A Father's Dream (The Dark Prism Book 1)

by V. St. Clair

  It made things slightly awkward, because there was an unspoken understanding between them that Maralynn had a crush on him, Aleric. She tended to get clumsy and forgetful whenever he was around, dropping her books and blushing furiously and laughing at even his lamest jokes. It was a little annoying, because Aleric had no interest in her, and sincerely wished she would turn her attentions to Asher, who she viewed as more of a close friend. Besides, even if Aleric had a fleeting interest in Maralynn, he would never betray his best friend by acting on it.

  They joined her and her mother at the table for breakfast, Asher sliding into the seat directly across from her and Aleric taking the one beside him. Aleric assumed the woman was her mother, though they had never been properly introduced, since their families ran in very different social circles. Maralynn kept glancing at him and then looking away, as though he was too bright to stare at for more than a moment at a time.

  “Good morning, Mara,” Asher greeted her with his most dazzling smile. “Thanks for letting us sit with you and your…older sister?” he guessed, still in that tone he used whenever he wanted to sound innocent and charming. Aleric would laugh, but it actually seemed to work for him in most instances.

  Maralynn’s mother demurred politely, though the smile she graced him with was genuinely flattered when she said, “I’m her mother, but thank you.”

  Asher pretended to look shocked by this news.

  “Good lord, are you really? I wouldn’t have put you at a day over twenty-five.”

  Now Maralynn did roll her eyes, though her mother didn’t catch it. Asher did, and winked at her in response as she said, “Mama, this is Asher, the one who helps me muddle through Wands every year so I don’t fail.”

  “Ah yes, he’s also in your arena group, isn’t he?”

  Asher looked thrilled to discover that Maralynn had spoken of him to her mother often enough that she remembered details like this.

  “That too,” her daughter confirmed, before turning to Aleric as though about to present something absolutely amazing. “And this is Aleric Frost.”

  Maralynn’s mother lifted her eyebrows in acknowledgement of his last name and asked, “One of the Frosts?” with avid interest.

  “Yes,” Aleric confirmed, used to this by now. “I am one of those Frosts.” People liked to confirm whether he was actually a part of one of the most prominent Great Houses in the Nine Lands, or just some poor bumpkin with the same surname.

  “Of the direct line?” she continued, getting that slightly star-struck look that women often did after appraising his value. Most people, upon learning that he was affiliated with the Great House, wanted to then know whether he was part of the main family, or some kind of twelfth-cousin who was glomming onto the name.

  “Yes,” Aleric confirmed evenly. “I am the only child of Cowen and Adorina Frost.”

  If I got paid for every time I said those words I could buy my own mansion with the proceeds alone.

  After once confessing to Asher how tired he got of the introductions, his friend made him a nametag that said, Hi, my name is Aleric Frost. Yes, THAT Frost. No, I don’t want to marry your daughter.

  He wished he was wearing it right now.

  “Oh my,” Maralynn’s mother was now staring at him as though he was made of solid gold. Cowen Frost was famous for his chain of apothecaries throughout the Nine Lands, and Adorina Frost was possibly the most politically well-connected person on the continent; she knew everything about everyone and was always scheming to get ahead.

  Maralynn’s mother extended her hand to shake his.

  “Vera Branton. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Aleric.”

  Aleric shook her hand politely and responded in kind, though he couldn’t help but mentally catalog her the same way he did with any new person he met, courtesy of years of his mother’s rigorous instruction.

  The Brantons: common stock, though with a tradition of producing magically-inclined children. Level-D family, tea shop proprietors who are always aiming to expand the family business and improve connections.

  Aleric’s mother had created an entire ranking system to summarize a family’s wealth and social status, levels ‘A’ through ‘G’. The Frost family was a Level-A family. From a young age, she began drilling facts and rankings of other mage (and sometimes non-mage) families into his head.

  Asher looked mildly annoyed to not be on the receiving end of so much admiration and awe, probably because he’d prefer Maralynn’s mother to be impressed with him instead of his best friend.

