(The Zero Enigma Book 6) The Family Pride

by Christopher Nuttall

  They’d have to be, I mused, as I finished the coffee and headed into the shower. Otherwise, no one would eat or drink them.

  The thought made me smile. Father had told me, when he’d been in one of his better moods, that people didn’t buy and serve expensive dishes for the taste. They did it to show off their wealth. A man who could serve his guests roast griffin or boiled harpy was a man of wealth and power, if not taste. Beef, lamb and chicken might taste better, but they were common. I snorted as I washed and dried myself, then donned a simple suit. Thankfully, men weren’t expected to wear a new dress every day.

  I carried the tray into the living room and put it on the table for collection, then headed down to the small breakfast room. It felt odd to be eating there, now I was seventeen, but I wasn’t -- yet - a formal adult. Kids didn’t eat breakfast with their parents, not in a house governed by rules that dated back over a thousand years. We ate alone, in a room that had been designed for us. The wards on the walls kept us from making a mess ... I sighed, as one of the maids hurried over to pull out a chair for me. It wasn’t as if I was seven.

  “Hey, Akin.” Cousin Penny was sitting at the table, eating a bowl of porridge. “How are things this morning?”

  I sat down. It was too early in the morning for Cousin Penny, too. Uncle Malachi’s daughter was two years younger than me: blonde, beautiful, and disgustingly cheerful. She wore a green dress that reminded me of Isabella ... she reminded me of Isabella, save for having a face that was a little more rounded than Isabella’s. Her dress was pushing the edge of what was socially acceptable for a young girl, a little bit too tight around her breasts. I had a feeling she’d be ordered to change the moment Uncle Malachi or Mother saw her. There was no way she’d be allowed to leave the mansion looking like that. She was lucky her mother had stayed on the estate, rather than returning to her family home.

  “Tiring,” I said, shortly. The maid brought me a plate loaded with bacon, eggs and potato cakes. “How are you?”

  “Oh, just fine.” Penny’s smile - somehow - grew wider. “Auntie has been teaching me special spells.”

  I rolled my eyes. There was no shortage of rumours, exaggerations and outright lies about spells that could only be cast by women, spells that were passed from mother to daughter by word of mouth and never written down. I doubted they were really that special. It wasn’t that hard to unravel a spell designed for women and adapt it so it could be cast by a man, if someone had crafted such a spell in the first place. Most spells were designed so that anyone could cast them, if they had the power.

  “Don’t mock,” Penny said. “They’re very interesting spells.”

  “I’ll take your word for it,” I muttered. If the spells were that secret, why wasn’t Aunt Petal teaching her daughter? Mother was only a Rubén by marriage. “Are you looking forward to going back to school?”

  “I’m going to be a dorm monitor,” Penny said, excitedly. “I’ll be in charge!”

  “My sympathies.” I swallowed a piece of bacon, then poured myself more coffee. “You’ll find it hard work.”

  “Not me.” Penny sounded confident. “I’ll just tell them what to do and they’ll fall in line.”

  I heard a crashing sound outside and turned, just in time to see Cousin Francis hurry into the room looking innocent. I knew he’d done something. No one looked that innocent in our family, not unless they’d done something Not Allowed. I glanced past him, half-expecting to see an angry adult bearing down on him. Uncle Davys was so strict he made my father look like Uncle Malachi. No wonder Cousin Francis was such a tearaway.

  Francis closed the door and sat down, without waiting for the maid. “So ... what’s up with you?”

  I studied him for a long moment. He was blond - like everyone else who shared the family bloodline - and devastatingly handsome, to the point where he was the envy of nearly everyone in my year. Girls adored him, boys wanted to be him. He was the kind of person to whom almost everything, from academic honours to sporting victories, came easily. I would have envied him myself, perhaps, if I hadn’t already been betrothed. It was something of a puzzle that we actually got on.

  “I’m taking the Challenge,” I said, bluntly. “It’s going to detract from my schooling.”

  “Oh, hard luck old bean.” Francis affected an accent that made me want to grind my teeth. “Why not just throw the contest? Sit down and do nothing until time runs out.”

  “Father will kill me,” I said. If I did lose my position as Heir Primus, Francis was on the short list of possible candidates to take my place. “I’m very attached to my life.”

  “And Catty won’t be impressed if you just flunk out,” Penny pointed out. “She’ll think you’re a ...”

  I glared at her. “Cat. Or Caitlyn. Not Catty. Treat her with some respect!”

  “You’d better,” Francis added. “Lady Caitlyn will be running this house, one day.”

  Penny flushed. “I ... she won’t have time to run the house. Not if she’s forging every day.”

  That was a good point. I chose to ignore it. “You will treat her with respect,” I said, stiffly. Penny was no longer a lowerclassman, and I could no longer give her lines, but I wasn’t going to let that pass. “She is my betrothed, and she is going to be my wife, and you will not ...”

  Penny held up her hands in surrender. “I yield. I’m sorry.”

  “I think you should do some more toadying, maybe a little kowtowing,” Francis said. “Then we’ll know you’re sincere.”

