Fallon Bane
“Have you kissed him?”
“Excuse me?”
“Gareth Keeler. Have you kissed him?”
I’m facing an audience of three young women—the University scholars Aunt Vyvian has chosen to be my companions for the day. They sit staring at me with rapt attention, waiting for my answer.
To the most embarrassing question I’ve ever been asked.
Inappropriate, personal questions like this were not acceptable in Halfix, and I inwardly draw back from them in discomfort.
It’s early on my first morning in Valgard, and we are in Aunt Vyvian’s carriage, headed toward the shop of the premier dressmaker in Gardneria. The ride is smooth, the carriage surrounded by twelve armed, high-level Mage soldiers.
Twelve.
Charged with protecting Fallon Bane—our next Black Witch. Aunt Vyvian might not want to believe that she’s the one, but it’s clear from our armed escort that most other Gardnerians don’t agree with this view.
Fallon is, by far, the most intimidating young woman I’ve ever met. She’s beautiful, with full lips, curly black hair down to her waist and large eyes that shine with the whole spectrum of green. But everything else about her flies in the face of convention. For one thing, she’s dressed in a military apprentice uniform modified for a female—the traditional slate-gray silk tunic over a long, gray skirt instead of pants, and marked with a silver Erthia sphere embroidered over her heart. And the arms of her uniform are marked with a Level Five Mage’s five silver bands. Fallon watches me, her legs splayed open, aggressively taking up as much room in the carriage as possible.
She’s the one asking the questions, a slightly contemptuous smirk on her face. My obvious discomfort, given away by the blush I feel forming on my face, seems to greatly amuse her.
“Why are you asking me about Gareth Keeler?” I ask Fallon defensively.
“Your aunt says you know him.”
“I do,” I tell her. “He’s my friend.”
Fallon shoots sly, sidelong glances at both Echo and Paige before setting bright eyes back on me. “Have you looked closely at his hair?”
I bristle, my view of Fallon quickly coalescing into a hard ball of dislike. “His hair is black.”
Fallon smirks wider. “So...if you haven’t kissed Gareth, have you ever kissed anyone?”
I struggle to keep my expression neutral, greatly put off by her intrusive behavior. “Of course not. I’m unfasted.” And not in the habit of throwing myself at young men, unlike you.
Fallon flashes a devious look at Echo, which sends my dislike of Fallon flaring higher. Then she turns her mischievous gaze back on me, her tone thick with condescension. “You’re not in the backwoods anymore, Elloren. It’s okay to kiss a boy.”
Echo purses her lips at Fallon. “Some of us have morals,” she chastises. “Even in Valgard.”
Fallon spits out a disdainful laugh and rolls her eyes at me, like I’m an old chum.
Echo’s regarding me now, with serious, owl-like eyes, as if measuring my worth. She’s garbed in the manner of the most religious Gardnerians, her black tunic double-layered and very high in the collar, a small Erthia sphere hanging from a silver chain around her neck, her hair unadorned and parted straight as a pin.
Noticing Fallon’s and Echo’s unfriendly expressions, Paige smiles at me encouragingly. She’s the only truly pleasant person in the group, her curly black hair escaping from jeweled barrettes, spilling out over round, rosy cheeks.
Fallon takes note of Paige’s happy expression. “Paige has been kissed,” Fallon teases, her tone unkind.
That wipes the smile clear off Paige’s face. “Well...umm...” Paige stammers as she looks down at the marked hands that fidget in her lap. “I’m fasted.”
“She’s been fasted since she was thirteen,” Fallon leans in and whispers to me, as if this is a delicious secret.
“You have?” I’m surprised. Thirteen seems awfully young. But then I think of Sage—she was fasted at thirteen.
“I’m... I’m fasted to Fallon’s brother, Sylus,” Paige mumbles, seeming less than overjoyed by this.
Fallon throws an arm around Paige and hugs her tight with mock affection. “We’re going to be actual sisters!”
Paige glances meekly at Fallon and forces a small, quavering smile.
I motion toward Echo’s marked hands. “Have you been fasted a long time?”
Echo’s solemn stare doesn’t waver. “To Basyl Dorne. Five years ago.”
I study her, trying to catch a glimpse of how she feels about this, but Echo’s as private and unreadable as a statue.
My eyes wander to Fallon’s unmarked hands. “So... I see you’re not fasted.”
Fallon’s expression turns cold, and she fixes me with a belligerent stare. “Not yet.” She says it like a challenge.
“Fallon likes Lukas Grey.” Paige giggles nervously. Fallon swivels her head smoothly toward Paige and stares her down. Paige’s smile vanishes. “Well...you do...like Lukas, I mean.”
