Might and Magic
Adelaide spent the next few days feeling as though something were wrong.
And something was wrong, of course. Though she and Plum still slept in the same bed, still took meals and rest times together, even still shared intimacy, it felt as though something had fractured between the two of them. Adelaide imagined that they say on opposite sides of a crack in a breaking glass. Being with Plum was a constant reminder of that. Adelaide desperately wished that they could just talk about it, but each time she tried she only felt the crack widen.
So, Adelaide found other ways to spend her time. Members of the Law were given plenty of time in between missions, and though they were expected to help with chores and other housekeeping, that still left Adelaide with almost more free time than she knew what to do with. While Plum slept or read or did whatever else she did all day, Adelaide spent her days helping Minerva with the bookkeeping, or discussing dyadic theory with Liana and Willy. She even found herself spending some time with Caliburn, of all people. Always in a group setting, mind you, and never intentionally, but still.
Her favorite, though, was the time she spent with Theoderic. They’d been sparring occasionally, allegedly to help get Adelaide up to form as a dyadic magician and member of the Law. She suspected it was more that his fists were the only way that Theoderic truly knew how to spend time with others.
Regardless, Adelaide could tell she was making great improvements. Theoderic’s training involved first general exercises, building up her body’s tolerance for strain and exertion. Even after just two weeks, Adelaide could already feel the difference in her body.
And, she was becoming a better fighter, too. The next part of her training was strategic use of her barrier and basic hand-to-hand combat. He’d taught her the basics of how to throw a punch and a kick, and how to take them. She still didn’t stand a chance against Theoderic with no magic—she suspected she never would—but she nonetheless felt proud of her growth.
Today, Adelaide and Theoderic were sparring in the ring of the training ground. Neither of them used magic, to better work their bodies and train Adelaide in the fundamentals.
Adelaide ducked outside a punch that Theoderic threw her way, breathing heavy. She tried to follow up with a jab to his gut. He twisted, taking the blow with his chest instead, perhaps banking on Adelaide’s lack of momentum to weaken the blow. It did, and Adelaide cursed as her hand struck bone.
She stepped back, wringing her hand and wincing in pain. Theoderic grinned, and moved with her, pressing his advantage. Desperate, and nearly cornered, Adelaide swung for a punch at his head. Theoderic effortlessly stepped inside it, grabbed her outstretched arm with both hands, and used the momentum of this swing to yank her forwards. She tumbled over his body and sprawled on her back in the sand with a grunt.
After a moment, Adelaide laughed. “Ah, shades! I thought I had you for a moment there!”
Theoderic stepped up to her and stuck a hand out for her to take.
“What did you do wrong?” he asked, pulling her to her feet.
Adelaide brushed sand off her tunic, and grimaced as she felt some stuck to the back of her neck with sweat.
“I did not have enough momentum,” she answered, doing her best to unstick the sand from her neck. “I let you control the flow of the fight.”
Theodoric cocked his head. “True, but not what went wrong for you. You pushed too hard, and left yourself open. C’mon, let’s go again.” He stepped back and raised his hands into a fighting stance. Adelaide nodded and followed suit.
They fought another round, and this one too ended up with Adelaide flat on her back. Theoderic pulled her to her feet again. Before he could ask her what she did wrong again, they were interrupted by a slow, rhythmic clapping from near the entryway of the training grounds.
“Fighting with fists in an age of magic!” Caliburn said, his voice positively dripping with derision. “Well, I suppose I’ll not deny you two your hobbies.”
Adelaide rolled her eyes. “‘Tis important to know how to fight, Cal,” she said, knowing the diminutive of his name would irritate him. “What happens if you are disarmed, or your wand is taken away?”
“Perhaps,” Caliburn said, stepping closer and into the ring. He glanced distastefully at the sand. “But even ignoring all of the difficulties one would have to cross to take your wand away, you are a dyadic magician. You do not exactly need your wand, Vermillion.”
“All the more reason that I should not rely on it,” Adelaide answered. “And besides, ‘tis not difficult to take one’s wand away.”
Caliburn scoffed. “Perhaps, but even then, one could draw a spell with one’s finger. Magic is far greater—and more refined—a tool than one’s brutish fists.”
“So,” Theoderic said. “You think that in a duel, magic beats might, every time?” He glanced at Adelaide and raised an eyebrow, and Adelaide noticed the barest hint of a smirk in his expression. A smile crept across her own face as she caught his meaning.
“Perhaps not every time,” Caliburn mused, walking a lazy circle around Adelaide and Theoderic. “But perhaps nine out of-”
He didn’t get to finish his sentence as Adelaide’s fist connected with his jaw.