  “Oh, shut up,” I told him. Father had taught me that it was dangerous to back someone into a corner, to force them to surrender or fight to the death. Penny had apologised. “Just let it go.”

  “Everyone was talking about your victory on the field,” Penny said, quickly, to Francis. “What happened?”

  Francis beamed so brightly that I knew he’d just been waiting for someone to ask that question. “Well, it was the last few seconds of the match,” he said. “The scores were perfectly even. Half the team has been sent off for turning their opponents into footballs and tossing them in all directions. The referee was clearly biased against us, after someone who shall remain nameless had hexed him when his back was turned. And we had to win ...”

  He made sweeping gestures with his hands as he retold the story. “I took the ball from Gavin and ran forward, inching it towards the goal. The goalie got ready to kick it back and I hexed the ground under his feet, turning it to mush. He ended up flat on his back, looking like a right plonker. And I kicked the ball right into the goal. Goal! The crowd went wild. They cheered and cheered and cheered.

  “The captain of the other team must have swallowed a dictionary. He shouted a whole list of insults at his goalie, calling him a nincompoop, a nitwit, a ... somewhere in the middle, the referee yanked him off the pitch and put him on the bench. The crowd pointed and laughed. I took the opportunity to score a second goal! Goal! And then the time ran out. We won!”

  I snorted. I didn’t believe half of the story, although I was fairly sure that Francis had scored the winning goal. He wouldn’t have tried to lie about something that could be easily checked. I knew people who would find his bragging so irritating, they’d happily spend hours trying to catch him in a lie. Francis wasn’t really given to lying, in any case. He was more likely to bend the truth in creative directions.

  “And you managed to win the game.” Penny’s eyes were shining. “What are you going to do for an encore?”

  “There’ll be matches this year,” Francis said. “And afterwards” - for a moment, he looked lost - “I don’t know.”

  I felt a flicker of sympathy, mingled with amusement. It was rare for someone to make a living through football. Uncle Davys would certainly refuse to let Francis try. He’d probably disown his son if Francis chose to waste his adulthood playing sports instead of studying magic. And yet ... if anyone could make it, Francis could. He was irritating, at times, and easy to envy ... but I didn’t really hate him. No o
ne did.

  “I’m sure you’ll be fine,” I assured him.

  “You never come to the matches,” Francis pointed out. “How do you know?”

  “Yeah,” Penny said. “You ought to show your loyalty by attending the matches.”

  I shook my head, firmly. Team sports were bad enough when playing. I’d never liked them and I’d dropped gym class as soon as I could. But watching was worse. If I’d wanted to watch a bunch of idiots running around on a muddy field, I could have sat on the roof and watched the neighbourhood children at play.

  “You could always watch the netball matches.” Francis elbowed me. When I looked at him, he winked. “You never know what you might see.”

  I felt my cheeks redden. “I don’t have time.”

  “Excuses, excuses,” Francis said. “Just because you’re betrothed doesn’t mean you can’t look.”

  “No,” I said, more sharply than I’d intended. “But that doesn’t mean I should look.”

  “I’m going to be a dorm monitor,” Penny said, quickly. “Isn’t it wonderful?”

  I could have kissed her for changing the subject before it went somewhere - anywhere - I didn’t want it to go. “I don’t know. Is it wonderful?”

  Francis smirked. “Do you think we should tell her? Or should we let her innocence be shattered like everyone else?”

  Penny scowled at him. “What do you mean?”

  “Well,” Francis said. “If youth and beauty wishes an education from old age and beauty ...”

  “You’re two years older than me, not two decades,” Penny snapped. “You’re not even two years older than me! More like nineteen months!”

  “And yet, I look down at you from my lofty perch.” Francis stood and made a show of looking down his nose at her. “So young, so tender, so ignorant ...”

  Penny pointed a finger at him. I sensed a spell building under her skin. “Talk.”

  Francis, just for a second, looked as if he was going to dare her to hex him. I hoped she’d have enough sense not to try. Francis was much stronger and far more experienced than she was - I supposed his cheating on the football field had given him some useful skills after all - but whoever won, we’d all catch it from our parents. Mother would be furious if we destroyed the breakfast room. I couldn’t see Uncle Davys or Uncle Malachi taking it lightly either.

  “It’s really very simple.” Francis affected an unconcerned drawl, but I could see him readying a shield charm under the table. “You think you’re going to sleep easy, in a dorm full of brats who’ve probably never spent a night away from home? Some of them will want their mummies. Some will want their teddy bears. Some will want you to do their homework for them ... and believe me, you’re the one who will get into trouble if they don’t do their homework. The ones who come from powerful families will sneer at you, like this” - he affected a truly awful sneer - “and the scholarship kids will need to be taught how to behave before they mortally offend someone with their lack of manners.”

  He smiled. “And guess who gets to teach them?”

  Penny lowered her hand. “I’ll find others who can teach them.”

