The girls in the common room waved to Nia as she left, sliding in a leering gaze for Saahira that questioned her reason for associating with someone so far above her station. Saahira tried her best to ignore it, fighting with the urge to throw her cloak over her head and race back to her room.

  “Don’t let them bother you,” Nia said quietly once they’d moved outside. “They aren’t worth your time.”

  Saahira toyed with the hem of her shirt, fingering the tiny holes on its edges. She hadn’t seen a single other student with holes in their attire or fraying edges. It was embarrassing to know that what she wore was the finest outfit in her trunk. “I think you mean I’m not worth theirs.”

  “No, I meant what I said.”

  “You don’t know me, though.”

  “I’ve yet to meet them, either.” Nia pinched a square of Saahira’s cloak between two fingers and raised it a few inches. “Did you make this?”

  “Y…Yes.” With plenty of help from my mother.

  “Mhm. And…” She rubbed the fabric together and smiled. “It feels like homespun wool?”

  “It is. My mother purchased it from a woman in my village.”

  Nia let the fabric fall free. “I would wager that more time, effort, and care were put into this cloak than the three girls in that room have put into anything in their lives.”

  “Aren’t you a princess?” The question tumbled out of her mouth before she could stop it. Nia had made such an effort not to stain her skirt in class and carried herself with more refinement than any other human Saahira had met so far.

  Nia laughed wryly. “Yes. I am eleventh in line to the Ni?ni??la? throne. Only ten sisters must perish before I am crowned queen.”

  That’s what I get for opening my big mouth. “I’m sorry. I—”

  “Didn’t know. But you’ll still have dinner with me, won’t you?” Nia teased. “I’m sensing a pattern.”

  Saahira nodded, too ashamed to say anything more.

  “You didn’t say anything wrong. Here. This way.” Nia swept an arm out in front of her and took the lead. “Do you have any siblings?”

  “One younger sister. Isa. She’s six.” Saahira studied the cobblestones as they walked. Almaryn only had dirt roads, and she enjoyed the sound of her shoes against the stone. “Does having ten sisters feel, well, crowded?”

  “In a way. My older brother was my best friend at home. I think he feels much more crowded than I do, being the only boy in the family.”

  “Would he not be the next in line to be king?” Saahira’s limited knowledge of royalty came from Hahn’s modest library. She’d often spent her free days reading and rereading the two dozen books in his collection.

  “Ni?ni??la? is a matriarchy. Ikenna will have to find a princess of his own if he wants a seat of power.” Nia laughed warmly. “With so many sisters, he shouldn’t have a difficult time finding a wife. Any one of them would happily play his matchmaker if he decides that is his destiny.”

  If there was a subject that Saahira understood less than magic, it was romantic relationships. She struggled to summon a reply.

  Luckily, Nia seemed to enjoy talking and asking just as many questions in person as she did in the classroom. “Where is Almaryn located?”

  “A week’s ride east of here. It’s…a very small village. More of a rock that travelers stumble on when they pass through.”

  Nia giggled. “Did you know everyone who lived there?”

  “Yes. You see the same faces every day.”

  “That’s difficult for me to imagine. Hang on. Let’s not get separated.” As they stepped into the city, Nia wound an arm through Saahira’s and hooked their elbows. “Ni?ni??la? is in the heart of A?ál?, and it was rare if I saw the same citizen twice.”

  “You don’t have an accent at all,” Saahira marveled. Then she bit her tongue, realizing how her statement could be interpreted. “I’m sorry. I mean that as a compliment.”

  “Compliment accepted. I’ve had a Chivarian tutor since I was very young. The moment my magic manifested, it was decided that I’d attend the sanctum. My parents thought it would help me fit in better.”

  They passed the bakery and a shop with stunning dresses in the window. Saahira indulged a little, imagining herself in a jeweled corset and silk skirts. She’d done the same when reading about powerful sorcerers in one of Hahn’s books. “How long have you known?”

  “Known what? That I’ve had an aptitude?”

