Emails arrived while they attended the night service. Most times, Jenne was the first to check the scores he’d accumulated. Hamis, on the other hand, hardly ever bothered.

  Year 316

  Points Remaining: 13

  Jenne Aster — 38

  Nine points off the mark. Hamis’s face lit up when his phone screen came on. Today of all days he had chosen to check his mail. His smile vanished as he scrolled to the bottom of the message. He exhaled and his shoulders sagged.

  “What is it?” Jenne asked, trying to sound even.

  “I thought I’d graduated,” Hamis said. “It’s all good. I’m not there yet.”

  Jenne leaned over and checked his own screen.

  Year 316

  Points Remaining: 13

  Hamis Deus — 46

  “That’s pretty close, Hamis,” Jenne said. “I’m happy for you.” Had it not been for the stupid penalty, he thought, he might not have lost ten points and graduated today.

  Hamis draped an arm over the pew. He drew closer to Jenne and took a picture of the two of them together. He stared at the photo for a long moment, eyes wet, then tucked his phone away. Neither spoke; they listened to the service.

  At Se Fina, all other classes had finished. The remaining lesson was Hyper-Physicals, still supervised by Tenrad. He had thirteen points to award, four of which Hamis needed.

  “Hamis, Aster, you both lead armies on their way to a collision. Before engaging in a battle that would cost both sides many lives, you decide to settle the conflict in single combat. Stand and face each other. On my word, you will fight. To win you must incapacitate your rival. Form stances.”

  Hamis floated just above the ground and drifted back to one edge of the training platform. His back faced the sea. After the sacred day of Geles, only two months remained until the year’s end. The winds grew colder now, heavy mists blanketing the days. It was never this cold in Blackwood. He wasn’t used to coats and jumpers.

  Jenne wiggled his fingers, crafting and dissolving a dagger, his face straight. Hamis, by contrast, wore a grin.

  If there was one thing Hamis would not do, it was throw the fight. As a son of the Grem, it was a grave insult not to give an opponent your best. Jenne respected that. He’d promised his father he would take school seriously, and he wouldn’t feel right winning on a cheat. That said, he had never promised to become a Gaverian on his first try—and he was no Grem. Out of respect, he would not give his all.

  So, they collided, magic flared, and Jenne lost in unimpressive fashion. As he lay sprawled under heaps of rubble, Hamis approached and offered a hand.

  “Are you alright?” Hamis asked. “You seem a bit off. Tenrad, do you mind if we go again? Jenne had a bad start.”

  “There are no do-overs on the battlefield,” Tenrad said, to Jenne’s relief. “You won fairly. Claim your reward.”

  “Then I refuse to finish him off,” Hamis said. “I let him live for another day.”

  “It does not matter. Aster’s men have seen him defeated. They are demoralised and retreating.”

  Hamis might have pressed on with the pointless debate, but an unlikely interruption stopped him. A figure in white appeared on the hill, shrouded in fog. She descended the steps until the three of them could see her clearly. Mist gathered on her face, and Ms Class waved it away. Her stride faltered as she stumbled over a broken chunk of stone.

  “Careful,” Tenrad said.

  “Thank you for the warning,” she replied. “I apologise for the interruption, Tenrad, but may I excuse Hamis for the rest of the class?”

  “We were just about done anyway,” said Tenrad. “He’s all yours.”

  “Great. Hamis, can you come with me?”

  “What is it?” the marker asked. “You sound ill.”

  “Thank you for your concern, but I’m not the one who needs you. I got a call from Renna Sorel. She says Ashey doesn’t want to go to school until one of you accompanies her.”

  Tenrad scoffed as he packed his duffle bag, offering no comment. Jenne hardly paid attention to Ms Class and Hamis. It had nothing to do with him. What he needed was a safe and quiet place to recover. He began by picking up his jacket from the debris and dusting it clean. Next came his schoolbag—and his water bottle.

  “Why me?” Hamis asked. “Jenne’s right there.”

  “This is serious, Hamis,” said Ms Class. “No offence to Jenne, but I want us to give Renna Sorel the best we can offer. And that is you.”

  Hamis sighed and grumbled about Ashey inventing excuses not to leave the house. He said goodbye to Jenne before following Ms Class up the hill.

  Tenrad soon strode past Jenne, the mist parting around his broad frame. His duffle bag hung over his shoulder. A big man, yet his steps seemed to go unnoticed. One day, Jenne thought, someone would watch him walk past and gape in awe.

