Persie Merlin and the Dying Song

By Bella Forrest

No one knows what the imperious Victoria Jules has in store for them. Though what's a few monsters, after all? Persie eats them for breakfast, almost literally. But she's still in for the biggest, most shocking Purge of her life yet, a Purge that will change her life in unfathomable ways.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bella Forrest
• Release date: Nov 1, 2023
• ISBN: 9798868975424

Bella Forrest

Bella Forrest stands as a celebrated literary figure, widely recognized for her significant contributions to the genres of fantasy and young adult fiction.Her meteoric rise to prominence commenced with the extraordinary success of "The Gender Game" and "A Shade of Vampire" series, garnering immense praise from readers and catapulting her into the realm of literary acclaim. "The Gender Game" series, renowned for its dystopian themes and richly developed characters, captivated audiences and served as a pivotal stepping stone toward her well-deserved renown. The triumph of these series propelled her into an exploration of a diverse array of fantastical narratives.Bella Forrest's literary journey is marked by a remarkable blend of creativity and adaptability. She has penned a plethora of books that have struck a chord with a wide readership, offering intricate plots, multi-faceted characters, and immersive world-building within her narratives. These qualities have positioned her as a beloved author among readers seeking engaging and imaginative tales.With an unmatched prolific writing style and an ever-growing global fan base, Bella Forrest continues to enthrall readers with her storytelling finesse, firmly establishing herself as a luminary within the literary landscape.

Book preview

1

Persie

Come out, come out, wherever you are… I stood in absolute darkness, accompanied only by the sound of my own breath. Harsh and painful in my exerted lungs. I turned to my right and spat, hawking out the phlegm that’d gathered like blood in my throat. Not very ladylike, but niceties had no place on a battlefield.

Where are you? I whispered. In conflict, the waiting part sucked the most. The nerves jangling in my veins, ramping up the adrenaline so the fight half of my fight-or-flight response would be ready for action. My muscles ached beyond the point of human endurance. Even a single step or a twist of the head sent pain shooting through me, all the way down to my bones. But I couldn’t stop. I had to be patient. I had to endure. That was the way of a hunter—capture the beast or be killed. One slip and my head might roll.

A warrior of the Light is never in a hurry. Time works in his favor; he learns to master his impatience and avoids acting without thinking. Paolo Coelho’s wise words never let me down, even through the brain fog of exhaustion and agony. I was battered but not broken, and I couldn’t allow my concentration to creep elsewhere. Not with the threat all around me, lurking in the shadows, preparing to pounce.

Blinding light stung at my eyes, now too accustomed to the gloom. Squeezing them shut, I ducked on instinct. A second later, a crackling Raiju appeared out of nowhere, sailing over the top of me and making every hair stand on end. I knew these well, from monster dreams and the Institute’s entrance test, making them old favorites. White fur with blue streaks, and two glowing eyes that pierced even the darkest shadow, with the static electricity of a whole lightning storm contained inside its wolf-like form. And it could pack one heck of a bolt, to go with it.

There you are. I wrenched my body around to face the beast, its fangs bared. I twirled my pre-hexed Chaos staff and stowed it behind my back as I waited for the monster to strike—a four-foot pole of tempered bronze, ornately crafted to look like two intertwining sea serpents. At either end, two green glass orbs that held the power to temporarily stun small-to-medium sized monsters: a detail I’d learned the hard way, after trying it on a rock troll. It was Atlantean-made and Genie’s Christmas gift to me, sourced and sent by her father. A costly present from my best friend, in more ways than one, but now I couldn’t be without it. I’d learned through Marcel’s martial arts lessons that pre-emptive attacks and hand-to-hand combat weren’t my forte. As a fighter, I was purely reactive, and a bit of a demon with a weapon in my mitts.

Extending one hand, I beckoned to the monster. We don’t have all day, buddy. And I don’t have that much left in the tank. It couldn’t understand me, so speaking out my weakness didn’t matter.

