Chapter 5
Chapter
Five
FIVE YEARS LATER
I had to spend an entire evening in forced socialization.
As we grew, we were invited to a few of the queen’s lesser balls, and encouraged to socialize with the females of our age who were in prima training, or if we were lucky, reaped women.
I said forced, because those of us who offended or were rude were … removed rather publicly as a warning to take our etiquette seriously.
It was the only time I envied the mud boys, who weren’t required to attend as they were only going to grow up to be Fireguards anyhow. I was in this middle ground where I was considered a Noble, but treated by everyone like a mud boy.
“No! I’m sorry! Please!”
A Noble boy with dirty blond hair who liked to laugh when B hit me fell to his knees, launching forward at a young girl in a pretty dress. Dark wine stained the front of her gown .
I winced.
She tried to get away from his desperate, pawing hand, but he grabbed onto her arm and didn’t let go as he tried to dab up the mess.
Fireguards stepped in and dragged him away.
His screams echoed down the corridor, and eventually cut off abruptly. The girl shook herself and tried to offer a shaky smile to the next Noble, but everyone avoided her now, like she had some plague.
Disgusted, I eyed the exits. I didn’t need to witness anymore of this. It was a pointless slaughter. Why spend time and resources feeding, educating, and housing the Noble boys if you were going to kill off half of them, anyway? Only half the amount of boys were left from the day of my reaping.
Senseless.
At least they were giving half of them the chance to prove they’re worth it, my brain argued back. Which was a fair point: how did you choose between babies which one would be more worth resources down the line?
Well, whatever the method or motivation, I didn’t need to stick around to see it. I turned to go.
“Look, the bookworm can’t handle a little culling. What else is new?”
I barely paused in my stride as a Noble boy’s voice floated over the top of the crowd.
I was used to their inane prattle and constant attempts to push my buttons.
I’ve been ignoring them all for years now.
This wasn’t anything different. One day I would take my revenge, but I would use cunning and patience to do it. Just wait until I finished my studies!
But it was an ironic comment. If he (or anyone else) knew what I had discovered deep in the archives, no one would accuse me of being squeamish .
I didn’t understand the purpose of these stupid balls. For the others, perhaps. They needed practice with their social skills and hoped to one day continue their Noble lines by marrying and producing children with one of the mud girls.
Because while mud boys were abhorrent, mud girls were in high demand for breeding. I hadn’t found too many answers on why so far, but it had something to do with birth defects.
I had no such ambitions, and no woman was likely to choose me since I looked like a mud boy.
Why force me to take part in this charade, then?
There were manuscripts to read and diagrams to plot out.
At some point, I would need to sneak out of the palace and find somewhere abandoned to try my first ritual.
In blood magick.
Blood magick was incredible; you could strengthen your body and make it faster. I planned to study it, understand it, then use it to rise above my station.
But for now, I would sip wine and feign excuses for why I wasn’t dancing.
Unless I walked out.
Another lecture from Vession was well worth it if I got a few more hours in on comparing the differences between concentric circles or eccentric circles, and the subsequent effects in a blood magick ritual. My notes were already in my pocket, just in case a situation such as this presented itself.
Everyone was looking at the girls. Not that I blamed them, the girls were pleasant to look at.
We were in a secondary ballroom and not the main throne room, which I was grateful for.
I didn’t feel like dealing with the queen tonight.
The atmosphere was pleasant, with fancier food.
I should enjoy myself. I should use the time to test alliances and trip up my enemies.
The mud boys weren’t present. I was the rare exception as a dark-haired exception as a scribe apprentice.
Something neither the mud boys nor the Noble boys were happy about.
I was a pariah on both sides, but that suited me just fine. All I needed were my books, my notes, and my mind.
And M to remind me to eat from time to time.
I wrapped a few pastries of soft, flaky bread and white icing into a handkerchief, slipping them into my pocket to give to M later. I took care of those who took care of me. And he so loved his pergainsa berry tarts.
There was a small corridor through the back of the ballroom that I meant to explore. It was a much better use of my time to explore that than sharpen my tongue on the giggling twits who smelled too strongly of perfume and had nothing of value to say.
