by Jodi Meadows
“You’re late.” Professor Knight leaned against his desk, his arms crossed and his expression stern. He wasn’t a small man, exactly, more like compact. Streaks of gray dashed through his dark hair and neatly trimmed beard, which covered scars from a childhood encounter I wasn’t supposed to know about. Though he wore the same tailored suit every other professor did, he never quite managed to look comfortable in it. Like he was always self-conscious of what his dress told the world about him.
“I’m the crown prince.” I lifted my chin and pressed my fists to my hips. My jacket flared open, letting in a gasp of cool air. I couldn’t wait for summer to be over. “I’m arriving precisely when I mean to.”
“You’re spoiled is what you are.” Knight’s expression didn’t change, except for a slight tug at the corners of his mouth.
“All right.” I heaved a sigh. “Fine. I didn’t want to bring it up.” I paused for dramatic effect. “Today’s my birthday.”
“Yet I have no intentions to lighten today’s load.”
The mantel clock’s second hand ticked. One. Two. Three.
Then Knight broke into a grin, his entire posture shifting as he motioned me to my desk. “Have a seat, Tobiah. We do have a lot of work, but hopefully we can get through it quickly.”
With a smile, I shucked off my jacket and threw it over the back of my chair. “Before we get started, I have a question.”
“Let’s hope I have an answer.” Knight, too, removed his jacket. Faint sweat stains marked his shirt, which I pretended not to notice.
“This morning, I had breakfast with the Chuters.”
Knight smirked. “I’m sure that was very educational.”
“It was interesting, certainly.” Too full of energy to sit, I paced the room. “Lord Chuter mentioned a new variation of shine on the streets.”
The mantel clock ticked again, this time with true tension filling the seconds. Each click reminded me that even though he was my favorite teacher, he wasn’t my friend. There would always be a barrier between us.
“So,” Professor Knight said, “you thought my history meant I’d know something about this?”
The question hit me in the chest. It was fair, though. That was one of the reasons I’d asked him and not one of my other tutors. But also: “I thought you’d know because you know something about everything. And you’re more likely to tell me the whole truth, rather than gloss over whatever is really happening.”
He gave me a long, even stare, and finally nodded. “Well, that’s all true.”
I risked a smile.
“Unfortunately for you, I don’t know much about the new variation, except that it’s worse than regular shine.”
“How is it worse?” Regular shine was already dangerous enough. It was a mix of wraith mist and chemicals, which made users feel as tall or strong or smart as they desired. It was a wish-fulfillment drug, except that the wishes weren’t really granted.
Until they were.
Some said it was overdoses that triggered the change, or after a certain amount of shine was taken, or that it was random and it could happen after one hit or one hundred, but eventually the changes became real and irreversible, and entirely grotesque. Shiners became glowmen, and glowmen were monsters.
Not that I’d ever seen one, but I’d heard stories.
“The new variation is called firefly.” Knight combed his fingers through his beard. His nervous habit. “And the thing that makes it worse is the thing that saved my life. Regular shine, you can quit. You don’t really want to. That’s the draw of it. But you can, if you have the determination. Firefly is another matter. It’s more addictive; if you quit taking it, you will die.”
That thought chilled me. “Then there’s no recovery? You quit and die, or you continue taking firefly and become a glowman.”
Knight offered a grave nod. “Not that anyone wants to quit. That’s what addiction is. It’s a hundred small excuses to keep feeling the way you want to feel. For people who have no control in their lives, it’s the illusion of having control.”
Even with as little control as I had, the decision to destroy oneself with shine was unimaginable to me.
I dropped into my chair. “Who would produce such a thing? Who would condemn people to live as monsters or die for their freedom?”
“People who want to make money.” The professor scooped up a packet of papers from his desk. “People who don’t care about others. People who like to set fires and burn as many others as possible.” His tone was bitter. Angry.
