Two hours before dawn, Jenne would wake to memorise every spell-casting sign he could. He kept a notebook for it, one which lay on his desk, where Renna Sorel was sitting. Was he seeing things, or still dreaming? She wore an oversized white shirt, leggings and trainers, her hair tied in a small pony.

  Schemel flipped through his notebook slowly. “Healing is an art performed both consciously and subconsciously,” she read. “Doctor Leonard is doing better than I thought.” She continued to flip pages and Jenne’s heart beat faster. Her ears twitched at the increased tempo.

  “Ah, I see,” she said. “Malory and Jeromy.” She closed the notebook and turned to face him. Her smile was flat. “I like it. It’s cute.”

  He tried to sit up, but Schemel placed a steadying hand on his shoulder and pushed him gently back down. She sat on the edge of the bed and opened the notebook again. Flipping to the next page, she glanced at the illustrations. “You want to master the Dancing Dagger?” Jenne nodded. “Tenrad has no experience with that technique. He was too bulky to learn it. Ursel is pretty decent, though.”

  “How come she isn’t a Gaverian?” he asked.

  “Well, disappointments come in many forms.” Schemel stopped at another page. “You learn a lot of techniques and not many spells.”

  He tried to lift his head, but she lowered his chin with a careful finger so he looked at the page. “Ashey memorised spells nearly every day,” he said. “Most of them stuck in my head after a while. That’s why I don’t bother writing them.”

  “She learned a lot from you, too,” said Schemel. “I saw her year’s total. Ashey got ten. That’s her highest score at Se Fina. Is it fair to say you two need each other?”

  “I guess.”

  “Anyway, Tenrad told me you’re skilled.” She set him free, and he could breathe again.

  “I asked him how well you integrate magic into combat, and he told me it was non-existent. Tenrad is a Gallant. Gallants don’t prioritise magic in the way that we Sorels do.” She got out of his bed and urged him to do the same. “Let’s go outside for some sparring lessons.”

  “Really?”

  “Today is our day, Jenne.”

  It was Hamis’ day as well. They knocked on his door, waiting to see his surprise. When he saw her standing behind it, he gasped, floated into the air, and hugged her around the neck. “You’re back,” he said.

  Hamis and Jenne got dressed and stepped into the morning sunlight. They knew the task and were well prepared for it. Taking their distance, they assumed stances, waiting for Schemel’s command. “Begin,” she said, and they burst forward.

  A pulse shot Jenne’s way. He rolled, trying to close in on Hamis from behind. In a head-on fight, markers would always win. At all costs, he had to avoid a time-stopping spell. He crafted a dagger, aiming at Hamis’ back. The marker swept one foot and struck him in the ribs. Jenne rushed, darting across the ground to gain more distance. Time exploded behind him, setting off ticking bombs. Dirt and grass sprayed into the air, frozen in time. He couldn’t run forever, so he spun and threw his blade at Hamis. Jenne followed it, stopping short in front of Hamis, frozen in the air. Hamis snapped his fingers, and Jenne fell to the ground. Then he stomped Jenne through the chest.

  “Well done, Hamis.” Schemel applauded. “You are in the lead for a reason.”

  “Jenne was pretty good too, right?” asked Hamis, helping him up. “He’s never lasted this long against me. You should’ve seen him the first time we sparred.”

  “He is impressive…” she said.

  “But?” murmured Jenne.

  “But you are here to improve,” she said. “I believe you are much better than any crafter your age. Had you been facing another crafter, you wouldn’t have had any problems. You, however, are fighting a marker. You spend far too much effort avoiding Hamis’ trapping spells rather than going on the offensive.” She swatted her hand, and a trail of golden light followed. “You have spells at your fingertips, Jenne, use them.”

  “Heat breaks through marker fields,” Jenne recited.

  “Exactly,” she said. “Put theory into practice.”

  They took their stances again, a stone’s throw apart. Jenne clasped his hands together and fashioned two blades. He slashed the air, waiting for Hamis to be ready. Schemel clapped once, and they bolstered once more, the wind roaring behind them.

  Hamis halted, leaned back, and slapped the air with his palm. Jenne pushed forward. He swatted with both daggers and leapt off the ground, spinning as golden lights circled around him. Round and round they went, sizzling through Hamis’ spell. Jenne pressed harder, swinging a blade across Hamis’ face. The marker’s eyes widened in shock. He bent back, grabbed Jenne’s ankle, and froze it in time.

