As most of the Plague District’s residents either worked or slept in the afternoon, its main koti house was, unsurprisingly, far less busy than it had been the last time Dwayne had come.

  “Milord,” a young man, whose almond-shaped eyes and dusky skin signaled a blend of Vanurian and Wesen heritage, approached Dwayne’s table, “what’s your drink?”

  “You don’t have to call me that.” While koti wasn’t Dwayne’s stimulant of choice, Akunna had been vague about the meeting time, taking up a seat without buying anything seemed rude. “What would you suggest?”

  The waiter bowed his head. “I’ll stick to the honorific, if it’s all the same, milord. After all, you’re the first I’ve met who deserves it.” He glanced down at his notebook, missing Dwayne’s jerk of surprise. “As suggestions, do you want to sleep tonight?”

  Before Lady Pol’s pronouncement, Dwayne would have answered yes. He more than prepared for the upcoming end-of-season examinations and practicals, and after a point, more preparation would only harm his chances, not improve them. He wasn’t at all prepared for the Qe Master’s Examination, which came in three parts: a written test on the most obscure magical history, an oral covering almost the entirety of the Magisterium Canon, and the scariest of all, a practical whose contents would only be revealed the moment he stepped into the arena. Worse, even if he nailed the written and sailed through the oral, failing the practical meant failing period.

  With all that in mind, Dwayne answered, “No. I have a lot of studying to do tonight.”

  “Then my suggestion is the Lenten. The hints of chocolati and luceberries are pleasant, and it’s strong enough to keep you up studying.”

  “Sounds perfect. I’ll have that.”

  “Right away, milord.”

  “Now you’re making people call you that?” Granda asked as they in their apparently usual white scarves sat down at Dwayne’s table.

  “No, he insisted.” Dwayne watched the waiter go into the kitchen. “I don’t even know where he got the idea from.”

  “From me.” Heddi’s bright orange robes rustled as she sat. “I thought it would give our people pleasure to call one of their own ‘Lord.’”

  Granda rolled their eyes. “I’ll make no such suggestion.”

  “Not like I asked.” Dwayne winced at his own sharp tone. The enormity of the task before him was getting to him. “I apologize. I came here to thank you and Akunna for your help last night.”

  Granda grunted. “You paid. That’s thanks enough.”

  “Elder,” Heddi glared at Granda, “you know how little thanks any of us get in this business.”

  “We don’t need thanks. We need money.”

  Heddi sniffed. “Well, I and mine greatly appreciate both the thanks and the money.” She made some hand sign at the waiter, who nodded. “That cute little club of yours was even polite to our faces.”

  Dwayne’s stomach tightened. “Only to your faces?”

  Granda raised an eyebrow. “Come now. Did you really think a bunch of Academy brats would mean it behind close doors? The fact that I didn’t spend last night treating the aftermath of any ‘indiscretions’ is a miracle.”

  Dwayne’s heart pounded in his ears. “What kind of indiscretions?”

  Granda blinked. “Surely, you know.”

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  Broadly, yes. Specifically, no. Before Lord Kalan had freed him, Dwayne had mainly experienced berating, beating, and whipping, the results of overseer and master displeasure, but what happened when they “liked” you was terrifyingly unknown to him. “How often do ‘indiscretions’ happen?”

  “It’s not for you to worry about, milord,” said Heddi. “Our koti is here.”

  The waiter put three mugs onto the table. Granda’s was pale with foam, Heddi’s yellow with a flower traced in white, while Dwayne’s was a light brown with a fern.

  “Tell your auntie thank you, dear,” said Heddi to the waiter.

  “Yeah, thanks,” grumbled Granda.

  “I will. Enjoy, milord.” The waiter bowed, winked at Dwayne and then left.

  “Great Fountain, Heddi.” Granda turned to stare at her. “You’re not doing what I think you’re doing?”

  “What?” Dwayne asked.

  Heddi’s wide-eyed expression was the picture of innocence. “Whatever do you mean?”

