Chapter Eight
The next week was awkward beyond measure.
We greeted each other in class, politely, courteously.
No hint of ire in Sephimara’s tone or gestures.
Had the lobby incident proven my good intentions?
Or it really was a simple misunderstanding.
Yet as much as I wanted to apologize again, this wasn’t like sanding some cabinet: do it again and again, and eventually things would be perfectly smooth.
Even the novelty of a well above average mark on the week’s geomagic quiz failed to wrench me out of the strange emotional rut.
We went back to work on finished boards for the day’s study session. I stayed well away from both her bags. Yet her wry quips felt… flat. And it wasn’t her quips that were the problem.
She ended the session with an odd question. “Do you dance, Mister Thistlewood?”
“I can do the Lindworm Lunge with the best of them.” A smile broke across my face. I didn’t intend it to. And the retort had just slipped out. Like it used to.
She tipped her head, the right corner of her lips quirked ever so slightly up.
“Yes,” I corrected. “The basic steps of the basic dances without endangering my partner’s footwear at least. Why?”
“No reason in particular. I wish you a pleasant evening.”
I headed back to the dormitory, initially mulling over her final comment.
Yet with so many things she’d said this past week, there were a dozen different ways to interpret it.
At least things were on an upswing. I nearly bumped into a certain obnoxious trio ahead of me, slowing my pace so I wouldn’t pass them.
Odd seeing them on campus on a weekend.
“You two are in for quite a treat this evening,” said Aldyr.
I didn’t know the names of his companions.
Technically, I hadn’t wanted to know his name.
“I have reservations for the Crimson Kraken, which I am told is quite a desirable—” He shot me a sidelong glance.
“You again. Rumor has it that you sully the Baroness with your presence.”
“Rumors?”
Aldyr stopped and faced me. “You sully the institution’s good name with your frivolous specialization, then compound matters—”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “A frivolous specialization shared by Lady Arazniros, by the way.”
The hint of red flashing across his face indicated that he was not amused by my insightful comment. “Her choices are none of your concern.”
“And my choices are none of yours.” I glanced at the corridor to the left, where the physical training area lay. The three of them blocked the path ahead, and I wasn’t in the mood to physically push past them.
“She should be seen with respectable social companions like Count Greanderal’s son.”
Actually, I was in the mood to physically push past them.
Buuut it would cause trouble later, especially since I was now in the mood to push them into the wall as I pushed past. With considerable force.
“As far as I am aware, who I, or Lady Arazniros choose to be seen with is entirely our own choice. And presently I choose not to be seen with you three.” I strode off, fists clenched.
Forty minutes of calisthenics, the same amount of whacking a training dummy with a quarterstaff—the closest practice weapon to my scythe-axe available—and thirty minutes of skipping rope worked wonders on my frustrations.
Yes, I was poor and of a low social rank. A fact that most elves I’d encountered were magnanimous about not shoving in my face. In fact, the entire academy was based around egalitarianism. So why would those three…
No.
I didn’t want to spend more time working out frustrations. I showered, dressed, and returned to my dorm room.
Cleggs wasn’t there. No surprise, he’d be out socializing somewhere. Yet there was a note on my wardrobe.
Meet us at 718 South Linden Street.
Wear something fun.
Fun? Well that narrows it down.
To nothing in my wardrobe.
A restaurant? I hadn’t been out much and didn’t recognize the address, even though it was only six blocks from the academy.
I donned charcoal wool trousers, a white button-up shirt, a khaki vest, and a forest-green cloak.
No, it wasn’t ‘fun.’ But it was clean.
I strode along the sidewalk, glancing up at numbers every so often, to finally spot a handful of people standing outside a… that must be it.
Red and amber lights streamed through the windows at the bottom level of a five-story building, accompanied by the beats of music.
“This is unacceptable.” I recognized the voice of Aldyr. “We had reservations.”
I glanced up at an oddly whimsical sign reading The Crimson Kraken. That can’t be right. Did I remember the number wrong?
Aldyr backed into me as I fumbled in my pocket for the scrap of paper. “Watch what you’re—you?”
“Yeah, me.” Yes. Not ‘yeah.’ I stepped back and examined the paper in the crimson light shining through the front windows.
It was the right number.
“And what are you doing here?” he said.
I returned a moment of silence. “I am honestly not certain.” I was probably at the wrong place, but it was worth a shot.
I stepped to the ma?tre d', an elven gentleman with immaculate hair and a black suit. “Do you have a reservation for Theodore Thistlewood?”
Aldyr snorted. “You? You don’t honestly expect—”
“The Cleggs party.” The ma?tre d' gestured to the door. “Right this way, Mr. Thistlewood.”
I stepped through the doorway and didn’t look back. My grin would have been most unseemly.
The building was rectangular, but didn’t feel that way inside.
Walkways curved between booths and tables arranged in little islands, some with steps up, some with steps down.
Fountains and waterfalls burbled. A hexagonal aquarium wide as my arm span and taller than I sported schools of fish with glowing red eyes and a model of a sailing ship that sank and rose to the surface again.
Musicians played from an oval stage; an elf man on piano, a gnome man on drums, while an inu woman played a curiously looped horn—the canine folk being known for lung capacity.
Haunting yet oddly upbeat music blended with hushed conversations as I wound my way through serpentine aisleways to a booth at the back, where four of my mage classmates sprawled casually.
Brenda and her shy neko friend Yoi, the equally quiet human Dion, and a certain gnome… dressed in a flamboyant green suit.
“Hey, nice you could make it.” Cleggs stood, extending a hand in greeting.
“Thanks for the invite.” I waved to the rest. “Mage’s night out, huh?”
