I take a sip from the cup of wine in front of me, listening to Fox excitedly explaining how the enchantment placed on the pots in Madam Treeleaf’s shop work. It’s not the most intriguing topic, but it’s endearing how animated and excited he looks as he speaks. The music in the pub is almost too loud, and I miss half of what he’s saying, but I’m able to follow along with the general idea of it. I notice, from the corner of my eye, Lucien rolling his eyes, as he takes another bite of his food. Our eyes meet for a moment, and he’s stunned, then he pretends to be distracted by a passing server, his cheeks darkened.
“…It’s a very simple enchantment,” Fox shouts over the music.
“You must be amazing at enchantments and charms, if Master Khen allows you to run the shop unassisted,” Seraphina says, giving Fox a silly grin.
She sighs dreamily, her eyes glistening, and cheeks red. She’s captivated by Fox, and we can all see it plain as day.
“Well, I did specialize in it, and I…”
My eyes trail toward Arthur who is watching Seraphina’s face, the corner of his lip twitching, and his eyebrows furrowing slightly each time she laughs at Fox’s jokes. Our eyes meet, and he smiles quickly before looking shyly away. His eyes move on to Lucien, and he scowls. I look over at Lucien, who is now scowling at him, too. I wonder briefly why he’s upset, but it is most likely something they bickered about, and I’m not too interested in their squabbles lately.
“… Isn’t that right, Luna?” The noise of the pub is suddenly louder as my attention is drawn to the sound of my name.
“I’m sorry? I couldn’t hear that last part over all the noise.”
“He asked about the bakery,” says Seraphina, loudly.
“Oh, yes. It was wonderful!” I turn to look at Fox, who is eyeing me curiously.
“It was very good,” he says, eating a forkful of pie off a plate in front of him. “But that’s not what I asked.”
I blush. He’s clearly caught on that I wasn’t listening, and looks over at Lucien.
“I asked what your favorite pastry was, so I can try it.”
“Oh, the honey cakes, though they’re nothing compared to Lucien’s.”
Lucien stiffens beside me.
“Oh, really?” He says, narrowing his eyes, and smirking at Lucien. “Lucien, I’ll have to try it some time. I’ll be sure to pay you.”
“That’s not… necessary,” Lucien mumbles, rolling a grape around his plate, before giving me a side-eye. “You don’t have to…”
The music begins to play a familiar tune, and everyone in the pub suddenly quiets down, and turns to watch the musicians.
“Would you like to dance?” Asks Fox, as he gets to his feet, and holds out a hand to me.
I look at Lucien awkwardly, and before he can react, Fox takes my hand, and pulls me towards the crowd of dancers. With one hand at my waist, and the other holding my free hand, we dance to the rhythm of the song. Turn, kick, turn, kick, feet together and spin. We repeat it over and over, the song getting faster and faster until all the dancers on the floor are laughing as they struggle to keep up.
Finally, only one other couple remains dancing alongside us. The dance gets faster and faster, and sweat beads on our brows. We can barely catch our breaths. Turn, kick, turn, kick, feet together, spin… kick, kick, spin… kick, kick, spin. Over and over, until it’s so fast, I’m kicking again before I’ve completed my revolution. I can hear Seraphina and Arthur cheering, and we both stop, panting and sweating. The other pair has beaten us, and takes a bow. Some cheers break out, and the music resumes. A slow tune, an old song that tells of two lovers from a different world and time that meet in the land of dreams.
Some of the other dancers clap Fox’s back as we make our way to our table, all of them complimenting his dancing skills. I down my ale, and take a seat next to Lucien who moves a bit to make more room for me, then continues to watch the musicians in quiet reverie.
“You’re a wonderful dancer, Luna,” Fox exclaims, taking a long drink of his ale. “There’s not much dancing in Zelfari like that.”
The room is still spinning as my eyes adjust to the stillness, but I manage a smile.
“In Bellehaven, it’s what we do for every festival.”
