Defensive Magic Chapter 11: Far From Home

FALL TERM - October 5th

I'd like to say the incident with Aries in the courtyard was an isolated one, but that would be a lie.

Since then, he's taken just about every opportunity he can to instigate another brawl. Most of the ti, he doesn't even bother casting anything my way. He's tackled in the hallway of the Vodalysa dormitories, tries to put in a headlock if we cross paths during the day, and shoves when we et for lunch. Because, oh yeah, Aisling still invites him along. He's there in the courtyard, often waiting for us, with a packed lunch and our combat lessons textbook set open to a casting diagram for the week.

It's frustrating, but at least now I realize the error of my ways. It doesn't matter if I try to hit him back or cast slow on him. Aries thinks this is just what friends do. He thinks we're friends.

I shouldn't be so shocked. It wasn't as though I didn't see the way he treats Noodle, his only other companion. The two of them are always wrestling. Noodle calls it play fighting. Call it my ignorance, I just assud it was a dog-folk thing. But if anything, it's an Aries thing. With that said, there's an added layer of intensity with that's never there when I see him and Noodle fight.

I have more nicks, scrapes, and scratches than I think I ever have had in my life. There's a bruise on my cheek that's made it hard to sleep on one side, and my knuckles bleed when I cast. The mark of Orendell hurts whenever I don't have Kelyn's poultice over it, and it hurts worse any ti I try to avoid coming to blows with Aries. The wolf always wants a fight.

At least Aries looks just as rough. Aisling reminds us daily that there's a patchwork potion that will make little cuts like these heal almost instantly, but it feels wrong to take it. Aries won't take it either.

He won't say it, but he suspects I'm a werewolf. It's not like we've talked about it, but I heard him the first ti we dueled. That mont, the first ti I felt the wolf take control of my body, he'd said it. There you are. Every blow that's co since, I can see him searching my face for another sign of the wolf. As though he intends to catch in a lie.

I tell myself I'm not a werewolf. I'm not a werewolf. I have two days until the full moon and I guess then, I'll know for sure.

In the anti, I checked out a book called Folk Tales of Caburh. It was the only thing in the library I found with so much of a ntion of Orendell. I plan to check in the Sanctum next, but there's no organizational thod to the books in there. Only volus and volus of information, arranged by age of the text, most of which are handwritten to begin with and don't exactly make for light or easy reading.

There was another thing that happened. I've mostly put off writing about it because I like to think if I don't write it down, it didn't happen. But I'll need this committed to mory. I'll strive to record it here as accurately as I can.

Ianthe ca to in a dream again, last night.

This ti, instead of her parlor, we were at my flat in Nizari, in my bedroom. I stood at the foot of my bed. She was lying atop the mattress in a thin pale green silk gown. Her long white hair ran in rivulets over the cotton sheets. All the windows were open. The curtains, usually drawn shut, blew in with the breeze. Because it was a dream, the breeze was neither warm nor cold. Only uncanny. This was my room, but it no longer felt at all mine.

I can't rember the last ti Ianthe had co here. It had to have been a very long ti ago, maybe when I first moved in? It was before we'd gotten together, back when I was still a junior apprentice to my father, Sylvaris Ashbourne, Lord Hart's secretary of maps and territories. After we got together, she'd begged Lord Hart to have a secretary of her own, and then complained that my flat was much too cramped to spend any reasonable amount of ti there. That it was better that I visit her.

So, I knew this couldn't have been an old mory. She was leaning back against the headboard of my bed - a beautiful, dark mahogany piece that had a pattern of little dragons carved across the back of it. It was one of the many things I'd bought for myself following the considerable bump in my salary when I started working for her.

She ran a bloodstained finger up across one of the dragons on the headboard, painting it red.

"I thought I'd check in on my most beloved advisor..."

"So, I'm your advisor again?" I don't have a filter in my dreams. No one does. You are always your most base impulses, for better or for worse.