  “Aster,” said Tenrad. “Come along.”

  Jenne dropped his bag and stepped to his master’s side. Together, they scaled the hill. Tenrad knew Jenne had thrown the fight, and he was ready to reprimand him for it.

  “Richalli—do you know her?” he asked. “My little girl.”

  “Yes, Sir, I know her.”

  “She won’t stop leaping from sofa to sofa with scissors. She and her sisters refuse to sleep at night. They say they want to be like their hero, Jenne Fury. The skinny earthen boy with solar secieno. They try to hide in my car when I’m driving to work. I tell them to stop. The Gallant family has given enough Gaverians to Henrikia, but they insist. They want to be like Jenne Fury.”

  “Fury.”

  “They say it suits you better,” Tenrad said. “Aster belongs to the Sorels. You are not one of them. You are a crafter for every crafter. That is what they mean.”

  They reached the car park. Jenne helped Tenrad carry his duffle bag while the old man fumbled for his keys. His sedan was worn, its exhaust pipe crooked. He always said it was a choice: either keep the old car or pay for Ursel’s surgery. He’d made that choice long ago—and was grateful he was not in debt.

  He took his bag and dropped it in the first seat. Tenrad did not drive away just yet. He was not finished with Jenne.

  “You’ve surprised me twice already,” he said. “Once, when you came to my house and broke my peace. You showed skill, the way you swung those blades, and for a short time I believed I had never seen anyone with so much promise—not even my sons were as sharp at the start.

  “The second time you surprised me was when I realised you were not going to cut it as a Gaverian on your first try. It’s a shame, but also understandable. I underestimated Hamis, and perhaps I set my expectations too high for you. I am not saying you’re not good enough—I will never say that. But I don’t want you to feel bad about repeating the year. It is not realistic to beat Hamis when he is one point away from graduation.”

  “I like it here,” said Jenne. “You treat me like I belong, even though I don’t deserve that kind of respect. Hamis has been the best student; I am proud to have been his rival. I will work hard to graduate next year, even if I’ll be competing with no one but myself.”

  “Good,” said Tenrad, and was that a hint of a smile on the old man’s face? “Well done, both of you.”

  “Thank you, Sir,” said Jenne.

  Tenrad got behind the wheel, the engine coughed to life, and the old car veered into the distance.

  “Jenne.”

  It was Ms Class, right behind him. “Ashey called again. She has another request.”

  Ashey wanted both Jenne and Hamis to accompany her to school. To her, Hamis alone was not enough protection if she were ever kidnapped again.

  So there they were—three quiet friends in the back of an SUV. She rested her hands on theirs, as if she did not quite believe they were truly beside her. Ashey bit her lip often. She tried to speak, but every attempt dissolved into silence. She hid her eyes by staring at her shoes, tugging at her black stockings until they snapped against her thighs.

  “What is happening at school today?” Jenne asked, trying to get things started. “Are you caught up yet?”

  “We’re starting our exams,” she said. “I wouldn’t have gone otherwise. I think we’re writing English this morning.”

  “You speak English better than any Henrikian I’ve met. We have no problem then, right?”

  “I wish it were that easy,” she said. “I don’t remember the last time I passed on my first try. It’s hard—especially with summaries and essays. You think you know it, but then you don’t.”

  “True,” he admitted, recalling his own time at school. He had always preferred the sciences and maths over the languages and arts. “Good luck, anyway. This time will be different.”

  “It won’t be. I joined the drama club, just like I said I would. I ate apples so I wouldn’t doze off at night when studying. Then you came along, my mom came home…”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “No, it’s not your fault,” she said. “It’s mine. I’m dumb. I knew from the start nothing was going to change. No matter how much I try, I’m going to be the same old Ashey—the dummy who messes everything up.”

  “Ashey, don’t say that about yourself.”

  “Leave her, Jenne,” said Hamis, idly scrolling on his phone. “Don’t let her reel you in.”

  Ashey thumped Hamis in the ribs. “But it’s true,” she said. “I can’t do anything right.”

  “Stuff happened that you didn’t expect,” Jenne said gently. “Your mom took you out of school. There was nothing you could’ve done about that.”