  “Mhm.”

  “Since I was…” Nia ticked her fingers one by one in silence. “Seven. I was angry with my sister, and the palace sorcerer had books upon books of Hexlations. I found one to silence her, and I tried casting it. It worked.”

  Saahira’s eyes widened. “Was she okay?”

  “She was fine. It was a minor hex cast by a child. Easily undone by the same sorcerer.” Nia chuckled. “I received quite a lecture from my mother, my father, and the sorcerer. But not long after, they asked if I would be interested in following magic as my destiny.”

  ‘My destiny.’ Nia had used the term twice. It sounded so…final. As if once a member of her family had chosen their future, that decision would define the rest of their lives. “What if you change your mind?”

  “Change my mind?”

  “Yes. What if you decide that magic and the sanctum aren’t for you?”

  Nia tipped her head to the side and studied Saahira for a moment. “There is no changing destiny, Saahira.” She shook her head as if Saahira had spoken utter nonsense, then gestured to a nearby doorway. “We’ve arrived.”

  Saahira chewed on Nia’s reply as they stepped inside the tavern. Twinkling lanterns hung from the rafters, and a series of musical instruments lined the walls. Round tables crowded a small stage on the far right, while a large fireplace crackled and invited those willing to share one narrow table on the left. It was larger than The Laughing Bull, and a whole lot cleaner. Though the patrons here lacked the mud on their shoes from a day’s work in the fields or grime from the mines.

  “This is the Final Bar.” Nia flourished her introduction with a sweep of her arm, then grinned. “Lemae told me that the older students of the sanctum will try their hands at performing on their days off.”

  “Performing? Like singing?”

  “Singing, playing instruments, comedy, whatever their fancy. They like to make a contest of it.”

  “Are you going to perform?”

  Nia rolled her eyes to the ceiling and shrugged a shoulder. “Perhaps.”

  A brunette-haired woman in a silver bodice approached them, shifting her serving tray beneath her arm. “Good afternoon, ladies. Would you like a table?” Even the barmaid’s outfit was of far superior quality to Saahira’s—the white dress beneath her corset was spotless, and the gemstones on her necklace and pointed ears looked real. She didn’t share the same unfavorable stare as the girls in their dormitory, but Saahira still shifted uncomfortably beneath her lovely golden gaze.

  “Yes. For two of us, please,” Nia answered easily.

  “Do you prefer the fireside table or one of your own?”

  “One of our own, I believe.” Nia looked at Saahira, who nodded her agreement. The fewer ears nearby to hear Nia’s probing questions, the better.

  “Wonderful. This way, please.” She canted her head and turned, her full skirts rippling around her ankles.

  “Does every tavern in Odalric personally seat you?” Saahira whispered to Nia.

  Nia wrinkled her nose. “Hm? Don’t all respectable establishments escort you to a table?”

  The Laughing Bull never did. New patrons were told to sit where they liked, and the nightly visitors liked where they sat. “Oh. Right. Of course.”

  They were led to one of the round tables near the stage, where Nia and Saahira occupied two of the three chairs. The wood was deftly carved, with metal filagree laid into their backs and plush red cushions attached to their seats.

  The level of care and craftsmanship in the chairs alone seemed excessive for a place that was meant for food and drink. Saahira imagined one of the chairs being used in a brawl—much like the fight she’d witnessed between Barclay and Hugo over a game of cards. The two stools that fell victim to their machinations had barely sustained a few scratches. These ones looked as if they’d shatter on impact like glass.

  The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  “Are you two new students?” the barmaid asked as Saahira carefully slid into her chair.

  “We are. Today was our first day in the sanctum,” Nia replied proudly.

  “Well, welcome to Odalric, then! My name is Monique.” She gestured to the stage behind her. “The Final Bar is famous among students for improvised performances on rest days.”

  “So we’ve heard.” Saahira couldn’t help but smile. Monique’s bright personality was infectious.

  “I am Nia, and this is Saahira. Warm tidings to you, Monique.”