Caliburn sputtered, staggering backwards and clutching at his jaw. Adelaide hadn’t swung that hard—she suspected that his pride was hurt worse than his jaw—and she danced backwards on the balls of her feet, her fists raised in front of her.
Caliburn gaped at Adelaide, his eyes wide. “You hit me!” he gasped, still clutching at his jaw.
“She did, princeling,” Theoderic said, stepping back and folding his arms. “What’re you gonna do about that?”
Caliburn narrowed his eyes and cursed. His hand shot to his waist for his wand, but Adelaide was already on the move. She stepped inside his reach and swatted the wand out of his hands, and then pushed him backwards. He stumbled backwards a few steps, but maintained his footing.
“Why, you little…” he growled, advancing towards Adelaide with murder in his eyes. Adelaide grinned, and waited for the swing she knew was coming.
Sure enough, Caliburn threw a sloppy punch at Adelaide’s face. She stepped outside it, but used a trick that Theoderic had used on her numerous times: she swept with her leg as she moved, aiming to take Caliburn’s leg out from under him.
It worked, and Adelaide felt Caliburn tumble over next to her. She spun, and shot her foot out to step on the hand that was reaching for his wand just a few feet away.
Theoderic roared with laughter, and Adelaide found herself grinning too. Seeing Caliburn on the ground and at her mercy filled her with a burst of something adjacent to pride—she’d always secretly wanted to hit him like that. She released his hand and stepped backwards, still grinning.
“Shadow and shade, woman,” Caliburn swore. “Point taken,” he said sharply. His usually immaculate hair was rumpled, and sand streamed from his newly wrinkled tunic as he stood. “Though I still think you would benefit more from learning battle magic.”
Theoderic rubbed his chin, musing. “He does have something of a point, Addie,” he said. “I’m not much of a magician, but it would be good to know.”
Adelaide frowned. “Perhaps,” she said hesitantly. “Traditional magic has always been… difficult for me.”
“Have you tried the other schools?” Caliburn asked, ineffectually dusting sand off of himself. “Perhaps rose magic is just a poor fit.”
“Some,” Adelaide answered. “Admittedly very little, but I know some of the basic blue and yellow spells.”
Caliburn nodded. “You are a dawn magician, yes? Does that not imply that you should have an affinity for yellow magic as well?”
Adelaide considered for a moment. “I suppose. I’ve not given it much thought, and even little practice with the yellow.”
Caliburn heaved a sigh that Adelaide was sure had to be exaggerated for the effect.
“Very well,” he said, exasperated. “I suppose I shall deign to teach you, Vermillion.” He clapped, and picked his wand from where it lay in the sand.
“Come along!” he ordered. “Fetch your wand!”
Adelaide glanced at Theoderic, who gave her a noncommittal gesture that Adelaide interpreted as meaning something along the lines of why not give it a shot?
She shrugged, and trotted over to retrieve her wand.
Adelaide swore as yet another fireball erupted across her barrier. Cracks had begun spiderwebbing across it, and Adelaide felt her mana reserves draining rapidly.
“Come on, Vermillion!” Caliburn taunted her from across the ring. “Concentrate!” With a flick of his wrist, he closed his sigil and lobbed another fireball at Adelaide.
She tried to ignore the impact as it hit her barrier, and turned her full attention to the sigil she was drawing. The runes floated in front of her, a scarlet that seemed to be more and more orange with every passing day. She finished the last rune and glanced over her spell quickly. It looked good enough… She closed the sigil with a lopsided circle, but she still felt the telltale signs of yellow mana being drawn from the air around her.
She concentrated, trying to put every ounce of spare mental energy she had into the spell. She strained, trying to force her mind to shape the spell correctly. At the last second, she thought she felt something click into place.
The next fireball that Caliburn threw at her fizzled into nothingness a few feet away from her barrier as her ward took effect. She couldn’t help but let out a whoop of celebration, and she let her barrier drop-
Only to be doused in icy water as Caliburn finished another spell.
Adelaide spluttered, wiping water out of her face as she gasped at the cold. She’d fallen to her knees from the force of the water’s impact, and she sank the rest of the way to sit in the now-wet sand.
Caliburn smirked at her from across the ring.
“‘Do not celebrate until you are sure you have won,’” Caliburn quoted. “The first rule new magical duelists learn. Usually the hard way.”
It was day three of her dueling lessons with Caliburn. She was proving to take to this with far less ease than she had Theoderic’s sparring lessons.
Adelaide glared at Caliburn with only halfway feigned irritation. “Now that was just unnecessary,” she said, and then blew a wet strand of hair out of her face.
“Well, did you learn the lesson?” Caliburn asked with infuriating smugness.
“I suppose so,” Adelaide muttered, climbing to her feet.