No one took notice of me as I weaved through the crowd toward the back of the room, blending into the shadows. Nodding to the two Fireguards standing at attention next to the door, they nodded back, and I slipped out into the darkened hallway.
If anyone discovered I’d left the party, it wouldn’t be from them.
Fireguards and I got along well, mostly, especially after the one who’d beaten me as a child got eaten by the dragon as punishment three years ago.
We served each other well ever since. I wasn’t stupid; I knew they likely thought I was one of them, through whatever bastard birth or nefarious activity my mother had been involved in.
It was the only explanation I’d been able to come up with in my head that made any sense of it.
A bastard to a mud man—likely a Fireguard—would explain why I never had a present father growing up.
It would explain the isolation and the shame from my mother, and the constant drive to ensure I made up for my hair color with my intelligence, wit, and knowledge.
It explained my dark hair. It could even explain mother’s death, in a way.
Because she was dead. One didn’t just disappear for five years.
The corridor had a derelict, empty feel and wasn’t used often. The alcoves were empty, with no artwork or busts, or anything decorative at all. It was dark and dingy.
And it led somewhere uncharted in my mind.
My steps echoed loudly, and I wished I would have worn my old leather boots, with soft soles that would have ghosted over the stone floor.
But they wouldn’t have been appropriate for such a formal event, so I was stuck in the hard, shined boots Vession had lent me, with a hard heel that loudly announced each step I took.
Not that there should be anyone around to hear it, with how deserted this place was. Hopefully, it would lead to somewhere else just as deserted, and I could conduct my rituals there.
The hallway got rougher the more it went on, descending downwards slightly as the polished stone floor gave way to rough, unhewn rock and the walls were bare of any paint. At the end of the hall was a spiral stone staircase leading down.
The castle loved its spiral staircases. Or maybe it was all castles. I had little to compare it to.
I leaned down and listened hard below me, but there was nothing. Not even the normal shifting sounds or skittering that you sometimes heard in a large stone building.
I took the first step down.
Nothing .
Before I changed my mind, I hurriedly descended the staircase, letting the darkness swallow me.
At the bottom of the stairs was a short hallway with two small rooms on either side. Poking my head in, I grinned. Empty, made from stone, and so far down into the castle that no one would hear me. This was the perfect spot to begin my rituals and experiments!
The room on the right was full of some junk, including old chests, dingy tea services, and moth-eaten chairs. The room on the left was a little bigger, and more cleared out.
The room on the left it was.
I would have to make time in the coming weeks to sneak my materials to my new secret room: knives, rocks, my notes, a clean robe, and a few towels.
And then my room would be ready! Even if I wasn’t.
Blood magick was a vague and unknown discipline. Everything I’d read had been theoretical only, and each theory had emphasized that only a magickal creature could manipulate the flows of magick to enhance their own abilities.
A normal human attempting it would simply die.
I hated being told what I could and couldn’t do.
But I stayed my hand. I didn’t want to die, after all.
Besides, everything was almost ready. I just had to dig a little deeper into the archives.
There had to be examples of humans trying blood rituals.
If I could just examine the effects of what went wrong, I was sure I could come up with a way to mitigate any damage.
Whenever I figured it out, this room would at least be ready.
Two weeks later, Vession ambushed me going into the dining hall first thing in the morning, declaring that the queen wished an audience.
Hatred and unease shot through me.
Did she know what I’d done, or where I’d gone? What if a Fireguard had found my materials in the stone room and someone had pieced together what I was studying? All someone had to do was compare the materials in the room to the manuscripts I’d been reading and then ? —
Stop.
I was fine. No one knew. The rooms and the corridor leading to it had been so derelict that no one patrolled it. No one knew anything.
Yet, I wasn’t advanced enough in my studies to strike her down. I would have to be cunning, and keep my fury under wraps.
“Do you wish to eat breakfast first?” Vession asked.
I shook my head. Already dressed for the day, eating now would only make my stomach rebel.
“Very well. Let us go,” he said bluntly.
I nodded as Vession led the way.