With a howl that sounded like a thunder crack, the Raiju launched itself in my direction. Clenching my jaw against my screaming muscles, I twirled the staff out from behind my back. Seizing it in both hands, I struck upward with just enough pressure—not too hard to cause real pain to the creature, but not a light tap either. The immobilizing orb hit the monster in the fleshy part of its belly and a pulse of gassy green light powered outward, running the length of the Raiju. Its body stiffened mid-air and it crashed to the ground like a lump of frozen meat, skidding a yard or so before it came to a stop.

Are you going to stay down? I whipped out a practice puzzle box, courtesy of Naomi Hiraku, Chief Engineer. After all, these monsters weren’t the real deal, just full-blown, 3D, physically detailed simulations that acted like the genuine article. And so, I treated them as such.

Bowling underarm, I was about to skim the practice box across the ground toward the downed Raiju when the creature jumped up. Its eyes glowed with renewed anger, fangs gnashing in irritation. The immobilizing features of the staff’s orbs were hit and miss, depending on the monster, but it also took into account how many monsters I’d already taken down. At the latest count, I’d captured nineteen in this one session alone. I needed this Raiju to make it a full twenty before I could call it a day, as per the personal goal I’d set myself that morning. Another suggestion of Victoria’s (on top of keeping my Purge journal), that I give myself a challenge to complete each day and cross it off my calendar when I’d achieved it.

Oh, come on. I rolled my eyes and shoved the practice box back into my pocket, before spinning the staff in the air before me, the smooth bronze like an extension of my own arms. This thing had been an absolute godsend, taking me up a few notches in my physical-based classes. And it felt really freaking good to not be at the bottom of the pile anymore.

The Raiju settled back onto its haunches: a coiled spring. I pulled back the staff and held it diagonal against my chest, panting hard. In a lot of ways, these solitary practice sessions were harder than the ones I took with the rest of my class. After all, I was my greatest judge and my greatest enemy. I had to prove to myself that I could cope with anything the hunting world threw at me, and that was never more insistent in the back of my head than when I fought alone.

Are we being coy today? I wonder if that’s how Naomi rigged you. More evasive than combative. It’s hard to tell. I spoke aloud to try and make sense of my ‘enemy,’ though I doubted I would ever think of any monster—real or simulated—as that. My hunting education was a means to an end; a way to capture monsters and learn more about each kind in the hopes of, eventually, coming up with a better place for them to go. Baby steps in a brighter direction that didn’t involve glass orbs or boxes. A secret endeavor that I knew might not even come to full fruition in my lifetime, but a girl could dream big… right?

The Raiju lunged forward, sparks flying from its paws as it sprinted across the hard, wooden floor of the training hall. Unlike Marcel’s dojo, there were no mats or sprung floors to soften the landings here if I hit the deck. No, this was the realm of Tarif Hosseini—Master of the Hunt and educator on Monster Technique. When the lights were on, you could see his signature style of elegance and a love of history in the décor: armless statues from Ancient Persia, tapestries depicting bygone Arabian battles on horseback, with tall, black clay urns standing sentinel over the hall. The latter were etched with ancient symbols from Babylon, by all accounts, though Tarif never let on about where he’d acquired all of these things from. He continued to be as much of a mystery in his interior design as he was in himself. An egg that nobody could quite crack.

Patience… Patience… Patience… I waited until the last second before striking out with the staff, landing a hard knock to the back of the Raiju’s neck. A second pulse of gaseous green light spread out over the creature, its legs buckling beneath it as it careened face-first into the ground. This time, it stayed down. I pulled the practice puzzle box back out but couldn’t quite bring myself to catch the beast. Not yet. I wanted to experiment with the amount of time I had with a creature like this, between stunning it and it getting back up again after a second hit. If there was a Raiju at the end-of-year exam, I’d need to know something like that. See, there was more to these solitary fighting sessions than the act of purely capturing as many monsters as possible. This was how I learned more about the minutia of each beast, and knowledge spelled power. The staff had taken me up the class ranks, but so had my attention to detail, and my retention of those unique facts.