  Oh. Right. Manners.

  “And to you both! What can I get you?” Monique asked.

  Saahira wasn’t sure what she could order. Or what would be appropriate to order. She wasn’t the one paying, and it seemed like ordering a bowl of the day’s stew and a mug of the cheapest ale available would be far beneath Nia.

  The apprehension she felt must have shown on her face. Nia spoke first. “Might you have a board we could share?”

  Saahira wasn’t sure what ordering a “board” entailed, but Monique apparently understood. “Of course. And to drink?”

  “Do you serve ifuru leaf tea?”

  “Ah, we just received our shipment from A?ál? this morning. Would you like me to include some accompanying selections on your board?”

  Nia brightened. “Oh, yes, if you would!”

  “Coming right up. Just wave me down if you need anything else.”

  Saahira watched Monique vanish behind the door to the kitchens. She couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed for the hundredth time that day. There was so much to learn, both inside and outside of her classes.

  “Just how small is Almaryn?” Nia asked, pulling Saahira’s attention away from the door.

  Saahira licked her lips. “It’s…” She feared telling Nia the truth. How could a princess possibly understand? However, while suffering scornful leers from her roommate for eternity sounded like torture, there was no way for her to lie, either. Her favorite works of fiction were nothing like reality, and Nia would be able to call her bluff within a pertinent question or two.

  “Why are you afraid to tell me?” Nia leaned forward and lowered her voice. “I told you, I much prefer your company over those who spent a fortune securing their own rooms in the sanctum.”

  “Students can have their own rooms?” Saahira blinked. She hadn’t known it was an option.

  “Certainly. For a—” Nia stopped, then smiled. “You changed the subject.”

  “To a more interesting one.”

  “I beg to differ.”

  Saahira sighed. “Almaryn has one tavern. Everyone seats themselves.” She looked over her shoulder, confirmed Monique’s absence, then back at Nia before whispering, “And I have no idea what you just ordered.”

  “Well, then. You must enjoy the surprise.” Nia giggled. “I envy you.”

  Of all the statements Nia had made so far, her jealousy was the most difficult to believe. “Why?”

  “There are so many new experiences that await you.”

  “That’s a kind way to call me na?ve.” An unintentional bitterness seeped into Saahira’s tone.

  “No. You misunderstand.” Nia shook her head. “Where I am from, one’s ‘firsts’ are precious. There will never be another experience like it, even when repeated.”

  “Oh…” Saahira tucked her hair behind her ears and folded her hands in her lap. It was a romantic notion, but, much like the topic of destiny, she struggled to find the right reply.

  Monique returned just in time, approaching the table with two steaming cups. After she’d set one each before the girls, Saahira stroked a curious fingertip down the side of hers. Instead of the wooden mugs she was accustomed to housing all tavern liquids, these looked to be made out of clay and fired in a kiln. Bright, geometric paintings decorated the sides; their patterns similar to the artwork on Professor Moborí’s walls.

  “You have A?ál? cups!” Nia exclaimed.

  “We do.” Monique tucked her tray beneath her arm with a smile. “Donovan, the owner of the Final Bar, has quite the collection of serveware and glasses from around the world. He says it enhances the experience.”

  “They’re beautiful,” Saahira said as she traced the perfect lines and shapes. “Does he travel a lot?”

  “He does. He’s in Tír ársa as we speak.”

  “Hm. Donovan must be an elf,” Nia said. “Or he is a masochist.”

  Monique laughed. “You’re familiar with Réimse na Sleachta, then?”

  The elven continent. Saahira recalled reading a morsel about it in one of Hahn’s books. Beyond that, she knew very little.

  “Yes. It is not a kind place for us lowly humans,” Nia replied.

  “Well, when Donovan returns, you can decide just how much of a masochist he is.” Monique motioned to their cups. “Is there anything else I can fetch for you right now?”

  Nia sipped her tea and smiled. “No. You prepared this perfectly, Monique. My compliments.”