I’m struck with a sudden sense of homesickness that feels out of place. It’s so sudden, it takes me a few moments to remember where I am, and who I’m with.
“I understand how you feel. It’s the same in Nien,” he continues.
“And Mirror Lake,” adds Arthur, taking a seat next to Fox. “The two of you looked great out there. Very natural. The other couples didn’t stand a chance.”
“Thank you, Arthur,” says Fox. “Too bad we didn’t win. We could have gotten a free drink to share.”
Lucien takes hold of my hand beneath the table, and squeezes lightly.
“Fox,” Seraphina cries, excitedly. “Isn’t this a song from Nien? Do you want to dance? I bet you’re a wonderful slow dancer, too.”
Fox gives her a flirtatious smirk. “Of course. I couldn’t possibly pass up the opportunity to dance with another beautiful lady such as yourself.”
She giggles, then pulls him away from the table. Arthur downs the rest of his ale, and runs after them with flushed cheeks and hair soaked with sweat. Lucien moves his seat closer to mine, and takes my hand into his lap.
“Lucien,” I mumble. “What is it? You haven’t smiled all evening. Is it Arthur?”
“Tell me you’re not attracted to him,” he murmurs so quietly, it’s almost difficult to make out the words.
“I am,” I say, with a wide grin. “He’s handsome. Even Arthur has almost noticed, and he never notices anything.”
I laugh when he gives me a look of shock and disappointment. It breaks my heart a little.
“You’re cruel,” he mutters, with his brows furrowed.
“Why’s that?”
He lets my hand go as if it’s a dirty rag he’s dropping into a bucket, and takes a long drink of his ale. He’s lost in the sound of the music shortly after, and I watch his ears flick to the beat. I take a drink from my cup as I scan the faces in the pub. Fox is looking at me, and I’m surprised to see him walking back towards our table so soon. He smiles at me, and my heart flutters.
“Arthur is quite…” he begins, then hums when he sits, still unable to find the right word.
“A pain in the ass,” mutters Lucien, without taking his eyes from the musicians.
“Would you like to dance with me again, Luna?” Asks Fox.
Lucien stiffens at my side, and takes my hand again, this time it’s not the one beneath the table.
“Unless Lucien would prefer to do the honors,” he says, eyeing the both of us curiously.
“Would you?” I ask Lucien. “Do you know this dance?”
He stiffens, then turns away, and shakes his head.
“I don’t, unfortunately. I thought I did,” he huffs.
“I can teach you,” I say, poking his shoulder.
He swats my hand, and looks away irritably.
“I’ll be back, then,” I tell him. “Maybe you’ll know the next one.”
I can see his ears twitch, and the tips of them darken.
“Alright,” he grumbles.
“Get us more drinks,” I order him, before walking towards the other dancers, with Fox at my side.
The music guides me through the familiar choreography, and I don’t need to think about the steps. I’ve grown up with this song, watching people dance to it, and learning the move since I could first walk. I recall a fuzzy memory of Marcellus’ black silhouette in front of a blazing bonfire. It could be any number of celebrations, but it was always Marcellus I danced with.
“I think,” Fox says, guiding me through a spin with one hand. “That Lucien has taken a liking to you.”
“Of course. We’re friends. Unless you’re Arthur, then you’re just begrudgingly friends with him.”
“You know,” he whispers into my ear. “I know you don’t believe that. You don’t have to be ashamed of yourself. I happen to have a distant relative that is a dark elf.”
I gasp quietly, and notice his grin.
“Don’t lie to me, Fox. It’s not very nice,” I give him a wide grin.
“I’m not lying,” he says, playfully. “I’m just letting you know that you would not be the first. Most people from Nien are part dark elf. It’s hard to resist their beauty.”
“‘The first’ what, exactly? What assumptions are you making about me, Sir Fox?”
“You’re not the first human to have relations with an elf.”