"I heard from your mother that you were ill and what kind of love would I be if I didn't drop by to check on you?"

"I wasn't even sure you still knew where I lived," I said.

"Apparently, I don't." I could sense a threat in her tone that hadn't been there last ti. This was more than impatience, it was anger. "So you want to tell why, when I co by with a pot of chicken soup and well wishes, just as I'm about to walk in, I'm stopped at the threshold?"

I didn't know what my mother had done with the place since I'd left town. I'd made the assumption that it was how I'd left it, still locked, windows shuttered, untouched. Clearly not.

Ianthe went on, "Because last I checked I was still welco in your ho. You've never revoked the invitation. So, what then? I wait there, like a buffoon, for several minutes until soone inside notices I've been trying the door."

I didn't like where this was going.

"That wouldn't be such a problem, would it? If you were here, you'd let in. We could have had a laugh about it. So tell , Zephyr, why was it that I was t by a couple of doe-eyed strangers who hadn't the faintest clue who you are?!

"Don't you mind them. They invited in. They listened while I told them about you and what had happened." She said it like I didn't already know they were dead. She'd been particularly angry and they were in the wrong place at the wrong ti. The blood sared on the headboard told enough.

"We both already know I didn't co bringing chicken soup. , watching you eat? Can you imagine it? Let's not."

Ianthe sat up on the bed and pulled closer. I had to set a hand out to keep from falling forward. But that wasn't what she'd wanted - suddenly, I wasn't standing at all, but sitting beside her, much closer now.

Her words were a heavy whisper in my ear. "I have to assu you've skipped town, love. You don't live here anymore. You've given it up. This place is not your ho."

This wasn't a question, but a fact. Whatever magic that made it so a vampire could not cross into a ho uninvited knew that my old flat was no longer mine.

"And all this just as your mother's been swearing up and down for weeks that you're under the weather and will be back to attending balls before the end of the season. But the woman's a snake. When doesn't she lie through her teeth? She's even still adamant you're Sylvaris's, as though we can't see for ourselves how you look."

I knew better than to open my mouth. I couldn't always hold my tongue in a dream, but this one at least, I'd had practice with. Ianthe was trying to get arise out of , get talking, and I knew more than well that my mother didn't need defending, she needed to stay silent. I have to hope that I did.

Besides, I've long suspected Ianthe is a little afraid of my mother. It was telling enough that she only insulted her in dreams or behind locked doors. My mother says it's because vampires are really only afraid of anything older than they are. She has a few months on Ianthe and that's enough. But I suspect the real reason runs much deeper. At the present, it's worked in my favor.

"Tell , Zephyr." Ianthe's hand grazed my cheek. Our eyes locked - red to red. It was the kind of intimacy trap I fell for again and again. I shut my eyes to her.

Ianthe's hand slipped to the base of my neck, stroking and sweet until it wasn't.

She yanked the hair at the nape of my neck. "Because you know I'm going to find you eventually. You'll either return to on your own volition or I'll have you hunted down and handed back. You can be assured there will be no cushy court position awaiting you then."

Ianthe was a problem I didn't know what to do with. Her threats weren't empty words. I'd seen enough of what she'd done to those around her to know she'd ant it. And if she did manage to find soone to hunt down... I couldn't dwell on it for long. And I won't dwell on it here. It's unproductive.

This was the kind of thing Marblebrook should be made aware of, in the unlikely event that a bounty hunter ca knocking at the doors of the Midnight Court in the not-so-distant future. There would be a coven eting in two days, the night of the full moon. I could have waited until then to see Marblebrook but hypothetically if I was a werewolf - actually, wait. Let's not play this ga.

I stopped by Marblebrook's office during her listed office hours. She held them technically for Divination practice, but on a good day I can hardly focus enough to pay attention to that class, and today, it was the furthest thing from my mind.

