“Shadow is what we call Overworlders here,” he explained, taking a sip of wine.
He’d found us thin-stemmed wine glasses in a cabinet by the fireplace of my and Ankha’s suite. He’d found us comfortable cushions to sit on, too.
I stared at him now, still not quite getting it. “So it’s a slur?”
“Well… no. Not exactly.” My new friend pondered the question. “I mean, there’s not a word for Overworlder that’s got a particularlypositivemeaning,” he admitted. “But there are certainly muchworsewords. It’s really just shorthand. Like calling Magicals ‘magi’ or ‘mages’ or ‘magias’ or ‘witches’ or ‘Ancients.’”
“You call yourself ‘Ancients’?” I scoffed, just buzzed enough that I couldn’t help it. “Not at all pretentious, that.”
Oddly, an enthusiastic light grew in his eyes.
“Oh, there aremuchmore pretentious names, Leda,” he said eagerly, leaning towards me where we sat cross-legged on the carpet near the fireplace. “Ancients isn’t evencloseto the worst. Some of the bigger idiots among our kind have whole lists of ways to describe those born of Magical blood. First Race.Verus Sanguis.Sanguis Regum.The Lux. Of course, they haven’t hadactualhybrids to be prejudiced against in at least a thousand years, so a lot of that prejudice was theoretical. Most of those terms I just rattled off were primarily meant to distinguish the rabble from those among us who are ‘better bloods’?”
“Like yourself?” I snorted.
“Exactly like me,” he grinned back.
In the past two hours, I’d learned the man sitting across from me was Alaric Maxmillian Greythorne, from one of the “old families” of Magique, and that he even had a distant blood relationship to the Magique royal family. He’d also told me, with an extravagant bow and mock aplomb, that he placed on the royal succession line somewhere, althoughveryfar down, he assured me with a grin, kissing my hand.
I had no idea if half of what he’d told me about himself was even true.
I honestly didn’t care. He was funny, and ridiculous, and happy to order us a large variety of drinks and snacks. He was exactly what I needed right then.
He was also generous with information.
I’d already learned that “primal” was the name for the roughly cat-sized, made-of-light, translucent creatures that lingered around every adult and teenaged Magical. The name came from a shortening ofprima lux,or “first light.”
He’d informed me loftily that the definitive book to read on the subject wasMagical Basics,by Fortenz J. Spright, a theurgist from Ireland and one of the first to map primals by family and hierarchy. When I showed enthusiasm for that information, he proceeded to write out a whole list of books for me to read, and promised to lend me any of his that I wanted.
“Of course, you can always ask old Forsooth all of this,” he’d added with a smile.
“Forsooth?” My eyebrow lifted.
“You said he was decent to you, at your test?” When I nodded, Alaric poured me another glass of the red wine. “He’s the Theurgy Master at Malcroix Bones. Has been for something like forty years.” He set the bottle on the stone hearth a foot from his knee. “He’s written loads of books on the subject, including the standardized textbooks for most age levels. He’s supposedly got a positivelyuncannyability to access aetheric beings… including incredibly rare ones, and even deliciously dark ones. He’s kind of an institution around here. A legend.”
He nudged my knee. “You should write him. I’m sure he’d tell you anything you wanted to know. He’s a good old chap. I’m looking forward to studying with him in the fall. Assuming I pass my bridging course, that is.”
At that, I’d stuttered. “Oh. Oh… no. I don’t think so.”
“Why not?” His eyebrow rose. “I would make friends where you can, love. Forsooth would be an extremely useful friend to have.”
I nodded, not fully acknowledging the subtext there, but definitely hearing it. He’d already implied there would be a fair bit of prejudice against me here, if I ended up staying. Hardly surprising, given what Ankha had said, but still daunting. That was one issue I’d never had to deal with before. I wasn’t entirely sure how well I’d handle it.
“Uh-oh. You look scared now.” He nudged me again. “You’ll be fine.”
“I don’t even know if I’m staying?” I reminded him.
Just then, a sharp, clear knock came at the door.
Alaric and I exchanged looks.
“The infamous Ankha La Fey?” he asked, quirking an eyebrow.
“Infamous?” I smiled. “Is she? And I doubt she’d knock.”
“Ah. Of course. Andyes,she’s famous. Didn’t anyone tell you? You’re half like me, darling.” At my puzzled frown, he grinned, eyes glinting as he winked. “The La Feys are blue-bloods, sorry to say. They were considered eminently respectable before the scandal with your mother, and your great-grandmother before her.”
“Really?” I said skeptically.