  Jenne tried to pull free. No use. Heat! He could break free with heat—until a force flung him across the grass. He landed hard on bare ground, head hanging back in defeat. Hamis snapped his fingers, freeing him.

  “I’m proud of you both,” she said, leading them to the canteen for breakfast. “You’re both so talented. It’s a shame only one gets to be Gaverian on the first try. Jenne, love, how many points do you have?”

  “Twenty-nine.”

  “And you, Hamis?”

  “Thirty-three.”

  “So very close.”

  “What if we both get equal points with none to spare?” asked Hamis. “What happens then?”

  She placed her hands on their backs and patted them, smiling. “Well, what then?”

  “You’ll see,” she said. “If it comes to that.”

  Being a Thursday, they had Ms Class in the morning for Spell-Casting. Since it was an unusual day, Schemel joined them, sitting at the back of the classroom. Ms Class stammered a lot during the first hour, always watching for what Schemel might say or do. The High Commander, however, did nothing. By the next hour, Ms Class had grown more comfortable.

  The lesson was on Creator Ascension.

  “As a Gaverian, there may come a time when you find yourself stranded alone—in a desert, perhaps. We need creator triangles to survive. We use them to create food and water.”

  She drew a triangle containing three horizontal lines and three vertical ones.

  “You might wonder why this isn’t more common. Why bother farming for food when we could use creator spells to get what we need? Well, there is a catch.”

  Hamis raised his hand. “Creator spells need ascension to work,” he said. “I mean a lot of ascension—like a city’s worth of magic.”

  “Yes, Hamis, I get it,” said Ms Class. “That’s not all, though. Jenne? Do you know?”

  Jenne had to come up with something, otherwise Hamis would open the points difference again. He walked up to the board and touched the triangle. Placing his hand in the centre, he felt a rush of power. The world rumbled beneath him, rattling his teeth. Then it stopped, and a single drop of water slid down the board.

  “They require a lot of ascension, but they are highly ineffective,” said Jenne.

  “That’s right.”

  Schemel applauded, breaking her silence.

  “But Rheina and Frennie did a great deal in their day, and I like to think they did not have an overabundance of ascension,” Jenne asked. “How did they do it?”

  The question troubled Ms Class, and for the first time that morning, she seemed grateful to have Schemel around. “Why do you ask?” asked Schemel.

  “It was just a thought,” he lied. But under Schemel’s quiet stare, he could not keep it up for long. She had a way of looking at you that made it seem she already knew the truth and was simply waiting for you to admit it.

  “Blackwood hasn’t received supplies, and if anyone is still alive, they need food and water. It’s silly, I know, but I think they would try drawing creator triangles.”

  “Wishful thinking,” whispered Schemel. “Assuming your brother is still alive and as competent at drawing triangles as you say, he would need a mountain’s worth of astaphite to survive on created food.”

  “When do we get some astaphite?” Hamis asked. “We’re good enough to handle some, right?”

  “Once you’re proper Gaverians,” Schemel told him.

  It felt like ages since Schemel had arrived. Her constant presence felt strange. She was never this available, not even on her breaks. Now she was having a private conversation with Eva in the canteen while Jenne and Hamis ate lunch.

  He sent Malory a text. She was bored at work and looking forward to watching the upcoming Dream Oven episode with him. Usually, he spent at least three hours in the library studying, but he loved spending time with Malory.

  I’ll be there in an hour, he texted.

  “Where are we going in an hour?” asked Schemel, standing over him. He dropped his phone onto his plate, not realising she was so close.

  “I have work,” Jenne said, and it wasn’t a lie. He helped out at Malory’s whenever he could. There were always plates to wash or tables to clean. He liked doing those chores, even if he wasn’t paid. “I’m sorry I haven’t told you about it.”

  Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  “That’s alright, Jenne. You’re growing. There are bound to be things you keep from me. Does Malory work at this place?”

  “Yes…”

  Schemel had come in a black sedan, without a driver. Jenne took the front seat while she slid behind the wheel. For no reason at all, he had flashbacks of a car crash that had never happened. He clicked his seatbelt and clung to the seat edge.

  “I know how to drive,” she laughed. “Yes, I ran over a child twice. The first time was an accident, and the second time was to make sure she was dead but my record has been clean since then.”

  Her green eyes spiralled out of control.