Marblebrook was seated at her desk when I knocked. She was dressed all in black today, her long straight hair was pinned up into a severe chignon. She had a scarf tied at her neck in a green paisley pattern as though to add a touch of whimsy, probably the kind of thing Kelyn would have picked out. It looked out of place on Marblebrook. She eyed cautiously from behind her sleek rose-tinted glasses. "Did sothing happen, Zephyr?"

I hoped I wasn't that transparent walking through the Court this morning.

"I don't know," I said honestly. "You haven't heard anything from my mother, have you?"

Marblebrook raised an eyebrow and gestured for to sit. Her door swung shut behind . "I was beginning to wonder when you might ask."

I took a seat, only to watch Marblebrook stand. She didn't move from her desk, but began casting from her new position, marking sigils in the air. A few of them whipped to the door and to the windows. "It's probably overkill, but now we can both be assured that the only audience for this conversation is us two."

It probably was overkill, but it was also the kind of logic my mother had and just sitting there with Marblebrook felt like its own reassurance.

"Ianthe dreamwalked again. This ti she's murdered whoever my mother sold my flat to and left with more threats. It sounds like she might hire a bounty hunter."

Marblebrook nodded along. "Your mother ntioned the murders. I think she mostly blas herself. She wanted the coin from the sale to go into a bank account out of town. Give Ianthe a red herring to track that would go nowhere. And well, unfortunately, it worked."

If she was at all phased by the casual talk of murder, she didn't show it. I had to wonder how much of it was my mother's talk of Caburh and how much was just her.

"But that brings to sothing I wanted to talk with you about. Your allowance."

Her tone was edged with awkwardness. This was going to be the kind of uncomfortable stumbling conversation she didn't want to have. I'd assud this would co up eventually.

While I'd accumulated so wealth of my own, in part through the last few years of technically working under Ianthe's more than generous employ, I admittedly still relied on an annual allowance from my parents to maintain my lifestyle. I was probably spending less in my day-to-day since arriving at the Court, but I couldn't tell you what room, board, and tuition had cost. At the ti, it hadn't been sothing that mattered. I was here. That was enough.

"Petra wanted to warn you of that. Obviously you'd already agreed pen-to-paper letters were far too traceable, but if there is soone looking into banking information to track you down, she's going to have to be more careful with any upcoming deposits. She didn't say she was cutting you off. Just that it might be late. It seems Ianthe is less willing to let your disappearance go than we'd thought."

"I'm not the first boyfriend to run away," I muttered.

Marblebrook laughed, dry and humorless. "I suspect you're not. Though sotis the grudge runs deeper when you're the third or fourth."

"At least she's not allowed to kill ." Other forr boyfriends had been less lucky. It hadn't escaped my notice that death threats were sothing she hadn't yet resorted to. Ianthe didn't mince words. If she wanted dead, she'd say it. And she still hadn't. She just wanted back under her thumb again.

"About that, actually," Marblebrook cut in. My blood ran cold. That was very much not the kind of throwaway comnt I wanted to be corrected on. "Petra's growing concerned. It really doesn't seem that Ianthe's the type to let people go. She's a lot more stuck on you than any of us could have expected. There's a rumor floating around that you're illegitimate."

I rolled my eyes. If this was all it was, then so be it. "That rumor's been floating around my whole life. I don't think that changes anything now."

Marblebrook worried her lower lip, pensive. "That might be true, but if Petra's ntioning it, I suspect it is different. I know romantic relationships work a little differently in Nizari, but if it is true-"

"My mother's taken lovers. That's never been a secret. If one of them was my biological father, it wouldn't be gossip. People talk because they suspect Sylvaris isn't my father when she says that he is. It's only gossip if they think she has a reason to lie. But it hasn't really mattered since he nad as his eventual successor and began training as an apprentice at court. I've been protected by a decree that states no vampire of the Stag's Court may unjustly slay any of his lineage."

