“It will be my duty to make you a warrior. My brother will dally, crafting what he deems a perfect plan. I do not have the same temperament. At dawn we will begin. Come hungry.”

The words had been ominous, making me dread the following morning as my imagination go the best of me. But reality was so much worse: My heart hammered against my chest, sending blood shoot to my head; lungs burned with sulphurous air, and every breath seemed to hold less and less oxygen; my legs felt close to giving out, and every pounding step seemed to make my throbbing headache so much worse.

The training room was built like a factory, with a high ceiling lined with pipes, crossbeams and rope; one wall was caked with rock, jutting with spikes that met the ceiling. The floor was broken into sections, each with specialised diagrams lined with different celestial gems. One was a sparring field, another a catching field lined with a pink-purple effect close to the ground, and the last was an obstacle course.

My run hugged the edges of the room, keeping to a clear path demarcated by diagrams as a central focus – all to keep away stray projectiles.

“Three more laps!” Jaslynn shouted. The woman was in her early twenties, with tanned skin and long, black hair tied in a ponytail; she sat on a column of rock that stabbed up from the floor, dressed lightly and revealing a lot of skin. The most attention-grabbing part of her – beyond how beautiful she was – was the scare that stretch from her arm, up her neck, to one side of her jaw. “Then your visitor will finally have time for you.”

Three more fucking laps.

The fatigue was like a heavy, comfortable blanket. At once making my body strain to keep going, while also luring me to stop by whispering about how much better it would be to just stop. But I had to keep going, even as my stomach felt jittery, threatening to relieve itself of last night’s dinner.

Think about something else.

Allycea and her friends had been training when I’d arrived and they hadn’t stopped beyond changing what exercises they were doing. There were five in total: Jaslynn, who supervised my laps; Allycea and Cybill who sparred, the former with two swords and no shield, while the latter had a glowing sword and a round, wooden shield; Freda who walked on a rope near the roof, her arms at either side of her and looking ahead; and Ellora who scaled the rock face.

A shiver ran up my spine at the thought of the height. I hoped I’d never have to be up there.

“Faster, Champion! Lengthen your strides!”

Fuck you so much. I picked up my pace, stretching my legs to their full length. One foot in front of the other, the sound of slapping feet and panted breaths filling the air immediately around me.

Finishing the lap put me near the exit – Cicero. He stood with one hand running through his beard, his eyes keenly set on Freda as slipped, fell and then managed to catch her rope; he smiled when she climbed up again. Cicero had brought his guard and the man’s attention was squarely on Ellora.

The mage inclined his head as I passed. I did the same and almost fell before catching myself.

The last two laps felt like fifty and the distance ten times longer. But I got through them, only toppling after I was done and staying there, on my back, staring up listening to the song of aches and pains my body sang.

This is good for me. This is good for me. This is good for me.

But I didn’t want to ever to run again.

My eyes opened when I heard footsteps. It was Jaslynn, moving with the grace of a dancer, intrigue playing across her green eyes and her lips promising a smile. I didn’t have a good read on her yet, much like the rest of Allycea’s friends, but if they were important to the princess, they needed to be important to me.

“How…did I do?” I asked.

Jaslynn frowned. “You ran,” she said. “An easy enough task to accomplish.”

“Yeah,” I said, “but I ran like a hundred laps.”

“Was that a hundred? I could swear it was vastly lower.”

“Yeah, but I haven’t jogged or ran in like…forever,” I said. “That’s gotta count for something, doesn’t it?”

“Perhaps,” she said. “Today was a start, a slow one, but one which gave me a measure of your ability. As gawky as your height is, you are nimble, which is good.”

“Thanks,” I said, my tone as unthankful as it could be. I hoped the panting hid it. “What happens now? Am I done for today?”

“No,” she said, a chuckle in her voice. “As I said, this was only the beginning. You will have other forms of training later in the day. Marksmanship, some light dodging, perhaps the fundamentals of close combat fighting, though we will do our best not to overwork you. Tomorrow is another day and your body will regret it, but it will be slightly stronger.”

I groaned. “I wish you hadn’t told me that.”

