Chapter 8
Damien
I shifted my weight against the cold stone wall of the West Tower corridor, watching as Lady Beatrix and Lady Helene swept into Miss Fishwife’s shabby sitting room like duchesses inspecting a peasant’s hovel.
It took all my self-control not to chuckle at the panicked first-years freezing mid-conversation when the ladies barged in.
I’d protested having to follow Beatrix and Helene here when Lukhan hadn’t bothered to come himself. He’d told me that my job was to make sure the pair didn’t do something to the commoners that the academy’s higher-ups couldn’t ignore.
But Miss Fishwife didn’t flinch or stammer at the intrusion. She didn’t bow or scrape or make excuses for the gathering. Instead, she listened calmly until Beatrix and Helene had stopped their fake banter.
Then Miss Fishwife lifted her chin slightly and looked past the pair, straight at me.
Her hazel eyes met mine without wavering. Freed from her shapeless, oversized academic robe, which concealed her shape, I couldn’t help noticing how her rustic gown, and particularly her close-fitting laced bodice embroidered with flowers, flattered a surprisingly curvy body.
That upstart merchant’s son draped his arm possessively around her shoulders as soon as he noticed me looking at her.
“If you’re so curious, why don’t you join us, m’ladies, Mr. Corvellan?” Miss Fishwife asked, her voice cool and steady. She gestured toward a scarred wooden table covered with mismatched cups and a steaming teapot. “We have plenty of extra cups.”
I blinked, surprised. I’d expected fear, stammering explanations, perhaps even tears from the younger first-years. Not this calm invitation that sounded more like a challenge than a welcome.
I felt an uncomfortable twinge of… could it actually be respect?
Lady Beatrix recovered first. “Join you?” she scoffed. “For what? A lesson in how to gut fish or mend nets?”
“Lady Helene wanted some tea, did she not? I have red tea from the islands,” Talisa replied simply.
“Though I doubt you’d find it to your liking,” Elio Ferraro added in an insolent tone.
Miss Fishwife turned a reproachful glance on him. “I thought we agreed everyone is welcome here,” she told him with an edge to her tone.
Something inside me twisted unexpectedly.
I’d caught a brief glimpse of the easy camaraderie at the tea party before we’d intruded. These commoners had pulled their assortment of worn chairs into a tight circle, leaning toward each other, smiling and laughing as they talked.
It was nothing like the brittle formality of the gatherings in our common room, where every word was measured, every smile calculated, every alliance conditional on what benefit it might bring.
“Oh, how adorable, Beatrix,” Lady Helene purred. “The peasants are playing at being civilized.”
I watched Miss Fishwife’s face for signs of hurt or anger, but she merely shrugged, unmoved by the barb.
That twisting sensation returned to my gut, sharper this time. I recognized it now as envy. Not for these shabby surroundings or the collection of mismatched cups lined up on the table, but for what they represented.
Ferraro, his arm still around her shoulders, glared at me.
Wonderful, I thought with disgust. Two first-years whom I didn’t intimidate. They were setting a dangerous example for the younger commoners.
Sure enough, the younger students’ terror was melting away, giving way to something more like indignation as they watched Miss Fishwife’s calm dignity in the face of Beatrix and Helene’s mockery.
“I’ve seen enough here,” I said abruptly, pushing off from the wall.
Beatrix turned, her perfectly plucked eyebrows arching in surprise. “But we’ve only just arrived, Mr. Corvellan. The entertainment’s barely begun.”
“What entertainment? This is just a pathetic little commoners’ tea party.” I gestured dismissively. “There’s nothing here worth our time.”
Miss Fishwife’s eyes narrowed as she studied me with uncomfortable intensity. I had the unsettling sensation that she saw through my facade, straight to the conflicted mess within.
I’d felt this same discomfort last week, when she’d thanked me for protecting her sisters from Beatrix and the others.
“You can’t be serious,” Lady Helene protested. “We haven’t had any fun with them yet.”
The worry returned to the faces of the youngsters.
“Admit it, my lady. The joke’s gone stale,” I replied, careful to maintain my bored drawl. “Let’s go back to where we belong. I believe Lord Fenwick mentioned he wanted to organize a hand of Triomfa for tonight.”
Helene pouted, clearly disappointed at being denied her sport. “But—”
“You know how much Luk enjoys card games,” I added, invoking the one name guaranteed to end all argument. “Maybe he’ll even let you win back the aureus you lost last time.”
