The firelight spilling from the hall felt like hell’s glow. Aaron walked in last, trailing behind the others like a condemned man. Benches surrounded a long table. Mosaics of mages stared down from the walls. Fried meat lay in oily rows across the platters.
Tense looks quickly replaced any greetings as Aaron took his seat. Ceiro and Erai smirked briefly before pointedly ignoring the newcomers. Lyra gave Aaron an unreadable glance that lingered too long before flickering into a brief, cryptic smile. What is her deal?
Aaron returned Ceiro’s glare. Rhea stared down Erai. With a sweet smile, she sat down far too close. “How do our beloved squadmates do?” she asked, voice dripping with mock concern.
Erai took a bite of pheasant and chewed slowly. Rhea shifted away, grinning as Aaron and Theon slid onto the last free bench.
Esnita turned to sit.
Rhea’s elbow snapped out.
Erai coughed out a yelp, spewing food across her plate. She snarled and jabbed a flat hand at Rhea’s throat. Rhea blocked casually.
“There will be no fighting at the table,” Esnita snapped. “Erai, for attacking a squadmate—no matter your grievances—you will spend the night outside. Without linen.”
Erai jumped up, her pallet clattering to the floor. “She—”
“But you were caught,” Esnita interrupted coldly. “Reflect tonight on your failure to act with cunning, girl.”
Rhea, Theon, and—surprisingly—Lyra all smiled. Aaron pressed his lips together. So getting caught really is the only crime here. Figures.
Ceiro straightened. “Honored Squadmistress, I feel compelled to express my shame at the manners of the Neoni. Common blood, sadly, takes generations to fade.”
Theon chuckled as he finished a pickled quince. “And some clans never recover from such infusions.”
Ceiro’s knuckles whitened around his knife. “I would think lower nobility is not qualified to comment on matters of purity.”
Aaron’s eyes narrowed at the man who had tried to force himself on Kendia. Privileged prick. I’ll show you.
“Many feel called to greatness,” Aaron said lightly, “yet few are chosen by the gods.”
Their gazes met. Tension ratcheted up. Aaron’s smirk only deepened.
Lyra gave a dry cough. “The gods whisper to many. But perhaps, Aaron, you’re just hearing yourself?”
Her twin brother opened his mouth, only to flinch as Lyra jabed his side with her elbow. “Excuse me, dear brother. The day has drained my dexterity. Our father would never act so clumsily, don’t you agree?”
Ceiro’s face turned scarlet. Esnita laughed—loud and chalky. “What a litter of snakes I have found myself in. Tell me, do I need to have the slaves test the food in the future?”
Silence fell.
“Oh, can an old woman not join your games of subtlety and intrigue? Do the young wolves truly fear an old carrion like me?” She cackled.
Aaron looked her over. She’s so confident—so calm even in front of young nobles.
“Excuse me, Esnita,” he asked, voice measured, “but what exactly are the responsibilities of a Squadmistress?”
She smiled like a grandmother feeding poison candy. “Oh, dear Champion. I’ve shaped the character of our young mages for more seasons than I care to count. My responsibility is to find the right balance between virtue and viciousness over our three years together.”
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Aaron swallowed. Virtue and viciousness. What kind of place is this?
“So how does a proper noble act, then?”
“With subtlety,” Ceiro sneered.
Lyra rolled her eyes. Rhea and Theon snickered. Ceiro flushed deeper. Aaron giggled. Let’s see if I can make him explode. “Lyra, how is it that you are the same age as your half-brother?”
Silence. Then Rhea burst out laughing. Theon kicked Aaron under the table. Shit. That crossed a line.
Ceiro’s crimson face twisted as he stood. “I will have your blood for this.”
Heat flared in Aaron’s chest. Fuck this bastard.
“Why? Because you know yours isn’t good enough?” Aaron leaned in, voice rising. “I’ll give you a reason to want my blood.”
Ceiro opened his mouth. Aaron leaned forward, his voice cutting with mockery. “Your mother was a hamster, and your father smelt of elderberries!” He grinned, eyes challenging. Ceiro’s face contorted with fury.