Understandable. He spent most of his youth mixed up with shiners, and took it himself for an entire year before a teacher at the Academy found him, recognized his brilliance, and helped him clean up. By that time, Knight’s family had disowned him, so he stayed in the school on scholarship, and later stayed on to become a professor.
He’d been given a new life, thanks to the generosity of that teacher and the Academy. His past had been forgiven. Others never had the chance.
“That’s terrible.” I planted my elbows on the desk and let out a long breath. It was hard to imagine anyone with the kind of malice it must take to create something like shine, let alone firefly. As though taking a hit of wraith made any sense at all. “And what’s being done about it? Are the police looking for the new manufacturer? How many people have died because of this?”
Knight held up a hand and shook his head. “I know you’re curious. And I don’t want to tell you not to be curious. Curiosity is a good trait for a king, because it means you’ll never be satisfied with easy answers.”
There was a but coming.
“But,” he continued, “let me remind you that this—shine—is simply one symptom of a larger problem. You can care about it. You should. But the whole world is sick with wraith. Making this one thing your mission to fix won’t cure the world of all its ills.”
I hadn’t said anything about making shine my mission. “Since when did curiosity about a problem become a declaration of intent to fix it?”
“You caught me.” Knight dropped a packet of papers on my desk, almost casually, but he was still tense with anxiety. “It’s just, this is a sensitive subject for me.”
“Of course.” I picked at the corners of the papers, but didn’t look at them. “It seems to me we tend to focus on what we fear the most.” Shine, or the lack of freedom. The lack of people telling me the whole, unfiltered truth.
Knight feigned a look of offense. “I didn’t say I was afraid of it. . . .”
“Oh, pardon. I forgot that great professors aren’t afraid of anything.” I grinned, and the tense mood shattered.
“There will be a time for you to put more effort into stopping things like wraith and shine. But now is the time to learn. Be curious. Ask questions. But leave those matters to the people who are actually responsible for putting a stop to them.”
Whose responsibility was it, if not the future king’s? Maybe shine was just a symptom of a larger problem, like he’d said, but he’d neglected to mention what that larger problem was, specifically. Wraith? Corruption? Greed? “I think—”
He shook his head. “You won’t get me off topic again. We have too much work to do.”
In spite of the unanswered questions swirling through my thoughts, we spent the next few hours going through the day’s lessons—systems of government in various Indigo Kingdom cities before they were incorporated into the kingdom—taking only a quick break for lunch. Then Professor Knight released me to prepare for the ball.
“Will you be there?” I asked.
“You’re my favorite student. I’d never abandon you in a time of need.”
The party would definitely be a time of need. “I’m going to ask Father about attending the Academy.”
Professor Knight nodded. “Good. It would be good for you to get out more.”
That was what I liked about him. While Father wanted to keep me caged in the palace, safe from the world, Professor Knight believed me when I said I was re
ady to expand. Even if it was just within Hawksbill.
“Thanks, Professor.” His encouragement was exactly what I needed today.
FOUR
JUST AS I finished fastening the gold buttons on my suit, the suite door opened, guards’ voices sounded in the parlor, and then James strode into my bedroom.
I glanced at James’s reflection in the mirror. We were of similar height and lanky build, and both wore the angled features of the Rayner family. Though we were cousins, I sometimes imagined we were brothers instead. “You didn’t have to fetch me.”
“Oh but I did. Unless you wanted to ride with your parents.”
It would have given me an opportunity to ask Father about school in relative privacy, but I wasn’t unhappy to put off the task an hour longer. “I wouldn’t have to ride anywhere if you hadn’t insisted on hosting the party at your home. Skyvale Palace has plenty of space.”
“And that’s the sort of attitude that’s allowed your father to keep you in one spot for the last eight years.” He placed a hand on my shoulder. “Now stop preening and let’s go.”
“I’m not preening.” To spite him, I checked the mirror again, making sure my hair fell just so over my forehead, in a way my mother had called “devastatingly handsome.” Taking fashion advice from my mother might have been prissy, but it did produce the desired effect.