  “What’s it like, growing up in such a rarified social circle?” Mrs. Branton pressed.

  Suffocating. Oppressive. Exhausting.

  “I consider myself very fortunate,” he smiled politely, eager to change the subject.

  Unfortunately, Mrs. Branton wasn’t quite done with him yet.

  “All of this must be such a step down from what you’re accustomed to,” she gestured to the dining hall and the people all around them. “You must hate returning to school every year.”

  It’s actually the happiest time of my life, when I’m not dealing with nosy fortune-hunters like you...

  “Not at all,” he replied smoothly. “I enjoy my studies, and the mixed company. I find that one’s family circumstances have little bearing on their demeanor. After all, one cannot choose one’s family, can they?”

  Asher shot him a look that showed he understood the various meanings of his words, though of course Maralynn and her mother would not.

  “Aleric is ranked the highest in the whole school for his challenge arena scores right now,” Maralynn announced with a sort of possessive pride, and Aleric felt Asher tense from beside him.

  This is probably the first time in his life he’s wished he was higher-ranked in the arenas…

  “Well of course he is,” Mrs. Branton smiled coyly. “Who would expect anything less from one of the Frosts?”

  “I work very hard,” he said diplomatically, grabbing a few pieces of unbuttered toast and rising to his feet. “Excuse me, I just remembered something I have to finish for Master Antwar before my family arrives.”

  He and Asher often used their research for Master Antwar as an excuse to get out of situations they’d rather not be in, since their work was kept secret from everyone—including each other—so it was impossible for anyone to call them out for the lie.

  As he was walking away he heard Mrs. Branton tell Asher, “Such a handsome, hard-working boy, and so well-connected…he must have girls lined up to marry him.”

  Yes, sadly, I do.

  Just before he was out of earshot he heard Asher respond with, “He would, but they eventually find out about his homicidal sleep-rages, which puts most of them off. Trust me, if you’ve ever seen him butchering a cow in the dead of night, wearing nothing but his favorite pink underwear and screaming like a madman, you’d be scared off too.”

  Aleric burst into laughter as he left the dining hall, startling a passing family. He could hear the sound of Maralynn smacking his friend in the arm for alarming her mother with made-up stories, but truly, it was one of the things Aleric liked best about his friend. Asher was the only one who realized that being the scion of a Great House wasn’t as wonderful as everyone made it out to be.

  Maybe without me there, he can win over Maralynn’s mother and finally get up the nerve to ask the girl out.

  With nowhere better to go, he walked out the rear doors of the castle and toward the cliffs that overlooked the Gawain Sea, shielding his eyes from the sunlight and peering upward at the sky for signs of his familiar, Cinder.

  At first he didn’t see the dark purple dragonling anywhere, but as he approached the cliff face itself, Cinder soared upwards from the sea and alit gracefully on his shoulder.

  “I thought you would be here,” he greeted his familiar, shoving the last bites of dry toast into his mouth and dusting his hands off over the grass. “As it happens, I’m trying to hide from people too.”

  With a glance bac
k at the castle to make sure no one was watching him, he equipped a prism from his belt and stepped over the ledge, casting Slow on himself as he floated downward until he reached a spot where the slope became jagged and uneven, offering a place to grab onto. Not wanting to waste his prism any more than necessary, he released the spell as he grabbed onto the cliff face, climbing downwards towards his favorite spot. He enjoyed the physical exertion involved in climbing down a cliff, with the added danger that he could smack his head on something and tumble to his death in the icy water below at any moment. There weren’t a lot of strength-conditioning activities at Mizzenwald, which made it difficult to maintain the muscular build he’d acquired from years of horseback riding, shot-putting, and all the other ‘dignified sports’ his parents had insisted he learn and participate in as a child. Scaling the cliffs whenever he got an opportunity was his solution to staying in peak physical condition.

