Chapter XXI. Domenic
XXI
DOMENIC
WINTER
“So I think we’ve got time for one last round of questions before taking a few calls. Mr. Barrow, several weeks ago, your classmates painted a pretty colorful picture of your reputation. But here you sit, clearly a changed man. So which version of Domenic Barrow is the truth?”
“Well, Floyd, I wish I could deny those reports—I’m not proud of them. But even Chosen Ones have our rebellious teenage years.” Domenic laughed good-naturedly. “What matters is that when Valmordion woke up, so did I.”
Domenic peered at Iseul observing from behind the window of Wake Up, Gallamere!’s recording studio. She nodded, which was good. Domenic could never tell when he was laying it on too thick.
Floyd Wilder laughed with him, so he mustn’t have thought so, either.
In person, he looked exactly how Domenic imagined, which was to say, like an absolute jackass.
He leaned back in his seat, ankle bobbing atop his knee, cigarette perched lazily between two pale fingers.
Maybe this was how he’d lounged when he’d declared on national airwaves that Domenic was doomed to fail.
Wilder turned to Ellery next. “Do you agree with his statement, Miss Caldwell?”
Ellery smiled primly, which Domenic knew to mean she, too, was envisioning strangling this man on live broadcast. “I think there’s always been much more to Barrow than meets the eye.”
Beneath the table, Domenic bumped his knee against hers.
Since they’d fortified the alban network, Alderland hadn’t suffered a single winterscurge.
Thus, in their weeks waiting to fulfill the next prophecy piece at the Winter solstice, the pair had little to keep them busy except to woo the public.
And so far, in Domenic’s humble opinion, they’d been doing a fantastic job.
He’d transformed his golden boy routine into an art.
He’d shaken hundreds of hands. Scrawled his barely legible signature on thousands of postcards.
He’d even been asked to hold a baby once—a random person had just thrust their offspring into his arms. Domenic had never held a baby before. It’d smelled weird, like sour milk.
Yet Ellery’s performance still put his to shame: accomplished ingénue, Alderland’s sweetheart, and fashion trendsetter.
And though Domenic knew shit about clothes, even if this was only a radio appearance, Ellery looked incredible.
She shined, the glint of her necklace, the crisp white of her dress, the rolling waves of her hair.
Of course the public was in love with her.
“Now as for you, Miss Caldwell,” Wilder said. “Our listeners wanna know: how does a girl from the sticks wind up creating the first Living Wand in a millennium?”
“Well, one of the most wonderful things about being a magician is that magic can find you no matter who you are or where you come from. I’m so grateful to the Order for seeing my potential—I was a real diamond in the rough, you know?
But it’s thanks to their support that I wield Iskarius.
They took a chance on me long before I knew I was Chosen. ”
“And what’s your take on her response, Mr. Barrow?”
“Oh, Caldwell is too modest. To tell the truth, I was a bit intimidated when I found out she was my partner. I thought, wow, even Chosen myself, it’ll be pretty hard to hold a candle to her.”
Under the table, Ellery bumped his knee back.
Wilder smirked. His teeth were bleached white. “Bet it helped that she’s so easy on the eyes, huh?”
Ellery laughed with him, aggressively prim as ever. Domenic didn’t.
Wilder’s smile faded as he stubbed his cigarette into his ashtray. “Let’s not leave our callers hanging.” He pressed a button on his switchboard. “Hello there. You’re our lucky first caller. What’s ya name?”
“My name is Marion Wheelock, from Fellmere.”
“Ah, from way up in the mountains! Thanks so much for calling in, Marion. Must be real pretty, living in the clouds. What question do you have for our Chosen Two?”
“So, Ellery: I was lucky enough to snag a necklace like yours, but the jacket you wore last week is sold out everywhere. So annoying. Anyway, are you planning on releasing your own collection now that you’re a fashion icon?”
Ellery touched the necklace in question before leaning toward her microphone. “Wow, I’m flattered! But for now, my focus is on my Chosen One duties.”
“No one ever calls me a fashion icon,” Domenic lamented.
Ellery snorted. Then she cleared her throat and kicked his ankle.
Marion Wheelock giggled as well, and with swift goodbyes, Wilder cruised onto the next caller.
“Hey there, caller number two. Who are we speaking to?”
“M-my name’s Basil,” he stammered.
“And where are ya callin’ from, Basil?”
“From Enmere. My question is for both of them. Now, I know you two aren’t much like the rest of us, being Chosen and all. So maybe this is a silly question…”
“No such thing, Basil,” Domenic told him. “That’s what we’re here for. And, ultimately, we’re all facing this cataclysm together, aren’t we?”