Where did a whole year go, huh? Six more months had whizzed by like weeks, putting us firmly back in March, where all of this mayhem had begun a year ago. We’d barreled straight through Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas, the Winter Solstice, New Year, and I’d barely realized under the hefty snowdrift of studying, training, practicing, rinsing and repeating. First years weren’t permitted to go home for any of the holidays, so they’d just passed by like ordinary working days for us students. There’d been a banquet and a party on Christmas Day, a vigil of sorts on the Winter Solstice with candles and pagan readings, and another shindig on New Year’s Eve, but that’d been about the crux of the Institute’s celebratory allowances. Being in Ireland and all, most of the people here weren’t even sure what Thanksgiving entailed beyond the need for a turkey, and they didn’t really go in on the whole Halloween thing.

Now, in just a fortnight’s time, I’d face the exam that would either guarantee my progression into second year or see me turfed out of the Institute for good. So, massive stakes, with my entire future riding on my success. First, there’d be a theoretical exam—the easy part, as far as I was concerned. Second, there’d be a practical exam: a hunt. A real hunt, with real monsters, in uncontrolled conditions. AKA, the hard part, and the reason I was killing myself with all of these extra sessions alone. If I passed, I’d be eligible for the apprenticeships with illustrious monster hunters and Institute alumni that made up the second-year syllabus.

It’ll be worth it. That’s where my real training will begin. I wanted to be out in the field more than anything. No, that wasn’t exactly true—I wanted to be out of the Institute and its surprisingly small boundaries. It had grown much too stifling, after everything that had gone on with Victoria and Reid and the Veritas. The rose-tinted glasses were firmly in the trash, and the only reason I still listened to a word that Victoria said, and continued my private tutorials on willful Purging with her, was because… Well, when it came down to it, we didn’t have concrete proof that she was the one who’d cursed Reid in the first place. They were just suspicions and assumptions that still had their share of reasonable doubt. Even Nathan swung back and forth between her potential guilt and the possibility of coincidence, like a never-ending pendulum.

The Raiju whined, its forelegs spasming.

I bet you feel as crappy as I do, huh? Sorry about the knock to the neck, I murmured, approaching the creature. I sat down in front of it and primed the practice puzzle box, pushing it right up to the Raiju’s white fur. It might not have been a real beast, but it seemed real, and that was enough to tug on the old heartstrings. I couldn’t let it suffer any longer. It zapped into the sea-green box and the lid snapped shut, the silver etchings that represented monsters of Earth, Air, Fire, and Water, glowing in the gloom of the training hall. Picking it up, I twisted the moveable slats of the box into a random pattern, locking the Raiju inside.

If only controlling everything else was as simple as turning the segments of a puzzle box. I flopped back onto the ground, staff at my side, puzzle box on my chest, and stared up at the black ceiling, where I knew golden-painted carvings of Ifrits and fiery snakes writhed. I was glad of the dark, so I wouldn’t have to see them. They’d always left me feeling a bit unnerved.

Closing my eyes, safe in the knowledge that nothing else was going to erupt out of the shadows (since I’d only released twenty simulations), I allowed myself to think of the one person I kept fighting out of my thoughts: Reid Darcy. I hadn’t heard from him since the fight in the fishery, when I’d let him walk free. The only thing I had was his number in my phone, and a tiny green icon beside his name that flashed up whenever he was online. So, I knew he was still active, in that sense.

He’s just keeping his promise, I told myself. If I helped him, he’d sworn to leave this part of the world off his organization’s radar. Did I believe he’d actually do that? Not a chance. But it looked like I’d been wrong. He was keeping his distance, not responding to any messages or bothering us again, now that he wasn’t infecting anyone anymore. Leviathan had kept me informed about that, reaffirming my confidence that the antidote had done away with the side-effects of the Fear Dearg curse. The contagious aspect had dissipated and all those who’d gotten sick had recovered, but Reid still suffered, alone, from the transformation part.

Even if you are lurking nearby, I wouldn’t know about it, I whispered. I didn’t get out of the Institute much, adding to the air of claustrophobia that made this end-of-year exam so damned important. My get-out clause. Victoria had made it abundantly clear, after I’d revealed the truth of Reid and the Veritas and my last battle with them, that I wasn’t to go anywhere beyond the perimeter on my own, considering the trouble I’d made and been through. It wasn’t as though I had a leg to stand on, to disagree. But I would’ve liked some room to breathe, especially with the stress of my studies skyrocketing.