  Sweat began to bead on his forehead as he continued the climb downwards, occasionally glancing down to make sure of his footing or to admire the sea crashing against the rocks below. Cinder had taken flight as he started his descent, and was now coasting in slow circles around the area, keeping even with his elevation, prepared to take some sort of magical intervention if he fell.

  No one had ever explicitly banned him from climbing the cliffs, though probably only because no one knew he had been doing it for the last six years, which is why he was keen to avoid detection. It took him almost an hour to reach the ledge he was aiming for, his favorite place to come and think when he wanted to be alone. It was smooth and flat and stuck out just far enough from the cliff face to allow him to sit down with his legs folded and stare out at the ocean.

  He sat there in the warmth of the sun, letting the sea breeze play across his face as he relaxed. In the entire world, this was the only place that he felt was genuinely his; not even Asher knew he came here. He usually assumed that Aleric had translocated off the property entirely when he couldn’t find him anywhere else. It was true that Aleric had discovered the magic for translocations during his fourth year—they both had—and had been secretly performing it ever since until they received official permission from Master Antwar, but Aleric rarely had a legitimate reason to leave the grounds during the school year.

  He wasn’t sure how long he sat there, watching Cinder dive gracefully down the side of the cliff and skim the top of the waves before they crashed against the rock face, soaring upwards before diving again. Occasionally his familiar would snatch a fish out of the water with his claws, lightning-fast, and deposit it at Aleric’s feet, waiting to be praised.

  All of a sudden, Cinder returned to his perch beside his master and made a screeching noise, looking up the side of the cliff wall.

  Damn, my parents must have come after all.

  Aleric sighed and pulled the eyepiece that now contained a rose-tinted prism back in front of his right eye, and cast Suspend on himself. He would have gladly climbed back up the cliff himself, but if his family was already here then there was no time for that kind of leisure.

  He floated steadily up the side of the cliff, parallel to the rock, maintaining his focus so that his spell wouldn’t falter. The heavier the object, the harder it was to mentally suspend it, much less float it. Everyone said he made it look easy, but in truth, it took quite a bit of willpower and focus to keep his hundred-and-eighty pound body moving upwards at a constant pace.

  Cinder flew ahead to make sure the coast was clear, and then Aleric crested the top of the cliff face and alit gracefully on the grass nearby, taking long, purposeful strides back towards the school. He checked his clothing for signs of dirt or wrinkles, adjusting the prism in his eyepiece and using it to clean himself up properly. It was a complete waste of magic, but he could always get more prisms from the school store anytime he needed to.

  He had no idea where his parents would be, but figured he should start in the Pentagon and work his way out from there. He entered Mizzenwald through the rear doors and turned down the hallways with the ease of someone who knew the place as well as his own home.

  And to think, this could be my last year at school.

  As a mastery-level student, there was no reason for him to remain at Mizzenwald beyond this year unless he was involved in insanely-groundbreaking research with one of the Masters, or unless he planned on teaching himself. The thought of leaving his favorite place in the world—possibly forever—was not a happy one, which was part of what drove him to do his best in his research for Prisms and Powders, in the wild hope of making himself useful enough to remain here for another year.

  He saw his father first, standing on the front lawns in the main courtyard and surveying the grounds as though comparing them unfavorably to the Frost estate. Aleric’s mother was with him, though the two servants they had brought with them had initially obscured her from view. Asher was standing nearby, looking slightly more attentive than usual, since even he knew he needed to have his wits about him when dealing with the Frosts.

  Aleric took a deep breath to prepare himself, and continued onto the grounds to meet up with his parents. The servants were busy setting up blankets and dinnerware beneath the shade of a large cherry-blossom tree, which they had clearly brought with them from the Frost estate.

  Of course my parents would never sink to the level of having to prepare or serve their own food. Only the finest for the Frosts…

  Aleric was careful not to let his disdain show on his face as he approached, ignoring the nearby families who were clustered on their own blankets, looking on at the spread with a mixture of awe and admiration.

  At least they didn’t insist on bringing their own food.

