The Schism (The Broken Prism Book 4)

by V. St. Clair

Instead of scolding him, Mrs. Laraby smiled and said, “Yes, sometimes he does. I suppose with so many sisters he has to, if he ever wants to be heard.”

  A long moment of silence fell between them, during which Bonk took flight from Mrs. Laraby’s shoulder and coasted down to Hayden’s.

  “You know, Hayden, you can talk to my husband or I if there’s something on your mind. You’re like a son to us, and we’ll do whatever we can to help you.”

  Hayden swallowed a lump of emotion and continued his careful folding of a black sock, tucking it neatly into his bag.

  “Even if Zane gets killed following one of my hair-brained plans?” The words were wrought from him almost against his will. “Will I still be like a son to you then?”

  The silence spiraled horribly between them then, but Hayden refused to be the one to break it. Even Bonk shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other on Hayden’s shoulder, like he was trying to think of a way to end the awkward moment but had no idea how.

  When Mrs. Laraby spoke again, it was about something else entirely.

  “I came upstairs because you have a visitor, who seems to think you’re going to be spending the rest of the winter holiday with her and requests that you bring your things downstairs so that you can depart immediately.”

  Surprised out of his funk, Hayden met her gaze for the first time since she knocked on the door and said, “Tess is here?” unable to keep the enthusiasm from his voice. He wasn’t sure that he would sleep any better at her house than at Zane’s—especially because her father might still fantasize about killing him—but the thought of seeing her cheered him immensely right now.

  Mrs. Laraby said nothing, and Hayden began throwing the rest of his belongings pell-mell into his knapsack, forcing the bulging bag to close and slinging it over his shoulder. He had followed Zane’s mother halfway down the stairs before he had the courage to say, “You never answered my question.”

  Frowning thoughtfully, she turned to look him in the eyes and said, “I’m not sure what the answer is yet.”

  Hayden felt a pang of sadness at the thought of his favorite family in the world turning on him, in the event he ever did something stupid enough to get their only son killed.

  At least she didn’t lie to me about it.

  There didn’t seem to be anything left to say at this point, and he hurried past Mrs. Laraby down the last few stairs and turned the corner into the living room, where his mouth fell open and he immediately dropped his bag onto the floor.

  It wasn’t Tess waiting for him by the fireplace, standing with her back to the flames and her hands clasped neatly behind her.

  For the second year in a row, Magdalene Trout had come to visit him at the Larabys’ during winter break.

  Last time she had come to him dressed in her official Council of Mages clothing, the golden robe over a black shirt and pants. She looked strange to Hayden’s eyes in the casual clothing she now wore: dark blue corduroy pants and a knitted top, her hair pulled up in a bun. Somehow having her hair pulled back made her look even more like her sons, who happened to be two of Hayden’s least favorite people in the Nine Lands.

  “There you are,” she greeted him without inflection, casting an appraising eye over him as though trying to decide whether he was worth her time. “Are you ready to depart?”

  Zane was standing in the room with him, though Hayden hadn’t seen him come in, and he could hear Florette and Victoria whispering from the kitchen and trying to peek into the room when they thought no one was looking. If Mrs. Trout was aware of the attention she was receiving then she was ignoring it thoroughly.

  “Uh…to where?” Hayden asked, still thrown by the fact that it was her standing in the living room and not Tess.

  “Oliver informed me that he promised you a family favor during your last term at school—well, when you both should have been at school,” she amended, lips flattening momentarily at the memory of her son disobeying her orders to follow her into the Forest of Illusions during a war.

  “Favor…” Hayden trailed off, though he was struck with a wave of understanding. “Oh, right. He said you would help me get my estate back.”

  She nodded. “If you are still intent upon receiving my help, then you’ll be spending the remainder of the winter holiday at my home, so that we can prepare you for the trial.”

  “I—what? No one said anything about spending the winter with Oliver and Lorn, or about any trial…” The thought of being locked in the Trout estate with his least favorite schoolmates during the holiday break was almost worse than the nightmares he’d been having.

  Magdalene arched an eyebrow at him and said, “You didn’t think you were just going to be able to walk into the Council room and ask for your things back, did you?” as though he was the stupidest thing she had ever laid eyes on.

  “Uh…” Hayden chose not to answer that question truthfully.

  “Do you want my help or not?” She folded her arms across her chest and leveled her gaze at him. “I’m not interested in wasting my time on someone who isn’t willing to do what it takes to win. So decide right now: are you a waste of my time?”

  It was the challenge more than anything that drove him now. If there was one thing Hayden hated, it was being called worthless.

  “I’m ready to leave when you are. I hope you warned your sons I’m coming.” He favored her with a cold smile, though now that he thought about it there was some entertainment to be had if Oliver and Lorn weren’t aware of his upcoming visit. He tried to imagine the look on the latter’s pudgy face when Hayden Frost walked through the front doors of his home.

  “Good, then come along,” Magdalene beckoned him forward imperiously, offering her hand to him while using the other to grasp her Mastery Charm.

  Hayden took her hand but turned to face Zane and Mrs. Laraby, while Bonk tightened his grip on his shoulder.