She smiled. “I remember when I was much younger and my master sought to make me stop my ambitions of becoming an adventurer. He worked me to the bone and left me to shudder the next day. I did not falter in my ambitions, and I worked through the pain. I was only twelve at the time.”

“Indirectly saying that I should do the same thing?” I asked.

“Not indirectly,” she said.

Slowly, I sat up, thankful my upper body didn’t ache as much as my legs.

“Are you going to work these out too?” I said, pointed at the arm. The shirt I was wearing had short sleeves showing thin arms. “I’d loved to get ripped.”

“Ripped?” she said.

“Shredded?” Jaslynn still looked confused. “Defined. Like nice arms and…other things like that. Muscled.”

“You speak as though you would not be the one doing the work,” she said with a frown. “That you could not have done such work in your own realm.”

I tried to think of an answer and none came, so I shrugged, my attention going to Cicero. Odysseus had arrived at some point and was talking to the mage. Both were smiling but it looked fake.

“Come,” said Jaslynn, hand extended. “As you stand you will find that your legs are weak. Have care you do not fall. From all Ally has said, it would not do for you to embarrass yourself.”

I took her hand and she pulled me up. She was right, it felt like I was a moment from falling over. As preoccupied as I was by the feelings, I didn’t miss as Jaslynn’s hand ran over mine, rubbing my skin. When I looked up at her, she seemed enraptured.

“What?” I said, pulling my hand back.

“I am intrigued by your hue,” she said, looking at her fingers and rubbing them together. I tensed, my expression settling into a frown. “It was an idle thought, but I assumed that you might have painted it; and what little hair you have…” She reached out and I took a step back, my legs wobbling. Thankfully I was taller than her and she didn’t have the longest reach.

She seemed offended.

I took a deep breath and held it. Doing my best to keep my expression even as I felt the corners of my lip starting to curl and my eyes wanting to set in a scowl.

“I’m going to talk to Cicero,” I said. “He’s been waiting for me.”

“Of course,” she said.

Cicero and Odysseus smiled as I approached, each in their own ways. The former seemed a lot like a father or grandfather, with a light in his eyes that spoke of compassion, while the prince’s smile was lazy, close to a grin without being obnoxious.

The two were obviously manipulating me to their own ends, and that made them pressing issues. But I couldn’t help lingering on the invasion of personal space committed by Jaslynn.

Academically I could understand it. Dylan was my best friend and we were very close, but it had taken a lot of communication before we’d felt comfortable enough even broaching the subject of hair. He had been mystified by my scraggly mess and I had been fascinated by his curlier mop. Letting him touch my hair, my head, had been a big deal.

For Jaslynn – someone I didn’t know – to think she could just reach out and do that…

Keep breathing, I told myself. Keep calm.

Jaslynn didn’t know how important the head and hair were; she didn’t know that it was often the best way to curse someone with bad luck; or know of how Grandma hadn’t been comfortable sending me to a salon until I’d been eleven because she didn’t trust the barbers with my hair.

Jaslynn didn’t share the same spiritualism.

All of this I rationally understood, but from an emotional standpoint I was incensed.

“Champion,” said Cicero. “I see the training is not to your liking.”

Smile. Play along.

But I couldn’t. My body and heart felt too tired to make the effort.

“Your…grace?” I said in greeting. “Grand Mage.”

“Your Highness,” Odysseus corrected. “Though you were correct to address me first. Grand Mage he may be, I am still his greater.”

“That you are, Your Highness,” Cicero said without batting an eye. “Given time, perhaps our Champion might have the same status.”

“Yes,” said the prince. “Given time. How was the training?”

“Tiring. Your Highness.”

Cicero chuckled. “It was a long time ago, but I remember when my own father thought I had in me the makings of a warrior. I had to train every day with our master of swords. It is not a time I remember fondly.”

Odysseus hummed.

“What do I owe the visit, Grand Mage?” I asked. “Unless you’re going to be teaching me too?”

“No,” said Cicero. “I cannot. We have found ourselves lacking a few key people in our Order, forcing the rest of us to take on new duties. The time, unfortunately, cannot be spared.”

“And there is not much the Grand Mage can teach you, besides,” said Odysseus. “As has been decided, you are not to be a mage.”