I got away from one suffocating environment at the SDC, only to struggle with another. I guess the grass really isn’t greener… I smiled drily.

A growl in the dark jolted me upward. Fumbling for my staff, I left the practice puzzle box on the floor—something of a faux-pas, but the sound had taken me by surprise. I jumped up, eyes scouring the shadows in confusion. Had I caught twenty, now, or nineteen? Now that I thought about it, I couldn’t remember. I’d been so sure, but a second growl in the gloom brought in a whole barrage of doubt.

You should’ve snuck up on me! I shouted to take the edge off my nerves, like swearing on a ghost train. Of course, whatever this simulation was, it wouldn’t understand me. Real monsters had a better idea of what I was saying to them, for the most part, but it was the one detail these jack-in-the-box beasties lacked. They didn’t see me as a creator of their kind.

The eerie click-click of claws tapped on the hard floor, off to my left. It sounded like a group of beasts… and they were running. I whipped around as fast as I could, my stamina running on fumes.

Crap, crap, crap, crap… No, just think. Focus. Concentrate. I tried to steady my rattled brain, gripping my staff tighter. In hunting, one of the first rules was to expect the unexpected. I couldn’t let this shake me. So I’d miscounted… Sure, it wasn’t ideal considering my fatigued state, but there’d be no naps or breathers out on an actual mission. If I wanted to show I had what it took to get through my end-of-year practical, I needed to catch whatever was hiding in the darkness.

A blur shot out of the shadows and collided with my chest. I twisted my staff a second too late, grunting as the air got pushed out of my lungs on a rush of pain. That one would bruise, for sure. I heard the creature land, but I couldn’t see it, as it scuttled away with a patter of unseen paws. Great… It’s camouflaged. The thought burst into my head, and my Mother of Monsters sense took over, scanning through my mental compendium of monsters for any creatures with that capability, to try and narrow the field a little.

While my brain did that, I closed my eyes and listened for the clatter of claws. They were on my right now. Bracing myself and getting my staff ready, I waited until I heard a pause in that pattering sound. Spinning the staff like a Catherine wheel, I heard the yelp as it hit one of my mystery assailants. A puff of green light rippled around something on the floor, revealing the creature. A strange-looking thing with the head of a rabbit, a thin body, a pair of human ears, back legs that reminded me of a small bear, and forelegs that were smaller than the back. The monster repository in my head homed in on one particular species, the name flashing up in my subconscious: rompos. Nasty little suckers who didn’t usually attack the living, but could gnaw the living—or, rather, dead—daylights out of corpses. Plus, they could blend into their surroundings like chameleons, hence the camouflage.

Gimme a break! Why can’t there just be one of you? I grumbled, knowing I’d need to down the whole bunch before I could send out a puzzle box. Real puzzle boxes were modified so you could catch a group separately, but since these were simulations, they all had to be captured in one go.

I whipped around at another patter of feet. They were coming at me from all angles now, at least if my ears could be trusted. Letting everything else melt away, aside from the sounds of their claws on the wood floor, I slashed the staff through the air in a diagonal. A second yelp chirruped out, the rompo hitting the floor as the stunning orbs worked their magic.

Genie, I could kiss you. The whole hunting game had changed for me, after she’d given me this staff. Like Tarif and Marcel had taught me—as a non-magical, weapons and devices were my best friend. I just wished I could see more of my actual best friend, as well as the gift she’d furnished me with. I missed her. In the last six months, after I’d caught her and Nathan stealing a smooch in the Repository, I hadn’t seen her as often as before. It wasn’t a given anymore that she’d come to my room in the evenings, or we’d spend our weekends together. All that time that I’d taken for granted was now split in half with the boyfriend, though she tried to include me wherever she could. It just wasn’t that comfortable having the pair be on their best behavior, not even daring to kiss or cuddle whenever I was around. If anything, it just made me feel like more of a third wheel, instead of an integral part of a tricycle.