“Then ‘twas effective! Here, let me…” he trailed off as he drew a sigil. Adelaide felt a chill as he closed the sigil, but then her body began literally steaming. In seconds, the water had evaporated off of her, and she was completely dry.
She smiled at Caliburn. “Thank you, Cal.” She’d started the nickname to annoy him, but it wasn’t that simple anymore. She was almost—almost—enjoying spending time with him.
Caliburn scoffed and looked away. “Yes, well,” he said, and cleared his throat. “‘Twould not do for Theoderic to nag at me for leaving his sand pit wet.”
Adelaide laughed. “Yes, and I am sure there was no other reason,” she teased.
Caliburn rolled his eyes, still refusing to meet Adelaide’s. “Your wards still need work, Vermillion,” he said, ignoring her jab. “Come, let us go again…”
Two weeks turned to three, and then four. Adelaide found herself relishing in the chances she got to spar with Theoderic or Caliburn, to escape the tension she still felt around Plum. Some days were better than others—sometimes, she could almost pretend that things were perfect. On bad days, though, she almost felt like a stranger to her.
Today was a very bad day.
Adelaide had woken up in a bad mood to begin with. She’d slept poorly, her night ravaged by nightmares, and could barely force herself out of bed. When she finally did, she could barely force herself to get down breakfast before heading down to spar with Theoderic—where she promptly ended up ass-down in the dirt enough times that she lost count.
She then got lectured by Minerva for twenty minutes over an arithmetic mistake she’d made in the books, only to then have a lunch that was undercooked and tasted like stale sawdust.
So, when she returned to her shared chambers with Plum to find her lover still sound asleep, she perhaps overreacted.
“All I am saying is that I would like to spend a little more time with you!” Adelaide practically shouted.
“Then perhaps you should spend less time getting into play fights with men!” Plum practically shouted back.
“You sleep through it anyway!”
“You are the one who wanted me to defend myself, Plumeria.”
Plum scoffed. “Do not turn that on me. ‘Twas your decision to start that silly routine.”
“And I am glad that I did! It feels good to succeed at and be praised for something for once.”
Plum narrowed her eyes. “What of all the praise I have given you?” she asked quietly.
Adelaide took a breath and took care to keep her voice even. “I appreciate all you give, truly. But it is also nice to hear it from someone else.”
“Because you take mine for granted.”
“Plum, that is not what I said.”
“‘Tis what you thought.”
“Do not tell me what I think!” Adelaide snapped. Plum flinched, and Adelaide immediately felt like a villain. Unbidden, Theoderic’s words came to her mind: you pushed too hard.
“Plum, I-”
“‘Tis fine, Adelaide,” Plum interrupted, clearly lying. She stood from where she sat on the edge of the bed, already reaching for her shoes.
“I am going for a walk,” she said as she tied her boots. “I need to get out of the light-forsaken basement.”
“Plum-”
“I said ‘tis fine.” Plum’s voice was not quite a yell, but there was a hard edge of anger to her tone.
“At least take someone with you,” Adelaide implored. “It could be dangerous.”
“I can handle myself just fine,” Plum answered tartly. She stood to leave, but paused at the door. She seemed as though she were about to say something.
“Will you be back?” Adelaide asked, her voice small.
Plum glanced back at her, finally meeting her eyes.
“Always,” she said, and then was gone, the door closing behind her.
“I thought I might find you here,” Adelaide called over the sound of the gusting wind.
She’d found Plum at the top of the derelict clocktower. Plum was simply standing there, leaning on the railing. She did not look back as Adelaide approached.
“And I thought you might follow me,” she replied.
Adelaide stepped up next to her and leaned on the railing as well. Plum raised one arm and pointed at a specific building a few blocks away. It was hard to make out, but there was a person standing on the balcony.
“I have been watching that building for a while,” Plum said, as if she were describing a novel she’d read. “When I got up here, there were two people there. I could see them laughing and enjoying themselves, for a time.”
Adelaide considered cutting her off, but thought better of it. Instead, she waited for Plum to continue.
“I could hear the argument from here,” she said softly. “I thought for a time that the one who stayed was going to let themself fall but…” she trailed off.
Adelaide reached out and placed her hand on top of Plum’s. “I am sorry,” she said softly. “Truly, I do not wish to fight like this.”
“Neither do I,” Plum answered, equally softly.
“Then let us not,” Adelaide said. She turned to face Plum. “I just feel as though I miss you, though I see you every day.”
Plum nodded, not meeting Adelaide’s eyes. “I know. Me too.”
They were both silent for a few minutes.
“What happened?” Adelaide asked. “We were doing so well.”
“Were we?” Plum answered with a humourless laugh. “I certainly was not doing ‘well.’”
“You know what I mean.”
Plum didn’t answer.