“A true surprise,” said Cicero. “I thought that my Order might have in its midst a Champion. It has been quite some time since the last, though Prince Odysseus might know best. I know you have a great love for old stories.”

“Champion Elliot, though he lived far before your Order existed as it does today,” he said. “Interestingly he is known to have said: it is those who cannot remember their history who are destined to make the same errors in perpetuity.”

“Those who don’t know history are doomed to repeat it,” I said. “Yeah. That’s a thing I heard a lot in history class when I still took it. I didn’t buy it enough to make any of the stuff we learned interesting.”

Cicero chuckled lightly, though didn’t explain why.

There are a lot of things I want to ask you right now, I thought at the man. The marble was still on me, providing impressions of the people around me, but from what I’d seen of the mage’s powers, I wasn’t using it to its full potential.

But asking directly wasn’t an option.

“Jaslynn said I had the day free,” I said. “I’m really not in the mood to study right now — I’m really hungry — but if you have plans, we could get to those eventually.”

“A minor lesson, Champion,” said Odysseus. “It is improper to presume, even in passing, to command one such as me.”

I frowned. “Did I command you? Your Highness?”

“If His Highness says it is so, Champion,” said Cicero, “then it is so.”

My mouth opened but I stopped short of saying anything against the words. As dangerous as the notion was, this wasn’t my world. It was important to internalise that the rules were different.

“Sorry, Your Highness,” I muttered.

“Learn from the experience and all shall be well,” said Odysseus. He smiled. “It would be a pleasure to dine with you. Eating is an important act and I have yet to observe you. Dine in my quarters, I implore it.”

“Ja--” I started, before I stopped, was that also too close to commanding him? Was I even allowed to say now? Trying to remember it all sucked at what little mental energy I had. “Uh…you coming too, Cicero? I mean, Grand Mage Cicero?”

“Only if His Highness acquiesces,” he said.

Not inserting himself, only leaving it to Odysseus to decide what will happen. Is that how things are done always?

I made the mental note to try and watch for that.

“What reason would I have to say no,” said Odysseus, dryly. “Please, do join us.”

***

I want to walk away from here knowing more about magic.

Clear and defined, it was the structure I needed to keep me on track.

“You don’t have a balcony,” I noted as we sat in a small room coloured in white and gold, each surface of the wall filled with paintings with intricately carved frames. The table was of a brown-red wood but I couldn’t see any of the lines that had been painted over in my own quarters. A breakfast spread had been laid out, made mostly out of fruits.

“No,” said Odysseus. He was the first to sit. Cicero didn’t, and I stopped myself from sitting. “You may sit, and eat freely,” he said as I sat. It took me a bit to connect that, like sitting when told, the same was true for eating.

I spooned myself a heap from a fruit salad and poured some juice. Odysseus and Cicero, I noticed, were watching me. Which made me feel uncomfortable.

“Aren’t you going to eat?” I asked.

“I already had my breakfast,” said Odysseus.

“And so have I,” said Cicero, amusement in his voice. “Though let that not stop you from enjoying yourself.”

I shook my head. “I can’t eat around non-eating people.”

“Oh? Why if I might ask?” the mage asked.

“I don’t know,” I said, shrugging. “It feels wrong. Like I’m not sharing or something, even though I know this isn’t my food.” I swallowed. “There’s this thing that people do where I’m from. They always cook so they have an extra plate, just in case they have a visitor during mealtimes.”

It was mindboggling to think that maybe these guys had never had to think about something like that. Odysseus was a prince and Cicero a mage, they came from money and wouldn’t know how much of a sacrifice making an extra place could be.

I swallowed, feeling stupid for having said anything.

“Ah,” said Cicero. “Then we had better eat, had we not?”

“Yes,” said Odysseus. “I think I have some room for grapes.”

There was an assortment in front of him, from deep purple, a dull red, a deep orange to a bright green. Too many for three people.

“You said you don’t have a balcony,” I said, picking up on the thread from earlier. An excuse to keep the conversation flowing. “Why is that? The view of the lake is beautiful.”

“Concerns of safety,” said Odysseus. “Threats are many, and though the lake protects us there are still threats which come from the sky.”

“People can fly?” I said through a mouthful, bits of food shooting out. Odysseus and Cicero frowned. I chewed and swallowed. “Sorry. People can fly? I don’t think planes exist here, do they?”

