought. It’s likely, actually. ‘If Cecilia got attacked, shouldn’t we…’

Amber and I skidded to a stop on the sidewalk as a hooded figure emerged from the alley ahead.