  “Thank you. I’m glad you enjoy it.” Monique performed a quick bow at the waist. “I’ve nearly finished your board. Give me just a few more minutes.”

  “Take your time,” Nia replied.

  Saahira watched the exchange in silence, chancing a sip at her ifuru leaf tea. The taste was stronger than any she’d had at home. Tart and floral with an interesting spice that warmed her throat as much as the heat. Her mother would have loved it. Nia’s curious gaze snapped to Saahira’s face while they drank. Her smile extended beyond her cup.

  “What?” Saahira asked as she lowered her tea.

  “You enjoyed your first taste! Good. Is it one you will remember well?”

  Saahira nibbled her lip and nodded. “It is.” She avoided Nia’s gaze, instead staring into the burgundy depths and swirling her finger around the cup’s rim. “Thank you, Nia. For offering to bring me here.”

  “You can thank me once you have held up your end of this exchange.” Nia’s grin turned devilish.

  A tiny piece of her hoped Nia had forgotten the reason for their outing to the Final Bar. But the princess seemed to thrive on her questions and gleaned information.

  Monique appeared at their table once more, holding a large cutting board in both hands. On top were dozens of slices of meats and cheeses alongside handfuls of fruit and vegetables. Saahira recognized at least a few of the selections, but most she had never seen or smelled before.

  “I included a dipping sauce from A?ál? to pair with the ?lod?.” Monique pointed at a cup filled with a brown sauce and thin slices of cured, spotted meat. Then she moved her finger to a collection of dark green shriveled spheres. “The dried uhie berries are also from this morning’s shipment, and they’re excellent. I may have snuck a few for myself.” She winked and collected her hands behind her back.

  “This is just like home. Thank you.” Nia touched the tiny diamonds at her ear, and her expression softened.

  “I think every student feels a little homesick at first.” Monique smiled kindly at Saahira. “But it’ll get easier, just wait.”

  “Ah… Thank you,” Saahira murmured.

  The tavern’s door opened, and three more jovial students entered. Monique glanced over her shoulder, then looked back at the table. “I’ll be back around in just a lick. Call me if you need something before then.” She turned and waved to the newcomers. “Welcome to the Final Bar!”

  Saahira picked one of the uhie berries from the board and set it on her tongue. At first, it didn’t have much of a taste. That is, until she shifted it to her back teeth and bit down. A fountain of citrus exploded against the roof of her mouth, coating her throat and her breath. She coughed and reached for her tea.

  Nia laughed. “Surprised?”

  Tears pooled at the corners of her eyes as she swallowed her drink. She nodded and finished coughing into her elbow. “How are you supposed to eat those?”

  “You chewed too quickly. Roll them around on your tongue for a few seconds. They will soften and not be so…” Nia balled both hands into fists, then quickly unfurled her fingers with a hiss of air. “Combustible?”

  “Noted.” She warily eyed the unfamiliar slices of meat. “Should I know anything about the ?lod?? Will it bite me back?”

  “No. ?lod? and the glaze are very mild.” Saahira frowned, and Nia raised a hand. “I swear by the sun!”

  Nia’s giggle only made Saahira more apprehensive, but she scooped up one of the spotted cuts and dipped it in the cup. As soon as it reached her mouth, the savory flavor melted over her tongue, and she hummed in satisfaction. It was more tender than chicken, and the glaze spice gave it the same comfortable warmth as her tea.

  “See? Now you have three firsts to remember.”

  Saahira nodded and tried another uhie berry, following Nia’s instruction. This time, the flavor was more like a citrusy confection than a fruit. And it didn’t erupt in her throat.

  More students filed into the tavern, crowding the communal area by the fire and occupying the empty tables around them. The atmosphere was far more excited than any nights at the Bull, though the eloquent discussions created a comfortable buzz instead of the sharp guffaws and shouts of Almaryn patrons.

  Nia tapped Saahira’s mug with one nail, and the sound rang out like a tiny bell in the crowd. “Now. Tell me about Cyprus Reyner.”

