“Stopping an avalanche of any size is impressive, Adraa. It saved half a village,” Mother interjects.
“I’m glad people are safe.” I relent. It’s just…did it have to be Mr. Arrogant, Jatin Naupure, who did it?
“That boy is very proficient at snow spells—exceptionally so, in fact. I heard during his royal ceremony Dloc threw a blizzard at him and he took it down in seconds.”
White magic is his forte, Dad. Is he supposed to be bad at them? That’s like being impressed that, as a red forte, I can start fires. I almost remind my parents of the stable inferno I stopped last year, or even, dear Gods, what I do when I sneak out at night, but I hold my tongue. Because that needs to remain secret. And who am I to talk, really? I have never saved so many people. And I have yet to battle through my own royal ceremony and prove myself capable in all nine types of magic.
The next moment, Willona bursts into the dining room holding a bowl of mangoes and sets it on the table. Our oldest and dearest servant runs her hands over her apron and I just know she is contemplating something. Why does she look so…
Oh no! Wide-eyed, I pivot fully in her direction and wave my hands, but it’s too late, the words are already spewing out of her. “What did his letter say, Lady Belwar? I know everyone in the kitchen has been dying to hear.”
I cover my face. That is—I mean was—supposed to be our secret. Do I need to start bribing the palace staff? But even that might not work. I cannot trust anyone when it comes to Jatin. Our engagement is common knowledge, too public in the palace to try to rein in the rumors.
Mother sits up straighter. She is such a sucker for romance. Except, she has no clue what lies between Jatin and me is not romance. It’s fierce competition. And it can only end in disaster.
“He sent you something again?”
“Um, no,” I lie.
“Adraa?”
Prisha smiles from across the table, daring me to lie again. How can someone who looks so young and innocent in all other features have such a mischievous mouth?
The note burns hot in my pocket. I had just gotten it this morning and had not felt like opening it. I know about the avalanche. He is going to rub it in my face.
I sigh. “What? Should I read it aloud?”
“That would be lovely.”
Willona brims with excitement and then claps. “I’ll get the kitchen staff.”
“No, Willona, don’t!” The door swishes into place behind her retreating form as I’m completely ignored. I tear the letter out from its useless hiding spot. The sun sinks behind a cloud once again, casting the room into dusky light. How fitting. I peel apart the seal and scan the contents to make sure nothing is too disturbing to say in front of everyone. The letter is short, but still gag-worthy, as always. “Really? You guys are going to let this happen…again?”
“Let them have their fun,” Father says while signing something important.
“Yeah, Adraa, let us have our fun.” Prisha looks me square in the eye.
“Fun?” This was my love life, or lack thereof. It should not be…fun, especially for our entire household, staff included.
It takes only four minutes for a quarter of the witches who work in the palace to tumble into the dining hall. They all appear giddy to the point of combustion. I might feel the same if I believed one word of Jatin’s nonsense.
“Okay, everyone ready? I’m only reading this once. Zara? I’m looking at you.” My maid rolls her eyes and then nods for me to proceed.
“Dearest,” I begin. The women sigh in one heaving breath. Oh please! I give them a stern stare over the parchment and start over.
Dearest,
If you haven’t already heard, I am in Alps of Alconea, where a terrible avalanche nearly destroyed the village of Alkin. I was able to stop the destruction and hopefully further solidify my honor in your eyes. For one note of appreciation from you is all I’ll ever seek in this world. One day I hope we can walk side by side on these beautiful mountains. How I long to be near you again! My heart punches in anticipation.
Wishing you my love,
Jatin
It is a complete farce. I have not seen the boy since that night I “punched” him in the face. Thinking back, what I did should be categorized under a shove or a slap, not a punch. I barely grazed him. But details get exaggerated with time. Or better put, Jatin likes to exaggerate. In reality, we don’t like each other. And we certainly don’t love each other.
Glancing up, I watch the kitchen staff hanging off each other and melting into the rugs. “Really, every time, guys?”
“He is so passionate and romantic,” our cook, Meeta, says.
Zara croons, “Read the part again about appreciation in your eyes is all he seeks.”
I push off the table and turn to go. Most of my audience heeds the signal and slips back to work in their designated parts of the house. Only Willona and Zara stay behind, probably to talk to Mother or Father about some chore or other.
“Where are you off to? Aren’t you going to help me in the clinic today?” Mother asks, annoyed at my rudeness. “And you need to deliver firelight to the East Village, right?”
I swivel back. “Um, I need another hour to get the firelight ready for the East Village.”
Her fingers full of upma stop midair. “You didn’t finish last night?”
“Ah yes, that is what I’m saying. Didn’t finish.”
“Oh, Adraa.” She releases her frown, the signature one. “That’s the fourth time in the past two months you have been behind.”
“Training first, then one hour of work, and I’ll be right on schedule.” I put on my best “it’s no problem” face.
She sees right through me. “Training first? Adraa, no. Basu expects a thousand firelights by midday.”
I shove at the swinging door, desiring escape. If Mother pushes about why I didn’t get the firelight done, she might start to piece together what I really do at night. I can’t let that happen.
Willona saves me, with a joke at my own expense. “Oh, Miss Belwar gets so enthusiastic for training after getting one of Jatin’s love letters.” She grins and places one hand near her heart.
“Probably to burn off that blush.” Zara fans herself and giggles.
I gesture to my face. “I’m not blushing.” Although it might be hard to tell even if I were. After Mother I’m the darkest in the room, sometimes in the entire palace.