I gripped the staff at either end and shoved it outward, hearing a third squeak as another rompo hit the deck. I supposed there was one silver lining to being a third wheel, and constantly needing to come up with excuses not to join them on an awkward outing. It’d given me the opportunity to really hone my physical fighting skills. Sure, I wasn’t at Genie’s level, and I doubted I ever would be, since that stuff came so naturally to her, but no-one could deny my vast improvements. In six months, I’d put myself firmly in the middle of the class deck, and I was determined to never come in last place again.

It’s okay, anyway. I took a pause to readjust my grip. She’s in love, and that matters more than anything. I wasn’t envious, I wasn’t angry, I wasn’t miffed. I wanted them to be happy, especially as I had no idea how her dad would take the relationship. They might have hardships ahead, in the name of love, but that was a bridge for Genie to either cross or burn later. For me, I just wished they could be more comfortable in my presence, so we could all talk the way we used to. Don’t get me wrong, we still met and discussed things about the Veritas, and Victoria knowing more about them than she’d let on, and about her cursing Reid, but casual chatter was harder to come by. Especially as we hadn’t made much headway with any of those three topics, since no-one else seemed to know anything about the witch hunters or Victoria’s potential shadier side. I had a feeling that Charlotte Basani knew something, but her lips were sealed tighter than a particularly tough pickle jar. That meant the Basani Twins likely knew something about the witch hunters, as well, and it had trickled down to Charlotte. I mean, it was hard to believe there was anything that Victoria knew that the twins didn’t.

Distracted by my thoughts on Victoria and the Veritas… and a little dose of Reid, I didn’t sense my attackers in time. Two hefty thuds pounded into my back, sending me sprawling forward. I tried to strike out with my staff as I fell, but it sailed through thin, rompo-free air. My chest took the blunt force of the floor, winding me completely as I lay there, flattened. A stark reminder that, though I was in the middle of the class deck, I still had a long way to go. I’d been winning more often than I’d been losing, of late, but no-one could win all the time. Aside from Genie.

A puzzle box skidded across the ground and came to a halt a few yards in front of my face. Emitting a crackling bronze pulse, it sucked in the rompos, even the ones I hadn’t grounded yet. I lifted my weary head in confusion.

Is… someone there?

A chuckle cut through the silence, and a figure emerged from the darkness. Tarif Hosseini, the Master of the Hunt. Apologies for the unexpected final battle. I wanted to see if you could handle it.

I groaned. I knew I’d caught twenty.

Indeed. I have been watching you for some time, he said, offering a hand to help me up. I took it. I wasn’t too proud to accept someone’s help in dragging my tired ass off the floor. I have to admit, I am thoroughly impressed. There were five rompos released, and you managed to incapacitate three, bringing your grand total to twenty-three monsters controlled in one session. He dusted off my shoulder like a proud father. You have come a long way since your arrival.

I’d hope so, I retorted wryly. Otherwise, what have I been doing for a year?

He laughed; his brown eyes filled with warmth. An excellent point, well made.

It was hard to think of myself at the very beginning of all of this; a newborn foal of a hunter who had barely learned to walk, just stumbling through everything and endlessly falling over my own legs. Whoever she had been, I wasn’t her anymore. Thinking about that clueless girl was like looking at an old photograph, yellowed at the edges, perhaps faded to a sepia tone. A distant, but sometimes fond, memory. She hadn’t known just how easy she had it.

Would I have done it, would I have gone to that entry exam, if I’d known what I know now? I smiled secretly, knowing the answer. There was no scenario in which I saw myself avoiding the steps that had brought me here, or the struggles I’d been through with my curse. Week in, week out, I created incredible, living, breathing, unique creatures. Who would’ve thought that horrifying turn of events on my eighteenth birthday would’ve turned into a gift, instead of a curse? And, what was more, though I hadn’t been able to replicate what I’d done with Atlas—my fire-breathing behemoth—I had managed to delay Purges every so often, usually choosing to succumb to them on a weekend when I knew I had an especially trying week ahead.

Can I ask you a question? I leaned on my staff for support.

Of course. He dipped his head, granting permission.

I squinted at him. Does everyone land on their ass every now and again, even the top ranked hunters?