I couldn’t help notice how Talisa’s eyes widened at the sum.
Not that I had that kind of pocket money to gamble on card games either. An aureus was a week’s wages for one of the enlisted men in Father’s legion.
At that, both ladies relented, though Beatrix shot a venomous look at Talisa before turning toward the door.
“Enjoy your little rebellion while you can,” she said sweetly. “The semester’s just started, after all.”
I lingered for a moment after the girls swept out, feeling oddly reluctant to leave. The room smelled of that strange tea and something else—something herbal and comforting that I couldn’t identify.
It reminded me of my old governess, Miss Luana.
Talisa detached herself from Ferraro and approached me. She halted an arm’s length away, her expression composed but wary as she looked up at me. For a wild moment, I considered staying and accepting the offered cup of tea.
“I suppose I should thank you,” she said, “for encouraging them to leave.”
I scowled. “Don’t mistake me, Miss Fishwife. I just have better things to do tonight than stand around and watch a bunch of peasant children drink your foul brew.”
Her full lips twitched. For an instant, I thought she might have the audacity to actually smile at me.
“Of course,” she said, her tone dry now. “Far be it from me to suggest that Mr. Damien Corvellan might possess something as common as decency.”
Heat rushed to my face. I turned without another word and stalked out, pulling the door closed behind me with more force than necessary.
As I walked away, following the sounds of Beatrix and Helene’s chatter to the grimy stairwell, I realized the encounter had thrown me off-kilter because of the unexpected power in that room.
It wasn’t like the kind that Father wielded, which demanded instant and unquestioning obedience to his orders, but something else entirely.
For the first time since meeting Talisa of Bernswick, I wondered whether Lukhan and I would actually succeed in destroying her.
Then I shook my head and followed Beatrix and Helene down the creaking wooden staircase. Something in the air of this place was making me question myself. The sooner I got out of this depressing building, the better.
∞∞∞
Talisa
The next morning, I had a difficult time focusing on Mage-Instructor Mundise’s lecture on the theory of elemental harmonics.
My mind kept returning to last night’s strange confrontation, and my conversation with Damien Corvellan.
Had I really seen a flash of something that looked like longing before his features had hardened again into contempt?
I’m probably mistaken.
Why would someone like him, born to every privilege, want to join our humble gathering? I wondered as I copied the diagram Mundise was sketching on the blackboard.
I’d invited the three aristos as a way of disarming the confrontation even though I’d known there was no chance they’d actually accept. I had just wanted to throw them off-balance.
And it had worked.
Going forward, should we try killing them with kindness next time?
Because I knew there would be a next time.
Then the door to the lecture hall opened, interrupting both Mage-Instructor Mundise’s lecture and my train of thought. A woman wearing a sapphire-blue Imperial civil service gown with an academy staff member’s gold badge on her bodice entered.
Mundise turned, frowning, as she approached the lecturer’s dais. Everyone in the class, myself included, watched intently as the two of them conferred in whispers.
Then Mundise looked around the crowded hall until they spotted me and my sisters at the back.
“Students Talisa, Mira, and Juno of Bernswick,” Mundise announced. “You’re to report to Chatelaine Lirelle’s office immediately.”
My stomach dropped. What now?
A wave of muttered questions and comments rippled through the lecture hall as I gathered up my notebook and pen. Mira and Juno exchanged wide-eyed glances before scrambling to collect their things.
“What did you do?” Elio whispered as he rose to let us out into the aisle.
“Nothing,” I murmured back.
But my heart was racing, and dread churned through my gut.
Did Lady Beatrix and Lady Helene report our innocent tea circle as some kind of seditious meeting? Am I about to be expelled for creating discord among the student body?
“Are we in trouble?” Juno asked the staff member, who hadn’t bothered to introduce herself.
The woman cast us a pitying look. “The chatelaine will explain everything.”
Those words did nothing to calm me.
“Now follow me.” Then she set off at a brisk pace.
Trotting in her wake, we left the Second-Year Quad and headed towards the Administration Quad.
Mira slipped her small hand into mine, her palm clammy with apprehension.
As we entered the administrative wing, I squeezed Mira’s hand and tried to project a confidence I didn’t feel.
I was only sure of one thing: whatever accusations were about to be thrown our way, I would protect my sisters.
Our guide led us up a flight of wide marble steps, then down a wide corridor whose floor was polished to a mirror finish.