“You need to start pulling on that leash your father has tied around your neck.” James smiled brightly as we headed through the parlor, accumulating my armed entourage, and then into the hall. He kept up the smile even as his words fell low and serious. “You’ve accepted the leash for so long, you don’t even know how to fight it anymore. But if you want to go to school, walk somewhere without fifty of your closest swordsmen, or just be independent from him, you need to show him you’re not a child who will obey every command and restriction.”
I blew out a breath. “You’re right.”
“Are you a child who will obey—”
“No.”
“Girls have fewer chaperones than you.” James gave a pointed glance over his shoulder to where this afternoon’s four bodyguards trailed us: Thomas, Stewart, Michael, and Samuel. Or, as I liked to call them: Tall, Short, Mad, and Sniffly. “Girls have maybe one escort, and that’s usually an old lady with knitting needles.”
“I wouldn’t risk angering those old ladies with knitting needles.” Anyway, girls weren’t the heir to the Indigo Kingdom, but James had a point. Even my father didn’t have as many bodyguards. He’d put these on me eight years ago and I’d never said no with enough force that anyone would believe me.
To my father, I was still the little boy caught in the middle of the One-Night War.
“I’ll do it tonight. Definitely.” I straightened my shoulders. “I’ll ask—”
“Tell.”
“I’ll tell him I want to go to school.”
“Good.”
“And that I don’t need bodyguards all the time.”
James nodded approval as we turned out of the Dragon Wing and headed toward the front hall. It was empty; everyone attending the party had already been taken to Rayner Manor, and I would arrive last.
We climbed into the waiting carriage, spangled with suns and swirling rays, and rode to the house in uneasy silence; it was hard to talk about not wanting so many guards with so many guards present in the carriage with us.
It wasn’t a long ride, and soon we were upon Rayner Manor, the only home in Skyvale I knew as well as my own. I’d spent so much of my youth here, but after the fire killed Lord Roth two weeks ago, Aunt Kathleen decided to leave. The house would soon be closed.
Already, it was different.
Oh, the same mirrors glittered on the western face, reflecting the setting sun as it fell behind the Midvale Ridge and city walls. The same dragon flower vines curled up the elegant columns, while statues of saints offered plates of food or knelt quietly in prayer. Several were depicted mid-death, gruesome and beautiful all at once.
I couldn’t help but notice the emptiness, though. The sun sigil wind chimes were gone, packed away; the absence of their delicate sound seemed very loud. Also gone was the potted rose Lord Roth had given Aunt Kathleen for their ten-year anniversary this last spring.
In spite of the birthday decorations, the same sense of absence waited within the house: precious family books, a prized vase, and other small items I’d grown used to seeing during my visits here.
“How is Aunt Kathleen?” I murmured to James. His expression was a mixture of sadness and determination as he stared up at the house.
“As you’d expect from someone who’s decided to move back to Hawes rather than stay at home with her only son.” He shook off the note of bitterness. “She’s fine. She’ll be here tonight, but it’s hard to say whether she’ll really be here.”
My heart sank. Aunt Kathleen had been so happy and full of life—before the fire. “No progress in the investigation?”
“The police have stopped investigating. They said it must have been an accident.”
How could a fire that had burned fiercely through one room, then stopped at both doors’ thresholds be an accident? Or burned only the carpet and the wallpaper, but not the floor or plaster beneath?
There was nothing to say about the fire now, though—nothing that didn’t involve a long rant inappropriate for the occasion—so I just walked with him to the ballroom where my guests waited.
Everyone was milling about, discussing the weather or gifts or gossip about the Rayner family—unbelievably bold and rude in this house. The fire had been on the far side of the mansion, but even so, I imagined I caught the scent of smoke.