  The loaves of bread, pot of stew, and assorted platters of vegetables obviously came from the dining hall. Their personal cooks would never make anything so common at home.

  “Aleric,” Adorina Frost greeted her only son as though they were casual business associates, offering her hand and shaking his firmly, despite the fact that they hadn’t seen each other in months. “We were wondering when you would make an appearance.”

  “I’m sorry, Mother,” he responded evenly, “I was finishing up some schoolwork and time got away from me.” He sat down on the blanket in front of the place setting to the immediate left of his father, where the heir always sat. His mother was across from him and Asher was beside her, looking perfectly at ease.

  At least they didn’t bring every surviving member of the Frost family this time.

  “I wasn’t sure you would visit this month, with the Clement deal still up in the air,” Aleric addressed his father, who still hadn’t acknowledged his presence. It was a sort of game with him, ignoring people as a means of asserting control over the conversation; it gave the impression that his time and attention was more important than the other person’s, and Aleric had seen him employ it in many business dealings to intimidate his rivals.

  “I expect the deal to clear within the week,” Cowen Frost replied confidently, still not looking up from the slice of bread he was buttering, motioning for the nearest servant to fill his wineglass.

  Aleric raised his eyebrows in appreciation just as Asher said, “Remind me what the Clement deal is supposed to get you? I can never keep track of your family’s business dealings.”

  If Aleric had spoken to his father that way he would have gotten beaten to a pulp, but Cowen Frost had always been much more tolerant of Asher than his own son for some reason, a constant irritant that Aleric tried to ignore for the sake of their friendship.

  “It will pave the way for me to expand my apothecaries into Wynir. The Barona family has had a toehold there for two decades, and I intend to open competing stores in key locations to choke them off before they can expand further.”

  “Ah yes,” Asher said around a mouthful of stew. “Another chapter in the war between the Great Houses as you all battle for supremacy.” He swallowed his food and smirked.

  “That is how the Great Houses remain great,”
Aleric’s father responded neutrally, looking Asher in the eye. “Without our resourcefulness and cutthroat business acumen, we would be as low as the most common of families.”

  Asher smirked and said, “Oh, I don’t know…I’ve always appreciated my dirt-poor roots—well, except when I’m trying to impress the ladies,” he amended. Aleric bit down on his spoon and tried not to flinch noticeably, wondering if his father would punch his best friend in the middle of a populated area at Mizzenwald.

  “Oh?” Cowen Frost asked with interest. “And why is that?”

  “When you start with nothing, no one can take it away from you,” Asher explained easily. “Anything I win for myself is well-deserved, since no one hands me a free ticket to anything. People also have low expectations of someone in my situation, which makes it easy to surpass them, and also to surprise them. No one expects you to be cunning when you’re a nobody from a family of nobodies, so their conversations are unguarded around me. People like you have to be wily and use subterfuge to get information; I just have to show up acting common.”

  Sometimes Aleric wondered if his friend just sat around at night, dreaming up speeches like this on the off-chance he would ever need to use them. If not, then he was just amazing at coming up with these things on the fly.

  Aleric’s father spared Asher a faintly admiring tilt of the head, which was irksome.

  Asher could convince anyone that dung is gold and sell it by the pound.

  “A valid point,” Cowen conceded, finally finished buttering his bread and now taking in his surroundings without obvious interest. “Speaking of expectations, I assume you have a research project in Prisms that is competing with Aleric’s for recognition?”

  Asher shrugged carelessly, though Aleric knew his best friend well enough to know that the question made him uncomfortable. There was always an unspoken rivalry between them in their major of focus, especially now that they were mastery-level students that were vying for mainstream recognition as competent adult mages. In their first two years of school, Asher had been the faster of them, and probably the more intuitive learner, beating Aleric in most of their tests and competitions, and even winning the prism-user spot for Mizzenwald in the Inter-School Championship. After Aleric’s father made it clear that he would not stand for his son losing to a boy with no proper magical bloodlines, Aleric threw everything he had into learning and had come out on top ever since. Though sometimes he wondered…