"Which you aren't anymore, correct?"

"Aren't what?"

"Being trained as his apprentice."

Oh. Marblebrook was right. Even if Ianthe wasn't thinking about murdering at the present, it hadn't occurred to that I might lose my status as a protected party at the Stag's Court.

"I don't an to alarm you, Zephyr," she said. "But I think you may have to be more wary of anyone from your past. Their rules for you may be changing."

It was hard to focus on much of anything for the rest of the day. While I hadn't been planning on returning ho any ti soon, it was another thing altogether to know if I did ever cross through the Stag's Court, I'd be seen as one of the tourists with a one-way ticket. But Ianthe had said it, I didn't have a ho at the Stag's Court anymore. I wasn't sad exactly. I'd ant it when I'd said I had no plans to return. But still, there was sothing - like a tether that had snapped unexpectedly. I felt spun adrift.

I was in a strange mood and the weather didn't help. It was raining so there was no sunny spot for to lie out in the courtyard. Aisling suggested instead that we et up in a cozy, little alcove off the library. It was silent there, which may have been sothing of a struggle for Aisling, but she picked it for the ambiance. The alcove was partitioned off with a thick, blue velvet curtain. The windows on the stone wall were little more than narrow slits, the light from outside mostly choked out by the dark violet stained glass panes. But there was a sizable, ornately carved, stone fireplace where an enchanted fire blazed year-round. It wasn't sunshine, but I could lay back on the loveseat across from the hearth and still feel the heat on my face.

Aisling had chosen to sit in a high-backed armchair opposite and had picked up a book on fae livery and otherworldly heraldry which absorbed her well enough. I also didn't feel much up for studying. I picked up Folk Tales of Caburh because I'd happened to be carrying it with , but the idea of actually reading it had lost all appeal.

We hadn't been there for long before Noodle drew back the velvet curtain, nose raised. "I thought I'd slled you." Aries following close behind.

"You shouldn't say Zeph slls, Noodle. That's kind of rude," Aries said.

"I didn't say I slled him. It's Aisling. She slls like flowers."

Hearing this Aisling glanced up over the spine of her book and turned pink - not blushing, but utterly sun-kissed, warm and radiant. "I was worried you weren't going to find us," she said. "I wanted to wait for you, but the rain's got Zeph grouchy."

"Are you sure it's just the rain?" Noodle asked under his breath, but didn't seem to expect an answer. He only dropped into the armchair opposite Aisling and stretched before settling in. I shuffled over on the loveseat to give Aries a place to sit.

He knocked his knee against mine. "What are we reading?" I braced for a hit that had to be coming. He crashed down onto the loveseat a little hard, making the springs in the upholstery squeal. I was still bracing for impact when he ramd his head into my shoulder but then, stilled. He was leaning heavily against my side. He was staring at the book in my hands, Folk Tales of Caburh.

"My mom had a copy of that one." His voice was a hoarse whisper. "She used to read it to and my brother before bed. I liked the pictures."

"Sounds nice," I said. "Most of the stories are new to ."

"Your mom didn't read you stories?"

I eyed him warily. If I'm honest, I can't rember if my mom had ever read stories from a book like this. Maybe she hadn't. Either way, I still had stories, just not these kinds. My mother loved cautionary tales. My stories were about hungry vampires and deals with devils. They didn't have happy endings. Not that all these did either - Caburh wasn't a place that encouraged happily ever after.

"Well, starting with 'The Scorpion and the Toad' is no way to do it. Read 'Orendell and Luna'. That one was always my favorite." Aries began to flip the pages ahead, stopping only when his hand found a page with an ornate black ink illustration of a dark wolf king standing before a pale, elegant woman with long dark hair.

"Werewolves aside, I think you'll still like it," he said.

"I don't hate werewolves, Aries," I said. "I don't even know any."

"Sure, you don't." He rubbed his head further into my shoulder. "Just read it, will you?"