  Saahira blinked, and the hairs on the back of her arms stood up. “But it’s so crowded—”

  “That means fewer people are listening,” Nia interrupted. She shook her head and plucked a slice of cheese from the board. “You are like a mouse. You scurry away when the cat approaches.”

  Saahira chewed her lower lip. “What do you want to know?”

  “Hm.” Nia picked up a crescent-shaped fruit about the size of her pointer finger. The color was such a deep purple that the tavern’s light couldn’t penetrate it. “Do you know what this is?”

  “No.”

  “It’s a Noctia Berry.” Nia bit it in half and teased the remainder between her fingers. “Are you familiar with Noctia?”

  “I… I just learned of it today.”

  “From Cyprus?”

  “Mhm.”

  Nia ate the second half and nodded. “Noctia is the northernmost country of Chivari. While A?ál? experiences two seasons of sun we call Orun’s Golden Hours, Noctia experiences two seasons of darkness, which they refer to as the Naucthemeral.” Her explanation held the same rhythm and monotony as if she were reciting lines from a textbook. “Noctia's main exports are Crescent Moon Wine, starstone, and Micahel Reyner.”

  Saahira swallowed the lump building in her throat. “What did Micahel do?”

  “What is Cyprus like?” Nia countered.

  She huffed a sigh and picked at a circle of berries. “He’s quiet. Kind. Thoughtful.” Handsome, witty, charming…

  Nia smirked. “Is that so?”

  “I don’t think he’s dangerous.”

  “I am certain the same was said about his father.”

  Saahira shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “I don’t know anything about his father.”

  “I find this so very impossible to believe. No matter how small the village.”

  “How can I convince you?” Frustration inched into her words. “Maybe there were murmurings of a dangerous man loose in Chivari. Those cropped up on occasion. But how do they change the life of one serving girl?”

  “Surely your parents would have wanted to ensure your safety—”

  “There isn’t a single person in Almaryn who can use magic, Nia,” Saahira hissed. “No one there would have passed on the word of a murderous necromancer unless we were his next target.”

  Nia leaned her elbows on the table and rested her chin between her hands. Her wide eyes held a wonder Saahira had seen in the gazes of children watching the birth of a horse. It felt invasive. She felt trapped. “Lemae and I surmised that you were from an obsolete Chivarian line. I never imagined that—”

  “That I’m actually no one?” Frustration bloomed into anger. “Are you disappointed yet?”

  “Not at all.” Nia’s expression softened, and she sighed. “Saahira, relax. Please.”

  Saahira’s appetite evaporated alongside her desire to learn more about Micahel. What was I thinking? She exhaled through her nose, forcing her irritation out with her breath. “I don’t have friends or family here, and Cyprus was kind to me. That’s all. I want to believe he wouldn’t be here if the headmaster and the professors thought him capable of his father’s crimes.”

  “That is a noble belief.”

  It was difficult to tell if Nia was mocking her. Saahira bit down her first response, then murmured, “I’m sorry if my answer wasn’t worth the cost of dinner.”

  “Nonsense. Your company is worth more than this.” Nia gestured to the board and leaned back in her chair. “I apologize for my impertinence.”

  The last embers of anger died in Saahira’s chest. All day, her first response to those who approached her was an immediate defense. She’d been so prepared for the sanctum to reject her that she felt completely lost around those who didn’t.

  It was exhausting.

  Saahira stood and brushed her hair back over her shoulders. “I should study before curfew.”

  “I will see you soon, then.” Nia nodded and drummed her fingers along the table. “You’re wrong, you know.”

  “About what?”

  “You do have friends here.” Nia’s tone held a sincerity that brought Saahira pause. “So long as you choose to let them in.”

  A cold chill slithered down Saahira’s neck. “R-right. Thanks.” Before Nia could see her discomfort, Saahira turned away and quickly wove between the tables to the door.

  ‘Let us in’ was a request normally made by the choir.

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