Oh yes. He grinned. It is as much a part of hunting as a puzzle box. A hunter without a fine array of bruises is no hunter at all.

Then I must be better than I think. I sucked in a breath, feeling the impact of the rompo who’d smashed into my chest, layered with the fresh pain from the floor.

He nodded sagely. Yes, I daresay you are.

Maybe I could chalk this session up to a win, after all.

2

Persie

W ould you care to join me in the Lounge for a cup of tea? Tarif clapped his hands to turn on the rest of the training room’s lights. My eyes winced, lids flickering at the bombardment. You have been training relentlessly, but it is always important to implement rest in your agenda. If you push yourself too far beyond your limits, you will have nothing left to give when a real conflict comes around.

The Lounge was the only real place in the Institute, aside from lessons and organized events, where the realms of students and Scholars collided. A café of sorts, where status and hierarchies weren’t as important. Sometimes, students would have appraisals there with their instructors, or groups of Scholars would gather alongside groups of weary trainees who had that haunted, ‘Chaos, I’ve got an exam coming up,’ look in their eyes. Nevertheless, it was an honor to be invited there by any Scholar, and an even greater honor to be invited by the Master of the Hunt. The only step up would’ve been coffee with Victoria, but I’d seen enough of her perpetually composed, unreadable face to last me a lifetime, honor or not.

A break would be great. I don’t think I can face the mountain of research I’ve got to do when I get back to my room. I accepted immediately; my throat so dry it felt like I’d just eaten a whole pack of Jacob’s Cream Crackers. A flimsy, bland delicacy over here, usually eaten with cheese, and guaranteed to suck all of the moisture out of your mouth after a couple. So, tea sounded good. I’d developed a taste for the stuff after being here for a year, though it’d taken me a while to get my head around the gauntlet of tea preparation—everyone had their own particular preference as to how long the teabag got steeped for, and how much milk was just enough. Somewhere between copper and mahogany seemed to be the ideal shade. Then, there was the sugar or no sugar argument. I liked it milky and sweet, slightly paler than the optimum color.

Tarif patted me on the back like a diligent child. Excellent. It is the same where I am from as it is here—there is very little that a well-made cup of tea cannot remedy.

A full body sports massage or a vial of revival tonic from the Infirmary might be quicker, but who am I to argue? I kept my sass to myself as I gathered my things, stuffing sweaty towels, my water bottle, and practice puzzle boxes into my backpack. Throwing one strap over my shoulder and picking up my staff, I headed for the door.

Ready when you are.

Tarif bowed and exited after me, as though he were paying reverence to his beloved hall, before switching off the lights and locking the door behind him. The halls were oddly empty, considering it was almost seven in the morning. Then again, most students were scrambling for every available second to work on their practical and theoretical prowess, making hermits out of the lot of us. Most of the second and third years had come back from their apprenticeships for their own end-of-year exams, which made getting hold of a spare training room or hall an arduous task. Hence me getting up at the ass of dawn on a Saturday to get some time to myself.

You ought to leave your research and take the rest of the day off. Perhaps work on meditation and self-care, to help process the trials of the week just gone, Tariq said as we walked. I felt as though I’d regressed back to my SDC school days, when following a teacher through the halls seemed unnatural and awkward.

I shrugged. I don’t have that luxury.

Then you must prioritize it. I assure you, you will feel better for it, he urged. Repairing the mind is as valuable as repairing the body.

It’s been a while since you were a student, huh? I laughed, hoping he didn’t think I was being cheeky.

Fortunately, he chuckled in response. Indeed, it has. In truth, I often pity the trainees, as there is little opportunity for you all to stop and smell the proverbial roses.

It’s all worth it though, right? Please, tell me it is, or I might lose my marbles. It was a genuine question. I wanted to hear from someone in the know that all of this pain and effort would pay off, in the end.

He nodded. "I believe so. Once you have the skills and you are let loose into the outside world, the memory of your hardships will fade, and you will realize that everything you have learned has set you in good stead. He smiled to himself. There is nothing quite like heading out on a mission and capturing a monster, knowing that you have potentially saved lives."

