“His Eminence the Sorcerer Stearanos has disappeared. Uhtric’s court sorcerer,” Soren explained. “An interesting development given the disappearance of his opposite number in Zarja’s court, the sorceress Oneira, who hasn’t been seen since the collapse of Uhtric’s throne.”
Sebastien vaguely recalled gossip about such things, though he hadn’t paid a great deal of attention. “I see,” he replied, encouragingly, trying to sound intrigued.
“There is a young sorceress set to graduate in spring who promises to match or eclipse Oneira as an oneiromancer,” Soren said. “Rose of Northbrooke. I want her for us.”
“Absolutely,” Sebastien agreed, beyond surprised to see a glimmer of hope.
Soren tugged at his beard, eyeing his son. “Do you understand why?”
Oh dear. Sebastien nearly quipped he hadn’t known this would be on the final exam. Fortunately, he managed to restrain himself. “I would very much like to hear your reasoning, Your Majesty.”
Letting out a sigh, Soren waved that off. “I don’t care to allow Zarja to acquire another oneiromancer, as she’ll undoubtedly wish to do. With Uhtric no longer a threat to her, Zarja might seek to emulate his example and start building her own empire here, beginning with us. In addition, with so many disappointed would-be kings in Uhtric’s former lands, and no Stearanos to direct their energies to rebuilding, as he had been doing, we can expect a few to try their luck with us. An oneiromancer of our own would give them second thoughts.”
“I understand now, Your Majesty,” Sebastien said, which he pretty much did.
“Whether you do or not, the assignment is simple. The Guild for Sorcerous Compliance owes me several favors,” Soren continued, “so we’ll have the blood geas applied in haste and in secret, then put about that we’ve known for years but kept you at Vega at my behest. Now you will attend school and use your seductive wiles to win the sorceress Rose to my court. I believe this lies within your skill set?”
In truth, it did, so Sebastien ignored deep and sour hurt at his father’s condescension. It could be worse and the king wasn’t wrong.
And so it came to be that Prince Sebastien, seventh son of King Soren, found himself admitted to the Hendricks Academy for Sorcerous Pursuits at the ripe age of twenty. With Nina and Nonna galloping in escort, but no retinue—the horrors, but students don’t have servants—Sebastien rode Kismet through the gates of the academy on the afternoon of the winter solstice celebration. The blood geas had settled under his skin without trouble. He barely remembered meeting the sorcerer who traveled in secret to apply the bond and nothing of the procedure itself. Seemed like a lot of fuss over a nonevent to Sebastien, but he would hardly complain.
It was liberating, in truth, to be out of Castle Vega and away from Rupert’s black looks and the constant undercurrent of peril. He liked the look of the academy, snow-covered with darkly sleeping ivy covering the stone walls. The place had the perfect atmosphere of storied learning and shadowy secrets. He imagined he could see magical shimmers here and there, the glow of lanterns and candles from the many windows illuminating the midwinter afternoon gloom with a special radiance.
Perhaps this had all been for the best and going toschool—school! like a regular person—would be good for him. Though his gift was small and unimpressive, it had opened the doors to this fresh start, an opportunity that could lead to others. His father thought so, and it was the first time that Sebastien could remember that Soren had expressed any optimism that his frivolous son could be useful. Never mind the reason.
Sebastien found it cosmically ironic that he’d been asked to use his one skill—well, other than zoopathy, which hardly counted—to seduce a scary sorceress and persuade her to come to Castle Vega when she graduated. It would hardly count as a task. He rather thought he’d do just fine with no doubt virginal, young, and studious Rose. Probably plain and shy, she’d have no experience even with flirting. He’d been around enough sorcerers to know their type, so much power that set them apart from normal humans. He supposed he belonged in that rarefied set now, but—in his typical style—somewhere near the back of the group shouting cheerful encouragement.
So, how to flirt with a woman his age, but with her powerful abilities, a sorceress rumored to be the next great oneiromancer? Thewoman of his dreams, perhaps. He toyed with that as an opening line.
No,said Kismet.
No,said Nina.
No,said Nonna.
Well, that settled that.
Just be yourself,said Kismet.
Yes, we love you,said Nonna.
Love, love, love,said Nina.
With companions like that, how could he go wrong? Still, Sebastien planned his approach carefully. After being installed in the very best rooms the academy had to offer, according to Madame Hendricks, who nearly fluttered about him, so thrilled to have actual royalty atheracademy, he took time and trouble to dress his very best for the Solstice Ball, glad that he knewhow to do it for himself. Some might think that over-the-top, treating a small academy dance like a court occasion, but a guy got only one chance to make a first impression. He wanted Rose to be very impressed.
He’d arrived at the academy a bit late in the day, which meant he’d be making a rather dramatic entrance, though he didn’t see the harm in that. He left Nina and Nonna sprawled on a rug before the fire. Madame Hendricks had immediately accepted his assurances that the hounds would behave and assured him in turn that Kismet could have a box stall he could come and go from freely. His new life, where people accepted odd things like these requests. Checking himself one last time in the mirror—he looked good—he headed to his first school dance.
He’d missed quite a bit of the initial mingling and dancing. As he entered the school’s ballroom, he found it exactly suited everything he could wish for, the place being smallish, ever so slightly seedy, badly lit, hung with school banners, and filled with a motley assortment of students in “fancy” outfits that would have the court at Castle Vega in hysterics. To his surprise—though upon consideration, he should have expected it—the crowd ranged from the elderly to what looked like children too young to be in adult company. From venerated faculty to new students, he supposed. After the posturing and tail-sniffing of court, this motley party felt like a breath of fresh air.
A ceremony appeared to be underway, with a small gathering on the stage. Oh, right. This was the Winter Solstice Ball so they’d be crowning a Solstice King or Queen, as was traditional in this region. Nobody did that sort of thing at Castle Vega, of course, as Soren was the only king and took unkindly to any suggestion otherwise, even in fun. Out of the fourteen mothers of Soren’s legitimate children, he’d only made three of them queen—and none of those had lasted long. Soren didn’t share power well.
They made the announcement just as Sebastien walked in,making him laugh at himself that he’d expected the musical flourish to be about him, when instead they called out the name of the young woman receiving a glittering tiara along with the title of Winter Queen: Rose, the celebrated oneiromancer.
And the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.
Maybe it was her magic, because it shimmered around her like a cloak, even to his barely sorcerous gaze. Though he was getting better at deciphering that, paying better attention to the magical auras he’d once dismissed as weird colorations. She also seemed vaguely familiar, as if he’d glimpsed her before, that dreamlike feeling of déjà vu. But she also simply… dazzled him.
She wore her hair in cascading curls, black as midnight, her tiara like a shining star atop them. They’d made the tiara of clear crystals, shaped into snowflake patterns swirling together, and the jewelry confection highlighted her smooth brown skin and large, dark eyes beneath. Red-painted lips curved in a contained smile, a perfect bow curving her upper lip, her high, arched cheekbones flushed with pink excitement reflected in those glittering dark eyes.