Adelaide reached out and gingerly turned Plum’s face to look at her straight on. Plum hesitantly met her eyes for a fraction of a second, and then looked away again.
“I love you, Plum,” Adelaide said. In spite of all of it, she thought those words were the sweetest she’d ever known.
Tears sprang to Plum’s eyes. “I love you, too, Addie,” she replied, her voice hitching. “I am sorry, I am doing it again.”
“Doing what, darling?” Adelaide asked softly, wiping Plum’s cheeks of the tears that rolled gently down her face.
“Ruining things. Ruining us.”
“Plum,” Adelaide interrupted her, gently. “I am not going anywhere.” She took Plum’s hand in her free one and brought it to her lips, planting a kiss on the back. “I promise.”
Plum’s lips quavered, and then she threw herself into Adelaide’s arms. She wrapped her arms around Adelaide’s neck and wept openly. Adelaide cooed and held her, stroking her hair and holding her back.
Eventually, Plum regained control of her breathing. She pulled herself free of the embrace and backed away enough that she could see Adelaide’s face again.
“I can not lose you, Adelaide,” she said, squeezing Adelaide’s hand hard enough that the tips of Adelaide’s fingers started to lose color.
“You will not, Plum,” Adelaide answered, trying her best to sound certain.
“You do not know that,” Plum responded insistently. “I have heard that promise more times than I can count. Nobody has kept it.”
“Then I suppose I shall be the first.”
Plum threatened to smile at that, finally meeting Adelaide’s eyes.
“You mean it,” she said. Adelaide thought it ought to have been a question. “You truly do.”
“I do,” Adelaide answered. “You are right, I can not completely promise that nothing will happen to me. But, Plum.” Adelaide put both of her hands on Plum’s cheeks, and stared deeply into her eyes.
“I can promise you this: as long as you will have me, I will always do my best to come back to you. You are my starlight, and I do not wish to ever let you go.”
Tears spilled out of Plum again, and she hitched out a sob as Adelaide wrapped her arms around her again. Plum clutched at the fabric of the back of Adelaide’s dress as though she were a drowning man clutching at a waterskin, her body wracked with sobs. Each one made a part of Adelaide ache.
When Plum eventually managed to calm her breathing again, Adelaide smoothed her hair, and then brushed her finger along her chin and jaw.
“We should do something,” Adelaide said. “Together.”
Plum sniffed. “Like what?”
“I do not know. I just want to spend time with you.”
Plum smiled, though it did not quite reach her eyes. “I would like that. I would like that very much.
Adelaide grinned and turned, preparing to leave the clock tower.
“Good!” she said, forcing herself to sound more chipper than she felt. “Then come along! I’ve a few ideas already.”
“Good evening, comrades,” Laszlo said calmly from his customary seat at the head of the ringed table. The rest of the Law was seated around the table, hushing each other as Laszlo began to speak.
He’d called this meeting earlier today. According to Caliburn (who somehow already knew everything that happened here), it was a rather important one.
Adelaide sat with Plum to her left and Caliburn to her right, about a quarter of the way around the table from Laszlo. She glanced across the table at Theoderic, who was leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed. He cocked an eyebrow at Adelaide as she met his eyes.
Laszlo had been talking for what felt like ages, running through the formalities of the meeting, and listing numbers that made Adelaide’s head swim.
“Now,” he continued. “On to the real purpose of this meeting.”
Adelaide forced her eyes away from Theoderic and looked to Laszlo with renewed interest.
Laszlo nodded at Adamas, who stood and made his way to the space behind Laszlo’s chair. He raised his hand, and Adelaide felt a brief wave of fatigue wash over her body as he drew on red mana. With a wave of Adamas’s hand, a spectral image flickered into being above the gap in the table. The image of a young woman floated above the table, incorporeal and softly glowing in the purple hue of Adamas’s magic. Adelaide didn’t recognize her, but she could easily pick out the distinctive hooked nose and high cheekbones of House Prismaris, the royal and Radiant house.
“Her Radiant Highness, the Princess Eleanora Prismaris,” Laszlo announced. “She has just celebrated her seventeenth nameday. According to tradition—and the missives issued by both Radiance and the Magisterium—she has been titled a magister in her own right. She is a talented magician and, perhaps, dyadic as well.”
“Little Nora?” Caliburn spoke up from his place next to Adelaide. “Last I saw her she was hardly capable of squashing a fly.”
“And yet,” Laszlo said. “She is a magister.”
Caliburn frowned, but did not reply.
“What does this girl have to do with us?” Liana asked, sounding characteristically bored.
Laszlo grinned. “I was hoping someone would ask that.” The scar across his face seemed to crackle in the firelight.
“I intend to kidnap her.”
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