“A-all right. What does it feel like to have been born with destiny watching over you? Did you always know that you were different from everyone else?”
Domenic shifted, but there was no getting comfortable in these seats, hunching low to his microphone. Thankfully, Ellery jumped in. “Well, goodness. I think you can understand why I might’ve been surprised to find out I’m Winter’s Chosen.”
Domenic marveled at how seamlessly she could lie, that he was the only one who could see it.
“And you, Barrow?” Wilder asked.
Domenic managed a chuckle. “Believe it or not, I do put my pants on one leg at a time.”
Wilder grinned crookedly, like he did see Domenic’s seams. “That’s Barrow, folks. Always a charmer. But you don’t have to play humble here. We’re trying to get to know the real you.”
The harsh red of the on-air light seemed to glare down on Domenic.
“The, uh, the funny thing about childhood memories is that it’s hard to trust them,” he answered. “But as far back as I can remember, even before I developed magic, I knew there was something waiting in my future. Something extraordinary.”
“Of course there was,” Wilder said cheerily, and Domenic released a subtle sigh. “Now, up next we’ve got a caller from … Where are ya calling in from?”
Static crackled through the airwaves.
“Hello?” Wilder spoke.
A coarse voice garbled over the poor connection. “This question’s for Ellery. What plans do you have for your retirement?”
Ellery’s brow knitted. “Excuse me?”
“After you and Barrow are done with the prophecy, will your wand even work anymore? Seems to me like the only reason you could make it is because Winter is the strongest it’s ever been. So what happens when Summer conquers all of Alderland again?”
Ellery and Domenic met each other’s gaze with alarm.
Carefully, Ellery answered, “There’s no reason to believe Iskarius would—”
“Do you really think Winter’s Chosen is meant to destroy it?”
Ellery recoiled and fell silent. In all their interviews, Domenic had never seen her at a loss for words. He touched her sleeve. But as he prepared to jump in, it was Wilder who rescued her.
“How ’bout that, folks! Looks like it’s already time to say goodbye.
On behalf of myself, everyone here at Capital Broadcasting Studios, and—if I may—the whole country, we thank you both for giving us a chance to get to know the real Chosen Two.
Next, a word from our sponsors: Humphrey & Lee’s menthol cigarettes—they’ll soothe your throat and keep your breath minty fresh.
There’s no better way to finish off a meal!
And our second sponsor, Foretold. Now that’s a blockbuster you won’t want to miss. It follows the story of Alice Rhodes…”
Domenic and Ellery shut the door of the recording studio as they fled.
“What was that about?” he asked Ellery. “Are you all right?”
Ellery smoothed down where her dress cinched into her belt. “There’s never been a magician like me before. We can’t expect the whole country to understand how it works.”
“You took the words right out of my mouth,” Iseul said kindly. “Still, it might be prudent to start limiting public questions at future events.”
Ellery nodded gratefully. “Thank you.”
“And Domenic, I wanted to say I was very impressed by how gracefully you handled that second caller asking about destiny. I know you still have complicated feelings about it, but your answer really did sound believable.”
Domenic held tight to his grin, knowing Iseul had truly meant her words. She just had no idea that he’d meant his, too.
“No, you’re right. It’s been years. I figured it was a long shot. I … Yeah. Well, guess we’ll talk again soon. Tell Dad, Robby, and Oliver hi from—Oh. Sorry. Yeah, I know it’s late. Right. Goodbye.”
Domenic hung up the phone on his nightstand and slumped onto the edge of his bed. He should’ve known that’d be bullshit.
All day, Domenic had simmered over the call-in question from the interview that morning, asking if he’d always known he was different from everyone else. And if he couldn’t get answers from his family …
He snatched Valmordion from atop his quilt and slid it from its sheath. Immediately, a cool draft kissed the back of his neck.
The phone rang.
He answered it.
“I was starting to think you’d fallen asleep on me.”
He grinned. “Says the one who’s usually dozing off. Isn’t it past your bedtime?”
“Yeah, I … I can’t sleep.”
Domenic fell back on his mattress, Valmordion clutched in his hand, the phone propped between his shoulder and ear. Twenty-seven blocks separated Iseul’s home from Ellery’s new Order-provided apartment, but when they both held their wands, distance was meaningless. She was here. And he was there.
“So which of this week’s PR events takes the cake?” he asked. “The one where someone asked for locks of our hair, or the voice like a winterghast asking you about your fifty-year plan?”