First Apprentice

Chapter 4 Part 1

Dawn broke. A new day marred by yesterday's miscalculations. They weren't mistakes. A mistake results from bad judgment or inattention to detail. The blood oath covered all the necessary points regarding the Border Guard, the incident with the Central Keystone, my training, and Grandfather's probable treason. Probable as in it was both possible and highly likely. I didn't regret attacking David – he lost my respect the instant I discovered his participation in Grandfather's crazy scheme. I regretted not finishing the job before Joel stepped in. I regretted regarding David as Border Guard, ignoring his position as the Director of the Vinetta Conservatory and Orchestra Conductor.

The move out paperwork I submitted to the conservatory wasn't forged. Why bother when Grandfather kept his signet and magic-infused wax in his desk drawer? A little blood, a reed, and a thumb-sized slip of parchment bypassed his security seals. I simply opened the drawer, placed his mark on the paperwork, and left without anyone being any wiser. It wasn't my fault Grandfather hadn't updated the security seals around his desk. Since my paperwork was real, what I did outside the classroom was no longer David's business. My miscalculation was assuming David checked the wax for Grandfather's magic. Obviously, he didn't.

Perhaps waiting until Joel healed him was a mistake. I could've run, but I was curious. More about Joel than David. I wanted to know why he was on Vinetta, if Grandfather sent for him as I feared, if Grandfather broke our agreement. The last time someone tried to arrange my life a man died. In the aftermath, Grandfather, who fortunately wasn't involved in that debacle, and I formed a pact. No secret deals or arrangements. If it involved me, he told me. Simple and infinitely safer for everyone involved.

Stifling a yawn, I jerked my attention away from the fog rising off the river and back to the argument between Grandfather and David. I needed to regain control of the situation, find a way to bring Grandfather and David both to heel before Grandfather enlisted me against my will. The oath only prevented David, a furloughed Border Guard teacher, from informing Mitchel-dae, fifth of the Seven (retired) about my latest escapade. It did not prevent David Nease, Director of the Vinetta Conservatory, from telling my grandfather. Blood oaths are word, not intent, based. They are open to interpretation. Ergo, as long as David considered Grandfather my family, he wasn't bound by either Joel's orders or the oath.

To my shame, I didn't realize how badly I misread the situation until after David hobbled across Pell's office, grabbed my wrist, and teleported us to Grandfather's country estate without asking me for coordinates or being fried by the wards, which meant Grandfather had either added both David and Joel, who followed us, to the wards or he was expecting us. I'd bet my magic on the latter.

"Once again, your pathological inability to share crucial information nearly got me killed." David's fist struck the top of Grandfather's desk. The blackwood top quivered as papers scattered and ink bottles rattled. I raised an eyebrow, silently reevaluating David's physical strength. I spent my childhood hiding under that desk and my later years experimenting on its security seals. I lost count of how many times I bonked my head on it or skidded into it while sliding around Grandfather's study on stocking feet. A mahogany coffee table, two chairs, a mirror, and an insanely expensive Sephim rug that cost more than most Vinettans make in a year all died at my hands. Accidentally, and the rug wasn't entirely my fault. Endellion suggested I show Grandfather my elementary aes, which was more fire than ice at the time. I got excited, lost control, and set the rug on fire. The desk, which was sitting on the rug, survived unscathed – a testament to the craftsman's impressive seal work. It didn't even smolder.

Grandfather leaned back in his chair and folded his hands in his lap, as if silently asking if David was done with his tantrum. Uncle Manfred's reaction was more telling. He tensed then laid his hand on the back of Grandfather's chair, resting his hand on a hidden sword hilt. I wondered if David realized how close he was to being gutted.

"I was your apprentice for one-hundred-seventeen years and this is how you repay my loyalty!" David gestured wildly at me. His magic pressed against mine as he lost control. Hackles raised, my fingertips itched as the desire to shift and show him his place nearly overwhelmed me. I ground my teeth and turned my attention to my breath. I couldn't lose control, not yet.

"You know the law. Not reporting a ferepris birth is treason, Mitchel." Chest heaving, he stopped and glared at the floor, hands clenched at his side. Then the fight drained out of him. He sank onto the couch and slumped over. "Ancients take you," he whispered, head bowed in defeat. "It's bad enough you committed treason. Now, you've involved me. What about my boys? Have you considered what will happen to them after I'm executed? What their lives will be like as children of a traitor?"

"You haven't committed any crimes," Grandfather said.

"Don't patronize me, Mitchel. You know perfectly well the High Council will not share your unfounded opinion. They'll mount my head on a pike right beside yours."

"Enough." The room stilled at Joel's order, making me wonder what power he held over them. Even Grandfather, who I always thought bowed to no one, inclined his head towards him, baring the left side of his neck. Right side for mating, left for submission. Why did Grandfather defer to him? Better yet, why did Joel intervene now? Joel hadn't said a word since we left Fecked Mick's, not even in greeting. He simply clapped Grandfather on the shoulder then claimed Uncle Manfred's chair, which looked like it belonged on a junk heap, not in Grandfather's study surrounded by ornate lounges, priceless tapestries, and floor to ceiling bookcases. Joel absently rubbed his thumb over a line of red stitches on the arm where I "fixed it" after I overheard Grandfather threaten to throw it out. In my defense, I was five.

"You know it's true," David said.

Joel stopped picking at the threads and looked up. Our eyes met. Once again, I felt his mind brush against mine. A gentle touch followed by a harsher jab as if he was testing my reflexes. Why I couldn't fathom. The probe receded, but didn't disappear when he turned his attention to David. "I realize you've had a stressful evening," he said. "For that, you have my sympathies. However, the situation tonight was largely your doing, not Mitchel's or Alannah's or mine. Yours. When you insisted on speaking with her alone, I allowed it because I thought seeing someone she knew and trusted would prevent what happened, not cause it. I specifically ordered you to identify yourself then speak with her in a non-confrontational manner. What was it I said?" Pausing, Joel tapped his chin with his finger then flashed his fangs at David. "Treat her like you would Terry after a council meeting. You didn't. You disobeyed me and nearly lost your soul as a result."

"Only because you tried to negotiate with her. She's an untried, half trained sealer. I'll grant she injured me, but breaking my anchors was more luck than skill. She might have broke one before you entered if she was lucky. The other two she broke while you were treating her like a wounded kitten when I was the injured party."

Bristling, I flexed my claws. I'd show him kitten. If he didn't mind his tone, I'd also demonstrate just how skilled I really was. He wouldn't survive, but the more he talked the more I doubted anyone would care.