“Well, at least this was only a waste of a few dollars,” she declared.
“Waste? Now hold on a second. I never said the movie wasn’t a masterpiece.”
“You’re… you’re serious?”
He deployed one of his rare but effective smiles. “’Course I am. Why bother with the boring details of logic and magical theory when stories like this are so much more—”
“Melodramatic?” She smirked. “Cliché?”
He clutched at his heart. “You’re killing me, you know.”
“Well, what were you going to say?”
“No, no. It’s fine, Caldwell. I’ll just spend the rest of tonight licking my wounds.”
Tossing up his hands, he spun and stalked down the row. And though she had no choice but to follow—he was closest to the exit—his stomach fluttered as she quickened her pace to catch up to him. Side by side, they exited the theater into the assault of lights and cacophony and crush of bodies that was Mercester Square.
“I have to ask,” he said. “If you didn’t come to this movie for itsbraveandgroundbreakingcinematography, why trek all the way out here? There are theaters closer to campus.”
“I like Mercester Square.”
Domenic swore she was joking. She must be. No Gallamere resident would dare admit such a thing. But whereas he squinted into the glare of the electronic billboards, she seemed to marvel at them, their flashes gleaming across the blue backdrop of her eyes.
“You really mean that, don’t you?”
“Huh. Terrible taste in movies but a classic Gallamere snob. I’m not sure you get to be both.”
“Oh, it isn’t snobbery. I hate all of Gallamere. I just hate Mercester Square the most.” Hastily, he added, “Not that I’m trying to be an asshole. But you did just pan my new favorite movie. I’ve earned a right to fight back.”
Caldwell raised a brow coyly. “You won’t win.”
“Against you? I wouldn’t dream of it. But it doesn’t mean I’ll surrender.” He stood needlessly on his tiptoes, making a show of scoping the crowds. “So let me guess… Is it the trash? The pigeons? No, wait—it’s the traffic, isn’t it?”
“No,” she said, with an amused sort of exasperation. “It’s… Look at those storefronts.” In a nearby department store window, mannequins waved and curtsied at passersby. Domenic swore one even winked at him. “Or the street performers. How many of our classmates could enchant a whole band?” A musician swished her training wand to and fro like an orchestra conductor, while a hovering violin, flute, and accordion obedientlyplayed. Caldwell tossed a few coins into her violin case. Domenic joined her. “Or the subtler enchantments. Signs of every magician who’s come to make their mark on the City of Magic.”
Domenic still wasn’t sure he saw its charm, but he could almost hear it, in the wistful cadence of her voice. “Subtle? I’m gonna need evidence. Because so far as I can tell, nothing about Mercester Square is subtle.”
The words were a risk. Certainly, Ellery Caldwell had better things to do on a school night than play tour guide. But if she’d come here for distraction, then she knew his reputation, knew he could give her exactly that. He’d probably give her anything, if she asked.
“I actually spotted one earlier,” Caldwell said. “Come on.”
She led him to a bus stop across the square. They stepped over the trodden litter to the corner, and it felt tantalizingly private despite being anything but.
Caldwell pointed to a faded piece of graffiti.
Welcome to Gallamere.
A moment later, the words rippled and changed, like a coin plunking into a fountain.
The city is enchanted to meet you.
“I know it’s corny,” Caldwell said. “But considering how much you loved that movie, I figured—”
“I never said it was corny.”
He touched the metal wall, just barely tingling with magic. The enchantment would fade soon, but that only added to its charm. A stand against the inevitable.
“I’ve never noticed anything like this here before, which is impressive. Mercester Squareismy closest theater, so I’m here a lot. But I’ve spotted other enchantments throughout the city. There’s this one I sometimes run into on my commute to the Citadel. It’s a butterfly, all golden and glittery. It flutters around inside a particular train car on the Gold Line. Sometimes it lands on your fingertip if you hold it out.” Technically, Domenicdidn’t know that to be true, as he’d never seen the butterfly interact with anyone but him. He liked to think it was fond of him. “I’m pretty sure it’s permanent, so I’ve always wondered which Living Wand cast it. Then I wonder why Order magicians aren’t leaving enchantments like that all over the city. That’s what I’d do, if I had an enchantment wand.”