“I’m not having… relations with him!” I huff, feeling my cheeks burn at the thought of it. “We’re just friends!”
“Well, as friends, which we know for certain you aren’t, or not, he seems overly protective,” he laughs.
I gasp. “I’m sure he just doesn’t know you very well! Even I’m beginning to suspect you’re not quite as innocent as you appear. It’s possible you could be some murderer of some kind.”
“I’d definitely want to explore our possibilities,” he whispers.
I punch his upper arm, and he winces.
“Was I too forward?”
“Absolutely! Are you really part elf?”
“Possibly,” he says, staring at the ceiling in thought.
“Stop lying to me, Fox. It’s not very nice,” I try to frown, but can’t help grinning at him when he gives me a charming smile.
“Come home with me tonight,” he croons. “You can find out for yourself. I could be hiding a horn somewhere on my body.”
“Sir Wells-” I gasp.
“It’s Fox to you, Luna.”
He tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear, and plants a kiss on my cheek. The look on his face makes my insides tremble. He’s definitely good-looking enough to be part elf.
“I bet you say that to all the ladies you meet,” I scoff, feeling my heart beating so loudly, it’s competing with the sound of the music.
“Only the ones I find attractive,” he whispers.
He spins me around, and we bow to each other, and begin the dance steps anew.
“That’s too bad,” I tell him, when we’re standing close again.
“Why? Is it Lucien?” He asks, tracing my jaw gingerly with his finger.
I look back at our table, where I can see Lucien speaking to a server, clearly frustrated.
“Why don’t you go somewhere more private with him,” Fox suggests. “Since you seem to have other things on your mind. I’ll tell the others you’ve gone to practice magic or something.”
“Right, thank you.”
He looks surprised at my response. “Try not to let him bite you anywhere visible.”
My cheeks redden.
“We’re just going to talk,” I say, defensively.
“Of course,” he says with a smirk. “You’ll be doing something with your mouths, I’m sure.”
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I look at him in amused shock. “If you’re going to spread rumors, I’ll just stay here, and you can torture me with more of your explanations of enchantments.”
“It’s not torture. Is it?”
I giggle at his worried look.
“Not when it’s you,” I admit.
His face softens. “Go talk to him. You clearly have things you need to say to each other, but don’t wait too long or I’ll be taken.”
“I will act decisively and swiftly. You know why?”
“Because you’re just friends?”
“Because we’re just friends, Sir Fox.”
He waves a hand at me dismissively, and begins to dance with another woman.
Lucien cowers away from me when I approach him at the table. I try to soften whatever expression I might have on my face that caused such a reaction.
“Lucien, can we talk?”
“Y-Yes…” he says, hesitantly, leaning away from me as I walk to my place at the table.
“In private, if you don’t mind.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to take your hand like that. I won’t do it again.”
“I’m-…” I take a deep breath. “I’m not upset about that. I just think we need to discuss some things.”
“Right. What about the others? We can’t just leave.”
“Fox promised he’d take care of it.”
“Can we trust him?”
“I’m sure he knows that if he says anything, Arthur will never shut up, and that’s enough to deter him.”
“That’s true.”
The fire in the shop warms us as we sit next to each other on the workbench of Madam Treeleaf’s shop. We’ve been sitting in silence for some time, both of us afraid of speaking first.
“Fox… thinks you’re…” I start, but can’t finish my thoughts.
I hate speaking first, but it’d feel rude not to, since I dragged him out of the pub (not that he’d looked too disappointed to escape somewhere more quiet).
“I’m…?” He smirks.
“Agh!” I scream in frustration. “I hate… talking. I hate this awkwardness!”
“Then don’t. That’s your way, isn’t it? Want some more wine? I think Madam Treeleaf keeps several bottles in the attic.”
He’s so perfect, and I want to kiss him.
“Sure.”
“So,” he hiccups. “I told Arthur that -hiccup- he should really stop believing he’s better than every -hiccup- one, if he wants to make frieeee -hiccup- nds. This is going to drive me -hiccup- mad!”
