Page 12 of A Door in the Dark

“Ren Monroe? Out at a party? What an honor. Cheers! And cheers to break!”

She tilted her glass to meet his. “Cheers. Do you have plans?”

He stumbled his way into sitting next to her on the couch. She saw from the angle of his body that it was not a permanent decision, which was a relief. Ren was thinking of ways to remove herself from the conversation quickly when she remembered the whole point of being here was to try to make connections.

“I’ll be busy over break,” Mat answered, tapping a freshly sewn emblem on his chest. “The Winters family officially hired me today. I’ll be an acquisition specialist. Magical artifacts. They’re interested in developing new medicinal techniques based on the more religious Tusk practices.”

Her eyes landed on the coat of arms. It shouldn’t have surprised her. Mat Tully sat with Clyde Winters every day in Magical Ethics. She’d seen him following the heir around campus like a trained lapdog. But Ren couldn’t separate that from the fact that this was Mat Tully. Ranked 130th in their class. A boy whose test scores couldn’t sit at the same table as her test scores. He’d been recruited and hired by one of the great houses on the same day she’d been snubbed for an introductory interview? Her hands were starting to shake just thinking about it.

She mumbled, “Congratulations.”

“It’s a decent entry point.” Mat shrugged. “How about you? Prospects?”

“I am keeping my options open.”

She’d grown tired of saying that to her fellow students, and her mother. Teachers inquired often as well. How were interviews? Which house had the best proposal for her? Any exciting contract incentives? They always looked so surprised to learn she’d not been recruited. At the end of each discussion they’d offer to pull what strings they could. Promises had proven a rather cheap commodity at Balmerick. Words were wind. As she eyed Mat Tully’s new coat of arms, she forced herself to do the unthinkable: impress him.

“You know, I’ve always found Tusk religious practices interesting.” She was digging back through memories of undergrad papers she’d written. “It’s a really unique twist on the Delvean belief system. The whole concept of transubstantiation? I find it pretty fascinating.”

Mat Tully took a nervous sip of his drink. “Oh yeah? Transubstantiation?”

“Well, yeah. Delveans, we have the whole ‘God created everything and left it for us to figure out’ concept as our central religious thesis. But most Tusk people believe that God is literally the world around us. The oceans and the mountains and all of it—they refer to the whole world as God’s Body. Which is also why they call this continent the Hearthland. Not Delvea, like we do.”

Mat Tully looked more than prepared to drown himself in his drink. It was clear that he’d never studied any of this. Which was quite a starting point for someone who was about to begin professional research on how Tusk religious practices could influence modern medical magic. Ren’s tongue was all but tripping over itself to go on. The other related research was crowding forward in her mind. Hearthland. The Tusk called it that because they believed this place was their god’s actual heart, in part because it was the only location where they’d discovered any magic. Their people also believed it to be the very center of the known worlds.…

But Mat’s expression was an echo of the one she’d seen on Devlin’s face earlier that day. You just have to be right. She bit down slightly on her tongue, swallowed back all those hard-earned facts, and forced a smile instead.

“Anyways. It’s pretty fascinating. I’d love to talk with you more about it sometime. If you hear of any openings in House Winters, I’d love the opportunity.”

Mat took another sip of his drink. “Right, yeah, of course. I mean, I’m sure you’re going to find a good fit before I’d have any strings worth pulling. You’re obviously really book smart. Solid exam scores. Aren’t you top fifteen in our class or something? If you just keep pulling on the connections you’ve made along the way, what’s there to worry about?”

There is everything to worry about. Literally everything. And I’m fifth, thank you very much.

Clearly, her attempt to impress had failed. When Ren only nodded, the pause in conversation was enough for Mat to extract himself from the couch. He tipped his glass to hers one more time, wishing her a good break.

“I’ll keep an eye out for any openings and let you know if something comes up.”

She could tell from his voice that it was a dead end. She thanked him, though, and quietly finished the rest of her drink as other classmates swirled about the room. Ren considered searching for Timmons. She was the only reason Ren had come to this party in the first place. Without her, the voices were too loud, the laughter was too hollow, the lights were too bright.

She would rather have been anywhere else in the world.

8

Ren was on her third drink, seated on the same couch, watching small packs of other students drift in and out of sight. She knew their faces, their names, their exam scores. It felt like the entire graduate program was jammed inside the villa. The place was stuffy and insufferable.

At least there was music.

Gentle notes drifted in from the balcony on her right. A seventeen-string stood against a backsplash of stars. Three musicians had taken up the standard positions around the instrument’s sinuous frame. One played the arms, another the neck, and the last was seated by the stringed legs. As they played, they sang, their falsettos flitting in and out of the melody. It gave Ren the sensation of floating down a river. A part of her desperately wished to float away.

She was saved by the only reason she’d agreed to come to the party in the first place. Timmons finally appeared in the entryway. Every step she took across the room turned a different head. Ren’s best friend had always been fashionable. Tonight she wore a white collared shirt tucked into a high-waisted black skirt. In place of a belt, the skirt attached to a decorative outer corset. The reinforced black fabric was slatted, so that the white shirt was visible beneath it, running in a checkered pattern around Timmons’s waist. It was not a look that Ren had seen around campus—and she suspected the outfit had been designed specifically for her. Timmons plunked down unceremoniously on the couch, crinkling her nose at Ren.

“Why do you smell like lavender?”

Ren nudged a throw pillow. “There are pressed flowers in the lining.”

“Naturally. I can tell you’re annoyed. Sorry again. Clyde insisted. Also, best if you don’t use the bathroom. You’ll be really annoyed then. There’s a livestone attendant. It offered me a towel when I was finished.”

“A livestone attendant?” Ren asked, incredulous. “Isn’t there an edict about their usage?”

---