I remember my aunt’s gushing praise of Lukas Grey, the prospective fasting partner she seems to want most for me. I’m amused that Aunt Vyvian actually thinks I could compete with Fallon Bane for anything—and win.
“He’s really handsome,” gushes Paige, “and his father is the High Commander of the entire Mage Guard. He comes from a very important family, and he’s a Level Five Mage.”
Fallon is watching me closely, a gloating look on her face, like she’s won some prize.
“When are you getting fasted to Lukas?” I ask.
Fallon’s smile freezes, and she narrows her eyes at me. “Soon. Very soon.” There’s warning in her inflection. Stay away from Lukas. He’s mine.
I wonder why she’s so insecure about him, and whether or not she knows Aunt Vyvian ludicrously wants him for me. I find myself even more curious about my aunt’s party, if only for the chance to meet the mysterious Lukas Grey. My eyes are drawn to the wand that sticks out from Fallon’s belt like some great thorn.
“So—” I gesture toward the wand “—you’ve quite a bit of power, I’ve heard.”
She bares her teeth. “A little.”
I can tell by the incredulous looks Echo and Paige throw her that she’s being wildly sarcastic.
“I’ve never seen magic used,” I tell her.
Her feral smile inches wider. “You’ve no magic, then?”
I shake my head, bothered by the gloating look on her face.
In one smooth, deft movement, Fallon pulls out her wand, holds it straight up and murmurs a spell.
A loud crack sends Echo, Paige and me recoiling back against our seats as a flash of blue light bursts from Fallon’s wand. The sound jars me to the bone, and I gasp as the light quickly coalesces into a whirling, glowing sphere that floats just above the wand’s tip, its rhythmic, deep whoosh a jagged scrape to my ears, the carriage rapidly cooling, frost forming on the windows.
“Stop it, Fallon,” Echo snaps as she glares at Fallon with annoyance, all of us cast in sapphire light. “You’ll freeze us to death.”
Fallon lets out a contemptuous laugh but relents. She murmurs more strange words and the iceball instantly morphs into a roiling, white vapor that quickly explodes into a frigid, odorless mist and disappears.
Fallon sits back and grins, a triumphant gleam in her eyes.
“That’s amazing,” I breathe, swallowing hard, fighting back a shiver.
“That’s nothing,” Paige says, eyes wide. “You should see what else she can do. She’s a Level Five Mage. One of the best of the whole Guard.”
“It sounds like you and Lukas Grey are well suited for each other,” I tell Fallon placatingly, wanting to be struck clear off her list of potential enemies.
Aunt Vyvian needs to abandon her absurd dream of matching me with Lukas Grey. All she’s going to do is place me directly into scary Fallon Bane’s line of fire.
Fallon seems pleased by my comment. She nods approvingly, sets her wand back into her belt and relaxes against her seat.
Echo shoots Fallon a look of mild disapproval, then glances down at my unmarked hands and frowns. “I don’t understand why you’re not fasted.”
“My uncle wants me to wait until I’m older,” I tell her, increasingly put off by Echo’s judgmental approach. And besides, Fallon looks to be about the same age as me, and she isn’t fasted, either.
“Oh, what fun you’ll have,” Paige enthuses with a dreamy look of longing. “All the parties and dances and your first kiss!”
“Have you met anyone you’re interested in?” Fallon probes, sizing me up to see if I’m competition for Lukas, no doubt.
“No.” I shake my head. “I haven’t really had a chance to, being from Halfix. It’s so isolated there. And this is only my first full day in Valgard.”
Fallon regards me with renewed interest. She narrows her eyes. “Have you ever been around any men...other than Gardnerian men?”
My brow knits tight and I feel myself growing defensive over my sheltered upbringing. “What do you mean?” I ask guardedly.
Fallon spits out a short laugh. “I mean, have you ever been around Keltic boys? Or Elves? Or... Lupine?”
I eye her with astonishment. “There aren’t Lupines at the University, are there?” That strikes me as incredibly dangerous. Lupines are vicious wolf-shifters. Stronger than the strongest Gardnerian, and completely immune to our magic.
“I’m afraid there are,” Echo replies, a grave expression on her face.
“That’s rather shocking,” I say, shaking my head. “I’m really surprised.” But then I think back to Aunt Vyvian’s conversation with Uncle Edwin, and her outrage over the University’s misguided racial integration—even Icaral demons are allowed to attend.
Paige is worriedly chewing at her bottom lip, her eyes round as two saucers.
Fallon leans in toward me with obvious relish, her voice a scratchy whisper. “Lupines don’t ever marry, did you know that? They simply grab whomever they like and mate with them in the woods.”