“There are means through magic,” said Odysseus. “Though that is easier for airships.”

“You have planes?” I said, surprised.

“Is that what they are called in your world?” Odysseus asked with a shrug. “Yes, we have more than a few airships, many of them property of the Sky Cities, many more belonging to pirates.”

Because you mention pirates while you were in the Sky Cities, I thought. Why didn’t I make the connection?

“It is easier to make ships fly than it would to imbue gem magic onto people,” said Cicero. “For one is often larger than the other. In my travels to the Sky Cities, and on seeing the Falconers, they use contraptions instead of gravitational gems.”

“Why?” I asked a little too fast, too obvious. We’d found our way to talking about magic and I didn’t want us moving away.

“Fine details are hard to accomplish,” he said. “They often require decades of experience, and even then they might need great diagrams that augment the inner workings of the celestial gems. The magic held innately by fauna is much simpler, more directed and thus easier to use.”

“So they, like…use blood or something?”

“Feathers,” said Cicero. “From the red-breasted dire eagle. The largest birds known to the Commonality.” He shuddered. “I remember stories my nursemaid told, of eagles which would swoop down to claim an unruly child.”

“Common tales,” said Odysseus. “Though they have some truth to them.”

“You are best positioned to know, Your Highness,” said Cicero.

“They use feathers now, but earlier in time they used leather and elemental gems to augment their movement through the air,” Odysseus added. “It is still used in some places, but the Sky Cities have long since moved past such crafts.”

“Odysseus—”

“Prince Odysseus,” he said. “Or Your Highness.”

“Right,” I muttered. “His Highness mentioned the Sky Courts before, because of Raemond the Brave—”

“The Brazen,” he interrupted. I glared in his direction, then stopped myself, quelling the little bubbles of frustration. He had noticed but didn’t say anything.

Remember what you’re trying to get.

“It feels like they have a monopoly on gravity crystals,” I continued.

“This is true,” said Cicero. “Or perhaps largely true. His Highness might know the stories better—” Odysseus frowned “—but I’m given to understand that once the Sky Cities were part of the Commonality, sitting between the Blighted Lands and the lands now beyond the seas, but because of some calamity, they broke off from us and ascended into the heavens.”

“Many historians doubt that it was a calamity,” said Odysseus. “Instead they theorise that it might have been mining activity; there are supposed to be great tunnels at the edges of the Blighted Lands, though such confirmations cannot be made without great danger.”

“I will take you at your word, Your Highness,” Cicero said with a bow of his head.

Odysseus nodded but there was something going on that I couldn’t put my finger on. For now it wasn’t important. It felt like what I wanted was so close, but I just couldn’t think of the finals steps to take to get there.

“What about you guys?” I asked. “I mean, what about spatial magic. Do you have a monopoly on that too?”

“Althor holds the greatest knowledge and practices of the spatial arts, yes,” Cicero said proudly. “Though this is not to say that we do not have contemporaries. The people of the Sunward Empire and Washerton do quite well for themselves.”

“We differ from them in the stores we have of spatial gems,” said Odysseus. “The Mandaron line has a wealth of them in their land, and through them much of the experimentation the mages were able to attempt to grow their craft.”

“His Highness has the truth of it,” Cicero said with a nod.

Okay, the base it set. But how do I get from this, to you telling me how to work the marble without Odysseus knowing.

I ate as I thought, chewing slowly and trying to find an avenue. None came, so I asked directly, “How does it work? Magic? Teleporting? Everything?”

Cicero chuckled. “And here I thought you had set to become a warrior.”

“Can’t a guy be curious?” I smiled but I didn’t feel it.

You know exactly what I’m doing. So work with me.

“He may,” he said. “He may.” Slowly and methodically, Cicero ran his hand through his beard, his lips pursing as he thought. “It is a delicate matter, teaching a new mage, and one that is often discussed by all of my brothers—”

“Had you not talked to them of the possibility that Champion Jordan might have an interest in joining the Order?” Odysseus asked, bored.

“Yes, Your Highness,” he said. “However no agreement was reached. At least not before, well…”

My stomach shifted, and it got worse when I looked to see that Odysseus looked uncomfortable.

