While Arielle was frozen in shock at the announcement, the steward turned from his argument with Estella and said, “You are Arielle Blacksoil?” He had an accent that she could not put a finger on, but it caused his words to lilt in a continuous nasally cursive that was a little annoying to the ear.
Ari nodded vaguely, and he put his hand on his abdomen and executed a deep formal bow. "I'm honored to meet you, my lady. Our great Lord has spoken often and enthusiastically about you, and he has granted us the privilege of delivering his gifts. Please escort us to your room so we can organize them accordingly.”
“Gifts?” she said.
“Yes. Attires and jewels from the Duke of Iverson himself. He thought you might want to peruse them at your own convenience, but if you would like to visit the boutiques and designers yourself, we can arrange that for you. The ball is in a little under two months, so there is plenty of time for you to make your selection."
Arielle stared blankly. The issue of the ball had entirely skipped her mind. She shook her head.
“No.”
“Excellent.” He clapped as he straightened. “You must already see something you like. Just lead us to your room, and we can start taking your measurements–”
“I already said no. I won't take them.”
“Yes, I realize it's hard to choose just one, but–” He paused as her words finally seemed to reach him. He adjusted his monocle. “Wait, what did you just say?"
“I can't accept these gifts. It's too much.”
“Ah.” Understanding dawned. “Do not feel burdened. Our benevolent lord is quite delighted to present this offering, and he made it clear to us that we must ensure you are happy with your choice before we leave. And if you are having trouble making a choice, then you can just keep all of them."
“I don’t want any choices. I don’t take gifts from people I barely know,” She had only met Lord Wesley once, and while he seemed alright at first, his insistence on ignoring her words and imposing his will on her was irritating.
She hadn't even decided whether or not she was going to his ball, and here he was, sending her expensive-looking dresses made from silk and cloudweave, with beaded details that would probably itch against her skin. She was not interested in any of the extravagant clothes or too-bright colors. She wasn't interested in the steward's words either. If anything held her interest here, it was the unicorn, as it was her first time seeing one. However, she couldn't accept that as a gift either.
"Please tell Lord Wesley that I appreciate the gesture, but I do not want any gifts. And I will not be attending the Iverson ball."
It seemed like no one was prepared for that answer.
The professor's disgruntled expression made way for surprise and confusion. The steward looked gobsmacked, as well as the row of men and women who stood next to the mannequins. One of them gasped loudly. The others whispered.
Even the unicorn eyed her in equine stupefaction.
There was instant murmuring from the crowd as Arielle bowed to the group and turned to make her way up the stairs to her room.
Once in there, she spotted Lyra at her desk writing.
“Is something happening outside?” Lyra asked, without looking up. "I saw through the window a lot of people rushing towards something. I'm trying to finish this before I go check it out."
“Hmm,” Arielle said noncommittally. She wondered whether to mention that an array of dresses had arrived for her, but ultimately she decided against it. It was not important. She had better things to do with her time right now, and Lyra seemed like she was also busy with homework.
Arielle sat at her desk and picked up her book about blood oaths. She'd barely gotten two sentences in before there was a knock on her door.
She sighed and got up to open it.
Wulfric stood at the helm, his head almost touching the top frame.
“To be fair,” Wulfric said. “I tried to talk him out of it.”
"Who?"
"My father. I told him you would probably hate the surprise, but you already know how stubborn he can get."
She nodded. Lord Wesley seemed like an exceptionally stubborn man.
Wulfric flashed his crooked smile. “I’ll keep the outfits in my room. Whenever you want, you can just pick one and sell the rest. It won’t matter to him.”
She shook her head. “I can’t accept a gift that expensive. Not from someone I don’t truly know.” Even from her siblings it was hard for her to accept unreciprocated favors, and her mother had cautioned her about the dangers of accepting such grand gifts from virtual strangers. "Besides, I'm not attending the ball."