“Just hold your breath.”
“How -hiccup- long?”
I press my lips together to stop my laugh from escaping.
“Until I’m blue in the -hiccup- face?” He laughs.
I nod, and giggle.
“Arthur’s right, I’m beginning to rub off on -hiccup- you, and it’s not a good thing.”
“As long as Arthur is not rubbing off on me.”
“He is, though, but it… suits you better.”
“Oh, does it? I’m flattered.”
Lucien reaches for the bottle, and groans when he realizes it’s empty.
“I think you’ve had enough, anyway,” I lecture him. “You’ve been complaining about Arthur for over an hour, and I mean no offense when I say; I’m bored with this topic.”
“Let’s talk about Fox, then. I think he really liked -hiccup- that woman with the red hair he danced with earlier today. He invited her to return with him to his home.”
I bite my lip, then burst into laughter. “He invited me, too, so she must have turned him down.”
“You’re not -hiccup- DAMN, Sweet Selene in heaven!”
He pours himself a cup of water, and downs it.
“You’re not -hiccup- serious!”
I giggle. “I am, but I also turned him down.”
“W- -hiccup- why?”
“I… don’t think I like him that way… yet.”
“-hiccup- Dammit! ‘Yet’?”
“That’s what I said.”
“Just… don’t… Take care of yourself, Luna, pleee- -hiccup- please! Selene, have mercy!”
“I will.”
In the early hours of the morning, having not slept, I mindlessly crush some herbs while reading over a spell book, memorizing the diagrams, and trying to cast the spell once in a while. It’s been days since I’ve begun looking at it, and I’m unsure why it won’t work.
Spellcasting is as personal as one’s handwriting. Some spells work better one way for one Mystic, and a different way for another. These changes create new spells due to experimentation of hand movements for each caster, and so the possibilities and limitations of magic are seemingly endless.
However, there is a set curriculum for all Mystics when passing into the next levels. Most Mystics strictly follow the curriculum, but some, like Madam Treeleaf and Master Eaimer, experts in their arts, experiment enough to create entirely different types of magic. I’m not sure which path I want to take yet, because I’ve been struggling with this single spell for what feels like an eternity.
“Trying to get ahead?” Lucien asks, taking a peek over my shoulder.
“Because I’m already struggling to keep up,” I mumble. “I’m exhausted, though. I don’t think I’ll make it to the end of the day.”
“You’ve been worse,” he says, placing a cup of tea in front of me. “Remember that paper you panicked over about the History of the City of Lights?”
“The history of the city’s magic is the dullest because I’m already here, and it feels exaggerated. Not to mention, they only ever mention Fire and Earth Mystics, because, apparently, Wind and Water Mystics never make it into the history books. I wish they would go over the more interesting parts of Amith. I want to learn more about Solari and Dark Grove. Places I haven’t been. I can’t wait to hear about Zelfari. ”
“They’ll teach you eventually, and I promise it’ll all be equally exaggerated and boring,” he says with amusement, pushing my cup of tea closer, encouraging me to take a sip. “They’ve been very focused on Gaia, though. I can almost recite what she did from the moment she was born.”
“I’ve noticed. The Trial of Balance and Harmony,” I announce.
“The Trial of Elemental Unity,” he says, pompously.
“The Trial of… Everlasting Spark?”
“That’s not one of the names of the trials,” he snickers.
“Then what is it?”
“Temptation’s Embrace.”
“And then Illuminating Spark?”
“No, it’s Convergence, then Illuminating Shadows, not Spark.”
“Right… So… Cyclone Fury… not that I’m going to practice it at full power in this shop, but the diagrams…”
Lucien stands behind me, and rests his chin on my shoulder as he reads through my spell book, following the words on the page with his index finger. It feels intimate, and I wonder if he understands that or if this is just how he is. Either way, I don’t want him to distance himself. I want him to be close to me.
