Tereza and her two chosen would have blocked this time off for the matchmaking event, not simply spring break from the Phrontistery. And they were expelled from that matchmaking event by my father. Not even twenty-four hours ago. I know that the elders of the Line of Landenberg won’t have taken that expulsion … easily. Hence, the red-rimmed eyes.
Tereza fills my pause without hesitation. “I’m at your disposal, Your Highness.”
“You’re lucky I’m not the kind of royal to take advantage, Lady Landenberg.”
She laughs involuntarily. “I think the open invitation precludes any possible … exploitation.”
Offering her a slight smile, I pull the duster’s hood over my head, occluding my peripheral vision but also most effectively hiding my face.
Then, instead of entering the main building, I take the side path leading around it. Roz falls back a few steps to follow. We haven’t discussed my true intentions during our drive, though she’s overheard any voice messages I sent. But the way she instantly gives me space makes it clear that she’s easily guessed why I’m here.
I zigzagaround the lake house that houses staff members not assigned to one of the student residences, cutting along the pathway at the edge of the narrow beach until I reach a well-known after-hours hang-out spot just beyond a stand of trees starting to leaf out. A few students cross between buildings, mostly coming and going from the dining hall and the main library, but none pass close enough to notice me or trigger Roz.
I have no doubt that little happens on campus that the staff and guards don’t know about, including the lakeside hang-out spot. Unless one of the students is an expert in essence-shielding. But such things are indulged at the Phrontistery to some extent — at least in Prague. Mostly because the relationships formed here among the student body — a mix of mages, shifters, and a few awry — are almost more important than the education itself.
“You were here on scholarship, weren’t you?” I slow my pace to speak to Roz. Because even as the justification of all the casual rule-breaking my peers and I engaged in while attending school flits through my mind, I have no doubt that her experience was much, much different. And that’s relevant to why I’ve scheduled a lunch with Tereza instead of just doing what I came here to do and moving on. “A year ahead of Armin and Bolan?”
“Recruited by Raoul for the royal guard when I was sixteen,” she says proudly. “But I stayed for another two years. All expenses paid. My family cut me off, preferring to be assholes about me taking a working-class position rather than admit they were so far in debt they couldn’t have paid for two more years here anyway.” She snorts, quietly derisive. “First time thepress published a shot of me with you, they were suddenly all supportive.”
While I was in school — along with Sully, I attended until I was twenty-one, both of us opting for advanced degrees — I had older guards who mostly coordinated with school security. But once I needed to be in public more often, Raoul paired me with younger guards. Supposedly to blend in, though this is the first time Roz and I have ever been in public without her in uniform.
I pause to look over the lake, cinching my duster around me against the chill. A scarf and gloves would have been a good idea. Not that I’m staying for long.
“We used to come down here,” I say. “Bolan entertaining us with his guitar, taking requests when he felt like it … or quietly working in one of his notebooks.” I don’t articulate the rest of the memories flitting through my mind out loud, including that one early morning when I’m fairly certain Armin and Sully shared their first kiss. I’d been reading by firelight, desperately trying to not gaze adoringly at Bolan, only to look up across the fire to find my brother and my best friend wrapped together, sprawled across the sand.
About two weeks after that, I was bold enough to kiss Bolan myself —
I shove the thought away. My heels sink into the soft sand as I stride toward the water’s edge. That memory isn’t at all important in the now. And I understand that I’ve let it, that I’ve let the fallout from Bolan’s rejection, rule me — and how I interact with my essence and the world around me — for far too long.
Roz lingers behind me along the path as I take Armin’s urn out of my backpack— and inadvertently dispel the essence-wrought sealing spell on the lid. Which is annoying, because I have no ability to cast such a spell myself. The marble lid isn’thinged, nor does it screw in place. So I’m going to have to find some tape or something …
Hugging the cold white marble to my chest, I settle the backpack across my shoulders again instead of putting it down in the sand. Then I allow myself to just gaze out at the lake, listening to the wind rustling through the trees at my back and the chittering of nearby birds, watching the gentle lap of the water. Armin and I spent most of our childhood on this campus. Mostly sheltered, but hyperaware of our … function in the real world at the same time.
I’m not entirely certain how long it takes. My nose and cheeks are numb, and my fingers feel frozen against the marble urn. But when my head is finally empty, I tuck the lid of the urn in the pocket of my duster. Then, not thinking about anything at all, I dig my hand into the loose ashes in the urn and pull out a handful.
The wind instantly tries to take that handful of Armin’s remains from me, but I tighten my hold.
Just for another moment.
I think of my brother.
I picture him in my mind, smiling, laughing, with his purple eyes glowing. I see him alive and happy in my mind’s eye.
Then I open my fist and allow the wind to scatter the remainder of the ashes I’m holding. Some ash sticks to my hand. I brush my fingers together to dislodge it.
I’m crying.
Silently weeping. But still. I don’t want to have tears streaming down my face. I want to celebrate my brother. Yet tears continue to fall.
I should have words … I should have words to say — an invocation, a benediction, or even a lament — but I don’t. Not yet. Maybe never.
So I simply try to hold the image of Armin’s smile in my mind’s eye and the sound of his laughter in my heart.
I let the last of him go.
Just a handful.
For now.