When the herald announced me, everyone applauded as though I’d actually done something applause worthy. I smiled and bowed, made a quick speech, and thanked everyone for coming to celebrate my sixteenth birthday with me—especially James and Aunt Kathleen for hosting the party.
It was more of the same, the sort of princely duties I’d grown used to doing in my sleep. Sometimes I enjoyed this, visiting with people, but right now all I could think about was the impending conversation with Father. When I’d ask him—no, tell him—that I wanted to attend the Academy.
After the speech, a string quartet started up and I greeted people individually, shaking hands and inquiring about their businesses or trade where appropriate. James stayed at my side.
After a while, people began to dance and talk among themselves. Even my guards began to relax, eyeing the buffet as though I never allowed them time to eat. Their distraction left me free to find my parents. Mother was already speaking with several of her ladies, the bright jewels of their ball gowns warming this whole affair. As for my father . . .
King Terrell the Fourth, House of the Dragon, Sovereign of the Indigo Kingdom, stood with Lord Gerald Hensley and his wife, Georgiana. I didn’t know them well; they’d been in Skyvale for only a few months, but they’d gained favor quickly. Probably because of their incredible wealth.
They were an impressive pair, both tall and strong boned, their clothes perfectly tailored to accent the curves and planes of muscle.
James and I shared a quick smirk. It wasn’t that Hensley was a terrible fellow, but he thought rather highly of himself.
To be fair, so did everyone else at court.
“Ah, Tobiah!” Father extended an arm in my direction. Like a well-trained son, I closed the distance between us to stand at my father’s side. James shot me a quick nod of encouragement before disappearing into the crowd.
“Good evening, Father. Lord and Lady Hensley.” I performed a small bow and smile as birthday wishes were offered all around.
“This is quite the party your cousin arranged.” Lord Hensley swept his gaze across the floor, as though searching for someone. A friend, perhaps, if people like him had friends. “Enjoying your day?”
“I am.” It was like all my other days, neither good nor bad, just the same story told in a slightly different way. I gathered up my
courage. Surely with an audience, Father couldn’t deny my request. “There’s only one thing that could make this day more special.”
That was sloppy. Stupid.
Desperate.
Father raised his eyes. “What’s that?”
I sucked in a deep, steadying breath. I had to do better, be more persuasive. “You know how much I value my education.”
Lady Hensley made a small noise in the back of her throat. “Not many boys your age would admit to that.”
“A man must value the enrichment of his mind above all other personal pursuits.” I put on a gracious, patient smile. “A strong education today is what will aid me in becoming a strong leader tomorrow. Don’t you agree, Father?”
The king narrowed his eyes, barely perceptibly, but nodded. “I have always encouraged and supported your education.” And the unspoken question following: So what is it you’re looking for now?
Best to get it over with quickly. “I agree. You have. And with that in mind, I hope you’ll support my next goal. The fall semester at the Bome Boys’ Academy begins in three months. I’m going to enroll.”
There. I’d told him.
All traces of pleasantness evaporated from Father’s expression, and the Hensleys shifted uncomfortably. “Why enroll in the Academy when you have the finest tutors coming to you every day? That seems a waste of your time, coming and going from school and the palace at all hours. No, I maintain the most efficient way to educate you is to have your tutors come to you while you continue shadowing me.”
The protest came out anyway, even though I knew better. “I wouldn’t come and go at all hours, Father. I’d stay in the dorms with the other boys.” My mouth ran away with my desires. This was a terrible mistake.
His face became a blank mask. “No, son, that isn’t a good idea.”
A hundred responses gathered on my tongue, but the Hensleys’ discomfort stalled me.
“If you don’t mind, Gerald, I’d like to speak to my son for a moment.” Father cast a dark smile at Lord and Lady Hensley, but his ire wasn’t for them. When they melted into the crowd of dancers, he turned to me and kept his voice low. “That was poorly done, Tobiah. I know you want to attend the Academy, but we’ve discussed this. At length. It simply isn’t safe for you there. What of your guards?”