“It’s obviously a wind storm,” he notes, then mumbles the words on the page, and copies several of the hand diagrams lazily. “Right, I haven’t learned this spell yet, but let’s see your spellwork.”
I follow the diagrams on the page, up until the last movement of the spell, to prevent myself from casting it.
“What did I do wrong?” I ask him, staring down at my book.
When he doesn’t respond, I turn to look at him. He’s not looking at my hands, and I catch him staring at my mouth.
“Lucien,” I tease. “What is it?”
“Uh- Right. You got the second hand motion incorrect. Remember that wind magic is always a sort of pulling of… well, the air. Try it more like…” he demonstrates, but now I’m distracted by his mouth.
He notices, and smiles back at me.
“Miss Masters, you’re not paying attention, either.”
“My apologies, Sir Moonshadow. Sometimes, when your mouth is moving, it’s more interesting than the words coming out of it.”
“Is that so? Do you know what else my mouth can do?”
…
“P-Please show me again,” I blush.
He demonstrates the spell again, then stops when he notices I’m still not paying attention, and my eyes are drifting to his mouth again.
“Still more interesting than what I’m saying? You’re a terrible student. It’s no wonder you’re stru-” his ear twitches, and he stands to move away from me.
A moment later, the shop door rings.
“You’re here early,” says Madam Treeleaf when she enters the back room. “I haven’t even made you a task list.”
“We’re just making some basic potions,” says Lucien, wiping down the counters of the previous day’s work remains. “Healing draughts and magical restoration potions. I see you’ve been experimenting again. I could have sworn I left this workroom spotless last night. Now everything is covered in a fine blue powder.”
“What else do I pay you for?”
“Apparently, to clean up after you.”
“Well! Very good. Today I’ll have you starting on level two potions. Those are level three spells, I see. Are you doing the same with your potions?”
I shut my spellbook. “Yes, I- I like to get an early start.”
“You’ll have another year to work on those. What’s the rush?” She laughs.
“She’s quite diligent,” states Lucien, taking a seat opposite me at the work table. “She’d get each level done in a year’s time if she could.”
“Quite admirable,” she tuts.
“It is,” he says, taking my book, and opening it to the spell I was struggling with.
I watch him demonstrate the spell one final time, noticing where I failed. I nod, then copy his hand motions, dropping the final movement. He smiles at me, and my heart flutters. What is this foolishness of mine? What is wrong with me?
“Well,” says Madam Treeleaf, preparing herself a cup of tea. “Try working on a greater health potion, and a swiftness potion. They’re level three, but it should be straight forward. You won’t be too unfamiliar with the process. You’ll find the recipes in the usual place. Hopefully, they’re still organized. It’s not often I need recipe cards for level three potions, though, so don’t be too disappointed, I’m sure you’ll find them somewhere around here.”
“Yes, Madam Treeleaf,” I say, getting up to search the recipe box.
“Call me Madam Lyra, dear. It’s about time you did. You, too, Lucien.”
“Yes, Madam Tree- Lyra,” he says with a stiff nod. “I hope you’ll forgive me if I slip up a few times.”
She tuts several times, with feigned disappointment. The recipe box is sitting in its usual place on the counter. It’s stained in various colors, but spotlessly clean on the inside.
“I’ve got some business with the herb shop,” says Madam Treeleaf, taking a seat at the work table, and sipping her tea contentedly while munching on some buttery biscuits she brought in with her. “He has been raising his prices, and hasn’t been carrying some of the rarer items.”
“Oh?” Says Lucien, expressing some interest. “What’s happened?”
“He claims that no one is buying, but I purchase what I can from him. I prefer not to have to go out of the way to send for them,” she sighs, and takes another bite of her biscuit, and another sip of tea. “Not that either of you do a bad job at finding everything we need, you’re just occupied enough as it is since the shop has been more busy lately, and it doesn’t hurt to support the other local shops. His apprentice is lazy, I just know it, and I don’t think he’s caught on. I bet he’s the one slacking off, and cutting corners.”
