Chapter 11
Talisa
I clutched the torn pieces of the crude drawing as I strode toward the administrative buildings. My rage burned like Wyrmbeorg’s lava flows, hot and unstoppable.
How dare they?
I’d tried ignoring the bullying, tried rising above it, but enough was enough.
As I walked, I rehearsed what I would say to Chatelaine Lirelle.
For weeks now I’d endured stolen textbooks and damaged equipment, contaminated potions, and public humiliation. I’d bitten my tongue when Lord Lukhan and his aristocratic friends mocked my accent, my home, even my dead mother.
But I would not—could not—stand by while they tormented Mira and Juno.
I reached the serene confines of the Administration Quad, its elegant marble colonnade gleaming in the sunlight. I took the wide marble steps up to the chatelaine’s office two at a time, my heart hammering against my ribs.
Chatelaine Lirelle’s secretary glanced up as I entered the outer office. “Do you have an appointment, student?” she asked.
“No,” I said. “But it’s urgent.”
“I see.” The woman sighed, put down her pen, and rose from her desk. “Wait here, please.”
She disappeared through the inner door, leaving me alone with my simmering fury and the torn pieces of the drawing that I smoothed out on the edge of her desk. The crude caricatures stared back at me—my sisters and I reduced to toothless, fish-gutting savages.
When the secretary returned, she held the door open. “The chatelaine can see you for a few minutes.”
I gathered the pieces of the drawing and walked into Chatelaine Lirelle’s office.
She sat behind her imposing desk, looking the same as she had when she’d delivered the news of Mama’s death.
But today, instead of compassion, her expression held polite inquiry tinged with impatience.
“Miss Bernswick,” she said, gesturing to the chair before her desk. “What brings you here in such obvious distress?”
Before I sat down, I placed the pieces of the drawing on her desk. My hands trembled as I arranged the torn paper to reconstruct the image.
“This was posted on the central noticeboard this morning,” I said. “It’s only the latest in a campaign of harassment that’s been going on since I arrived here. And now Lord Lukhan FitzMurad’s friends are targeting my sisters as well.”
Chatelaine Lirelle glanced at the drawing, her expression unreadable.
“Today in their Arcane Control class, someone sabotaged my sisters’ work,” I continued, the words rushing out now. “But instead of punishing the perpetrator, Mage-Instructor Halvaren gave my sisters demerits. He punished the victims!”
My voice rose. I took a deep breath before continuing, trying to control my tone. “And that’s not all. For weeks now, Lord Lukhan FitzMurad and his friends have been stealing my supplies, contaminating my ingredients in the Intermediate Potions lab, and…”
I described incident after incident as unemotionally as I could, doing my best to stick to the facts.
Chatelaine Lirelle listened patiently, her pale oval face composed, her slim fingers laced together atop her desk. The longer I talked, the more hopeful I became. Finally, someone in authority was listening to me!
Now that she knew what was happening, she would surely put a stop to this.
When I finished, she sat silent for a long moment, studying me with an expression I couldn’t quite read. Then she sighed.
“Miss Bernswick,” she began, her voice gentle but firm, “I understand you and your sisters are going through a tremendously difficult time. Losing your mother was devastating, and adjusting to life at the academy is challenging for any student, especially those from…” she paused delicately, “…the more remote regions of the Dominion.”
My heart sank as I recognized her tone. It was the same one Papa used when dealing with Hardred Tailor’s imaginary illnesses.
“With all due respect, Chatelaine Lirelle,” I said, struggling to keep my voice level, “this has nothing to do with my grief or where I’m from. These are deliberate acts meant to humiliate and drive us out of the academy.”
Her mouth tightened slightly. “What you describe as sabotage seems more likely to be a series of unfortunate accidents and misunderstandings. Young people can be careless with their belongings, and magical mishaps are common among students still learning to control their powers.”
“But this drawing,” I began.
“I agree it’s tasteless and juvenile,” she interrupted smoothly, “but hardly worthy of formal disciplinary action. Student rivalries, teasing, and pranks are as old as this academy.” She paused.
“Besides, by your own account, you didn’t see who posted it.