With a raw scream, Ceiro lunged, grabbing his knife and clambering onto the table in reckless rage. Aaron’s eyes widened. He grabbed his plate just as Lyra yanked her twin back by the belt.
Aaron thrust the plate forward. Ceiro crashed face-first into the pottery, splattering food across the table.
The knife scraped over wood. Ceiro shook his head like a dog. Aaron’s arms dropped, too slow—he knew his mistake before the knife even turned toward him.
A sudden flash and deafening thunder shattered the chaos. Aaron flinched as something hot and sharp splattered across his face and chest. Blinking in shock, he stared down—a severed forearm clutching a knife lay bleeding across his lap. Presidential Guards filled the doorway, double-barreled weapons trained firmly on the group.
The ringing faded. A wood-callused hand yanked him upright. Another swept over his body with swift, practiced motions.
Only now did Aaron register the bloody wreckage of the other arm, minced at the elbow.
Gravy-slick meat and mashed vegetables bled together with arterial spray across the table. Ceiro writhed in the middle of it.
Blade’s rasping voice cut through the chaos like sandpaper on glass. “Permission to execute, Master Bug.”
Bug’s voice came calm, almost bored. “Denied. Clan Albastis Ultima will suffer worse if he survives.”
Aaron’s gaze swept the room. Esnita shook her head. Rhea was eating a piece of pheasant.
Theon looked between Aaron and the guns. Erai and Lyra stared wide-eyed. Lyra’s knuckles had gone white around her knife. Her jaw trembled.
He remembered dinner at university: boring debates, old pasta. No blood. No masks.
Master Shard stepped forward and touched Aaron’s chest. Healing magic spread through his body like a strange tingle. She nodded.
With one touch, Ceiro stopped moving—paralyzed. How did this escalate so fast? Is this my fault? I just wanted to—
Aaron gulped as Shard pushed the minced meat toward the bloody stump. Dull red spheres of fluid grew around her hands. She touched the mess, and a blob of thick red ooze oozed over it. Enveloped it.
Time passed in fascinated horror.
He shuddered. What I did to Bug wasn’t even this bad. His hands trembled. Why does everything go wrong?
Why am I shaking? Fuck.
Rhea slapped him on the shoulder, grinning. “That was hilarious, Aaron. Well played.”
Aaron’s narrowed gaze snapped to her. What the fuck is wrong with these people? She’s actually encouraging this.
Esnita looked at Bug. “Unless the Master Mage disagrees, I will handle this now.”
Bug nodded. Shard stepped back. The red fluid hardened, forming a rubbery skin on Ceiro’s arm. He stirred.
Esnita looked over the initiates. “Rhea will spend the night without linen on the plaza. Erai, for repeated offenses, you’ll spend three nights outside. You’ll share that punishment with Ceiro. Loss of temper is weakness. Violence in the face of your betters is stupidity.”
Then she smiled at Aaron, Theon, and Lyra. “Well done. Yet I hope you all learn to moderate yourselves so future dinners are not as bloody.”
Aaron turned numbly and left the hall, shame burning his face as each step dragged heavier than the last. Bark quietly moved alongside him, a silent shadow in the oppressive silence.
Bark’s pace slowed to match his. He turned around and grasped Aaron’s shoulder—then his hands.
“I know this is hard for you,” he said quietly. “Your world was too peaceful. Focus on your breathing until you sleep.”
Aaron nodded mechanically.
Bark’s lips thinned. “Do you want to be alone, or have me with you? You might dream of me, if you wish it.”
Tears ran freely down Aaron’s cheeks. He wants to join the dream session. Fuck. I forgot I’ll meet the mind mage again. I just want to pass out and forget this.
Numbly, Aaron shook his head.
Why can’t I just forget this?
Aaron stumbled into bed, ignoring Kendia’s questions. A warm tug in his chest drew him into darkness. Quetzy wants to talk. Then he fell unconscious.
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