“Before what?” I asked.

“Grand Mage Clifton and others of my brothers were executed for high treason,” he said gravely

“Treason which they committed,” Odysseus put in after a sip of pulpy juice. “As our Champion no doubt saw during his arrival.”

I swallowed. “Yeah,” I said, a lump in my throat. I hadn’t known his name, but Clifton must have been the one who’d made the king disappear and talked to the queen about giving me a room, a queen that had wanted to have me executed if she hadn’t gotten her husband.

As much as I didn’t trust everyone here, the mages had been decent. Even if it was still selfish.

“Treason…is bad,” I said dumbly.

Cicero smiled sadly. “That it is, Champion. That it is.”

The conversation had moved away from magic, but I couldn’t think of a way of moving it back without being callous. So I focused on my food, letting the silence linger. It was still uncomfortable to be stared at, but both of them seemed lost in thought.

My mind kept going back to Clifton and what he’d done, and where he was now. Did what Clifton had done have anything to do with me, though? With the real me, the person me?

The mages had helped me when the alternative was bleak, but…I sort of hadn’t asked for that. They’d made their decisions and…I wasn’t part of the discussion, only a variable. What was important right now was survival.

“How are my lessons going to look?” I asked, starting over again and hoping I could find a way of moving things back to magic.

“My sister and I have yet to finalise the schedule,” said Odysseus, energy in his voice. “You would think it was her idea to tutor you with how much of your time she wants.”

“It is the way of warriors to believe that the mind should be neglected as one trains the body,” said Cicero and Odysseus nodded sagely. I nodded too, remembering all the guys who’d been too focused on rugby to focus on their studies — Dylan and Anda, my friends, had been in the same club until the first quarter reports had come back.

“At the very least,” he continued, “I will teach you our ways. Part of which is accepting the help of your master of household to run your affairs.”

“My master of the household?”

Odysseus nodded. “I have spoken to the man, and he told me you have ordered that he and your servants not disturb you?”

“I mean…sure? I just wanted to decompress and stuff. He wasn’t needed for that.”

The prince hummed, wearing something of a smile. “He was very much needed to direct the servants who would dress you,” he said. “This morn you have the excuse of training with my sister for your way of dress, but I remember when last we spoke and how…odd you looked. Appearances matter, Champion, and if you do not show the latest styles, you will be judged harshly.”

This feels a lot like high school in movies.

For the first time I took the prince in. Dressed in a silk shirt coloured red and gold, with the pattern of a flower which spiralled around; he had on golden earrings set with rubies, and wore fat, gold rings with the same gems.

Not peak fashion, but an expression of wealth.

“I don’t have money,” I said.

He waved a hand. “My tailor shall be lent to you,” he said. “He and his people will fit you in fineries that will make you the envy of lords and ladies the kingdom over. We will get the fitting done today, the faster to get the matter settled. Perhaps, if you are so inclined, you might take the fashions of your world and teach him. It is well past due for a new fad.”

“It would so delight the commoners,” said Cicero. “To see that their lords are not unsettled by the foreign invader. A reprieve from the rising talks of war.”

I frowned. Hadn’t they said that their kingdom was already at war?

“Yes,” said Odysseus, with delight. “Yes, you are quite right, Grand Mage. Though our Champion is not yet ready to leave the castle. Dangers lurk in every corner, after all.”

Cicero nodded. “I think our Champion might be elated to visit the halls of the spatial order,” he said. “Mage protections might be adequate.”

Yes. Magic.

“Yes,” I said, maybe a little too loud. “I’d like that. Even if I’m going to be a warrior, I’m still interested in magic. I just noticed that you never said how it works. I know it’s supposed to be secret, but…”

“Hmm. Perhaps a story. I know Prince Odysseus never grew out of those,” he said with a slight chuckle. That got an expression of simmering resentment from Odysseus, which I still didn’t get. “A story of our past. The unadorned gem provides sparks, small points that move within the head of a holder of the gem, telling them the location of that which they considered important above all else.”

“What does that mean?” I asked, as I focused on the impressions in my head. The range was large and it covered a lot of points, a lot of people who were moving, so many that it was hard to keep track of them all.