So you have no proof of the responsible party. ”
Teasing? Pranks? My blood boiled at her blithe dismissal of the incident. “This isn’t good-natured teasing. It’s bullying, meant to drive me and my sisters out of the academy. Lord Lukhan and his followers have made that quite clear to me.”
Chatelaine Lirelle’s expression hardened. “Miss Bernswick, I appreciate your distress, but you are wasting my time by tattling on trivial student quarrels.”
Her rebuke felt like a slap. I stared at her, momentarily stunned.
“Perhaps,” she continued with a note of condescension that made my cheeks burn, “you might consider whether your own attitude has contributed to these… difficulties. Our late Imperial Majesty Victor Augustus the Seventh graciously opened the academy’s doors to students of all backgrounds.
But with that opportunity comes the expectation that our students will use their discretion and behave in a manner befitting their respective ranks. ”
The meaning beneath her polished words was unmistakable: Know your place, commoner.
“Are you saying that because I’m not nobly born, I must accept being mistreated by those who are?” I asked, outraged.
“I am suggesting,” she replied with exaggerated patience, “that you adjust your attitude to your station. The academy is not merely a place of learning, but a microcosm of imperial society. Learning to navigate these waters gracefully is as important to your future career as a certified mage as any spell or theory you might master here. Now, if there’s nothing else… ?”
Her gaze flicked meaningfully to the door, signaling that our meeting was over.
I rose stiffly, gathering the scraps of paper from her desk. My face burned with fresh humiliation, but I refused to let her see me crumble.
“Thank you for your time, Chatelaine,” I managed, the words ashen in my mouth.
She nodded dismissively. “In the future, please see your First-Year Assistant Chatelaine with these kinds of complaints.”
I left the Administration Quad, my mind whirling with anger and shame.
So that’s that? I’m expected to endure whatever cruelties Lord Lukhan and his aristocratic friends inflict upon us and call it a learning experience?
I felt sick to my stomach. The Western Isles might be poor and storm-battered, but we treated each other as equals. Other than our provincial governor and the long-vacant ducal seat, traditionally held by the imperial heir, we had no nobles. Our officials were elected rather than appointed.
Respect had to be earned. Islanders didn’t blindly give it to the undeserving just because of an accident of birth.
Back home right now, the late autumn gales would be howling down from the north, ripping the last leaves from the beeches, oaks, and maples, and dusting the pines and firs with the first snow.
But here, in the imperial capital, things were very different. The academy lay bathed in what felt like an unnaturally prolonged summer. The Western Isles and Bernswick seemed as if they belonged to another world.
The sunlight and late-blooming flowers all around me only drove home how isolated my sisters and I were here. Especially now that I knew no one in authority would help us.
Not the mage-instructors, who saw only what they wished to see.
And certainly not Chatelaine Lirelle, who expected us to bow and scrape and be grateful for the privilege of being tormented.
But I refused to bow meekly to Lukhan and his friends. I wouldn’t apologize for my existence or beg for scraps of dignity.
If the chatelaine and the academy’s other authorities wouldn’t help me, I would find another way to protect myself and my sisters.
I crumpled the pieces of the cruel drawing and tossed them into a nearby waste bin before heading to class.
∞∞∞
Elio
The now-familiar scent of Western Isles red tea drifted to me as Talisa filled each mismatched cup in our little sitting room. The steam curled between us like a promise of warmth.
Evening had settled beyond the windows, shadows pooling along the walls, and the lamps gilded Talisa’s profile and made her seem almost luminous.
My chest tightened when I remembered how, only a fortnight ago, she’d trusted me enough to let me hold her while she grieved. I’d sworn then that I’d do anything to protect her.
Mira and Juno sat side by side as usual, their shoulders brushing together. Alara and the other first-years had arranged themselves on the worn chairs they’d carried from their rooms, creating our usual cozy circle.
Talisa handed me a cup of tea. I accepted it, brushing my fingers against the back of her warm hand, and lifted it to my lips.
It had taken me a while to get used to the citrusy, astringent flavor of the tea, but now I liked it.
“So,” I said, my voice steadier than I felt, “I heard you spoke to Chatelaine Lirelle about that awful drawing.”
The room stilled. Every pair of eyes turned to Talisa.