  “I told myself this term was going to be the best one yet. I was going to study hard and pass all my classes. My grandma told me to join a study group, but no one wanted me in theirs. Pence asked his friends to let me join and they kicked him out. So he offered to tutor me alone. Everything was going great until my mom walked in on us. She thinks I was trying to get him to sleep with me—but it’s not true. I mean, we were thinking about it...”

  Hamis and Jenne said nothing. Silence was safer than the wrong words.

  The car came to a stop at the school gates. Jenne picked up Ashey’s school bag and Hamis grabbed her folder. They got out and headed towards the main compound together. Though the mist was thick, it could not hide the beating of two red flags flying steadily from a pole on a high balcony.

  Students of Glen Jacobs, about three hundred in all, stood in rows on the compound with their hands on their hearts. They faced a tall, dark man on the balcony. They were singing a song—possibly the national anthem of Soden.

  Ashey, brisk in her steps, broke away from Jenne and Hamis as she joined the ranks to sing. Her ancestors would have spat their teeth out to see a Sorel join in Sodenite comradery. Then again, Ashey was her own person, no matter how much Schemel hated to see it.

  “Now we say the pledge,” their principal declared from the high balcony.

  Freed, we are the people of Soden. A city built on Soden Rock. A people that will not be shaken.

  Forward, we move. The will of man is to build. We take from the past and pave a path for the future.

  Fear, it’s no longer with us. The flame of the Blood Storm will wither one day. Ours is the heart of courage. Ours is the might of Henrik and the brave one hundred.

  They chanted in English, a bit too quickly for Hamis to catch what they were saying. Otherwise, he would have raised an eyebrow or two. When they were done, they split into groups and moved towards the classroom blocks. Jenne and Hamis caught up with Ashey again as she led the way. Hamis fixed his eyes on the red flag, nearly walking into a passerby.

  Up the stairs and down the long hallway, they reached Ashey’s classroom, where her mates were sitting around talking among themselves. Some tipped their heads at the two of them and waved. Others passed a brief smile before burying their faces in their notebooks again. Ashey dragged her feet to her desk and slumped into her chair. Jenne handed over her bag and nudged Hamis to give her the file. He was glancing around the classroom, eyes drawn to the stickers and maps. He grunted at the sight of a small red flag in the corner of the room.

  “Is this your first time seeing the Soden flag?” asked Jenne.

  “Why is it so red?” Hamis asked.

  “Blood of their forefathers.”

  “Yikes.”

  “Excuse me?” said a voice behind them. It was a tall, lean girl with twin braids, wearing a knit sweater. She leaned towards Hamis and folded her arms. “Did I hear you right?”

  “Sorry,” said Hamis, biting his tongue. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have. It just felt a bit intense.”

  “We should be the ones apologising, since I made you so uncomfortable.”

  “Lydia, leave them alone,” said a boy, placing a gentle hand on the girl’s shoulder. He grinned at Jenne and Hamis, his face burning with embarrassment. “Please don’t pay any attention to her.”

  The rest of the class stopped to watch.

  “I didn’t mean to be offensive,” said Hamis. “I have relatives who fought for the Black Army during the Great Oppression.”

  That drew chuckles from everyone.

  “You’re on your own,” said the boy who had tried to defend Hamis.

  “You’re not better than any of them,” the girl said. “I bet you don’t think much about where all the food you eat comes from, do you? The clothes you wear, the fancy shoes on your feet—who do you think made them? You benefit from the suffering of earthens like us on the farms. Don’t try to take the moral high ground.”

  “I should leave,” said Hamis, shaken. He turned and handed Ashey’s file to her. Quickly, he fled Jenne’s side and slipped outside, leaving her to face the girl. The girl scoffed, folding her arms with a shudder of victory.

  “Hamis is not like that,” said Jenne, without thinking. “He’s going to be a good Gaverian.”

  The girl pulled the corners of her lips down. “That’s contradictory,” she said. “A Gaverian cannot be good. You’re tools of oppression.”

  “I’m an earthen ascender,” said Jenne. “Wouldn’t I also be a contradiction?”

  “Honestly, I don’t know what to make of you,” the girl admitted, her tone softer, kinder. “I hope you play a major role in our history—in the history of all earthens around the world.”

  “I’m still a virgin, though,” Ashey cut in. Silenced, the class turned to her. She sat nibbling at the end of her pen, staring back at everyone. “I… I was talking to Jenne.”