  “Jenne, I’m joking.” She laughed again.

  “When did you learn to drive?”

  “During my time at Sexton,” she said. “At school.”

  That alone kept her talking for the rest of the trip. She spoke about how different the continent had been back then, about the importance of a degree in Hidden Advanced Arts before succeeding as High Commander. She took him to Dormitia and drove through the streets as though they had never left Henrik City.

  They passed the Black Belt, rounded the bend, and pulled up in front of Malory’s shop. Philica and Malory peered out of the shack, eyes fixed on the car. They were not the only ones watching from hiding places. No music played in the bars. The usual sounds of everyday life were muted.

  “We’re here,” said Schemel. “I see your friend is excited to meet you.”

  Malory scratched the digits on her hand. She backed into the shack, only to be stopped by Philica. He murmured, “Don’t make it worse,” and she calmed down.

  “What’s going on?” asked Schemel. “Does she not want to see you?”

  “She’s shy,” said Jenne. “Maybe I’ll come back another time.”

  “When?” she pressed. “I would love to meet your new friends.”

  He had no answer for that. There was a lesson here, one he was failing to learn.

  “You there, come over,” Schemel called out the window.

  Philica walked to the car, hands behind his back, shoulders squared.

  “What do you do for a living?”

  “We sell goods, Mistress. Beverages and the like.”

  “Mm.” She studied him. “It doesn’t seem sanitary.”

  “We have a permit, Mistress.”

  “I’m no health inspector,” she whispered. “I’m just concerned about my son. Do you give him anything to drink while he is here?”

  “No, nothing for him.”

  “Are you implying there is nothing safe for him to drink?”

  “Renna…”

  “What’s your name?”

  “Philica, Renna.”

  “Philica what?”

  “Roch.”

  “A lot of Sodenites get caught smuggling alcohol across Henrikian borders. Are you a Sodenite?”

  “I am not.”

  “Are you sure?” she asked.

  “Mistress, I—”

  “Don’t worry,” she cut him off. “I’m here to drop off my son.”

  “Thank you,” said Philica. “And I promise to take good care of him.”

  “I hope so.”

  She did not expect Jenne to get out of the car, did she?

  “Unrelated, Philica, but how much would it cost to take over your establishment?”

  “Renna, I don’t understand.”

  “You do,” she said flatly. “Tell me how much your business is worth.”

  “Six thousand kliqs?”

  “I’ll pay you double for it,” she said.

  “Are you serious?”

  “Yes, Philica. And when I do, Jenne no longer has to work for you. You work for him.”

  Philica’s smile vanished. He swallowed a bitter pill and turned to Jenne with a guilt-ridden gaze.

  “I work for him,” said Philica. “Thank you, Renna. I’ve always known you were generous, but I never expected…”

  “I am for the people,” she said. “Henrikia.”

  “Henrikia,” Philica repeated.

  She left Jenne to them, but he did not want to be there anymore. Philica and Malory tried to explain, urging him to understand why they had accepted the money. He never said he was offended, but the silence on his face made it easy to assume he was.

  Returning to Se Fina, he was startled to see the black sedan already parked outside their villa. Laughter spilled from within, and when he stepped inside, Schemel, Hamis, and Ashey were huddled on the sofa, watching a movie. Schemel patted the cushion beside her, inviting him to join. He had always been quiet, so no one noticed his silence for the rest of the night.

  “Rise and shine, Jenne. It’s time to fulfil our end of the bargain. En Gesa is here with his crew. They’re ready to take pictures. Up, up.”

  Her words proved true, and his heart sank at how casually they had become reality. Hundreds of eager faces filled the villa—brushes, powders, clothes, cameras. They cut his hair, clipped his nails, and explained the vision they had for him. Chairs were dragged away and replaced with sets. The living room became a studio.

  They seated Jenne in a director’s chair for an interview, peppering him with questions about the war and about how thrilled he was to become a Gaverian. En Gesa reappeared an hour later, a scarf looped around his neck despite the warm air, his glittering eyes matching his pressed shirt and trousers.

  The photographer staged Jenne behind his desk with a notebook and pen, as though he were deep in study. Later, in the courtyard, Jenne and Hamis posed for sparring shots. They snapped one to highlight their friendship, even scripting lines for a short promotional video.

