Time passed slowly for Orenda. She felt every second of it as her life ticked by under the illusion of normalcy. Days turned to weeks and then to months with no more news of the Knights of Order. She managed an occasional aside with Bubbider, but they were sparse and difficult to arrange. The time she did not spend in class she spent in the library, and she had developed a sort of gruff politeness, using what she had learned in etiquette class, that she was genuinely thankful for, because it allowed her to keep the other students at a proper distance.

Because of this, Orenda heard very little of the gossip that surrounded the normal goings on of the other children, and was shocked when she awoke one morning on a free day and all of her roommates were up and about. They normally slept until noon, but on that day they had actually awoken her, whatwith Kazula’s inane shrieking that she thought passed for speech.

“I can’t wait!” She was bouncing around the room clutching a piece of paper as Orenda sat up and rubbed the sleep from her eyes, “My parents have already sent money to the tailor! Please tell me yours have as well! I want to go to our fittings together! And we’ll get our hair done, oh and our nails! I should like to get professional makeup!”

“Has anyone asked to escort you?” Tiala asked, and without waiting for an answer continued, “I’m hoping that Voron asks me. Have you seen him during the exercises? Before the bathhouse was destroyed, I mean.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Shalendra turned to look at her from where she stood, by her basin braiding her hair, “You can’t judge a potential husband on his swimming ability.”

“I don’t want a potential husband,” Tiala explained, “I want to go to the dance.”

“What are you three prattling on about?” Orenda asked with the annoyance of a child who had been awakened from a deep slumber, “It’s the free day. Some of us are trying to sleep.”

“Nothing that should concern you, Orenda,” Shalendra had began to say, but Kazula cut her off.

“The Solstice Party!” She explained, and ran to Orenda to show her the paper she was so protective of. “Every year the school hosts a formal dance before solstice vacation, after the end of the semester exams.”

Orenda took the flier and read over it. It conveyed exactly the same information, as well as an illustration of a woman in a beautiful gown, dancing with a man who seemed to have stepped out of the nobility. Orenda thought it looked like a ball from a fairytale, like something fairies would throw to celebrate the coronation of a princess. But those things were for other people living in a different world, so she suppressed her wonder and instead said:

“I don’t think I will go.”

“Of course you won’t,” Shalendra said, “You would have to be asked.”

“Is that how it works?” Orenda asked, “That seems to be a bad system.”

“Yes,” Tiala explained, “The boys have to buy the tickets to fund the dance. They only get two, so they can only ask one lady to go with them.”

“This school is a money sink,” Orenda huffed, “Wait, so only the boys can buy them?”

“Yes,” Shalendra tied off her hair and spoke as if she was annoyed by Orenda’s ignorance, “Honestly, Orenda, haven’t you learned anything from etiquette class? The entire point of meeting boys is to arrange a proper marriage.”

“That isn’t the entire point of meeting boys,” Orenda argued, “There are a variety of reasons one should meet a boy. Perhaps he has something you would like to buy. Perhaps he has similar interests and you would like to speak on them. Perhaps he’s wronged you in some way and you would like revenge. Perhaps you own an establishment and he would like to make use of your services. Perhaps you work at the same place and need to work together-”

She had meant to continue, but Shalendra spoke over her.

“That is not in their capacity as a boy,” She said dismissively, “You know what I mean.”

“I certainly do not,” Orenda said.

“I think I’ll go with lord Glenlen,” Shalendra changed the subject, “I’m sure he’ll ask me.”

“Toli?” Orenda made a disgusted face, “Why would you want to spend all night with him? He’s an idiot. I have class with him and getting through it is a chore.”

“Because he’s from the most powerful family on the continent,” Shalendra said as if it was obvious, “His mother is Lady Glenlen, and his father is in the same unit as my mother. They’ve both got exceptionally high ranks and titles.”

“But he’s an absolute fool,” Orenda argued, “He spends all his free time reading adventure books and pretending to be a fairytale hero. His life goal is to get himself killed adventuring into the desert.”

“I think I should like to inherit his fortune,” Shalendra said as if this was not an impediment to a relationship at all.