  Lydia showed Jenne a picture of the two of them on the sidewalk. “I sent this to my parents back in Soden because they didn’t believe you were real,” she said. “We call you Jenne Balancer.”

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  “Lydia, I think that’s enough,” another friend laughed, stepping forward. “Leave him alone.”

  Jenne laughed along. He ought to be going. Without much ado, he turned and said his goodbyes to Ashey. “Good luck again,” he said. “Hamis and I will pick you up the moment you’re done.”

  “Don’t go far,” she said. “Please.”

  “We’re not leaving Little Soden,” said Jenne. “I promise.”

  She stared at him before nodding once. “I wish you didn’t have to go,” she said.

  “I’m right outside,” Jenne promised.

  The cap of the morbid no longer rested on Ashey’s head but on Hamis’. Jenne found him on the sidewalk, his hands buried in his pockets. Hamis wasn’t one to be downcast for long, though Jenne feared today’s wounds might cut too deep. Hamis had his head tilted back when Jenne came to stand beside him. His nose was reddened.

  “Jenne,” he said in a coarse voice. Had he been crying?

  “Deep down, Jenne, do you hate us?” Hamis asked. The school bell rang as the gates shut behind them. Every minute or so, a car drove past, and soon Jenne found himself counting them.

  “I’m sure you’ve heard the rumours about my father. They started spreading a few years ago. He got caught up in some allegations involving earthen women on the Farms. I try not to think too much about it. But I just realised—all this time, you’ve been thinking about it whenever you look at me.”

  Where was the sun when you needed it most? Layer upon layer of grey haze smothered the sky. The cold crept in, numbing his fingers. And this was not the cold of December.

  “To be honest, I’ve not given it much thought,” said Jenne. “When I first arrived, I couldn’t stomach anything I ate because it felt unfair to the many people forced to work on the Farms.”

  “What has changed?”

  “The way I see things,” said Jenne. “I don’t deserve to starve just because I feel bad. Whether we eat less or more or stop eating altogether, the earth man’s situation remains the same. The system is beyond us to change. We’re just two children at the end of the day. All that’s left is to leave the big people to make the decisions that are best for us.”

  “That’s irresponsible,” said Hamis, smiling at nothing. “I don’t think we’re too small. Alone, maybe—but we’re not alone. I’m the grandson of Henrikia’s Chancellor. You’re an earthen ascender; you could become the most influential person at the UCL. And Ashey’s a freaking Sorel, even if she doesn’t act like it. We are big—we’re the biggest force in the universe.” Hamis floated about to face Jenne. “When I said we were going to be heroes, I meant it. A good man knows first that he is independent of his future, but that his future is everything.”

  “Did Jacqolin say that?”

  Glory lit up Hamis’ grey eyes. “No,” he said. “Ashel did.”

  Jenne scoffed, folding his arms and shooting him a sidelong glance. “You’re quoting one of the greats. I didn’t know you read books without pictures in them.”

  “I didn’t see it in a book. Ashel shows up in Schemel’s secret ending in Dominus.”

  “Makes sense.”

  “Now I feel like playing a few rounds,” Hamis said. “Do you know any game centres nearby?”

  “Not a clue.”

  “Let’s go find one, then.”

  “But Ashey—”

  “Is going to be stuck here for hours,” said Hamis, taking Jenne by the wrist and floating him along. “We won’t be long.”

  On their search, Jenne asked Hamis exactly how he planned to make the world a better place. Hamis wasn’t consistent with his answers. Still, most of his ideas revolved around devoting himself to the House of Balance. Mariel worked tirelessly to make Henrikia free and fair to all earthens. It wasn’t a bad thought.

  They ended up on the second floor of a long stretch of commercial buildings. The place was unusually quiet. Hamis paid for his time behind the gaming system by taking a picture with the manager. As always, Hamis played while Jenne sat in the back. Not that it mattered—Hamis had stopped encouraging him to try a controller.

  Clack, click, click, click. Buttons rattled. Characters jumped about on the screen, numbers bursting from their bodies, health bars draining.

  “I want to play,” Jenne said.

  Hamis paused, winding around. His blank face was kind of funny.

  Hamis sat Jenne next to him and passed him a controller as if it were a brand-new pistol. Jenne’s hand closed around the warm device—it was heavier than it looked. Hamis pressed his back into the gaming chair, stretching out with the ease of a veteran.