  When Jenne grew thirsty, En Gesa waved away his request for water. A caterer pressed a can of Asta-Lite into his hand instead. He drank, and the cameras flashed.

  “Asta-Lite contains traces of real ascension,” En Gesa declared. “A must-have for young boys who want to be like their hero, Jenne Aster.”

  “Isn’t that dangerous?” asked Hamis, lowering his unopened bottle.

  “Not really,” Schemel said, leaning in, her smile tightening her face. “The law only requires that we inform the public. Besides, what child wouldn’t want to grow up into a super-powered hero like you two? We’re planning a campaign showing how an experimental dose of Asta-Lite gave you your powers in the first place.”

  “I don’t feel good about this,” murmured Jenne.

  “Yeah, me neither,” Hamis admitted.

  “Come on, boys. This is the military. Everything we do is morally justifiable.” Schemel tugged playfully at their cheeks. “No goodwill lost, my love.”

  “Now, we’ve given the boys something. It’s time we do something for the girls. And girls love nothing more than…”

  “What?” Jenne groaned.

  “Romance,” said En Gesa.

  “Hey, everyone!” Ashey’s voice cut through.

  Schemel beamed and waved her closer. She placed a guiding hand on Jenne’s back, pressing him toward Ashey. Ashey looped an arm around his shoulders and leaned against him, pinning him in place.

  “From now on, you two are a couple,” Schemel announced. “We did the same with Genevie and Regilon back in the day and—”

  “They hate each other,” Hamis muttered. “Why are we even doing this?”

  “Armoured tanks and automated rifles don’t pay for themselves, dear,” Schemel said wearily. “Yes, we fight, but we also have to look beautiful while doing it.”

  “I wouldn’t mind being part of Dominus,” Hamis sighed, lost in a daydream.

  The camera hovered over them, En Gesa barking out poses. He had Ashey press her hand to Jenne’s chest and lift one leg, tongue out. It was impossible to tell whether she enjoyed herself or simply endured it.

  “Aren’t you supposed to be in school?” Jenne asked.

  “History class,” she said. “It’s fine. I’ll pass either way.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Mom said so.”

  “Jenne, love,” Schemel cooed, “craft some light for me. Let it shimmer around the two of you.”

  The day dragged on, each scene more exhausting than the last. His legs went numb, his eyes burned. He lost all hope when he overheard En Gesa discussing nighttime photoshoots with Schemel.

  Jenne sat on the chapel steps, rubbing his sore knees. He’d been kneeling before the altar for half an hour, all for the sake of capturing the perfect shot of a devout Hexite. Ashey approached with two cans of Asta-Lite in hand. He hadn’t noticed before, but her new look suited her. She usually left her hair plain, yet today it curled in glossy waves. Even her uniform was different—less like Se Fina’s strict standard, more… artistic.

  “They told me to give you this,” she said, offering a can. “You look exhausted.”

  Jenne pulled back from it. “You shouldn’t drink that stuff.”

  She popped the can and took a loud sip, settling beside him. “Mum said it might help.”

  “Help with what?”

  She sipped again. “My powers. I could be back at Se Fina any time soon.”

  Jenne snorted, unable to hide a smile. “I miss you,” he said.

  “You do?” Her eyes widened, then she covered quickly: “I mean of course you do. Who else would help you record your videos?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You don’t do that anymore, do you?”

  “Not really. Malory and Eva make me feel at home. When I’m with them, I don’t miss Blackwood as much.”

  “Maybe you could tell me what you do at home, so we could try it together.”

  “No, it’s alright. You don’t have to do that for me.”

  “But I want to.” She leaned forward. “We could run around in the dirt?”

  He stared at her blankly. Her grin faltered. “Sorry.”

  “It’s not about what you can do,” Jenne said. “It’s about who you are. You and Hamis aren’t alike, but in some ways, you’re more like each other than I am with him. That’s how it is with me and Eva and Malory. We don’t do anything special. We just… feel together.”

  “Oh…”

  “I’m not saying being different is bad,” Jenne added. “Different is good. But sometimes, you just want to be with people like you.”

  “Thanks,” she said, but no relief came. Ashey’s fingers drummed against the soda can.

  En Gesa and his team looked ready to begin the evening session. He was talking about giving compound enough light to illuminate the stadium. “Can you cover me while I go to the cafeteria? Maybe Eva can make something for me to eat before I return.”

  “Jenne.”

  “Please — I haven’t eaten all day.”