“Patience, child,” he said, the rebuke of a teacher. “Many could sense their kin and only that, others could only sense their tribes or villages, while others still could sense beloved hounds, their flocks or the beasts that sort to end them.”

A part of me really wished I’d had something to write that down because I had questions. I didn’t really consider the people here my kin or tribe, so did that mean that for me the gem kept track of enemies? But what did that mean for Surefoot? I hadn’t been able to sense him. Did it mean I didn’t see him as a danger, or did it mean I didn’t see him as a person?

“In times long past, people were more insulated. Different villages often did not visit unless it was in trade or marriage, but slowly, knowledge was traded and finally consolidated. It was learnt that sparks within one’s head could be turned on and off, tuned into various notes so different objects might be perceived…”

I heard the words but they sounded almost so far away as my head chugged.

My mind wanted to run in ten different directions at once: to consider how shitty what I thought of Surefoot was; what I could do now with the marble since I’d learned the new piece of information; listening attentively to Cicero who was still speaking; figuring out why Odysseus was upset; and going back to my room so I could brainstorm how I was going to build my map of the castle.

My mind wanted to run in ten different directions at once, but my body only wanted to sleep. I’d woken up too early and done a lot of work. The food had helped but I wasn’t at my best mentally.

“…pooled knowledge led to what we first understand as the spatial arts, though then it was known by another name,” said Cicero. “More limited because the practice was not yet understood.”

“I’m given to understand that that was the case with many of the arts,” said Odysseus. “All of them have a component of sensory means, do they not?”

Cicero smiled, looking all the more excited. “Yes, Your Highness,” he said. “We—” The door into our room opened and Cicero’s guard stepped in. Behind him there were more people.

“His Majesty has requested your presence, mage,” the guard said.

“At your leave, Your Highness,” said Cicero.

Odysseus waved a hand. Cicero stood. “It seems this has been cut short,” he said. “Much of my duties will be in the castle. You are free to visit me at your leisure. It has been quite some time since I have spoken to the young, and it might be interesting to learn about your home, Champion.”

“Sho,” I said in agreement.

Odysseus and I watched as he left. I felt a little glum that I hadn’t learnt more, but the little I did know might make the impressions in my head more manageable which was good. The problem would be having to learn how to work the filter.

“Do not be seduced by them,” said Odysseus.

“Hm?”

“The mages,” he said. “They may make great promises for your attendance in their schools, but ultimately they might grow bored of you which changes how they teach.”

“Is…that what happened to you?” I asked. He raised a brow. That’s probably offensive. “Her Highness, your sister, mentioned that you stopped going to the time magic school.”

“No,” he said. “That was not because I was unwelcomed. Much though magic is the greatest of scholarly feats, I had learnt enough that my curiosity was sated and I could follow my true calling.”

“Not magic?” I said, because that sounded ridiculous.

“Not magic, no,” he said and chuckled. “Though many a common boy would think me a fool for it. Many a minor lord has certainly had such thoughts.” The last was said in a low mutter.

“They keep calling you a storyteller,” I said, choosing to ignore what felt like an offhand insult.

“I am a historian,” he said, defensive.

“And they have a problem with that?”

“Yes,” he said stiffly.

“That kinda feels stupid to me,” I said. There was a flicker of surprise before it quickly disappeared. “Let people do whatever makes them happy. The world would be better if there was less judgement in it.”

Odysseus smiled. “Quite right, Champion,” he said as he stood. I didn’t and kept eating. He looked at me expectantly and finally I got it. I stopped and stood. He nodded shortly. “As you said, you are tired. I will allow you some time to yourself, after which you will practice your marksmanship with my sister. Then we will dine together and I will teach you how to eat. You have a brutish way of eating and it is unbecoming. You will have to unlearn it.”

Well, fuck you too.

I left on shaky limbs and got to my quarters.

It wasn’t five minutes later that I heard a sigh and turned. On my bed, not too far away from me, a thin black book had appeared titled, Reality Broken into Segments: A Guide to Spatial Impressions and Dimensions.

I felt a laugh bubble and kept it back, keeping silent.

Okay, maybe I’d misjudged Cicero and his Order, because the book was going the mile.

Magic was now truly at my fingertips.