The Lunar Prince Page 5

  “Don’t worry it was nothing,” said Evan grinning like a fool. The air shimmered with magic and smelled sharply of cracked ice. “It was fun in its own weird way.”

  Nath snorted an adorable, un-princely laugh. “I’m glad you said something. Not many would stand up to Will.”

  “Let me guess, and live to tell the tale?” he was blushing and hopelessly giddy, but nothing compared to the need to hear Nath laugh again.

  And there it was: gorgeous, boyish and pure.

  “It’s like you’ve known him your entire life,” said Nath.

  “No thanks,” he stuck out his bottom lip hearing the laughter rise. Okay, if he didn’t stop, Evan would have to run for a quick rub, or he’d earn a nickname he was sure the prince wouldn’t want to associate with.

  Nath made an odd movement toward him but caught himself and shifted awkwardly, hands clasped behind his back. “I’m afraid it's timet to take my leave, I've a business lunch with Dad. See you tomorrow,” he said, eyes lingering as he turned to leave.

  “See you,” Evan smiled watching as slowly, Nath pulled away from the wall and disappeared down the corridor, crystal veins glowing vividly as he passed.

  ∞∞∞

  “Wow, what was that all about?” Cass raised her eyebrows as he fell into his chair at lunch.

  “Nothing much, just Will being a complete ass,” he shrugged.

  “You’ve just said it’s both nothing and something in the same sentence,” said Cass, matter-of-factly.

  “You’ve seen how he is,” said Evan, pouring himself a glass of pink lemonade, bubbles fizzing and rim encrusted with sugar.

  “He’s a dick I’ll give you that,” Jeremiah snorted. “He started on me when I met Cass from botanicals and got in his way or, rather, he walked straight into me,” he said, rolling his eyes and forcefully speared a piece of chicken.

  “At least half the female population still follow him around because he does topless exercises in the gardens and he has a damn good body,” Cass sighed.

  Jeremiah’s look was withering.

  Evan laughed. “Looks like you’ve got some new competition,” he said. His glare turned acidic.

  “Doesn’t sound like he’s that bothered,” said Cass, laughing. “What’s the matter, baby, given up trying?”

  “Shut up, he’s not taking my woman and that’s final,” Jeremiah argued, eyebrows furrowed battle-hungry caterpillars.

  Cass gasped and squeaked, walloping his arm in a rage. “You don’t own me! This isn’t the fourteen hundreds!”

  “Might be easier if it were at least then you’d shut up,” he grinned earning another smack on the arm.

  “You cheeky bastard!” she cried.

  Evan laughed.

  ∞∞∞

  A horrendous rainstorm on Friday morning rendered the grounds misty; drenched in misery, and smelling of lazy book days. Nobody wanted to go out at lunch, so they milled in the palace, most congregating in one of the smaller dining rooms lined only with tables and floating chandeliers rammed with candles.

  “I’m going to be fucking smashing it at this dueling lark. One more week until start-date!” Said Andrew Winniken, one of Blaise’s cronies. Evan edged past and sat down a few feet away beside Angelika, thankful that she spoke little and scowled a lot.

  “I saw plenty of fresh meat sign up,” Blaise drawled. “It’ll be so easy why even bother?”

  “You’re not really going to give up to a bunch of amateurs, are you?” Winniken pressed.

  Blaise snorted loudly and straightened up as though preparing a presidential speech. Evan found the way they all leaned in to him like servants to master sickening. “Of course not,” he said. “And I heard something interesting about the Prince’s Pet,” storm-blue eyes locked onto Evan.

  A chorus of ooooos echoed. Evan tried to ignore them but couldn’t help but hang on to the dregs of their conversation.

  “He signed up too with those reject friends of his. I’ll bet he’s hoping to show off,” Blaise continued.

  Jealous for some reason, that’s what it had to be. Why else would he take such an instant disliking to someone? He sighed softly, eyes skimming over the cover of Cleansing the Soul: A guide to Spiritual Enlightenment that Angelika was reading.

  “He’ll be the first one out. Look at him,” Darius’s laugh rumbled heartily from his belly, “I don’t think he actually has a unique you know. I’ve never seen him do anything.”