“Don’t worry about the expense,” Wulfric said. “Believe me, this is nothing to my father. He once bought an entire countryside estate for my cousin just because she admired the flooring in one of the rooms."
“I’m not your cousin. I am not related to your father in any way."
“Yes, but he clearly wants you to be.”
"It doesn't matter. I already said no."
He crossed his arms over his chest. “Remind me again what your opposition is to joining our family. We are wealthy, well-respected. Beloved in our empire. My father’s a lot to handle sometimes, but he typically means well. My mother is beautiful and has always wanted a daughter. My stepmother is... “ He trailed off with that and raised an eyebrow. “Or perhaps you would prefer my brother? Is he truly more your flavor?”
“He’s not food, and neither are you.”
“Obviously. I’m just asking which one of us you prefer." He snorted. "I'm not usually so insecure when compared to him but–"
“I don’t prefer either of you,” she said, annoyance rising. “I don’t know either of you. I don’t know your family, and I don’t care to.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t.” Her voice heated up. “I do not appreciate the constant hounding on this matter. I am not attending the ball, I am not joining your family, and that is final."
Arielle's last words had nearly approached a shout, bouncing down the walls behind him.
Wulfric reacted as though she had slapped him.
Hurt bent his bushy eyebrows and turned his eyes the color of a stormy sea. His frown deepened, and then his expression closed up entirely.
He straightened, his shoulders shifting back and his chin going up in a stance befitting the son of the richest man in the land.
“I apologize for the constant hounding," he said coolly. "I didn't realize I was getting on your nerves so much. I thought after our conversation…” He shook his head. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter what I thought. Clearly I was wrong.”
Arielle felt a stray discomfort as Wulfric turned and walked back down the hallway, his usual careless swagger more like a stiff march now. It was obvious she had hurt his feelings, even though that had not been her intention. She had just been honest, and she didn't want his family's intrusion into her life. She especially disliked the way they ignored her boundaries and tried to bulldoze their way around her anyway.
Nevertheless, she didn't regret her decision not to go to the ball. She had been undecided before, but now she was entirely certain that she didn't want to attend just based on how insistent they were.
She just hoped her decision didn't reflect poorly on Elric.
She closed the door and turned around to find that Lyra was staring at her, no longer focused on her writing.
“That was a little harsh,” she mentioned as Arielle walked to her bed.
“Was it?”
“A little." She put down her pen, turning in her seat. “So the commotion downstairs was for you?”
Stolen story; please report.
She nodded. “Lord Wesley invited me to the Iverson ball, but I haven’t decided if I’m going to go yet. He sent over a bunch of dresses and wanted to bring them up to my room. I said no."
"What kind of dresses?" Lyra asked, interest sparking in her eyes.
Arielle shrugged. "I don't know. Colorful ones." It occurred to her belatedly that Lyra liked colorful dresses. She wondered if she would have preferred them. It didn’t matter. It wasn’t Arielle’s property to give away.
“I got invited too,” Lyra said. "To the ball that is."
“You did?”
“Yes. That’s the good news I wanted to share the other time, before the thing happened with your cousin,” she said. “Well, that and the fact that I managed to use [Rapid Growth] perfectly.”
“You did?” Arielle was more excited about the latter news. Lyra had always struggled with that spell, because while it was a Vitae-dominant spell, it was also Calor-heavy.
“Yes! I altered it slightly so it would have more Vitae. Can you believe I can alter spells now?” She beamed. “Well, one spell but still.”
“That’s very good,” Arielle grinned. “I’m happy about what you have achieved.”
“Thanks. I’m happy for myself too. I wanted to tell you, but you seemed down, and I couldn't find a good time. My father has been working for Lord Alderson for some time, who's a good friend of Lord Wesley. He got invited to the ball by him. Father's taking me along so I can meet these important people."
“Oh.” That was all Arielle could think of to say.
“You don’t understand what it means, do you?”