“I’m going to breakfast,” Orenda threw back the blankets, and made her way to her basin to do her morning routine.

“Why don’t you want to go to the dance, Rendy?” Kazula asked, “It’ll be so much fun!”

“I dislike the concept,” Orenda told her, “Were I able to simply go on my own I don’t think I would be bothered. But I won’t accept an invitation and be at the whim of someone else all night. Besides, I have better things to spend my money on than fancy dresses to wear once. It seems a great waste.”

“Orenda doesn’t have any money,” Shalendra said, “It’s the same reason she never makes up her face.”

“I don’t think I need to,” Orenda shrugged, “When one is born with my features no adornment would do them justice.”

Orenda had never really cared whether or not she was pretty, as it seemed a foolish thing to make a priority with everything else she had going on. In fact, as she tugged a strand of her hair to its full length, pulling out the curl, she felt it was getting a bit too long. Her necklace began to glow as she ran her fingers through it, and the sound of sizzling accompanied by the smell of burn hair began to fill the room.

“What is wrong with you?” Shalendra snapped, “That smells awful!”

“Well, I believe you were the one who mentioned that we all had to pay a price for beauty,” Orenda said as she rubbed coconut oil onto her hands and worked it through her hair, “It is not always monetary.”

“I like your hair, Orenda,” Tiala said quietly.

“Did you ever think about straightening it?” Kazula asked excitedly, “I’ve seen salons do it- not quite as curly as yours, but the women look so beautiful afterwards!”

“I don’t think I would like it,” Orenda said as she worked the oil into her face. “But you have fun, Kassie. It seems to mean a great deal to you. It’s nice to see people happy.”

Orenda dressed and headed into the dining hall growing more and more annoyed. The fliers were not the only indication that the school had become obsessed with the dance, which, to Orenda, seemed a particularly stupid thing to focus on. People were dying. People were risking their lives. Their food was being served by people who were suffering. The very idea of this disgusting show of extravagance for no particular reason made her blood boil. She had taken a seat and was angrily reading over the notes that she had taken on the cultural makeup of the fire elves from the book in her room when she felt the heat of a group of people standing over her.

She looked up to see a group of second year boys huddled there, as if Tolith was a knight and they were his regiment of soldiers surrounding and protecting him. Orenda’s first thought was that they meant to attack her and her hand shot to her necklace as she spoke.

“What is it that you gentlemen want?” She asked.

“Toli wants to ask you something,” One of the boys shoved Tolith and he stumbled forward so hard he almost hit the table. Orenda recognized the boy who had shoved him as Voron, the person who could apparently swim but couldn’t do much else.

“Quit!” Tolith shoved him back once he regained his footing, Voron shoved in retaliation, one of the other boys in the group caught Tolith and shoved him back towards Voron and back on his feet, and Orenda thought that they may be the dumbest people she had ever seen interact with each other. The physicality of it made it almost slapstick, and she had half a mind to set them ablaze.

“Toli wants to ask you something!” Voron said again, and Orenda watched Tolith’s face change color as she felt the heat pool in it.

“Yeah, I,” He said, but then he stopped speaking mid-sentence and threw both hands over his face.

“Rendy!” Kazula plopped into the seat next to her, apparently unaware of the boys, “You left so fast and you never gave me an answer about going to the dress fitting with me!”

“I answered you three times, Kassie,” Orenda was quickly running out of patience, “I told you that I think it’s a waste of money, and that I’m not going to the stupid dance!” The air around her began to grow warm, and she knew that everyone felt it from the way they began to sweat.

“You think the dance is stupid?” Tolith asked.

“Ooooh, Toooliiii,” Kazula said in a sing-song voice, “I know somebody who likes you! She wants you to ask her to the dance!”

“You do?” Tolith asked, still red-faced and with one hand covering his mouth so that only his wide eyes were visible, “Who is it?”

“I don’t tell secrets,” Kazula said, “But she’s really pretty and she’s in your grade and she’s my roommate!”

“She likes me?” Tolith asked.

“She like-likes you!” Kazula clapped her hands together.

“Yes, well,” Orenda had eaten during the exchange and found that she now had an excuse to leave, “Enjoy your foolishness. I’ll take my leave.”