“Yup.” He glanced at Brenda and poked a thumb at me. “And this guy needs it, let me tell you.”
I slumped into the velvet maroon upholstery of the booth, gazing at the oddly un-elven whimsy of the place.
Brenda cocked her head. “What are you talking about? He’s doing decent in class. He’s barely behind Yoi in geomagic, and that’s sayin’ something.”
The nekojin woman blushed and shrank into the opposite corner of the booth.
“Regardless of how we’re doing, it’s good seeing you all. How’d you manage to…”
Brenda snorted. “Get reservations? You can thank Cleggs.”
My gnomish roommate grinned. “I know the drummer. He bumped some other clowns down the list to get us in.”
I cringed. There would be consequences. But that was a problem for another day.
Probably tomorrow.
A waiter stepped to our booth. “What would you like to order?”
I glanced at my friends. “Anything you recommend?”
“I’ll have a mermaid’s kiss.” Brenda shot Cleggs a sidelong glance. “And if you say it’s a pansy drink, I’ll break your nose.”
He raised both hands. “Wouldn’t dream of it. I’ll have a brandy inferno.”
“I’ll try the mermaid’s kiss, too.” I honestly had no experience with fancy drinks. My hometown was close to Nagdyre, which brewed and exported legendary ale.
“Ha!” said Cleggs. “This guy needs a good kiss.”
“I most certainly…” do not. I let the rest of the sentence fall on account of it being a total lie.
I glanced at the four of them in turn. We’d had classes together, had studied together, had game nights in the dormitory lounge, but this was the first time we’d all been out somewhere socially. I blew out a long sigh. “It’s great being out with you guys, seriously.”
“Order whatever you want, my treat tonight,” said Cleggs. “I’ve had enough of you moping over the Blade Baroness.”
Brenda snorted. “He’s got the hots for her? Good luck with that.”
I scowled at her. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
The waiter delivered our drinks, which glowed red in the case of Cleggs’ brandy inferno, and blue in the case of the mermaid’s kisses, with bubbles like carbonation, but rising with the slowness of a hot-air balloon.
“Serious.” Cleggs lifted his drink to toast. “Why would you order a chilled drink? It’s practically winter.”
“I like them,” said Brenda.
We clinked our glasses together, producing a puff of rainbow smoke as the various bubbles and vapors mixed with each other. “Cheers.”
The five of us chatted and laughed, sipping colorful drinks, and falling silent to listen as the drummer jammed out a feverish solo from time to time.
Maybe I was relaxing, maybe it was the mermaid’s kiss, but curiosity finally got the better of me. “So what’s wrong with Lady Arazniros, anyway?”
“Cold as ice and sharp as steel,” said Brenda.
“You don’t know that personally,” said Cleggs.
“I know the type.”
“She’s not cold,” I mumbled.
“She’s a Melandrach elf,” said Cleggs. “They’re all about strategic courtships. And no offense, but you, my friend, are not a strategic courtship.”
I rolled my eyes. “None taken.”
“Besides, she’s been seen at social events with Count Greanderal’s son.”
“How do you know that?” I snapped.
“A gnome of my worldliness has to keep up with all the social scenes.”
“Your worldliness,” scoffed Brenda.
“Yeah. You know the old saying.”
Oh, please not the ‘once you go gnome’ thing, it’s so embarrassing.
“What old saying?” said Brenda.
“Once they meet Cleggs, they always spread their legs.”
Dion turned slightly red.
Yoi turned brightly red.
I slumped my face into my hands to avoid anyone seeing my expression.
“Oh, do they, little man?” said Brenda.
A bit more banter and some random giggles ensued, though I wasn’t sure of the details, I was still hiding my face.
“Could you please let me out?” Yoi spoke to Dion in a soft, apologetic voice.
“Anyway, forget about the Blade Baroness. Find someone else.” Cleggs bit his lip. “Yoi isn’t seeing anyone, is she?”
“No,” said Brenda.
“She’s cute, she’s smart,” said Cleggs.
That she was, I had to admit. I just hadn’t thought of her in that way before.
“And she seems totally repressed. I bet the sex would be great.”
I spewed ‘mermaid’s kiss’ across the table.
“She is pretty repressed,” Brenda swirled her drink as I wiped the spill with a red cloth napkin. “But she’ll need someone with experience taking care of her.”
“What do you mean by that?” I asked.
She downed the rest of her drink and thunked it on the table. “She’ll probably say or do something odd when she gets revved up. Something that might shock an inexperienced flower like you.”
“What makes you think I’m inexperienced?”
I glanced at the others, noting nobody jumping to my defense.
“Hey, what’s the Baroness doing here?” said Brenda.
“What? Where?” I spun to glance at the entrance.
A hand gripped my shoulder, another gripped a fistful of hair at the back of my head, and in a flash, a face was so close to mine I couldn’t focus.
Lips pressed against mine, and there was suddenly an extra tongue in my mouth.
It was aggressive, tasted of mermaid’s kiss, and chased my tongue around the inside of my mouth like it owned the place.
I froze, eyes wide, mind undecided whether to be shocked or aroused by what was objectively a truly excellent kiss.
Brenda pulled back, pausing to snap my lower lip in her mouth a final time before letting go of my head and pulling away. She licked her lips, mouth open.“That’s how I know you’re inexperienced.”
I slumped back in my seat. “That wasn’t very…”
“Nice? Nope. I’m not nice.”
“I think you’re nice.” Yoi spoke in her usual mouse-soft tone. “May I slide in?” She blinked expressive, vertically slitted eyes. “Did I miss anything?”
“Nope!” I snapped, before anyone else could say a thing.
It had been a good kiss.
The only thing wrong with it was the fact that it hadn’t been with Sephimara.