  “Thanks for letting me stay with you for the—”

  They vanished and reappeared on the manicured lawns of a massive estate between one blink and the next. Hayden released Magdalene’s hand and wheeled on her.

  “That was rude. You didn’t even let me say goodbye properly.”

  “Feel free to cry about it, if it will make you feel better.” She shrugged and set off towards the house, and because Hayden had nothing better to do, he followed her, lengthening his stride to keep pace with her though they were almost the same height now.

  The Trout estate looked almost nothing like the Frost one, other than the fact that they were both larger than any house had a right to be. There was a fence around the main compound, but it looked more decorative than functional, thin bars of alternating gold and silver lining the perimeter of the front yard. They approached the gates along a paved carriage lane, though even on the outside of the gates the grounds were freshly mown in little crosshatching patterns for as far as Hayden could see. He assumed they were farther south than Calypso, since the frost didn’t seem to have hit the area yet, though the grass was nearly all dead.

  The other main difference was the number of people here. Whereas Hayden and Magdalene had been the only ones at the Frost estate when he was last there, the Trout estate almost seemed like a small town. Gardeners were bent down, working around the entrance to the gates even though there were no flowers growing during the winter, someone was sweeping dust and dirt from the lane they were walking on, and a man stood on either side of the gates to greet them. At the house itself he could see window-washers at their work and people bustling around with no discernible purpose at all.

  “Lady Trout, welcome home,” the man on their side of the gate greeted them, throwing a latch to release his side of the lock and catching the attention of his colleague on the other end, who did the same. Hayden noted that both of these men were dressed better than he was.

  “Thank you,” she nodded to them and continued through the gates with Hayden in tow, still staring around with interest.

  Inside the gate he felt suddenly warm,
a sure sign that the same kind of climate-controlling magic that was in effect at Mizzenwald all year was being used here as well. Shedding his coat and carrying it over one arm, he continued to scan his surroundings.

  The grass here was still very green, though it had also been mown into those neat little diamond shapes, and a winding trail of large stones led off to a small park to his left; he glimpsed a few stone benches amongst the winding paths, flowers, and trees that mostly obscured his view of it. The other side of the front lawn looked like it was set up to host parties: long tables ran in parallel, with enormous fire pits for grilling and a granite serving table in the shape of a large ‘L’ along one end. Canopies of silk and taffeta in red and blue hung over the tables on poles to shelter guests from the sun while they ate. Hayden could imagine that some pretty awesome parties had probably been thrown here.

  The center of the lawn was given over to statuary and fountains, and as Hayden walked past them he admired the different renderings in stone: mages and warriors, even monsters like hydras and wargs were posed convincingly around the area, staged as though engaged in epic battle.

  “Nice statues,” he spoke into the silence. “I’ve always liked sculptures.”

  Mrs. Trout favored him with a tilt of the head and a slowed her pace slightly as they approached the front doors, which were opened for them by a doorman who was wearing a red uniform.

  Hayden was suddenly brought back to the conversation he’d had with Magdalene at the Frost estate last year, when he had marveled at the thought of paying someone to do nothing but open the front door, and how she had explained that it was all part of the game of flaunting your wealth to other rich people.

  “Nice doorman,” he said mildly, wondering if she would remember their conversation.

  She actually turned to look at him then, gracing him with a smirk that let him know she remembered their last meeting quite well.

  Hayden had been expecting to enter a foyer, and was rather surprised when they stepped into an enormous hallway with twenty-foot ceilings and white marble floors. The space was large enough to allow for couches to be placed on either side at strategic intervals, and still allow room for four or five people to walk side-by-side without running into each other. Portraits lined the walls on both sides—likely of the Trout ancestors—and housekeepers casually walked in and out of rooms attached to the main corridor as they went about their work.

  “Stop gawking like a tourist and act as though you have some sense of pride and entitlement,” Magdalene chivvied him quietly.

  Hayden bristled at the unsolicited advice and said, “I don’t suppose I can get the lessons I need without all the snide commentary?”

  Mrs. Trout spared him another glance as she led him down the corridor and said, “This is all part of the lessons you need in order to win your case with the Council of Mages. You will need to look and act like the scion of a Great House if you want to be taken seriously, otherwise they will bully you and steamroll over your childish protests without blinking.”

  Surprised by her candor, Hayden asked, “But Oliver said that the law is on my side.”

  “Why in the world do you think that matters?” She shook her head as though the very idea was ridiculous. “Do you really think that being right is enough?” She answered her own question. “It’s only the first step—albeit an important one. You’ll be receiving a crash-course in estate and inheritance laws so that you will understand your rights, because anything you can’t prove you’re entitled to, you can be talked out of.”

  “So you’re telling me that the Council of Mages is in the business of cheating people who aren’t smart enough or old enough to know how to defend themselves,” Hayden said bluntly, as they turned in to a library that was nearly as large as the one at Mizzenwald.

  “The Council’s business is to do what is best for mage-kind. If they believe that using your money enables them to do that, then that is what they will do, up and until the point that you are able to convince them to stop.”