  “Jenne, you are about to have the best experience of your life.”

  “I doubt it.”

  “Move the thumb stick around and pick a character—wait, wait, you need to learn the moves first. Let’s get you into the training menu…” Hamis clicked through the screens, mumbling as he searched. Suddenly, he gasped.

  “What is it?”

  Turning to the manager, Hamis said, “You didn’t tell me you had the Sexite pack.”

  “You never asked.”

  “I don’t have it,” Hamis groaned. “My dad says I spend too much money on ‘useless entertainment’.”

  Jenne snorted but held his tongue. He knew what mattered to Hamis and wasn’t about to belittle it. “What is the Sexite pack?” he asked, feigning interest.

  Hamis let the controller rest on a character who appeared on the screen. A dark-skinned man with heavy braids tied with ribbons and bows stood tall, wearing a robe and leather sandals.

  “Is that Ren Calimer?” Jenne asked, startled into standing.

  “Sure is.”

  “Wow, they’ve got all the Sexite Gaverians?”

  “Looks like it. Let me check.” Hamis started counting them off.

  “Hamis, do you know what this means? We could study them.”

  “Not everything has to be homework,” Hamis sighed.

  But it was already too late. Jenne was pressing buttons, trying to make Calimer move. In the end, Hamis took control and set up a match between the two of them, using Sexites exclusively. Jenne didn’t win a single round, yet he was buzzing with excitement, his mind whirring with the knowledge he’d soaked up.

  Calimer, he realised, was like a stripped-down version of Blood Storm—a crafter of dust and sand, summoning whirlwinds and dust storms at will. Father Jade had once said Calimer wasn’t the strongest fighter, but he’d risen to High Commander through networking, leadership, and diplomacy.

  Emic, Calimer’s Firstman, was the traditional brute. A bloodthirsty man who had killed more Henrikian soldiers during the Midder-Land conflict than any other Sexite Gaverian combined. And it was no wonder why. Added to his colossal, muscular build, he was a crafter of sound—raw percussion that shredded bone and meat with ease.

  Alongside Emic was arguably the most recognisable Sexite Gaverian: Stojan Vorian, the mist crafter. The Ghost of Tardis, who had single-handedly wiped out the entire Tardis occupation troop in a single night. Crafter of mist, stealth expert, and assassin—a legend without a doubt.

  Then there were the rippers, Steffen and his daughter Sevin. Teleporting sorcerers were not as physically capable as their crafter counterparts but were by no means easy targets. Hamis struggled against Jenne when Jenne used Sevin in fights. Sevin would vanish from one point and reappear behind her enemy, then stab and disappear again. Quite fun to be a ripper.

  A notable exclusion from the list was Pariston Llyod. He was available, but for obvious reasons Hamis avoided selecting him altogether.

  Time flew by, and soon the school bell rang for closing. Ashey came out with the others, walking among them but not with them. She tossed her school bag in Hamis' face and embraced Jenne. “How was it?”

  “I nearly died,” she said at the café they visited. She took out her paper and laid it on the table. A giant glass of hot chocolate sat in front of her, and she sucked it through a straw. “They asked us to write a letter to our local councilman. Everyone is writing addresses and I’m stuck. I had no idea we had learned that this term!” She groaned.

  “It’s just twenty marks,” said Jenne. “Worst-case scenario, you’re getting a C.”

  “I wish,” she said, slurping. “Maybe if I spent more time on the other questions instead of panicking over the letter, I would’ve finished. I’m never making it to the final year like this. All my friends are going to be in High School and I’ll be stuck in Junior High trying to get a stupid letter done.”

  “Excuse me, Sir,” said Hamis, addressing the passing waiter. “Why do you have so many red flags hanging about today? Is it normal around here?”

  “Hamis!” hissed Ashey. “You can’t ask him that."

  Jenne noticed the tiny red flags set on a wooden bar along the wall of the café. Hamis wasn’t wrong to ask.

  "Those flags?" the waiter asked, pointing around the quiet room. “This is for Red Day.”

  “I knew that,” said Ashey. “I could’ve told him.”

  “Sorry, Ms Sorel,” said the waiter, bowing. Ashey swatted him away.

  “Red Day,” said Hamis.

  “Yes, Red Day,” she said.

  “What holiday is it?”

  “It’s not exactly a holiday. We can have more than one in a year, or none at all.”