  “What an excellent point. Oi, Ravenway!” said Blaise.

  Evan refused to turn around.

  “EVAN!” Blaise bellowed; people were turning to stare.

  Irritation reddened his face; slowly he turned, steeling himself, and met Blaise’s eye. The prick was grinning like a Cheshire cat, full-on knife-wedge smile.

  “Any good at dueling?” he asked silkily.

  Evan shrugged. “What’s it to you?”

  “You don’t look up to much but I suppose you’ve got nothing to lose anyway,” Blaise shook his head without breaking eye contact.

  “His dad is a druggie. He spends all his time in a lab smoking weed and making bongs,” said Darius, laughter coating his voice in oil. Tension burned hot and thick tasting of stale smoke and shame.

  Blaise wrinkled his nose, disgusted. “Typical old hippy then- never left the sixties. My mum says they’re all the same those off-grid, foil-hat lunatics.”

  “My dad is forty and runs a family business,” said Evan.

  “Is that what they’re calling drug dealers now? Businessmen,” he tossed his head back, laughter echoing from every corner of the room.

  A few others joined in like the good little sheeple they were.

  Ignore them, Evan told himself sucking great soothing breaths. He couldn’t rise to it, especially if he wanted to get to know Nath some more. The wonderous thought crossed his mind that maybe Nath was gay, or at least bisexual, and he wasn’t prepared to lose the chance to find out.

  Angelika met his eye with her dull gaze, and a flicker of support shot through them. She wouldn’t get involved, but she’d offer moral support. Well, it wasn’t as though she could be anymore alone.

  Evan wasn’t sure if he felt flattered or not.

  “Forget his family,” said Winniken, “what’s he even doing here without a unique?”

  “They have to be inclusive and throw in a few Eternals,” said Darius.

  “I’m not an Eternal,” said Evan, calmly.

  “Oh, yeah? What are you then?” Blaise challenged, eyes flashing tempest lightning. More students had turned to watch and tension crackled, magic brewing residue and humming with anticipation.

  “None of your business,” he said.

  “In other words: nothing,” Winniken scoffed.

  “We’ll see what he can do in a week. Gives him plenty of time to prepare for the humiliation, I suppose,” Blaise laughed leaning back in his chair and gazing up at the high ceiling.

  The toxicity followed Evan to lore. Blaise was barely two feet from his heels talking and laughing loudly the entire journey. Only when Flint came striding down the corridor, flustered and out of breath, did he finally let up.

  Chapter 8

  Dueling was held in a cavernous, unused dining chamber. Smaller than the court it may be, but Evan was sure he could fit his entire family property in here. Students milled inside, their voices high and melodic.

  A squat man with an enormous moustache and bright-blue scarf draping almost to the floor was rounding people up and ushered anyone who was here to watch into the chairs surrounding the room. Evan found Cass among a group of girls doing runner stretches.

  “I was beginning to wonder if you were even going to show,” she grinned, ponytail swishing violently.

  “Me too, but I wasn’t going to let you down,” he said, eyes wandering the room. He found Blaise at once flanked by his monkeys and ogled by girls, grinning in his element.

  “The arrogant bastard hasn’t shut up since I got here. God knows how l
ong he’s been here,” she said, disgust lacing her voice.

  “I hope someone flattens him,” said Evan turning his attention away feeling as though he should be doing something besides loiter.

  “Don’t we all? Is the Prince coming?” Her eyes glittered with mischief. The look on her face said it all: he was red as a perfectly slapped ass.

  “I don’t think so,” he said, avoiding her gaze and willing his cheeks to pale again.

  “Good evening everyone, may I have your attention?” said the little man, his hands simmered them to silence. “I am Mr Dulcatt and I welcome you all to dueling try-outs. Seeing as there’s so many of you, we’re going to do this as a quick process of elimination. You’ll duel in pairs the first to fall is out. When you’re out please take a seat with your peers or leave; if you’re through, stand behind me and wait,” his eyes scanned the crowd. “Before we begin, I want to go over the rules: anyone who causes intentional injury will be immediately eliminated from any future sessions, this is a dangerous sport, expect some cuts and bruises. Play with magic and you’ll get cursed. There’s to be no back-line assistance, verbally or with magic. Black magic, curses and illegal spell-casting is forbidden. Oh, and try to have fun,” the hard set of his mouth pricked in a smile, he turned and began pairing people off at random urging a tall, skinny guy with curly red hair into the center with Angelika.