I pretended to mop my forehead with the back of my forearm. Phew.

Ten minutes later, we reached the Lounge. It was a long, monastical sort of space with vaulted wooden ceilings and stained-glass windows that sprayed rainbow light onto the gray stone floor, and heavy-duty tables that had matching pews instead of chairs. Medieval chandeliers of black iron, with actual candles in place of bulbs, hung at intervals. Not very practical, but pretty inspiring to look at. I loved it here, though I didn’t have much chance to spend time relaxing with a cup of coffee from the service bar at the farthest end of the room. Honestly, I wished I could have summer back, when Genie, my classmates, and I had actually had the freedom to enjoy ourselves.

I will go and order the teas. What is your preference? Tarif gestured for me to sit at the nearest table. There weren’t too many people in here so early in the morning, most choosing to go next door to the banquet hall, so it was nice and quiet. A welcome respite from all of the grunting and hissing and yelping I’d been doing in the training hall.

Milk and two sugars, I replied. For a split-second, Tarif’s nose wrinkled up in disapproval. I guessed he was more of a purist when it came to tea.

He dipped his head. I will not be long.

Sinking down onto the pew, I shuffled along toward the wall and dumped my bag and staff beside me. Unleashing a sigh, I rested my head up against the cold stone and closed my eyes. I really could’ve fallen asleep in here, but I quickly remembered that I was about to have tea with one of the Institute’s most esteemed members. I doubted he’d take kindly to me dozing off before we’d even started talking.

Eyes open, Pers! I scolded myself, forcing my exhausted body to sit upright and my heavy eyelids to cooperate.

Twiddling my thumbs while I waited for the tea, I observed the other folks in the room. There were eight in total, though seven were only vaguely familiar: assistants, admin people, and a Scholar or two who weren’t on our first-year schedule. I let my tired gaze settle on the one face I knew all too well, and the woman opposite her who bore a striking resemblance. Charlotte Basani and her mother, Shailene. At least, I thought it was Shailene and not her sister, Fay. Identical twins were tricky to tell apart for that exact reason. They were eating breakfast at one of the tables by the service bar and seemed to be elbows deep in a very animated, though deliberately hushed conversation.

I watched with interest, trying to figure out what they were saying. Maybe that was nosy of me, but they drew my eye. Charlotte had just rolled her eyes at something her mother had said, while the older woman sat back in despair, her body language—even from behind—stiff with tension. It reflected in Charlotte’s face as she leaned closer to her mother, wielding her fork like a conductor’s baton as she responded to whatever had been said.

Is it always like that? My mom had a similarly mighty legacy, but our relationship was fairly smooth sailing these days. We spoke most weeks, and the conversation flowed easily and naturally. Occasionally, we had conflicts over me getting enough sleep, eating enough, and the usual mom-like worries, but this looked like something else. A genuine discomfort between mom and daughter.

Suddenly, Charlotte’s eyes locked with mine and I looked away so fast I almost cricked my neck.

Dammit. She must have known I’d been trying to eavesdrop. We’d developed something of an amicable relationship, more like acquaintances than friends, and I didn’t want to sabotage that. Personal family dynamics were such a private thing, and I immediately regretted prying into what was going on. In that one fleeting look from Charlotte, I’d sensed her embarrassment and irritation at being seen locking horns with her mom.

One abomination. Tariq set down a white mug with a swirling blue pattern etched into the ceramic.

I smiled, making sure to avoid any glance toward the far side of the room. Thanks. I cradled my hands around the mug, letting the warmth seep into my aching fingers. What did you go for?

Black tea, as it should be. He flashed a grin as he took the pew opposite and took a sip of his drink. He sighed with satisfaction. Ah, there is nothing quite like the first one of the day to revive one’s spirits.

I could do with a whole IV line, I replied, struggling with the pains in my worn-out muscles. My palms would never be the same again, either, thanks to the staff. I had some impressive calluses along the fleshy pads, though at least I didn’t have to worry about the huge blood blisters anymore. Those had nearly made me give up using the staff altogether, despite it giving me an upper hand in practical classes.

Tarif