  “It’s your job,” Francis jibed. “If you ask Akin’s friend - you know, the pretty redhead - to teach them, she’ll get the credit. Not you. You’ll get pointed questions about why you couldn’t do your job, followed by being marked down. You won’t become Head Girl, for sure.”

  “Pretty redhead?” Penny eyed Francis, sardonically. “I thought you were dating Dinah.”

  Francis’s face fell. “Dinah dumped me at the end of last term,” he said. “She wanted ... well, she wanted ...”

  “Someone who cared for her?” Penny stuck out her tongue. “Or someone who could actually keep his eyes to himself?”

  I kept my thoughts to myself. It wasn’t uncommon for upperclassmen to date, but ... it was easy to get into real trouble. My father had warned me, when I’d gone into the upper years, that I had to be careful. I was betrothed. Anything I did wouldn’t just reflect badly on me and my family. It would reflect badly on Cat as well.

  “She wanted a betrothal before she ... well, before she’d accept my suit.” Francis reddened. “And that wasn’t in the cards.”

  “I see,” Penny said, drawing out the words. “How ... charming.”

  I nodded in agreement. Francis was a catch, I supposed, but ... Dinah came from a good family. She wouldn’t be inclined to get close unless there was a formal betrothal contact, a promise of marriage ... I felt a flicker of sympathy for both of them. It was definitely easier to have a betrothed already. But then, if I’d disliked Cat, it would have become a nightmare very quickly.

  “So I’m free,” Francis said. “Hurrah! No ball and chain for me!”

  Penny pulled a notepad out of her dress pocket. “Note to self,” she said, as she pretended to write. “Warn all girls to stay away from Francis.”

  “Oh, go off and boil your head.” Francis elbowed me. “You want to be my wingman? We’re allowed to go out of the school this year, you know.”

  I lifted an eyebrow. “And you haven’t been sneaking out every night since we became upperclassmen?”

  “Maybe not every night,” Francis said. “Every second night, perhaps.”

  The door opened before he could continue. I looked up and saw the butler enter the room, carrying a silver tray. A blue envelope rested on the tray, addressed to me. I took it, nodded my thanks and turned it over and over in my hands. The back was covered with Jude’s logo, just like the books.

  “Wow,” Penny said. “I got one of those. You’re going to be a dorm monitor too?”

  “I can’t see it happening,” Francis said. “He could be a sports monitor, but ...”

  “No.” I opened the envelope, carefully. “No one would appoint me sports monitor.”

  “Nah,” Francis agreed. “You’d never do anything with the role.”

  I didn’t bother to deny it. Instead, I pulled out the letter. It was short, straight to the point. I would have been impressed if it hadn’t been bad news.

  “I’m Head Boy,” I said.

  “Hah, hah, very funny,” Francis said. He produced a screeching sound that might have been a laugh, if someone used their imagination. A great deal of their imagination. “The very thought ...”

  I offered him the letter. “Read for yourself.”

  Francis took it, then pretended to gulp. “Well, so long Jude’s. It was nice knowing you - and the pile of rubble you become.”

  Penny narrowed her eyes. “How did you get the job?”

  “Oh, the usual,” Francis said. “A few thousand crowns to the Triad, a few thousand more to the Castellan, a couple of hundred to the Magisters, a bottle of cheap rotgut to the poor bugger who’s in charge of cleaning the school ...”

  “That isn’t fair,” Penny protested.

  Francis winked at me. “You can give her lines, you know? And there aren’t any limits. You could make her write out a billion lines.”

  “I never wanted the job,” I said, as Penny paled. “And I ...”

  “Tough cheese, dear boy,” Francis said. “You’ll just have to enjoy it. Or do it so badly your father puts you out of everyone else’s misery.”

  It was a line that deserved a snappy response, something that would put him firmly in his place. Isabella would have thought of one, I was sure. But I didn’t.

  “Oh, shut up,” I said.

  Chapter Five

  My mother was delighted when I showed her the letter, so delighted that she almost convinced me she believed I’d become Head Boy though merit, rather than Father bribing all and sundry to get me the post. She promptly ordered the staff to start preparing a family banquet, loudly bemoaning the fact that there wasn’t time to invite half the city. I wasn’t too bothered, even though I would have liked to see Cat before I went back to school. It was a lot easier to talk to her when we weren’t being chaperoned by adults who listened carefully to whatever we had to say.

  And t
hen report it back to both sets of parents, I reminded myself, as I packed my trunk for school. Whatever we say, they’ll hear.

  I groaned at the thought, then finished packing. It hadn’t been easy to convince Mother to let me do my own packing, rather than leaving it to the maids. She’d only relented after I’d become an upperclassman, although she had insisted on giving me a list of things to pack and to check it twice. I couldn’t help thinking she was worrying over nothing. Seven pairs of black trousers, seven black jackets, seven white shirts, seven pairs of black socks and black underwear ... and a single, neatly tailored suit for special events. It wasn’t as if I needed seven pairs of everything. Besides, I didn’t attend many formal dances. Being betrothed, I could only attend if my betrothed also attended. And Cat and I had grown very ingenious, over the years, at coming up with excuses for one or both of us not to attend.