  “She never smiles, does she?” said Cass.

  Evan wanted to argue but couldn’t recall a single moment she’d looked happy. There was something striking about her despite her rail-thin body and long, black hair. It neither beauty nor strength that made her intimidating.

  They broached their stances: feet apart, shoulders locked and fingers outstretched. Mr. Dulcatt stepped between them, raising his hand as silence fell; a pin could drop, his fingers did and Angelika’s curled into skeletal cages. Darkness swelled within the confines excreting fragments of night like a dragon’s nostrils. Her opponent- Jeb, arced two fingers in a violent salute and a wave of suffocating mist exploded between them tasting of salt and seashells. Angelika’s shadow struck like a sword piercing the heart of the storm. The mist vanished and Jeb crumpled to the floor. The arena smelled of sea air and spent magic.

  “Match to Angelika Pinner!” said Dulcatt, rushing forward with his hands in the air.

  Jeb rose unharmed.

  “Great job!” Evan cheered among the weak, confused applause.

  “I thought for a second there she’d killed him,” a girl behind him said.

  “I knew she was a freak. I’ll bet she’s been shadow training for years,” the guy beside her replied.

  Evan didn’t think so. Angelika was a book-smart girl who made the most of her gifts, however creepy they may be. She offered Jeb a hand and he conceded in fairness. He took to the sidelines, she to the victory corner.

  Over the next half hour the group burned, drenched, froze and crumbled their way to the final six. Dulcatt, bouncing on his heels, ushered them together Cass and Darius, Jeremiah with Andrew and Evan with Blaise.

  Fucks sake.

  Blaise’s face sliced open a grin. “It’ll be a shame putting down the Prince’s Pet.”

  Evan flushed from head to toe with red-hot anger. Adrenaline thrummed his veins; he wasn't about to let this bastard win.

  Jeremiah and Andrew folded the center, Dulcatt’s palm dropped and a knife-point vortex thundered toward Andrew. Split-second flash, dark eyes glinting, he threw up his arms and a heavy wooden chair burst in a shower of splinters and dust. Andrew’s lips curled; Jeremiah froze. One-by-one the upper windows slammed shut, stagnating the breeze. Jeremiah reacted but little happened, the once-powerful vortex was no more than a summer breeze, and he found his shoes literally torn off his feet as his ass hit the ground with a shameful thud.

  The crowd erupted with laughter.

  Cass and Evan exchanged looks.

  “Good luck?” said Evan.

  “Don’t look sheepish. We can do this,” said Cass, determined frown settling across her brows, eyes blazing. “I promise I won’t laugh if you tell me what unique you have.”

  “I-” he stammered, sweat prickling under his arms. Shit.

  “Come on,” she pressed.

  “Nothing I can use,” said Evan.

  Cass sighed. Evan smiled. “Any idea what he can do?” she asked, nodding to the trollish form of Darius.

  “Hydromancer, I think,” said Evan.

  “Hmm,” she rubbed her chin thoughtfully. “Okay,” snapping her fingers she followed Mr Dulcatt to the center before Evan had a chance to react.

  “You can do it,” Evan grinned shooting her a cringe-worthy double thumbs-up. Cass looked at him like he was an embarrassing sideline parent.

  Dulcatt’s hand fell, and Darius’s palms spread cupping a tempest orb which warped and thrashed, expanding by the second. Evan’s eyes were on Cass; hands balled into fists just…waiting, crouched and focused.

  The atmosphere prickled with magic and anxiety.

  Evan was sweating.

  The orb raged fighting viciously against its restraints; Darius’s face reddened, muscles straining to control it. He jolted back with surprising speed. Cass’s arm swept the air in a high whistle, and nothing happened. Evan swallowed his puke as Darius launched the storm orb from his meaty chest, propelling itself like a comet of the seas toward her, but two feet before it struck, it hit an invisible barrier and crashed to the floor drenching her jeans. Darius’s face creased with confusion as the air began to spark, brilliant shades of pink and gold. Tiny daisies rained on Darius coating him in a fluffy blanket of white. He struggled, flowers sticking to every inch of skin they could find and refusing to budge or even break when he clawed at them.