  “So, it’s more of a sacred day,” Jenne explained.

  “Well, not exactly,” said Ashey. “You don’t know? I thought you were the smart one.”

  “What is it?” snapped Hamis.

  “I don’t know,” she snapped back. “It’s a special day, okay? The Sodenites fly flags on Red Days. I don’t know how they decide it. All I know is that it’s a Red Day.”

  “Okay, what’s the special occasion?”

  “How am I supposed to know?”

  “You drove away the waiter just so you could tell us absolutely nothing,” said Hamis.

  “We can call him back.”

  “I’m sure there’s a book we could read,” said Jenne.

  “Waiter!” Ashey waved from their table. The few in the café cringed as her piercing voice reached them. The man in white, with a black apron strapped around his waist, came by immediately.

  “Ms Sorel, is there anything you want?”

  “My friends would like to know what the occasion is,” said Ashey. “Why is the day red?”

  “Oh, that again,” the man said. He turned, grabbed a remote controller from the counter, and pointed it at a television in the corner. He switched to a channel showing a dusty city, with swathes of locals jumping up and about in some kind of celebration. “I thought it would be rude of us to show this off when we have Henrikians around.”

  The celebrations were happening in the war-torn city of Tardis, the Midder-Lands. Sexite soldiers occupied the streets, marching towards a palace where Calimer and several officials stood. Cameras followed vehicles as they stopped at the foot of the stairs, where blonde men stepped into the sunlight, all in leaf-green coats and crimson-tinted sunglasses.

  As ugly as the scene was, it was not particularly troubling.

  “How does this concern Soden?” asked Hamis.

  The waiter did not get the chance to answer when the few earthen customers around began applauding and cheering. Another vehicle had stopped by the palace, and a man, surrounded by soldiers in black, walked up the stairs to join the other dignitaries. He was a plump man in a political suit, dark-skinned, with short black hair: President Luis.

  “I wonder how Renna is doing after seeing this,” Jenne said softly.

  The waiter turned off the television, noticing the shift in their moods. Jenne and Hamis stared at the dark screen for a long moment before dragging their chairs back.

  “Are we leaving?” Ashey asked.

  “Yeah,” said Hamis. “We’re taking you home.”

  Renna Sorel was waiting at the front stairs when their driver pulled into the compound. It was going to take some getting used to seeing her without her uniform.

  "Why the long faces?" she asked, smiling down at them. "You guys didn’t run into any trouble, did you?”

  “No,” mumbled Hamis. “We just saw what was happening in the Midder-Lands. Man, I’ve never loved Henrikia, but seeing Sexton flaunt over us did not feel good.”

  “We saw Soden’s president with Calimer.”

  “Yes, yes,” said Schemel. “Nothing we poor Henrikians can do about it now. Don’t bother.” She snorted at their peril, then spoke to Ashey privately. Ashey winced, taking out her sheet of paper from her school bag. Schemel snatched it and narrowed her eyes at the sheet. “I thought this was something useful. God, they grade you on how well you speak English.” She handed the paper back to Ashey.

  “We’ll be back tomorrow morning,” said Hamis.

  With every class over and done with, Jenne spent most of his hours studying to perfect his fighting technique. With Hamis being a point away from graduation, trying so hard felt pointless. Maybe he’d spend the rest of the night at the library. He needed more hobbies. He’d figure it out once he returned to Se Fina.

  “Jenne, can you stay behind for a while?” said Schemel. “There’s something I have to tell you.”

  With Hamis gone and Ashey busy, Jenne was left alone with Schemel at the entrance to her home. She did not speak immediately, heading in and making him follow. Lots of servants were around that evening; many eyes were watching.

  “We’re in trouble,” she said, going up the stairs. “We’re in deep trouble.”

  “Renna…”

  “So, Ms Class told me this morning that Hamis is one point off the goal. That is not good.”

  “How come?”

  “I spoke to Tenrad and asked him to repeal the penalty he placed on you a while ago,” she said, climbing higher still, taking him to a place where no one could see them. “That cocky brute said he would think about it.”

  “If I get those ten points back—”

  “You and Hamis would be a point apart, and your next training session would be your last together because you would beat him and become a Gaverian. That’s why I brought you here. To train and perfect you.”

