First Class

The upper door to the amphitheater swung open five minutes before eight bells, and for the first time, Princess Morenne stepped into a room with all her siblings.

In unison, the six of them turned in their seats to stare up at her with undisguised curiosity. From Prince Aldan, less than a year younger than she, to Princess Vanerra, the youngest at nine years old—all of Emperor Khellvain’s offspring by his wife and various concubines had been born in that five-year period. The reason there had been none since was a source of constant worry and speculation among the court.

Never in his hearing, of course.

“Princess Morenna,” said Professor Finnean, the skinny man standing by the lectern with a pinched expression behind his overlarge glasses. “You are late.”

“I was told the lesson began at eight bells. I still have ample time to find a seat.”

“All your siblings are already present; we are waiting on you, your Highness.”

“Are you not waiting on the time for class to begin?”

“Do not argue with your lecturer!” Finnean barked. “Take your seat and— Why in the world would you bring a sword to a magic lecture?!”

“What a question,” Princess Ophia sniffed. “One does not ask a Miurdan why she carries a weapon; one should be confused if she did not.”

“Princess Ophia,” Finnean said wearily, “you have always had the good taste to come to class unarmed.”

Ophia held up a hand and a spear of pure ice materialized in the air above it. “I have never been unarmed in my life, Professor.”

“Dispell that!” he exclaimed. “No unauthorized casting during class!”

“As our elder sister was just explaining,” Prince Rakkan said merrily, “class has yet to begin, Professor. I haven’t heard any bell, have you?”

“That isn’t—enough foolishness! Princess Morenna, take your—ah.”

She had already perched in an empty seat during the preceding exchange, and set to studying her siblings as curiously as they did her.

Morenna was the only one armed, which seemed surprising for a gathering of the children of Khellvain, but she was not about to step into an unfamiliar setting without the comforting weight of Blackwing at her hip. She was not the only one wearing a formal Miurdan mantle, however.

Hers was new, a gift from Annabel: evidently, for the last two years, she and Gerard had been collecting and cleaning the feathers dropped all over the balcony by Morenna’s pets, and Annabel had sewn them together to form the garment she had given to her Princess yesterday. The mantle of crow feathers went perfectly with her black funerary dress, and matched Blackwing’s decorations especially well.

Aldan and Ophia, who were fully Miurdan and looked it, of course wore their mantles. So did Princess Espa, who had her mother’s Rahabin copper complexion and green hair; her mantle was of leaves, carefully pressed and waxed to preserve their green color to match her hair. Prince Rakkan and Prince Uthien wore no mantles, despite looking predominantly Miurdan.

“And what do you mean, ‘good taste’?” Rakkan continued. “Are you impugning our glorious Miurdan culture, Professor? I wonder what our father would say?”

“Do you wonder that because he never talks to you?” Ophia sniffed.

“Chiefly, yes.”

“Sister, there’s no need to be cruel,” Aldan murmured.

Outside, a bell began tolling the hour.

“Ahem,” Professor Finnean said loudly. “It is now eight bells, and time for class to begin. Remain seated and be silent while your lecturer is speaking, please. Now, the foundations of magic are in its six principal manifestations: fire, water, air, earth, force, and light.”

Suddenly the assembled young royals stopped surreptitiously gawking at Morenna and frowned at their professor in consternation, several exchanging confused looks.

“There are certain sub-categories of each which are also common—in fact, life magic, which is a sub-category of earth magic, is actually more common than pure earth magic. Similarly, ice magic such as Princess Ophia is gifted to wield, is a sub-category of water—”

“Are you serious right now?” Rakkan demanded.

“Prince Rakkan, we raise our hands to ask questions in the halls of academia,” the Professor said severely. “These lectures are arranged by the Emperor for your benefit; do not interrupt. Now, as I was saying, there are additional forms of magic which you need not study in detail, except to know that they are very rare, and so dangerous that any individual afflicted by them is considered accursed. Of these, shadow magic is the one you are likeliest to have heard of. Princess Espa, you have a question?”

Espa lowered her hand. “Professor, why are we reviewing this? This is the most basic stuff—every child who can talk knows this much. We all moved beyond this years ago!”

“Ah, but your Highness, who is ‘we?’” Finnean asked with a reptilian smirk. “And who is ‘all?’ I remind you, class, that we have a new student today—one who has never studied a day in her life. In the interest of fairness, we must all begin at the beginning, so as to remain in step intellectually. I’m sure you will all have the grace to be patient with your sister, who has never participated in civilization before.”

Groaning, Ophia slumped down in her seat, while Rakkan rolled his eyes with a derisive grin.

“Is this introductory lecture going to cover why water and air magic uniquely among the main categories do not drain strength from the caster?” Morenna asked.

“Raise your hand to speak, Princess,” Finnean snapped.

“No. Earn my respect before you make demands of me, little man. Or,” she continued while he spluttered with incoherent fury, “will we discuss the ways in which ice and fire are more closely related than ice and water?”

“SILENCE!” Professor Finnean screeched. “Princess Morenna, these are heretical theories you are referring to! Where—when—how did you even learn of this?!”

“You’re the teacher here, allegedly,” she retorted. “We’ll ask you questions, not vice versa.”

“Oh, she is a hoot!” Rakkan crowed. “Morenna, where have you been all our lives?”

“Locked in a tower,” she snapped.

“Excuse me, Professor,” Prince Uthien said—politely, but without raising his hand. “I have no idea what theories you are talking about, but if Morenna is sufficiently erudite to even know any…heresy…it seems that she does not need an introductory primer to the very rudiments of magic. Why don’t we resume where our previous discussion ended, and if Morenna requires additional study, she can use the library like the rest of us?”

“That does seem like a better use of our classroom time than enduring your puerile attempts to turn us against Morenna,” Ophia added archly. “And kindly spare us such embarrassing ploys in the future. The ladies at any tea party I have ever attended would devour you like a school of piranha.”

Sitting silently while Finnean spluttered, Morenna found herself thinking that, somewhat to her surprise, she didn’t hate her siblings.