He met those violet eyes directly, above the rough beard, and strangely perfect lips. Despite the smile on his face, those eyes surveyed him critically, with a savage scrutiny that caused Caelum to remove himself without thought.
He shut down, making his face and eyes empty.
“Doesn’t look sick to me,” the man grunted. “What’d you say was wrong with him again, Malefic?” The older mage gave Caelum’s father another of those wry smiles before aiming his birdlike stare back at Caelum. “Other than the misfortune of being your little miniature, eh? No one would question he’s your son, at least, apart from the hair––”
The man started to reach for him, but Caelum’s father used his cane to block his hand.
“Now, now, Borogh. No touching.”
Malefic lowered his cane only after the other man lowered his arm.
The elder Bones made a show of looking around the train platform. As he did, he moved a few steps to his right until he stood in front of Caelum, making it harder for the other mage to see him, and harder for Caelum to see the other mage.
“Is little Greythorne Junior to be on the train, then?” Malefic asked with a sniff. “He’s starting at Briarwood this year as well, correct?”
The mage his father called “Borogh” grunted, and finally took a step back.
“Yes.” A scowl touched those well-formed lips as he glanced around. “Little bleeder’s already scurried onto the train. Ran off with his little friends, that Warrington girl who lives next door, and a few other rats birthed by lesser nobles. They’ve been making a mess of my gardens all summer. Not to mention what they’ve done to the carpets and the library.”
Caelum felt his hands tighten.
The thought of running around with other kids, making messes without getting fingers broken for it, having free rein in the gardens––
“Does your son play any games?” Borogh Greythorne asked. “I never saw you at the Underage Magical Grounds at the Heath.”
His voice held a barely-disguised curiosity as he went back to staring at Caelum.
When Malefic didn’t answer, Greythorne shrugged.
“Alaric won’t fight, not even with arrows,” he said contemptuously. “Won’t play Ravenhook, neither… whines about hurting the cute little animals.” His father scoffed. “He’s not bad at Scaredy-Cat, though,” he added thoughtfully. “Tyke’s got a real knack for conjuring, even dark spirits. It’s damned unnerving at times, if you want the truth.”
Malefic aimed a bare glance at Caelum.
“He’ll train in Skyhunt when he’s old enough,” Malefic sniffed. “For now, he will likely stick to offensive and defensive magics, not childish games.”
“He’s a fighter, then?” Greythorne asked appreciatively, assessing Caelum anew. “Auric boxing? Or just combat spells?”
“His auric skills are… passable.”
For once, his father had told someone something about him was actually true. Caelumdidplan to focus mostly on fighting magic, both spells and auric. And he wanted to play Skyhunt. He couldn’t wait to be old enough to try out for the team.
Of course, he’d never gotten to try out any of his abilities with another kid.
His father treated magical combat like any of his other lessons. As a result, learning had hardly been “fun” back at the Tower. Not having fought with with anyone besides his father, Rolf, his father’s other employees, goblins who worked at the Tower, and at various times a centaur, a metamorph, and even a gorgon once, Caelum had his doubts how well he’d do playing against other witches and wizards his age.
It was hard to imagine, really.
He was interested to find out, though.
Fighting was freeing.
Even when it hurt, and it oftendidhurt, he fell into a no-mind, purely-reactionary, purely-strategic space that let him forget everything else, at least until it was over.
When he really fell into it, he forgot everything, even his father.
Greythorne nodded, but his violet eyes already showed him losing interest. “Alaric likely will run away screaming for the first year of sparring,” he said disparagingly. “But Higgins’s lad is supposed to be pretty good. And Grutridge, but that one’s a Warlock, so naturally he’d be a terror in the ring. Either’llgive your boy a run for his money, Malefic, no matter how well he’s trained. Grutridge’s has already got a shot at the school’s magical combat team, they say.”
Malefic only hummed under his breath, his expression indifferent.