  “What the-” he tripped and went down like a boulder.

  Mr Dulcatt grinned and declared Cass the winner.

  Jeremiah cheered the loudest but Evan was a proud second; Cass’s face broke into grin as the crowd roared.

  “Well-done!” said Jeremiah, beaming and pulling her into a bear hug as she passed.

  “Thanks and good luck, Evan! Flatten him for us,” she hissed, eyes flashing as she walked the path to victory.

  Anxiety crawled out of Evan’s stomach and up his throat. Dulcatt swept the remaining flowers from the stage with magic and watched them fall like tiny snowflakes. Blaise was a cryomancer, fact. He had no idea what he was going to do, his powers… they were… not suitable for this, and he was deeply regretting the decision to join in. His eyes darted around in searching panic, searching for anything he could use. Dulcatt’s hand dropped and a blast of icy wind chilled him to the bone.

  Evan tried to gasp but his body seized up when he tried to move. Snowflakes- real ones- brushed his skin with tiny kisses, promises of failure and death. His right knee buckled and he felt it. Felt, the fucking smile on Blaise’s face. As much as he hated to admit it, Evan knew Nath wouldn’t be impressed if he lost to this dickhead. Grasping for anything, he squinted through the blizzard, sunlight dancing on the flakes.

  Then it hit him, he pushed the magic from his body drawing the warmth from around the room until his fingers thawed, and he could breathe again. Heat crawled over his body like armor, his internal temperature spiked to the point he no longer felt the cold. Confusion flickered behind steely eyes and Evan saw his chance, he reached out, magic seizing tendrils of light, his magic burned with discomfort. He wasn’t made for this, the spell was breaking so Evan pushed with all his might and a jet of white light burst from his palm, careening toward Blaise. He was faster and threw up his hands creating a blockade of ice. It happened in slow motion, the light struck the ice block which burst filling the room with the darkest mist of winter and the smell of misery. A sharp pain cut Evan’s hand before he hit the damp, cold floor a failure. Time passed as he lay there panting for breath, the last flakes of snow melting to vapor as the room warmed. He felt damp and humiliated, his body zinging with magic. Shit.

  “Evan!” Cass cal
led. He pushed himself to his feet as she made a grab for his arm. “Are you hurt?”

  “It’s nothing,” he replied, stuffing his hand in his pocket.

  “You’re bleeding,” said Dulcatt, making a grab for him too. “It’s all over your sleeve!”

  “No-” said Evan but before he could stop them, they wrenched up his sleeve revealing a thin, slightly scabby mark. He shook them off, burying it back in his pocket. “Must’ve clipped an old cut,” he lied watching their confusion morph to relief.

  “It sure bled a lot,” Cass muttered, fog of confusion hanging over her head.

  “It happens sometimes I guess,” said Evan.

  “Very well,” said Dulcatt turning his attention to Blaise whom, to Evan’s surprise, rose to his feet wearing a dumbfounded look.

  “Well? Clearly, I’m the winner!” he snarled, storming over, hair a mess.

  “Actually-” Cass began but he cut her off.

  “Mr Dulcatt?”

  “It is a draw,” said the old man calmly.

  A draw? Confusion washed over Evan like a tsunami. How was that possible?

  “And what does that mean? Another round?” Blaise snapped.

  “It means you’re both through,” said Dulcatt.

  “No,” said Blaise, ferocious gaze burning on Evan until he averted his eyes. “Rematch!”

  “You fell fairly with equal measure. I can’t disqualify both of you and a rematch wouldn’t be fair to the other competitors. Therefore, it is a draw,” he replied making a simmering gesture with his hands as the crowd rumbled with confusion.

  The divide was clear and Evan felt an overwhelming urge to concede but a small part of him didn’t want to back down, and he wondered if Nath would be impressed by his minor success.

  Blaise, however, didn’t appear inclined to calm down. His fists were shaking by his sides. “This is an outrage!”