“What what means?”
“An invitation to the Iverson ball. It puts you in the room with elites. You could make so many connections there. I know you're powerful and your uncle's an Archmage, but that's just one territory out of many. There are many kingdoms and continents out there with their own set of rules and rulers, and they may have things that you need. Regional essence quotas, mining rights, research tools, access to other realms. Those don't rely just on power, but on making the right friends and impressing the right people. And with you attending as a guest of honor, all their eyes will be on you. That means that you’ll be one of the most important people there and everyone will want to talk to you. You could even earn yourself a private meeting with the council.”
“I don’t want that.”
“Yeah, I get it. I'm just letting you know what you were passing up on, in case you weren't aware."
Ari nodded and sat at her desk, opening the book up again.
“What happened between you and Wulfric, by the way?" Lyra asked. "At first I thought he was just messing around with you because you ignored him, but now I think maybe he likes you.”
"He doesn’t like me. He's pestering me because his father asked him to. The Lord wants me to marry one of his sons, and Wulfric perhaps wants it to be him."
Lyra gasped. "Are you serious?”
"It's my best guess." It was the only thing she could think of now that she put the information together in her head.
Elric had told her at some point that Lord Wesley had offered his sons to her for romantic interest, but none of them interested her. She did not think she’d ever been interested in marriage as a concept, not even when she was younger and thought it inevitable.
Her sister had announced years ago that she would never get married, and despite their mother's protests, Arielle had decided to follow in her footsteps.
So Lord Wesley's insistence was particularly grating, and his gifts were practically useless as she did not intend to give in to his demands.
Wulfric wanted to fulfil his father’s intentions, and she couldn’t begrudge him of that, but he was becoming more than a minor annoyance.
Lyra laughed. "Gosh, Arielle, do you realize a lot of people would kill to be in your position? Marrying into the Wesley family is a dream come true for many. You would be wealthy for life."
She was already wealthy, although Lyra probably didn't know that.
“And even without that, marrying Wulfric…” She shook her head. “There are worse choices. Lots of girls like him.”
“Why?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” she asked. "He’s like a charming prince. And he’s nice too. He never talks down to the sect kids as though we’re lesser than. He treats everyone politely. He's very handsome as well, and he can be funny.”
Arielle cocked her eyebrow. “Do you want to marry him?”
“No,” Lyra said quickly, her cheeks pinkening. “Not like that. I mean he’s handsome, but not in the way I prefer. Have you seen the play Cashmere?”
Arielle shook her head. She’d never seen any plays, as she had never been able to afford going to a theater.
“There’s an acting troupe that comes to Applesong every summer for it. The main actor who plays Cashmere, he’s so slender and dreamy with kind eyes.” She looked far away and put her hand on her chest. "He would be more my speed. I'm not interested in Wulfric like that, but he doesn't seem to be a bad guy."
"I never said he was. I just don't enjoy what he and his father are doing."
"I understand," Lyra said, and she went quiet for some time, enough for Arielle to complete reading a passage containing one of the origin stories for the blood oath.
This was the dhamphyric origin story, which stated that the first dhampyr was created from a blood oath involving the sacrifice of a saint, who was killed by his best friend, a powerful priest. The man had attempted to use the ritual to live forever, but instead he had been turned into a monstrous creature who hid from sunlight and craved blood.
“What if you’re wrong?” Lyra interrupted.
“What?”
“What if Wulfric's not just bothering you because his father asked him to? What if he genuinely wants to be your friend?" she asked. "Would that make it different?"
Arielle considered it.
She didn't think she could form a friendship with Wulfric. She didn't know much about him, but a lot of his mannerisms annoyed her, and his family seemed intrusive. Also, though she wanted friends, she might have reached her current threshold. She already didn't spend as much time with Maus and Lyra as she should. She couldn't divide that time further by adding Wulfric to the mix as well.