“News travels fast,” she commented with a wry expression. “Yes, I went to the chatelaine’s office and told her about everything that’s been going on since the twins and I arrived here.”
I leaned forward in my chair. “And?” I prompted.
Talisa’s full lips thinned into an angry line. “She told me not to bother her in the future with ‘trivial student quarrels’ and told me to adjust my attitude to my station.”
A ripple of disbelief passed through the circle. I tightened my grip on my cup as a combination of outrage and fierce protectiveness flared inside me.
If the chatelaine and her staff wouldn’t protect Talisa and her sisters, I’d keep them safe. I wouldn’t let them down.
“But Lord Lukhan and his friends nearly blinded you a few weeks ago,” Juno protested, her expression outraged.
“Apparently that doesn’t matter because I supposedly deserved it with my attitude,” Talisa said bitterly.
“What about Mage-Instructor Mundise?” I asked, hoping for some loophole. “They seem like they’re trying to protect us commoners from aristos like Lukhan and Damien.”
Talisa sighed. “I’m grateful to Mundise, but they can’t help us outside of class.”
My heart pounded. “So, Chatelaine Lirelle thinks we should just bow our heads and let them treat us like their toys?” I let the question hang.
Talisa’s chin lifted, a spark of defiance brightening her eyes as she glanced around the tea circle.
“We’re not their toys,” she replied, then raised her voice. “We don’t have to accept this. Let’s play by their rules from now on.”
Mira blinked at her sister. “What do you mean?”
I stood, suddenly sure of the words I wanted to say. “I agree one hundred percent.”
I felt every anxious pair of eyes on me, but it was the gratitude in Talisa’s gaze that moved me.
“I mean, if they can band together to bully us,” she said, “then we should band together to protect each other.”
“Fight fire with fire,” I agreed. I reached out and caught her hand, feeling her calloused palm as she wrapped her fingers around mine and squeezed.
“Let’s turn this tea circle into something more.”
Alara’s eyes went wide. “Like what?”
“A mutual aid society,” Talisa said. “We watch each other’s backs. Share notes if someone’s books go missing. Escort younger students so they aren’t cornered.”
“I know we’re not supposed to work magic outside of class, but I have a knack for mending charms if they break something,” Alara offered.
“My older sister, Emina, is the teaching assistant for Intermediate Potions,” said Tomas.
“She told me that Lord Lukhan forced her to switch out the ingredients in Talisa’s basket.
She hates the aristos, but she needs the teaching stipend, and Lukhan threatened to get her fired from her position if she didn’t help him with his prank. ”
“He’s such an ass,” Juno muttered. “And his friend Damien is a liar.”
Idea after idea sparked around the circle. And all the while, I couldn’t help watching Talisa. Each time she brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear, my fingers twitched, longing to do it for her. I studied her mouth and wondered what it would feel like to kiss her.
“We’ll need to be discreet,” I said when the suggestions slowed. “The aristos already think we’re using this tea circle to plot against them. The chatelaine will expel us on the spot if they can prove we’re casting illicit charms or doing anything else that’s against the rules.”
Talisa’s eyes met mine, fierce. “But we won’t be breaking any rules,” she said with a conspiratorial smile. “If we’re simply studying together, walking together, sharing resources.” She looked around at the circle. “And no one here will say any different.”
Everyone nodded.
“Why would we tell them anything?” Benno asked. “Especially if we’ll get in trouble for it.”
Mira clapped her hands. “Good! Now, we need a name for our tea circle.”
“How about ‘The Circle of the Open Hand’?” I suggested.
Talisa’s approving hazel gaze rested on me, and I felt as though I could do anything.
“I like it,” she said. “It feels right—a circle has no beginning and no end. And all parts of the circle are an equal distance from the center.”
She smiled at me, and I felt warm triumph.
“To the Circle of the Open Hand,” I said, lifting my cup of tea. “Where we’ll all stand equal, protected, and united.”
“To the Circle,” everyone repeated, their expressions hopeful.
They drank, and I saw tentative smiles break the solemn mood that had prevailed since Talisa reported the chatelaine’s disdainful response to her complaint.
My chest swelled with something fierce and tender all at once. I’d protect Talisa and this circle with everything I had. It would be my way of proving to her how deeply I cared.