Page 91 of A Heart of Bluestone

I’m sorry—and shocked—to read your letter this morning. I write hastily for that reason.

Eric Harling and I were not, as you put it, rolling around the snow together. I recognise the incident you are referring to, and please allow me to explain.

I was speaking to Eric to ascertain if he would be available for tutorship. He has taken an apprenticeship under Master Milton for Star Theory, as you might know, and as you are firmly aware, I do struggle when converting calculations intopredictions. Perhaps it’s a magic handicap result, perhaps it’s that my mind isn’t prediction-inclined.

Eric and I were discussing tutorship when I took a tumble. He, obviously, tried to help me up, but the frost and the ice is all over the grounds. He fell, and we both knocked into the snowman that his friends were building.

We got up, laughed away the embarrassment, and then I was invited to help build the snowmen.

I apologise for not being aware that a simple snow game was improper, despite that I carried myself according to my standing and the elevation of my family the whole time.

I wish I had more to tell. But that is all that happened.’

I pause.

The end of the fountain pen winds up in my mouth, and for a long moment, I chew on it.

My mind is in a morning clash behind a weary fog.

I can’t decide whether to snitch on Oliver or not.

I don’t know if he was the one to tell our father about this ‘incident’ with Eric. Wouldn’t surprise me. But the niggle reminds me of Dray, watching from the treeline.

How long we had his attention, I don’t know.

But writing to my father to tell on me doesn’t fit him.

I slump in the chair.

Snatching a fresh, hot mug, I start on my second fill of morning coffee. But it’s one of those thick sleepy mornings,where my face is puffy and my eyes dull, that I don’t think it will ease with caffeine. It’s the sort of tired that needs a long, deep dunk in icy water.

Setting down the empty mug, I press the tip of the fountain pen to the paper, and continue.

‘I hope you will grant the tutorship.

I will benefit greatly from the help. The senior year workload is proving more challenging than I anticipated. But I do try.

Please be safe on your business trip, and when you speak to Mother, tell her I love and miss her, as I do you.’

I say nothing about it. Nothing about anything.

I sign the letter and let the ink dry.

If it’s Dray who snitched, then what can I really tell Father?

The rift between me and Dray, whether or not my brother gets involved sometimes, is just that—between me and Dray.

The rules, the corruption of aristos, the ‘deal-with-it-yourself-or-not-at-all’ expectation we all live by.

Besides, his family is a strong ally of ours and any wedge driven between us could be disastrous. If Father even allowed the wedge to form.

This is one of thedo-it-yourselftimes.

Only, without magic, what can I do to defend myself?

Not a whole fucking lot.

Without much interest in sport, there’s not a lot of opportunity to knock into either Dray or Oliver and bust their noses open on feigned accident. I definitely do not hit the slopes at Bluestone. I only ski when I’m forced to at society gatheringsand my nose gets all runny. I hate it. I avoid it like I would avoid warts.

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