Although when she thought about his stiff gait and the hurt expression on his face, a stray arrow of guilt did pierce through her conscience.
It was obvious she had wounded him, and she didn’t like it. She hadn’t meant to do it.
Lyra said he was a good person, and Ari would have considered friendship if Wulfric had no other friends.
But he already had a lot of friends. He was surrounded by people constantly, and he didn't need her. So it was alright that she didn't want him either.
"No," she said. "I don't think it will."
***
Selena stepped foot in the North Base cave, for the first time since her first year at the academy.
Her initial visit had occurred after she'd gone too far in a duel and knocked her opponent out.
The kid had been a rude bully, but Vittoria's actions were determined to be at least partially intentional, so she had received a stern warning and had been assigned to sweep manalings from the cave every week for three months. It had been the most mind-numbingly tedious task she could have imagined, just pure torture, so much so that she avoided getting in trouble again, just to avoid coming here.
But now she was here of her own volition.
The custodian woman whose name she never bothered to remember stood behind her, leaning on the wall.
"I'm not sure we'll find any manalings for you to sweep," she said. "We've had record low exposure for months now."
"Really?"
"Yup. It's the strangest thing. Either students got better, or all our devices are on the fritz. But hey, I'm not complaining."
"Hmmm," Selena said as she glanced around. "You said for how long?"
"A few months."
"Was that before or after Arielle Blacksoil arrived?"
"A little after. Arielle is the last person to have swept mana in this cave."
"Really?" Selena turned, her mind working.
She had done some asking around and heard that the girl spent most of her time here, alone. They assumed that she was sweeping manalings, but if there was none to sweep, then what was she here for?
"So what does she come here to do?"
"I'm not sure," the custodian said. "I'm assuming she's doing something with the dean, as he's the one who gave the order allowing her to come as much as she wants. More recently, she comes with Professor Valeria, but I've caught her meditating alone once or twice."
"Meditating..." Selena trailed off, looking at the cave, using her heat vision to search the nooks and crannies. "Don't you find it suspicious that after Arielle arrived and cleaned up the cave, suddenly there are no more manalings? And now she comes here all the time to meditate?"
The short-haired woman frowned. "No. Why would that be suspicious?"
Fool.
Why did no one but her see just how suspicious this girl was?
Except maybe Anne, but Selena didn't really associate with the other girl anymore. Regardless, this cave was likely a part of the mystery of Arielle Blacksoil.
Arielle was up to something. Or maybe she was something.
Either way, it was wrong and irritating that only Selena could tell.
"I'll stay for a while," Selena said.
"What are you going to do?" the custodian asked.
"Just some meditation," she said as she sat in the center. "I'll be done soon, but you don't have to wait for me. I can always teleport back."
The woman gave her a scanning glance, then straightened.
"Alright. I'll go check the pipes, and we'll see if you're done by then."
Selena nodded, and after the woman left, she increased the intensity of her heat-seeking spell.
For once, she regretted that her build was mostly combative and she had very few surveillance spells in her arsenal. None that would last long after she left anyway. On the bright side, her perception was very high, not to mention that she had been meditating all her life. If there was something special about this cave, she would find it.
She sat cross-legged in the center of the cool ground, predicting the cross-path of ley lines. Then she closed her eyes and inhaled.
She remembered the spell that one of the elders had been trying to teach her. A powerful spell that allowed her to leave pieces of herself behind as a signature that she could track.
If one of those pieces got on Arielle, she could use that to monitor her movements and know where she went to consort with these demons. It would give her proof of where exactly Arielle got her special powers from.
It wasn't a spell Selena had perfected, but she was a genius. She would manage something workable.
As she continued to inhale and exhale, she began to feel a presence somewhere.
She couldn't describe it as anything other than darkness, born from nothing, there although her heat signature didn't pick up anything.
What was it? A demon?
Was Arielle's accomplice in this cave right now?
Rather than terror, Selena smiled.
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