“So don’t tell anyone,” Miranda said now with a smirk. “But Drakey here is the son of a bonafide movie star.” She glanced around to make sure no one was listening, then whispered softly, “His last name isJoran.”
Miranda clearly expected a reaction out of me from the whispered name.
I smiled politely, and nodded.
“As inGraganJoran?” Miranda prompted.
I continued to smile, but could only shrug, waving the peach a little.
“Seriously?” Miranda gaped at me, then shut her mouth and grinned. “Wow. You really weren’t kidding when you said you hadn’t followed a lot of popular culture since you got here. I guess you haven’t seen any movies since you got here, either?”
“No,” I admitted. “Not a one. I hadn’t even gotten to the point of wondering whether youhadmovies here. I’ve not really gotten out much, apart from school, and to study with friends.”That was a bit of a fudge. It’d really only beenonefriend. “And book stores.” I added. “And clothes, since I had nothing, and other shopping things.”
Alaric had been absolutely invaluable in the clothing department, too.
Not to mention lending me about thirty books over the course of the summer.
Miranda laughed. “Oh, boy. You’re in for it, then. Once people start to recognize him, there’ll be a feeding frenzy. Probably media trying to spot him in Bonescastle, too. His parents kept it quiet where he was headed for university, and Malcroix is discreet, but sooner or later it always comes out. And it’s always chaos around Drakey once he gets recognized.” She patted her friend’s arm and Draken rolled his eyes.
I couldn’t help noticing he looked embarrassed, and distinctly uncomfortable.
Miranda must be used to that, too, because she ignored it.
“Given you don’t get the wholehypething with his dad,” she added with a grin. “It’ll probably seem totally batshit to you.”
The pretty witch with the unusual eyes propped her forearms on Draken’s thighs and smiled at me in a friendly way. Draken didn’t seem to mind, or even notice really.
“We can get you up to date on all the crazy Hollywood stuff later. Suffice it to say, his father’s a big deal in Magique,” she went on conspiratorially, still in a near-whisper. “We figure it’ll probably be twenty-four hours before someone figures out who he is… forty-eight, if he’sreallylucky. Then he’ll start getting mobbed for autographs and probably have to deal with bizarre stalking behavior from his father’s obsessed fans.”
She glanced up fondly at her friend. “Drake looks just like him, poor bastard, which doesn’t help. Although I think he’s even prettier than his dad. He doesn’t have his father’s blueeyes, so we’re stuck with the puppy eyes, instead. Far more devastating?”
Draken smacked her lightly on the shoulder and flushed red, and I smiled.
“What kinds of movies is your dad in?” I asked Draken.
“Action, mostly,” Draken answered, matter of fact. “He’s dabbled in ‘serious’ acting, here and there, but he makes most of his money doing action pictures with a lot of magic and effects and big explosions. In his most famous series of movies, he plays a half-god, half-wizard who works as a praecurus in America.”
I swallowed as an unwelcome image of my mother intruded behind my eyes, but to Draken, I only nodded.
“So you grew up in Scotland?” I asked.
He nodded. “Edinburgh, mostly. But I spent a fair amount of time in L.A. and in Japan, like Miranda said. Dad’s kind of a workaholic, and I went with them until I got old enough for boarding school.”
I strongly got the impression Draken was both used to talking about his famous father, and pretty bored by it. Even as I thought it, Draken shoved Miranda’s shoulder, clearly wanting to shift the focus off himself.
“Mir’s even more of a Hollywood kid than I am,” he said. “So don’t let her fool you. Her mother is Monique Rook. As intheMonique Rook. She’s basically an institution there?”
Miranda smacked his arm, which seemed to be another thing with the two of them. “If she hasn’t heard ofGragan Joran,do you really think Leda’ll have any idea who in the gods MoniqueRookis?” she scoffed.
He frowned. “Your mum’s as famous as my dad.”
“Only to film nerds and Hollywood kids like us,” Miranda scoffed. She looked back at me. “My mom’s a director, mostly,” she explained. “But he’s right… sort of. Miranda Rookisa bit of an institution there. She’s one of those directors who writes herown movies and does a lot of the artistic design. She conjures her own sets and so on. She’s an ‘artiste,’ as dad would say. Which is just fancy talk for a complete control freak.”
Miranda rolled her eyes, but it struck me as affectionate.
I couldn’t help the simultaneous flickers of warmth and envy towards the other witch.
Miranda obviously liked both of her parents.