  It was a platform, high above the ground, circular and made of marble. It had no railings, meaning he could fall off the edge and die. Mist tumbled about, forming a thin veil around them. Jenne gasped, welcoming the sight of the vast ocean to his left and the rolling hills to his right. Then his lips sealed.

  “Aren’t you bound by Shaphet’s Law?” he said. “How can you train me without your spells?”

  Schemel outstretched her hands and formed a stance. “I’ll manage just fine,” she said. “Come at me with everything. Don’t hold back at all.”

  Jenne pursed his lips, wondering if there was a trick he’d missed. He made fists, holding them close together. Easing his breath, he dashed towards the Mistress. His first few strikes missed her completely, pacing up, rounding with swift swings. Do better. This was the former High Commander—an elite in all regards, even without her powers.

  Schemel grunted at the drastic shift in pace. She hadn’t landed a strike yet, only moving him across the platform. Jenne’s strings caught her by the wrist. He tugged her forward, throwing a fist across her face—pain! It ripped through his groin. He looked down and found her knee nestled between his legs. Looking back up, he saw her smirking.

  Schemel grabbed his head and slammed his brow against her knee. She doubled up, landing blow after blow. He trapped the next strike with the inside of his elbow and his other arm. Schemel scoffed, her other foot stomping into his face. Jenne blinked away his shock—she charged him, bashing him with punishing speed. How was she this fast? Overwhelmed, he retreated into the depths of his mind. Sooner or later, the bout would end. And it did.

  “Don’t you want to become a Gaverian anymore?” she asked. “I doubt you’re giving it your all.”

  How could she tell from their brief sparring? He’d been convincing enough.

  “I don’t mind Hamis becoming a Gaverian before me,” said Jenne. “I’m ready to start over next year.”

  “Not when you’re this close,” she said. “Hamis can’t graduate before you do. Hamis can afford to repeat the year. But if you fail, I don’t know if that will be possible. You may no longer be in my custody. The only way I can guarantee your safety from the Assembly is if you become a Gaverian.”

  The I.A.A. wanted Jenne to conduct studies. They had started with him before Schemel came to take him away the first time. Like that first time, when he learned about this, Jenne’s knees did not cave in. He did not sweat or shiver. On the contrary, he shrugged off the news.

  “Jenne,” she said, approaching him. “Are you not worried?”

  “I don’t know, Renna,” said Jenne.

  She drew closer to him, enough for him to step back, but she stepped forward again until there was no space between them.

  “Tell me what you want—anything at all—and I’ll give it to you. As long as you promise to give it your all afterwards. I can’t live with myself if the government takes you away from me.”

  He had so many things in his heart that he longed for, but none of them were within her reach. She could not take away his powers, and she would not give him answers to her many secrets. Out of all the impossible things he wanted, there was one he could not resist saying: “I want to go home.”

  Expecting he would say something like that, she sighed and brushed her palm against his cheek, wiping away a tear stain that wasn’t there. Combing through his hair with her fingers, she said, “I’ll take you back to the villa.”

  The drive back was too quiet. All the while, she had a permanent smile on her face. Schemel seemed a bit too happy about something. Maybe he shouldn’t have said that to her face. Had he hurt her feelings by still wanting to leave after all this time? She dropped him off and planted a kiss on his brow before leaving once again.

  Hamis was asleep behind his television, with a controller floating over his head. He hadn’t bothered to change out of his uniform. Jenne watched him for a while before shaking his head in amusement. Hamis had not spent a day doing any special training and would still wipe the floor with Jenne. Whether it was a ten-point gap or a one-point gap, Hamis would win.

  Even after a night shower and fresh clothes, sleep was beyond his grasp. Jenne stepped out onto the porch and sat alone on the stairs with his phone in hand. He slapped the device, thinking, thinking, thinking. He’d read somewhere that it was better if you voiced your problems aloud. You might perceive them as many in your mind, but when spoken, they become few and manageable.

  He tried to log it. The last time he’d made one was nearly a month and a half ago. Without bothering to set the camera to face him, he pointed it at the ground and spoke.

  “Hello, Mari. I wanted to ask something and I don’t know who else I can talk to. What counts as a kiss? You told us it’s for married people, but what if someone puts their mouth on yours and you weren’t paying attention when it happened? Does it count? I wish it didn’t count…. That isn’t what matters.