Orenda spotted Quiroris walking toward her room and almost turned on her heel to leave. She had taken the maximum amount of nonsense she was able to take in a single day; her nonsense capacity had been filled before breakfast, and she simply didn’t feel like dealing with him. But she was wary of the idea that he could go through her things at will, and would rather she was there to see it.

“Pleasant morning, isn’t it, headmaster?” She asked.

“Oh, it absolutely is,” He said as if he was feeling real joy at the prospect of seeing her, “I’m so glad you’re here, Orenda. Your focus has arrived and I was excited to deliver it myself. Think of it as a solstice gift.”

“I would,” Orenda told him, “Had I not been the one to pay for it.”

“You didn’t pay for it,” He said, “I’m serious. Happy Solstice, Orenda. I didn’t take the money from your account, I paid for it out of pocket.”

“Oh,” Orenda was shocked by this information, “I… don’t understand why you would do that.”

“Because you needed it,” He said, motioning to the wrapped item on the bed, “And it’s the season for giving.”

Orenda stood slowly and walked to the bed, untied the twine holding the fabric together, and let it fall apart. Inside was a staff taller than she was. It seemed to be made of gold with a long polished handle that ended in an open archway. Set into the arch on the top were more fire crystals than Orenda had ever seen, each only about an inch apart. As she held it she felt the magic flowing from it into her and from her into it so easily that the crystals began to glow as soon as she touched it, and a flame sprang into the negative space created by the arch.

“Oh, wonderful!” Quoriris clapped his hands, “I had my doubts but… Orenda… this is the first time I’ve seen a real fire mage hold a real fire staff in… god, it’s been two centuries.”

“Headmaster,” Orenda said as she stared into the flame she hadn’t even meant to conjure, “How much did this cost?”

“Never ask how much gifts cost, Orenda,” he explained, “It’s in bad taste.”

“Thank you,” She said, and slowly let her eyes drift to him. He looked as if he was about to cry, and the sight unnerved her. Something was wrong.

“Why do you look like that?” Orenda asked.

“Oh,” He said, “Yes, I’m sorry, this is… terribly unprofessional. I’m sorry, Orenda. I’ll be in my office, if you need me.”

“Felaern,” She said, and he paused in the doorway. “I read up on… that is, I’ve been researching- the war. The war that led up to the colonization.”

“Have you?” He asked and his fingers dug into the door frame.

“In the army that attacked the sacred temple, the night it fell,” Orenda continued, “Serving under the Emerald Knight, there was a regiment of earth mages.”

“Yes,” he said, and though he did not turn around, Orenda saw his head fall.

“Most of them did not survive the battle,” Orenda said, “They were listed as deceased.”

“That’s right,” he spoke with more breath than words.

“One of them was named Felaern Quiroris,” Orenda said, “He was a teenager.”

“He was a child,” Felaern said softly, and his body deflated as he turned to look at her, and she saw the tears in his eyes. “Orenda I…” He trailed off and Orenda kept staring at him, expecting anything, some sort of justification, some sort of excuse.

“You think a solstice present will make up for-” She began but he cut her off.

“No,” He said quickly, “No, absolutely not. I don’t think that at all.”

“Then why?”

“Just… just let me have this, Orenda,” he said, and turned to leave again. He paused, in the doorway and spoke softly, “I’ll tell you everything. I promise. Just not right now. Not while you’re so young and innocent. You have to understand, Orenda, that the… the Emerald Knight is real. And sometimes, in life, you have to make a choice. You have to march forward, or you get shot in the back. It does no good to run from the Emerald Knight. That’s a death sentence.”

“No,” Orenda said, emboldened in a way that she didn’t understand, “You’ll tell me now!”

“I can’t,” He said, “I can’t. You’re too young. Too innocent. Have a childhood, Orenda, please. I will, one day, when you’re older.” He paused and turned to look at her, “If… if you want to know what happens to people who try… I worked with a man named Tolimaur who…” He sighed, cut himself off, and said, “Happy Solstice, Orenda.”

Then he was really gone, and Orenda listened to the sound of his expensive boots tapping down the empty hall.