“Is his apprentice Arthur?” I laugh.
Lucien stares wide-eyed at me, then presses his lips together. He lets out a high-pitched sound, when he chokes back a laugh.
Madam Treeleaf laughs heartily. “No, but it sounds like him, doesn’t it? It’s not Arthur, but I did find someone who can take his place.”
“What did I do?” Asks Arthur, irritably, coming in through the back door, looking dreadful. “I heard you say my name.”
“Gods, you look awful,” says Madam Treeleaf, giving him a disgusted look.
“Thanks for that. I feel better now,” he grumbles.
She pulls out a chair for him to sit, pours him a cup of tea, and pushes the plate of biscuits towards him. Lucien snatches up the biscuit Arthur reaches for, and takes a bite. Arthur glares, and grabs another one.
“Oh,” she tuts. “I meant no offense. The three of you look worse for wear. What on earth happened?”
“Well, I danced more than I care to, and…” Arthur trails off, and finishes his biscuit with a blush on his cheeks.
“Drank more than you should have?” Inquires Lucien.
“No. I had trouble sleeping. Everything is just so loud when the students arrive. It’s as if they don’t know what sleep is until their studies begin.”
“Ah,” sighs Madam Treeleaf, dreamily. “I remember those days. Away from your parents for the first time with the freedom to stay up late into the night at the pub with your friends. Returning late because the curfew isn’t in place yet. When you get your own room at level five… Well, I didn’t sleep much. You’ll miss those days when you get to my age. Enjoy them while you can, but don’t forget to sleep.”
“I’ll try not to,” Arthur says, staring at me from across the table, and mouthing out the words ‘Where did you go last night?’.
I pretend to not notice him, and take my spellbook back from Lucien to read through.
The shop door rings, and I get to my feet immediately, but Madam Treeleaf pushes me back into my seat, and stands.
“Finish your tea, I’ll take care of it,” she assures me.
When she walks out of the room, Arthur smiles, and I prepare for an onslaught of questions.
“Where the hell did the two of you disappear to?” He asks, loudly enough to startle me. “Fox said you both returned to the Academy to sleep or whatever, but neither of you look very rested.”
“I was trying to get ahead on my spellwork,” I lie.
“You know better than I do how loud it was last night,” says Lucien. “Of course I didn’t get any sleep. Humans are so loud.”
“You weren’t in your room, I checked,” says Arthur. “Your roommates said you’d not even stopped by. So, out with it. What did the two of you do?”
“We studied,” says Lucien, quietly. “And when we were done, I slept outside, and returned early this morning.”
“Hmm,” he hums uncomfortably. “You abandoned us for that? Really?”
“It’s better than the loud pub.”
“My father sent me a message this morning. He’s considering replacing me with that woman’s son. That bastard- uh… Thomas,” says Arthur, choking back tears of anger.
“Replace?” Lucien asks, shocked.
“Yes, my father is considering disowning me, since I refuse to support him slaughtering dark elves.”
“Slaughter?” I exclaim loudly. “They’re killing them now?”
Arthur covers his ears, and he and Lucien wince.
“Yes. My father has been planning to slaughter any dark elves still residing in Mirror Lake. I’ve sent word to a trusted friend of mine who promised to help get them all out before my father commits genocide, but it’s practically a second Dark Grove.”
Lucien’s hands shake, and he quickly stands from the table to pace the room. His braid sways back and forth at his back, and I’m mesmerized by the sight of him.
“What is it?” Arthur asks Lucien, concerned.
“I must write to Master Eaimer about a private matter. I thought it could wait, but if you’re not heir to the throne of Mirror Lake, then I can’t hold off for much longer. Arthur, help Luna with the shop, I really must send this letter out immediately. And actually help her, don’t slack off!”
“Sure…” he says, after Lucien has already left.