  “I don’t know how to tell Aron, but I don’t want to become a Gaverian anymore. Everyone looks at me and they have so many expectations for what I should be—Aster, Fury, Balancer, whatever. I just want to be a Shepherd again. I want to be shoving astaphite with Maselli and making stew in the kitchen in the evening with you.

  “Hamis wants me to overthrow the government or something. Some Sodenite children think I’m on their side just because we’re all earthen. People think it’s easy for me to go from the same prayers I’ve said all my life to becoming secular overnight.

  “And no one told me anything about what is happening in Blackwood. What is the point of all this if I can’t see you again? Renna Sorel said the doctors would come and take me away to do experiments on me if I didn’t pass and become a Gaverian. It wasn’t funny when I first heard it but it’s funny now.

  “What if you’re dead? What if Aron, you, and Maselli are all dead? Do they think I care what happens to me? I don’t care at all.”

  Jenne pushed down the power button and pressed his brow against his raised knees. No one could tell him he liked crying. These were his tears, and he would shed them as much as he wanted. Regilon was cruel for keeping him waiting this long. He should just wake up and share the bad news.

  Later that night, still wide awake, he wondered what Tenrad’s verdict would be and the implications it carried. He stepped back out into the evening fog. Leaving caution and consequences behind, he headed into the forest to visit Verimae. He had to admit he was rotten for turning back to her. Knowing she was a liar and a danger to his well-being—and still choosing to go back—proved what kind of man he was. A weak one.

  In the magic of the garden, the glass prism stood still before him. Taking the path he had walked once before, he arrived at the back of the fae’s home but still could not find her. Questions arose in his mind, and he was determined to get to the bottom of them.

  Closer and closer, he reached her dressing mirror and found who he was looking for—and more. Upon a cluster of cotton sheets and silk cuttings lay a bare man, resting on his belly with his head turned away from the glass pane. The fae sat cross-legged against him, picking up strands of his hair to inspect them. She wore a nightgown that fit her poorly. One sleeve had slipped off her shoulder onto her arm, the garment barely covering her.

  Verimae led Jenne to the other side of her home, where he sat on the stairs and she sat on the ground with her back against the glass. They spoke for hours about everything so far. He let her know what had been happening since the last time they spoke. They discussed faith and religion, and she tried to convince him that the Six were not truly gods in the way that the Seven were. She did not mention the identity of the new gods, their goals, or their potency.

  All in all, spending time with her was better than sleeping. He longed to stay longer, but to his surprise, it was she who told him it was time to go.

  “My lover will awaken soon,” she said. “He can get incredibly jealous if he sees us like this.”

  “Thank you for spending time with me, Verimae,” said Jenne. “I don’t know when I will return, though.”

  “You will,” she said, convinced. “Take care of yourself.”

  “You too.”

  As he was leaving, Verimae called him back in a soft, still voice. He stepped against the pane, and she crouched so their eyes were level.

  “You’ll know what you’re meant for soon,” she said. “Destiny is calling.”

  “I will. One day.”

  “No, sooner than you think,” she said with a wry smile. “Like in thirty minutes.”

  Exhausted, he wound his way out of the forest and onto the path to the villa. Headlights approached on the road ahead. They fell on Jenne, stretching his shadow long. It was one of those large military vehicles you would see Schemel driving. Except this could not be her. Whoever it was had come to the villa at an odd hour. With a hand shielding his eyes, he stayed put as the backdoor opened.

  Schemel stepped out of the car. “I had a feeling you were awake,” she said.

  “Renna, what are you doing here?”

  “Fulfilling your wish,” she said.

  The door on the other side opened, and another person stepped out. Because Jenne could not sense their ascension, he tried to discern their shape in the mist. The person was lean and shorter than Schemel, and their eyes did not glimmer in the dark. An earthen. Perhaps one of Schemel’s dossi. He did not know them. Yet they approached, wobbling with every step. Whoever it was sounded sickly and frail—and why were they sobbing?

  With the headlights on, he followed the dust particles dancing in the beams. A figure stepped in front of the lights, casting a shadow over his face. It was no problem for Jenne, who could see them clearly. The earthen was a skinny girl in a navy-blue dress that fit her poorly. She stopped walking, frozen as tears welled in her eyes. Schemel said nothing, only watching with a smiling face. She had delivered what he asked for. He told her he wanted to go home. She’d brought home to him.

  Jenne took a second look at the girl, at the digits on the back of her hand. This was not Hanna. It couldn’t be.