Page 5 of Zero Happily Ever Afters

I clenched my teeth from the barrage of questions circulating around a familiar mind. Namely, Caleb who carried a stack of books in his arms and kept four weighted blocks hovering above his head.

Okay, Caleb’s curiosity occasionally made him a bigger headache. A lot of occasions.

His thoughts stirred in a hundred different directions, replaying training scenarios, buzzing with questions on today’s possible lesson, and paraphrasing the texts he carried to class. He barely resembled the boy from the vision last year, having shot up more than a foot in height and doubling in muscle mass. Seriously, the scrawny, nerdy teen who walked into my class with a frazzled face and curly hair then now had a jock build with a sharp jawline and a stylish new hairstyle where he’d shaved the sides while allowing the top to grow out, keeping the curls tamed with product.

One of the books in the mountain Caleb carried had tipped and tilted and nearly fallen from the stack until I waved a hand, steadying what he carried since his attention drifted every which way.

“Oh, thanks so much, Mr. Frost.” Caleb smiled, sincere yet nervous, adjusting his books and putting the thin, flimsy copy of Fundamentals to Root Casting under a much thicker hardback copy of some intricate research about the History of Banishment in the French Parliament.

I scrunched my face. Caleb really decided to dive into every possible account on root magic in hopes of accessinghis perfected banishment casting again. His copy of the fundamentals circulated through his thoughts, every word, even the acknowledgments, memorized. He’d read each book in his stack a dozen times over, the worn spines an obvious indication, but also the massive amounts of information floating along his surface thoughts, interlocking with a web of knowledge he tied together, hoping to learn more mastery over his four root magics and prove his worth.

I wanted to ensure Caleb demonstrated his perfected banishment technique again. Preferably with enchanters in attendance. Something told me Caleb wouldn’t master his perfected root casting by the end of his second year, but I believed he’d access it a second time. I believed his use of the perfected banishment was more than a fluke. If I could help him use that level of magic again, it’d draw in a lot of enchanter interest, and among them, I’d certainly find one worthy of helping Caleb succeed during his third year. As a branchless student, I could already see the pile of polite rejection letters to the inquiries we’d make about him working as an intern. Too many enchanters would see him as a burden, a waste of resources, a charity case they didn’t quite see the benefit of offering their time toward.

They were wrong, though. Caleb would make for a fantastic addition to any guild in Chicago, and I wanted to ensure the best enchanters and the strongest guilds wanted to work withhim. They’d help him cultivate his talents, offer him the best opportunities, and finally demonstrate how goddamn overrated branches were in this world.

Even as the thought of irksome branch magic crossed my mind, my telepathy pulsed, tugging and seeking Milo despite the impossibility.

Caleb gulped. “The forehead wrinkles are setting in, which can only mean he’s extra angry. I can only imagine what that means for today’s lesson.”

I scowled. Did Caleb just analyze my expression like he knew what it meant?

“Check us out, Mr. Frosty!” Gael shouted, accompanied by the ear-piercing crow of his rooster familiar.

Caleb took my weary face and the turn of my attention to scurry into the classroom and avoid my telepathy. Whatever.

Gael floated through the hallway on his side, almost as if he were sprawled out on a couch, keeping one arm resting under his head to prop it upward and another hand planted on his hip. Since him and his familiar had stopped actively avoiding his levitation root, Gael now took every opportunity to show off his immediate proficiency with the magic.

He didn’t wear his academy blazer, making the flex of his biceps very obvious. That, and the strained expression on his face, but to be fair, he did well to hide the exertion with a mischievous grin. Gael’s blazer sat neatly folded on his hip bone,offering King Clucks a comfy seat as he steered Gael through the sea of children in the hallways. Seriously, the damn bird looked like a ship captain cawing at anyone and everyone in their path.

“Is there a reason you’re flying through the hallways?” I sighed, gesturing for him to stop and stand appropriately.

“Cl-cl-cluck.”

“Exactly,” Gael thought, sticking his tongue out, showing off his piercing while also making a disgusted expression. “He spends forever whining about us not levitating, and now he’s gonna bitch when we are levitating.”

“Ba-ba-ba.”

The pair continued blocking the hallway for nearly everyone since Gael remained stretched out horizontally with King Clucks on his partner’s hip, ready to squint with fury at anyone who dared complain about the inconvenience.

“Yep. Some folks are only ever happy when they have something to complain about.” Gael waggled his brows, and my gaze fell to his eyebrow ring, then the industrial piercing on the opposite side of his face, through his upper left ear. He’d gotten both over winter break. Since returning to school, he’d also changed out his subtle earrings for flashier diamond studs.

“Don’t know how my boy Evergreen handles all that whining…and the talking. Nonstop. Lecture this, rules that, life lesson moral thingy…”

His rooster puffed his chest, imitating a laughing gesture.

“Right. Mr. Frosty must lay it down, backing it up hard, because you know that’s the only way—”

I glared, waving a hand to tilt Gael’s trajectory while King Clucks squawked and furiously flapped his wings as he scampered up Gael’s body, scaling his human partner until he planted himself atop Gael’s head.

“Chill out, Clucks!” Gael’s shoulders tensed, and he grinded his teeth as his familiar dug his claws into Gael’s fauxhawk.

“Ba-ba-bawk!”

“Yeah, I know he’s a dick. Doesn’t mean you gotta be a total mother hen.”

Gael cringed, bracing for the inevitable pecks that left bright red marks along his forehead and stood out from his deep bronze complexion.

“Look what you did, Mr. Frosty.”

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