LITMIR.BIZ

       CHAPTER SEVEN

      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

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