  Granda scowled. “Tell me you’re not spreading rumors that the boy here is some sort of lost Ri prince.”

  Dwayne froze.

  Heddi laughed. “Oh, those cheekbones speak for themselves and as soon as you know he casts magic, well… I’ve only to watch and listen.”

  Dwayne recalled what the Vice-Consul had said before the Autumn Session, “I see a Seuda nose, a pair of G’nj eyes, the cheekbones of a prince, and not one hint of a wan-faced mother.”

  Drawing himself up, Dwayne looked Heddi in the eye. “I am not a prince.”

  “Damn right you’re not,” said Granda. “No prince of the Ri has ever cast Qe magic. They can’t.”

  Heddi scoffed. “Surely, with the right parentage-”

  “No,” Granda’s tone was firm, “the ability to cast Ri magic is what makes a Ri prince.”

  Dwayne clutched his mug. Taking that as truth meant he was a prince and that the Vice-Consul and her guards were duty-sworn “return” to the Ri.

  And there was the question that Magdala’s father had asked at that dinner oh so long ago. “What happens if Qe mage and a Ri have a child?”

  Granda shrugged. “No idea.”

  Heddi rolled her eyes. “Oh, the Vanurians, of all people, haven’t forced that union and found out?”

  Granda raised their chin. “Don’t talk of things you don’t understand.”

  “Well, I heard the Phons Church went to great lengths to revive the old Yaniti Imperial magical line.”

  Dwayne’s head jerk towards her. “They did?”

  “Mere rumor.” Granda crossed their arms. “No one, not even the blessed Fo mages, can bring back the dead.”

  Heddi’s eyes twinkled. “I’ve heard things about that too.”

  Dwayne coughed. “Will Akunna be joining us soon?” This conversation had veered deep into dangerous territory. “I’d like to thank her for her help.”

  Both his koti companions’ faces turned grave.

  Dwayne’s hands tightened around his mug. “What is it?”

  “Last night,” Heddi’s voice shook, “probably right after she sent you your invitation, her master came and accused her of aiding and abetting his enemies.”

  Dwayne’s mouth went dry. “Did he…”

  “As far as I know,” Granda’s tone was devoid of reassurance, “Baron Otto Thadden has never committed an ‘indiscretion’ of any sort.” They opened a nearby window shutter. “No, that one likes to keep his hands clean. He sent her there.” He pointed.

  Just visible from the koti house stood a scaffolded structure made of brick.

  “What? Why?” he asked.

  “Like I said, the good baron likes to keep his hands clean.” Granda scowled into his koti. “He won’t beat her himself, but he bought her contract from people who did, and he’ll lend her to people who will.”

  “I have to do something!” Dwayne jumped to his feet.

  “You have to calm down.” Heddi grabbed his arm. “There is nothing you can do.”

  “But-”

  “There is nothing.” Heddi’s was tight on Dwayne’s arm as she pulled him back down into his seat. “That swine has both title and the Crown Princess’s favor. Go against him, and all that you built last night, all you’ve been achieved since coming here, all of it will be knocked apart.”

  “She’s alive.” Granda sipped their koti. “I’ve made sure to check up on her every day. The next time I do so, I’ll pass on your thanks.”

  Dwayne’s fist clenched. “Thanks is not enough!”

  “It’ll have to be.” Heddi pushed Dwayne’s koti into his hands. “Now, drink. You’ll need it. I hear we’re about to have a new Qe mage master in our midst.”

  Granda scoffed. “Yeah, right.” They caught Heddi’s pointed gaze. “Oh, you’re not kidding.”

  “No, she’s not.” Dwayne downed his koti quickly, finding it tangy and sweet, just as promised. “I have to study.”

  “Good luck,” said Heddi.

  After paying for his drink, Dwayne left the koti house with thoughts of Thadden and his sins eating at him. Something had to be done. Even if the baron had the whole of Soura behind him, something had to be done.

  And Dwayne would do it.