Chatelaine Lirelle’s office door was made of dark wood inlaid with the academy’s crest in gold.
Our escort knocked once before opening it and ushering us inside.
The chatelaine was a beautiful woman who looked to be Mama’s age. She sat behind an imposing desk, her dark blue gown and smooth dark hair immaculate. But the pity in her expression sent a fresh jolt of alarm through me.
“Please, students, take a seat,” she said, gesturing to three chairs arranged before her desk.
We sat. My skin prickled with apprehension.
The chatelaine folded her elegantly manicured hands on her desk. “I’m afraid I have very grave news for you,” she began in a gentle tone.
The world seemed to narrow suddenly, tunneling down to just her pale oval face and those terrible words.
“The imperial mail ship Peregrine, which departed from Neapolis Capitola a fortnight ago bound for the Western Isles, has been reported lost at sea,” she continued. “I regret to inform you that your mother, Mage Isabeau of Bernswick, was among those on board. We have found no survivors.”
For a heartbeat, the chatelaine’s words hung in the air.
I gaped at her. I’d been braced for a reprimand. For having to defend myself yet another false accusation of carelessness or incompetence.
But this…? I couldn’t comprehend it.
Juno and Mira both went utterly still beside me, their faces bleached with the same shock reverberating through me.
Mama dead? Every part of me rejected the news.
“N-no,” I said, in my most reasonable tone. “That—that’s impossible. There must be some mistake.”
Chatelaine Lirelle’s expression remained compassionate but firm. “The report came directly from the imperial harbormaster’s office in Felicitas Victoria.”
My chest constricted so tightly I couldn‘t draw breath.
Beside me, Mira made a sound—a high, thin keening that sounded like a wounded animal. Juno folded over in her chair and sobbed in great, wrenching gasps.
Chatelaine Lirelle sighed, her thin brows drawing together in a tiny frown. “I am so very sorry for your loss, students. You are excused from your classes and homework for the next week.”
“But—but the weather’s been fair,” I protested, as if making a logical case would undo the terrible news. My voice sounded distant and unfamiliar to my own ears. “The seas must’ve been calm. There must be some mistake.”
“The weather had nothing to do with it.” Chatelaine Lirelle’s mouth tightened.
“You are not to repeat this news, but for months now, rebel forces loyal to the traitorous Duke de Norhas have been disrupting shipping lanes and trade routes. They’ve grown bolder recently, targeting imperial mail ships and cargo vessels.
I’m afraid the Peregrine was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. ”
The wrong place. The wrong time. Guilt speared through me as I stared at the chatelaine.
Mama had only been on that ship because of us, because she’d escorted us to the academy.
Juno and Mira both left their chairs in the same moment and flung themselves into my arms. I held them tightly as their bodies shook with sobs.
But I couldn’t summon tears. This simply didn’t seem real.
“What happens now?” I felt numb, disconnected from my body.
“The harbormaster will send a courier to the Port of Herrewick once shipping resumes in the spring,” the chatelaine replied.
“Papa and Jacinthe will have to wait until spring for the news?” The thought that he and my sister would spend all winter believing that Mama was still alive triggered the first tears. They blurred my vision and rolled down my cheeks in a flood.
I tried to imagine returning to Bernswick for the summer break without Mama there, tried to picture our home without her calm presence moving through it, and found I couldn’t. The future had suddenly become a blank, terrifying void.
“Is there anyone else we should notify?” the chatelaine asked gently. “Any family members here on the continent?”
I shook my head, pulling the twins closer as another wave of sobs wracked their bodies.
The chatelaine rose and came around her desk to offer us a pile of neatly folded linen handkerchiefs. “Take all the time you need here. When you’re ready, First-Year Assistant Chatelaine Julissa will escort you back to your rooms.”
I nodded mutely.
The foundation of my world had just shattered beneath my feet. I was falling, unable to guess where I’d land.
Chatelaine Lirelle quietly withdrew, leaving us alone with our grief.
I held my sisters for a long time as they sobbed in my arms, their tears soaking through the shoulders of my academic robe. My own tears rolled down my face unchecked.
What are we going to do without Mama?
The enormity of her absence crushed me, along with the terrifying weight of knowing I would have to be strong for Mira and Juno.
I closed my eyes, pressing my cheek against Mira’s hair, and tried to imagine what Mama would say to us if she were still here.