  Hayden frowned and said, “I’m surprised you’re admitting how immoral the Council is…seeing as how you’re on it, and pretty high-ranking from what I can tell.”

  Magdalene stopped walking and turned to face him.

  “What fool told you that the law is concerned with morality? The law deals in justice for the wronged, and promises only equal treatment to all people, which means that anyone who can do the research to argue their case is entitled to present it and win if their argument is valid. The law cares nothing for morality.”

  That was a new and somewhat alarming take on things. Hayden had never given it too much thought before, but had always imagined that things were very simple: right or wrong, good or bad. It hadn’t really occurred to him that one could be right and still lose.

  Mentally shifting his perspective to absorb this new information, he asked, “If it’s in the Council’s best interest to keep my money and my house, then they can’t be happy with you telling me all of these things and helping foil their plans.”

  She narrowed her eyebrows and replied, “I wasn’t planning on discussing my involvement in your case with my colleagues, and nor should you—unless you want to make a permanent enemy of the Trouts.” There was nothing threatening in her tone, but Hayden could read the intent plainly enough.

  “Ah, so this is all a big secret?”

  “Yes. You were never here, as far as anyone else is concerned. My staff are loyal and will not speak of this outside of the gates.”

  Hayden nodded in understanding, and was about to ask why they were still standing in the library when Oliver and Lorn approached them from the other side of the room.

  He prepared himself for snide insults out of sheer habit, though when Oliver came close enough he simply offered his hand and said, “Welcome to our home, Hayden. I hope you find it to your liking,” as though they were old friends.

  Confused, Hayden shook his hand and said, “Uh, yeah…it’s cool.”

  Magdalene smacked him in the back of the head hard enough to sting, and Hayden almost fell forward from the unexpected blow.

  “What in the—”

  “When you are in public areas in a formal setting, you will act appropriately,” Mrs. Trout cut him off before he could finish protesting. “The word ‘uh’ should not leave your mouth at any time, and you should comport yourself with dignity and professional courtesy.”

  “I didn’t know that your house counted as a formal setting,” Hayden grumbled, wondering why Bonk was being so docile and not coming to his defense. “I also didn’t know I’d be getting hit for my mistakes.”

  “It is the fastest way to make an impression with boys, and time is of the essence,” she continued without apology.

  “So you’re saying that I have to pretend to like your sons for the next five weeks, even though all of us know that we can’t stand each other?”

  “Yes, because that is the nature of the game. Any place where someone might see or hear you requires professionalism. You three can feel free to hate each other in private to your hearts’ content,” she explained dispassionately. “You can’t possibly think that I like or get along with half of the people that I invite into my home for parties or business meetings.”

  Hayden opened his mouth and almost said, ‘Uh…’ before he caught himself and changed it quickly to, “I hadn’t given it much thought before now.”

  “It is one of the many lessons you’ll learn over the next few weeks. You will have to be a fast learner in all areas of study if you have a hope of winning your case against the Council, and you can expect to be punished for your failures here in light of that fact.”

  Lorn shot him a smug look at the thought of watching him get smacked repeatedly for weeks on end. Hayden was privately delighted when Magdalene leaned over and struck her youngest son on the back of the head for gloating publicly.

  Well, at least she’s consistent.

  “I’ll keep it in mind,” Hayden acknowledged.


  “Good. Oliver, show our guest around the estate and see that his basic needs are met. Lorn, get back to your training. Dinner will be held the formal dining room in one hour.”

  She walked away from the three of them without another word, and suddenly Hayden found himself standing awkwardly in the library of a strange place with people who hated him, wondering how his day had gone downhill so quickly. When he woke up this morning, he’d had no idea that fighting a yeti would be the highlight of his afternoon.

  Lorn slouched off, looking mulish about being reprimanded by his mother, while Oliver turned back to him and said, “Would you like to leave your things in your room before we continue your tour?”

  There was something stuffed and forced about his politeness, but it was still disarming and kind of creepy to have Oliver treat him like a human being.

  “Sure, thanks.”

  “Try to sound less casual, or my mother will probably hit you again the next time she hears it.” There was something in his tone that made it obvious that he could receive no greater pleasure than watching Hayden get the snot smacked out of him, though he was resigned to doing his best to warn him in advance.

  Feeling like he’d stepped into an alternate universe, Hayden took a deep breath and said, “Thank you, Oliver. Please, lead on.”

  2

  A New Kind of Lesson

  Unlike his father’s manor, all of the bedrooms in the Trout estate were on the ground floor, and Hayden was led to a richly-furnished guest bedroom that afforded a nice view of the back yard, which he hadn’t seen on the way in. Looking out the window he could spot an area for hand-to-hand combat, fencing, and a dirt-floored place with targets and obstacles for practicing magic.

  When the door shut behind them, Oliver relaxed and became more like his usual self.

  “Is that all the stuff you brought with you?”

  “I travel light,” Hayden replied with a frown, setting his bag on the edge of his bed and watching Bonk regard the slender, T-shaped post that he was meant to perch on with disdain. “I suppose we’re allowed to speak freely in here?”