  “Yes, I know,” she groaned. “I don’t think you should bother Eva right now.”

  “It won’t take long,” he said, standing. “Tell them I’m going to the bathroom.”

  “No, Jenne, wait,” she said, following him. “You can’t go to the cafeteria.”

  “So Hamis could finish everything.”

  “Eva’s not there,” she said.

  “Why?” he asked. “She should be here by now.”

  “Yes. I wanted to tell you. She left when I came.”

  “I don’t understand. Is there something wrong?”

  “No,” she said. “Eva’s been transferred, that’s all. My mum offered her a job in the Midder-Lands. She’ll be joining the army to cook for soldiers and the like.”

  Somehow he knew he was responsible for this. No matter how he tried to frame it, he couldn’t see her departure as a good thing; it was something she had never asked for.

  Malory—what happened to her? Who was she going to live with now? After the day was over, he sat alone, wondering what to do. He was too afraid to text her. Malory had not messaged him about anything. There was no way he could leave for Dormitia without Schemel finding out either. Jenne decided to wait. And wait he did.

  Schemel’s hours at Se Fina gradually reduced. Two weeks passed. The children of Se Fina had become a marketing tool by then. Every minute on television featured an ad with Jenne’s name and likeness. He was on billboards and posters. Asta-Lite flew off the shelves, but nothing became as popular as the new ascender couple: Ashey and Jenne. En Gesa marketed them as the confluence of rhen and earthen people—black and gold, like the Henrikian flag. They went on even more interviews. A growing fear clawed at Jenne whenever the crowd chanted for them to kiss. He wanted to die, picturing Malory at home watching alone.

  On a quiet weekend he got his wish and slipped into Dormitia for the evening. The place was as busy as always. The Black Belt crooned in the wind. He first went to the shop by the bend but found neither Malory nor Philica. Taking the shaft, he headed to her apartment and knocked.

  Jenne tucked his hands into his coat pockets, rehearsing what to say. Hey, long time, no see. Did you miss me? No, he thought. Malory, I’m sorry I couldn’t come sooner. Hey, Malory, is Eva here? It’s been ages since I spoke to her.

  The door clicked open. A pair of yellow-green eyes gleamed in the dark. Malory recoiled when she saw him; she looked pale and smaller than usual. She did not open the door further.

  “Hey, Malory—” He stopped as she shook her head. “Malory, I—” She shook her head harder. Jenne closed his fists and fell silent. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. She kept her eyes on him as she closed the door.

  On his return to the villa, Ashey sat on the chapel steps, haloed by the dying sunlight. “How long have you been waiting?” he asked, sitting beside her. “And why?”

  “I came straight from school. I didn’t have any other reason to visit a friend. I like visiting you because I like you.”

  Strange — and oddly scripted. But pleasant. There was no reason not to enjoy her company. “Thank you,” he said. “I like you too.”

  She smiled to herself and then stopped when he looked at her. Her fingers searched for his; Ashey took his hand between hers.

  “How come you’ve never told me where you come from?” she asked. “Tell me about your family, your friends. What was it like? Do you have a girlfriend?”

  “The priest selects a partner for you when you turn sixteen, so there’s no point in dating,” he said.

  “No way.”

  “You didn’t know?”

  “No! Who were you going to marry? Tell me.”

  “I don’t know,” he said, brushing her off. “But I thought it would be Lesley. She—”

  “Yes?”

  “She wasn’t very good at maths. Lesley promised to kiss me whenever I helped her with homework.”

  “Did you?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I didn’t want to.”

  “Have you ever been kissed before?” she asked. “Your mum doesn’t count.”

  Jenne didn’t need to think before answering, but he did anyway. He thought long and hard.

  “No,” he said at last. “I’ve never kissed anyone.”

  “Aw, I can teach you,” she said, turning to face him. “Close your eyes.”

  “Ew,” he breathed. “I’m not kissing you.”

  “Ew? What’s wrong with you?”

  “Sorry, I—”

  “Yes?”

  “I want my first kiss to be special,” he said. “I always imagined it would be with someone I am married to.”

  “Malory,” she said, slumping. Her anger died with the sun. The moon rose, big and round behind the clouds. Stars scattered the sky, dim beside the glow of night-flies drifting through the grass and trees.

  “No,” he said quietly. “Not Malory.”

  She smiled. “Do you have anyone in mind?”