“Like animals,” Echo chimes in, with great indignation.
“Really?” It’s all so scandalous. And troubling.
“I’ve heard,” continues Fallon, “that sometimes they grab young women, pull them into the woods and mate with them...as wolves!”
Paige gasps, one hand flying up to cover her mouth.
“Is that even possible?” I question, aghast.
Fallon laughs and settles back into her seat. “Stay away from the Lupine boys.”
“They don’t always mate in the woods,” Echo informs me darkly as she fingers her sphere pendant.
Paige shrinks down, clearly apprehensive to hear what Echo is about to say, as Fallon eyes me with gleeful anticipation, everyone waiting for me to ask the obvious question.
I blink at them. This is the most outrageous conversation I’ve ever had and, despite myself, I’m overcome by lurid fascination. “Where...um...where do they...” I motioned with my hands to finish.
Echo seems to approve of my reluctance to just come out with it. She leans closer. “My father used to be the Council’s ambassador to the Lupines, and he’s actually visited the Lupine Territory. I overheard him talking to my mother about them, and he said that when Lupines are about our age they get their whole pack together—that’s what they call their societies, like a pack of wolves—and they stand up in front of everyone, pick out someone to mate with and mate with them right there, in front of everyone. Even the children.”
My face is growing very hot. This is the most sordid thing I have ever heard in my entire life. “Won’t it be sort of...dangerous? To go to University with them?” I wonder.
“There’s only two of them.” Fallon flicks her hand dismissively. “Brother and sister. Twins.”
Well, that’s a relief. Only two Lupines. How dangerous could only two Lupines be?
“What about the Elves?” I ask. My brothers have told me they make up about a quarter of the scholars at the University. “What are they like?”
“Complete opposite,” Fallon says with a shake of her head. “Very prissy.” She snorts in derision. “It’s amazing they ever get around to ever having children. They’re extremely protective of their women, though. If a boy of another race so much as touches one of their women...”
“Like anyone would want to,” scoffs Echo.
“I think the girl Elves are pretty,” Paige confesses sheepishly. Fallon throws her a quick, withering glance. “They are!” Paige insists. “They have those dainty pointed ears. And white hair, and white clothes...kind of the opposite of us...”
“Very much the opposite of us,” Echo cuts in. She looks to me. “They’re idol worshippers.”
“Aren’t they our allies?” I put in, keeping my voice carefully neutral.
Fallon pins me with her eyes. “For now.”
Well, that’s interesting. “And the Kelts?” I wonder, looking to Echo. “What are their men like?”
Fallon snorts derisively as Echo regards me somberly, her fist closed tight around her Erthia sphere. “Their blood is polluted with all types of filth—Fae blood, Urisk...even Icaral.” Echo waits to see if I’m appropriately horrified before continuing.
Sage’s Icaral baby immediately leaps to mind, casting a pall over everything. I remember how troubled and terrified she was. A Kelt. The demon baby’s father is a Kelt. And she met him at University.
“Priest Vogel says the Kelts are cast out and no longer First People like us,” Echo continues stridently. “They’ve secretly aligned themselves with Evil Ones, like the desert heathens and the Urisk.”
“Look out for the Urisk women,” Fallon warns as a side note. “They may look all innocent, but they love going after our men.”
I’ve heard Warren Gaffney going on about this on more than one occasion. The fact is, Urisk women don’t have any men of their own to go after. The Gardnerian government killed all their males during the Realm War.
Urisk males are powerful geomancers, able to harness the full, destructive powers of stones and gems. Their existence would pose a serious threat to our country. The women, on the other hand, are completely devoid of magic and are allowed to live in Gardneria as guest workers.
It’s a horrible thought, though—the Urisk boy babies being killed. It’s a subject I’ve never been able to discuss with Uncle Edwin, as he becomes visibly upset if I try to broach the topic, once to the point of tearing up and clutching at his chest.
Male Urisk warlords viciously attacked our country when they had power, seeking to wipe us out, but still, it’s all so troubling.
Echo sighs. “At least Urisk half-breeds only have weak magic, at best.”
Paige nods to her in agreement, but Fallon is ignoring them both. Instead, she’s watching me with a silent intensity so unnerving that it raises the hairs on the back of my neck. My initial dislike of her deepens.
“Be careful with those mixed-breeds,” Fallon tells me, a sly smile spreading across her face. I bristle, realizing she’s once again alluding to Gareth and his silver-tipped hair. She slides her thumb along the length of her wand. “Mixed-breeds are everywhere,” she purrs. “You just can’t be too careful.”